by Julia Donner
Keeping his hand on the knob, Harry paused before opening the door to the street. “So, the game is to make it appear you’re spending time alone with Elizabeth, when actually you’ll be somewhere else?”
“Exactly. Between Elizabeth, you, Freddy, and Rave, we can maintain the plausible fiction that I’m in England. Crimm can protect her at Marshfield. No stranger can come within a mile of the place without everyone in the district knowing it. In town, you, Freddy, and her staff will surround her.”
Harry searched his brother’s face before asking, “Are your enemies that persistent?”
“The powers that be seem to think so.”
“Will Lizzie be in danger?”
“Very likely not. But I don’t trust my enemies. I’ve made a few of those over the years, but as long as no one knows that she’s the conduit for the most important dispatches, she’s safe.”
“What’s Rave’s part in this?”
“He’s going to cast it about that he’s seen or talked to me whenever Elizabeth comes back in town. I’ll have some of my clothes left with her. You’ll have to wear them if you should need to escort her back to Marshfield. No one will suspect a thing. You’d never dress like me.”
Harry laughed and opened the door. “I would sooner die than do so, but will condescend to obey for Regent and country.”
They shook hands before parting. Peregrine withheld a pithy comment when he saw the boy holding Harry’s mount. The frilly mare nickered pitifully as her master approached and took the reins, another slave to Harry’s charms. The mare placed both hooves forward, stretching to lower her girth to the ground to ease her master’s mounting, and did it without direction.
Peregrine stood on the curb and watched his flamboyant brother ride away. It appeared that Harry had no designs on Elizabeth—other than to smother her with brotherly affection. The knowledge that Harry would take care of Elizabeth and watch over her while he was gone lifted some of the weight from his heart but made his unreasonable jealousy worse.
The worrisome part was how successful Elizabeth was going to be withholding her heart from Harry.
Chapter 25
The day preceding the wedding, Elizabeth accomplished what needed to be done in a state of stupor, unable to grasp the reality of the fact she was getting married for the second time. With all the hasty preparations, time slipped by, speeding away just beyond her grasp.
The last time she’d seen Asterly was at Sunday service. After a hasty luncheon and even hastier signing of the marital documents, he gave her a peck on the cheek and left. He hadn’t bothered to hide his impatience to be gone. She wondered if he’d taken enough time to understand the contents of the settlements in which she requested Equity for most of her real property and made him trustee. He scanned the documents, jabbed a pen into the ink _tandish, and dashed off the bold line of his signature.
His haste left her with the only possible conclusion and that was of his complete indifference to her fortune, which felt oddly unsettling. All she’d known in the past was connected to her monetary worth, not to herself as a person.
Harry visited to give his joyful acceptance to act as her escort. The rest of the time was taken up with packing, making arrangements for the staff, last minute instructions for Swifton, and anticipating the drive to Rochester the following day.
Merrick was to travel with her to the inn at Rochester and return to London after the ceremony. Getting Merrick to agree to the separation took all of Elizabeth’s persuasive abilities.
“Merrick, pack mostly frocks that fasten in front. I will not be needing you in Kent.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but one should start off on a new life in the way they should go. Lady Asterly cannot be without a superior attendant.”
“You are a superior attendant, but you will return to London after the ceremony. The season will be in full swing by the time we return, and I should like you to prepare a new wardrobe. Sir Harry will send you his suggestions.”
Merrick precisely folded tissue between pairs of stockings and set them in neat piles on the counterpane.
“Oh, no, ma’am, I shall not desert you at the onset of your new place in society.”
“Merrick, you have your little boy to think about and the house in Kent is not ready.”
“I am not afraid of damp sheets, Mrs. Shelton, and now that you’ve arranged for Jamie’s education, I will miss him less if attending to you.”
Elizabeth inhaled a deep breath and began a horrifying tale of Marshfield’s rot, mildew, and appalling state of disrepair. She had no idea the extent of the damage but imagined it couldn’t be far off the mark.
Merrick smiled and started folding a pressed stack of lacy handkerchiefs. “A bit of work and all will be set to rights. You have a knack for fixing things, if I may be so bold.”
“Thank you, but you will not be accompanying me to Marshfield.”
Merrick stopped tucking tissues into precise corners around squares of linen and lace. She folded her hands against her waist and bowed her head slightly. “Are you dismissing me from your service, Mrs. Shelton?”
“Oh, botheration, of course not!” Pushed to the point of a lie, Elizabeth said, “To put it to you without the varnish, I want to be as private as possible with my new husband.”
Merrick’s complexion turned brick red. “Forgive me, Mrs. Shelton. I shall do exactly as you ask.”
Elizabeth sagged under a rush of remorse. The last thing she wanted to do was evoke an unpleasant memory for her dresser. Life was so difficult for a mother with an illegitimate son, a secret difficult to keep hidden.
“Merrick, it’s more than that. It’s imperative that I have someone I can trust here in town. There will be times when you will receive directions from me in the post, directions that must be carried out explicitly. I am placing my full trust in you and Swifton to be my eyes and ears while I am in Kent.”
“I will not fail you, ma’am.” Merrick lifted her head. Her clear-eyed gaze bore the weight of wisdom earned from hard-learned lessons. “I will never forget that you hired me when no-one else would. You found a place for my child where I could visit him every week. You’ve given us the security of a future. There is nothing that I would not do for you.”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to touch Merrick’s hand. Such a move would embarrass the fastidious dresser, whose former life was a mystery. She’d hired Merrick on Crimm’s recommendation, even though the self-possessed, very young woman was three months into her pregnancy.
“I am assured of your reliability in everything, Merrick. Most especially regarding clothes, but Sir Harry insists on making changes for my belated come-out. He will send his instructions addressed to you.”
The subject neatly changed, she left Merrick to the business of packing, while she wrestled with the truth. She hadn’t completely lied to her dresser about wanting time alone with Asterly. She truly wished for the privacy to be with him without constraints, interruptions, or demands on either of them from anyone—to have the time to know him better. Did he feel the same? She hoped he did or one day would.
She was not an ignorant schoolgirl and knew the importance of the physical aspects of marriage to husbands. What she recently learned about herself was that she could enjoy this part marriage. Persistent thoughts and imaginings of the wedding night left her in a state of exquisite embarrassment. The continual flow of those images caused her to go everywhere with a glow lighting her cheeks. She often found herself in the middle of a mindless chore, standing statue-still, as her imagination played out how they would be together. This was followed by a scorching blush the instant she returned to reality. To be honest, she liked the idea of having him all to herself. How odd. She’d never thought about servants being intrusive.
Even though Asterly said he wasn’t entirely pleased, she was delighted that his espionage plans included dashing off to Marshfield after the wedding, He warned the decomposing house could come crashing down around their ears at
any moment. That didn’t bother her after growing up in a drafty abbey. Other aspects of her stay in Kent set her imagination wandering. There were bits of his past to uncover at Marshfield.
And would he, at some point after she’d proven herself, ask her to do something daring?
Chapter 26
Elizabeth knew that her few, disjointed recollections of the ceremony would remain in her memory forever—lasting impressions of an event she’d thought would never again happen and certainly not to a lord of the realm. Or a spy.
Sir Harry arrived at the inn to fetch her, dressed somberly, for him, in a black coat, white breeches and stockings and plain, black pumps. He wore no flashy jewelry, and his neckcloth was simply tied. His only ornament was a long cape draped around his shoulders. He looked like a don or the officiating clergy.
Before this day, Elizabeth would have happily argued that nothing could improve Harry’s appearance, but he looked even more handsome in the quiet mode of dress. His usual, flashy ensembles detracted from his face and form.
Storm clouds gathered overhead. The day was damp and chill, causing Harry to stop her before leaving the inn. He fastened the top frog of her ermine-lined mantle that covered her gown of cream silk piped in blue. His eyes glowed with approval as he gently kissed her cheek. Startled by his kindness and affection, she almost succumbed to tears.
She gratefully clutched Harry’s wrist when he assisted her into the carriage. He cupped his hand over hers on the seat between them as they drove to the cathedral, keeping her calm. She marveled that Harry, so serenely composed, seemed born to the task of delivering her up to his brother. He promised to bolster her courage by whispering words of encouragement all the way down the aisle.
What had molded the two brothers—what caused them to create public personas so different from their own? Perhaps that answer died with their mother. And now she was to become the next Lady Asterly.
The gloomy cathedral smelled of earth, age, and stone. She peripherally noticed Lady Ravenswold—difficult to miss in a snug-fitted spencer of aqua merino trimmed with carmine. A jaunty turquoise bonnet made a startling contrast against her coppery hair and sat tilted at an angle with a black plume flying off one side. A somber giant stood by her side. Lord Ravenswold, Asterly’s closest friend, wore a chocolate-colored coat, a foil for his wife’s spencer. If not for his incredible height, he would have gone unnoticed beside her beauty.
Lord and Lady Ravenswold stepped out of the pew to follow her up the aisle. They joined an unsmiling man in the first pew. Elizabeth suspected him to be the Honorable Frederick Bates, the fourth of the quartet previously known as the Four Eligibles. A single, amused glance from harsh blue eyes raked her from head to foot before returning his laconic gaze to the clergyman.
Asterly waited for her, standing straight yet looking relaxed. Only the taut line of his lips revealed his inner tension. His pale, formal coat gleamed under a sash pinned in place with his orders. He stopped the minister from commencing and asked her to remove her glove.
Elizabeth gave the glove and the Bible she carried to Lady Ravenswold. When she joined Asterly to repeat her vows, her cold fingers were nestled in the warmth of his hand. Her voice sounded weak but her hand was steady when she extended her wrist. The stiff cloth felt scratchy as she and her husband were ceremonially tied. The comforting warmth of his kiss in the center of her cheek restored her equilibrium. It was done, the opportunity to question her decision no longer an option.
They settled into the coach and Asterly covered her legs with a lap robe. On the way to the nuptial breakfast at a nearby inn, he took her left hand, peeled off her glove, and gently removed Devon’s wedding band, exchanging it for his mother’s emerald and ruby ring, which he slid securely into its rightful place.
Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn as he tucked Devon’s ring into her reticule. How had she neglected to remove the gold band? The glove on her left hand had stayed on during the ceremonial tying of the knot, and she scarcely remembered that. Nerves and a sleepless night hadn’t helped. Even though Asterly tried to mask his anticipation of the night to come, there was no ignoring his suppressed restlessness, the heat that darkened his gaze.
Elizabeth stared out the window and wanted to slap herself for being so stupid and self-involved. How could she have forgotten to remove Devon’s ring? What a pathetic way to start off a marriage.
Asterly said nothing about Devon’s ring and ended the episode by replacing her glove, setting her hand in her lap, and giving it an avuncular pat. He clasped her hand in his own on the hard ridge of his thigh all the way to the inn. When she tried to apologize, he shook his head and smiled.
After that, they enjoyed comfortable conversation, discussing ideas for his future in politics. She’d been gratified to discover his eagerness to hear her suggestions and his appreciation of her understanding of London’s present political climate.
The innkeeper and his wife had set out the breakfast sent down from London. Crimm had included precise instructions and an undercook to be sure they were carried out to the letter. The meal was informal and merry and the chilled champagne refreshing and crisp.
Elizabeth said little and listened to everyone’s favorite subject of horses. Lady Ravenswold started a hot debate over her equine preferences, a sacred subject to all horse lovers. The conversation was larded with cant and terms as foreign as a language straight from the moon.
Lord Ravenswold took pity on her and opened a conversation in German. He apologized first to Freddy and Asterly, who were content to talk quietly to themselves, while Harry and Lady Ravenswold argued horseflesh without interruption.
Elizabeth and Ravenswold leisurely picked apart the most recent bills introduced in Parliament. Midstream in the conversation they switched to Italian and were thoroughly enjoying themselves until they noticed that everyone silently watched them.
Asterly’s gaze glowed with humor and delight. Somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth felt disappointed and wounded that he wasn’t the tiniest bit jealous—that she wasn’t important enough or not considered a threat in comparison to the gorgeous Lady Ravenswold. The earl was sending his wife a contrite, visual plea for forgiveness.
Asterly shattered the awkward moment with a laugh. “Cass, I wish you could see your face. I can’t speak Italian, and only a smattering of German, but understand enough to assure you that our spouses are innocent. The only thing your Rave delights in about my tender bride is the Tory bent in her Whiggish preferences. So, draw in your claws. I may have married in haste, but I plan to enjoy many years of conjugal leisure when this blasted war is over. I’ll not let your jealousy put any holes in her liver, as you once threatened to do to Lady Lindy!”
Lady Ravenswold’s eyes narrowed to feline slits. The teasing purr in her reply suggested a subtle threat. “I’ve every right to be concerned. Eliza’s the only female besides myself capable of holding my husband’s attention.”
Asterly cringed in mock terror. “Quick, hide the cutlery!”
Lady Ravenswold responded with an arched eyebrow and condescending tone. “What a smug, little swine you are today, Peregrine. I pity Eliza the training of you. She is my friend and I never doubted her for a moment. In any event, women are more trustworthy and honorable in matters of the heart. Men are ruled mainly by the will of their nether regions and therefore, cannot be trusted.”
“Cass!” Ravenswold thundered, astounded.
Harry and Freddy threw back their heads and laughed. They called for more wine and vowed they’d gladly drink to that particular failing. Lady Ravenswold slid her husband a naughty, meaningful grin and thrust out her glass to be refilled.
The bawdy jokes and talk that followed mortified Elizabeth. Asterly took pity on her by standing up and reaching for her hand.
“The topic has brought about the usual results. My bride and I must take our leave of you. You see us eager to hie it down the road to Marshfield and connubial bliss. How shall all of you go on? Rave, are you and Cass hea
ding for London?”
Ravenswold shared a speaking glance with his wife. “Cass and I will be delaying our return until after a déjeuner at this delightful inn.”
Lady Ravenswold laughed, a naughty gleam in her eyes as she shared a silent, visual exchange with her husband. Harry and Freddy stood and came to take their leave and kiss the bride. The comforting ritual of shaking hands helped to soothe Elizabeth’s embarrassment. She had no idea the ton members spoke so crudely. Or perhaps it was the friendly camaraderie of this particular group. They acted closer than family to one another.
Whatever reason prompted the intimate comments, Elizabeth was ready to ignore such topics at any time and certainly avoided it when in the company of opposite genders. She finished off her wine, wishing it was water; champagne always made her so thirsty. Behind her back, she heard Freddy softly telling Asterly that he and Harry had plans to go to a mill between the locals. If they didn’t decide to join in on the fistfight that often interrupted the bout, they would return to the inn to try their luck with the barmaids in the common room.
Elizabeth fled to the doorway to ask the servant waiting out in the hall to place a jug of water in the carriage. When she returned to find that the bawdy topics hadn’t abated but augmented with obvious looks and congratulatory back thumping, Lady Ravenswold saved her from sinking through the floor from embarrassment by looping her arm through Elizabeth’s and leading her away from the raucous teasing.
Outside, Lady Ravenswold and Elizabeth waited on the inn steps for the rest of the wedding party. The increasing wind nipped their cheeks and riffled their fur wraps.
The countess lifted her nose into the pushing breeze. “The wind smells and feels cold. We may have snow by nightfall.”
“Very likely.”
“I’m sorry, Eliza. I didn’t know that married ladies get overset by plain speaking.”
“There was no way for you to know. But you’re right. I’m not accustomed to such candor.”
“Oh, foot! Tell us to be quiet and behave. Don’t be shy with us, Eliza. We are like family.”