The Last Bachelor

by Betina Krahn

  “It had nothing to do with the earl or his views of women or marriage?”

  “It did not,” she said with all truthfulness. “It had to do with my views of marriage … and men.”

  “Specifically with your opinions of one man, did it not?” The prosecutor, sensing a possible stroke for his side, grew impassioned. “Since it was Remington Carr you refused, it must be Remington Carr you objected to in some way. Just what was your opinion of the earl when you rejected his repeated proposals, Mrs. Paxton?”

  Antonia drew a deep breath and told the absolute truth. “I believed the earl to be a complex and interesting man, an honorable, clever, and often considerate man. I believed him to be a man of strong principle and strong passions, who put his principles into action in his business and financial concerns.” That raised a murmur in the court. “I found him desirable and utterly fascinating. But I did not wish to marry … him or anyone. I confess; I had come to see marriage as something of a trap that deprived women of their freedom and property. I, too, had a great deal to learn.”

  She scarcely recalled the trip across the courtroom and to her seat. All she knew was that another two steps and her legs would have given out. Paddington and Hermione put her down between them on the bench and held her icy hands. A moment later the justices were adjourning the court for the midday recess. She recovered enough to catch the smile Remington aimed in her direction and watch him exit with Kingston Gray.

  “Did I do all right?” she asked Hermione and Paddington as they fought their way through the courthouse crowd.

  “You did just fine dear,” Hermione said, patting her hand.

  “Excellent. Top-notch,” Paddington said, then frowned slightly, looking a bit confused. “Now … were you testifying for or against him?”

  There wasn’t much testimony left to hear, Paddington told them when he came back to the gallery after conferring with Remington’s lawyer. “That’s good,” Antonia said limply. “I don’t think I could stand much more. When do you think they’ll hand down a ruling?”

  Paddington shrugged. “Tribunals sometimes rule straightaway, sometimes choose to deliberate. Hard to say.”

  And it was harder still to say how the evidence and testimony was being viewed from the bench. The justices’ faces looked as if they were carved of stone. Even during the most unruly outbursts from the back, they scarcely raised an eyebrow. Both prosecution and defense would have to wait until the judgment was handed down to hear the justices’ opinions.

  When the court was reconvened, the chief justice asked the prosecutor whether his final witness, Rupert Fitch, had been located. The prosecutor shifted and stalled and asked for a bit more time. The justices granted it, providing they could locate him before summation of arguments. Then they instructed Kingston Gray to call his next witness. He called Remington Carr, Earl of Landon to the stand.

  Antonia sat straighter, watching Remington move from the prisoner’s dock to the witness box. He looked a bit solemn as he took the stand and swore to tell the truth. When he looked toward Antonia and she smiled, some of his aristocratic reserve seemed to melt and he became more accessible.

  “My lord, we have heard much made of your previous views on marriage … and of your change of heart regarding matrimony. Would you please tell the court, in your own words what the intent of your writings on marriage were.”

  “It was my intention to raise questions and to provoke thought … in some small way to contribute to the debate on the idea that women should be granted full legal rights and responsibilities as citizens under the law. It was also my aim to express my opinions freely and responsibly.”

  “And in light of what you have learned and experienced over the past month, would you retract any or all of your writings and speeches on the matter?”

  “I would not retract them.” Remington paused. “I would revise them.”

  “To what, my lord? Would you revise your stand on the emancipation of women?”

  “I would not. Though my reasons for believing in it have certainly changed.” He glanced at Antonia. “But I would most radically alter my writings about marriage.”

  “What do you say of marriage now, my lord?”

  Remington grew thoughtful, then glanced at the justices before pinning his gaze on Antonia. And the courtroom settled into a hush.

  “I have been wont in the past to judge marriage by its worst, rather than its best, examples. Of late I have come to see the folly in judging a thing solely upon its deficits. I pray the good justices hearing my case share that insight.” Gentle laughter swept the gallery, damping the instant he continued.

  “Marriage, I have learned, is not a cold, social abstract; it is a warm, living encounter between two people. Yes, it has societal ramifications … but if the relationships between married couples are good, then the resultant harmony can only be good for society at large. In these last weeks I have discovered marriage to be all those things that you have heard described by my friends earlier. Marriage is cleaving to one another first and always, sharing time and resources and the events of life, bearing with another’s imperfections, supporting one another in times of triumph and defeat, and sometimes making sacrifices for the good of each other. But I have also learned more.” And he gazed at Antonia with his heart in his eyes, willing her to see, making her know that he was speaking for her … to her.

  “Marriage is not ownership of another, but a partnership … a full and equal partnership, built on mutual trust and need, on respect and affection. But it is a partnership where the two become one … one flesh, one heart, and at times even one mind. It is a joining in which giving everything that is in you somehow never leaves you feeling empty. A dear friend of mine describes a loving marriage as ‘two hearts beating as one.’ And she couldn’t be more right.”

  A friend. Cleo. Antonia felt a shiver and came to the edge of her seat, clasping the railing before her. She watched him calling to her, resurrecting memories with his gaze, and with his words. As he continued to speak, she focused tightly on his face, and the rest of the courtroom gradually faded to the edges of her awareness.

  Suddenly she could see in his dark eyes reminders of a thousand “touch me’s” he had said without speaking, of the endless words of desire he had poured into her ears and sent wrapping around her heart … of cherries and cream, of buttons clattering across the floor, of red wine and candlelight, of corsets and trousers and ties. She could see “I need you” glowing in every line of his face. She could hear “I want you” clinging to the underside of every word he uttered. She could feel again the gentleness of his hands as he caressed and comforted her and pleasured her.

  “Marriage is holding each other into the night, drying each other’s tears, letting passion flow to sweeten the bitter knowledge that you do not have forever … only now.”

  He was recalling the same thing—that night when they sat with Cleo. She felt again that wild, precious swell of love in her heart.

  “Marriage should be a nest, not a cage. It can ground us and make us more stable, while freeing us to explore the depths and heights of our hearts.”

  She understood somehow: the rootedness, the stability that marriage could provide, and the paradoxical way it could allow a heart to soar, to stretch, to become.

  “Marriage forces you to look at who you are and what you believe. It makes you think beyond yourself, grow beyond who and what you have been. It enlarges your experience, your ideas, and your heart … by two.”

  And that was exactly what she felt … her heart had enlarged … grown … filled with …

  “Marriage can be hell on earth—or heaven. And the thing that makes it one or the other is love. Love with the right person. And I never would have known that if I hadn’t gone to Paxton House.”

  In the silence she felt him reaching for her, felt the pull of him in the very marrow of her bones. Through his testimony he had recalled all that had happened between them and had poured it out across the landscape
of benches and robes and trappings of governmental power, using it to woo her in a shameless and breathtaking courtship. She pushed to her feet and stood gripping the gallery railing.

  “My lord,” Kingston Gray said in a solemn voice, “that is indeed a marvelous statement. But the true test of your views on marriage must be whether or not you will marry yourself. Given the chance, would you marry?”

  “In an instant. You see, I’m very much in love with the right person. I’m in love with Antonia Paxton.” Remington watched Antonia’s glowing face and saw the tears collecting. Her chest was heaving, like his. He could see the emotions swirling in her beautiful blue eyes and warming her rosy skin … he had touched her with his words. But would it be enough? He took a ragged breath and then took the biggest risk of his life.

  “Toni, will you marry me?”

  For just one second she was frozen. Joy, disbelief, anxiety, relief—she was paralyzed by the explosion of feeling inside her. Then from behind someone gave her a nudge, and she heard the choked word: “Go!”

  And she started to move … to the aisle … down the stairs … blinded by tears but guided by unfailing instinct. She didn’t care that they were in Court One or that the one she was rushing to embrace was on trial … all she knew was she had to be with him, to touch him, to hold him when she said yes.

  He flew out of the witness box and opened his arms just in time to catch her and her exultant: “Yes—yes—yes. I’ll marry you!”

  He picked her up and whirled her once around, laughing. And when her feet touched the floor, his lips touched hers and it was somehow just like the very first time he had kissed her. The softness, the wonder, the warmth of her engulfed his senses. She was life and sustenance and pleasure, the woman meant to complete his heart.

  For that moment nothing else mattered; not the courtroom erupting in joyful turmoil, not the justices furiously banging their gavels and sending the clerk for more bailiffs, not even the prospect of being convicted or the specter of being parted. And it was some time before Remington heard his name being called and raised his head, though he refused to relinquish his hold on her.

  “Your honors!” the prosecutor was bellowing, “this is an outrage! They’ve made a mockery of the court and the legal process! The Crown requests an immediate ruling and a conviction!”

  “Your honors!” Kingston Gray matched his volume in a powerful, booming bass voice. “We ask the tribunal to understand the special circumstances of this case … to right the injustice already done to the defendant, and to set aside the charges and exonerate Lord Carr of all wrongdoing!”

  Remington and Antonia looked up to find three hot-eyed magistrates glaring down at them. “Order!” the chief justice roared, banging furiously, then pointing at the pair of lovers with a gavel that was trembling. “You—both of you—stay right there! Bailiff—see that no one so much as moves a foot!”

  The justices withdrew to the rear of the bench and could be seen arguing heatedly for several minutes. Antonia looked up at Remington with a worried expression and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry. I just had to hold you.” He smiled and lowered his head to her ear.

  “I love you, Toni, and you love me. What else matters?”

  She slipped both arms around him, heedless of the glares and gasps around them. “I do love you, Remington Carr. With all my heart. And I’m going to marry you.”

  “Even though I’m not the last bachelor on the face of the earth?”

  She laughed and let her face fill with the love rising from her heart. “You’re my last bachelor … that’s quite good enough.”

  Minutes later the justices returned to their places, looking stern and forbidding as they banged for order. Attention quickly focused on the bench, and on the justices’ obvious displeasure. Remington released Antonia and together they faced the bench, with Gray beside them.

  “We have reached a unanimous decision, and rather than delay and waste more of this court’s valuable time, we will deliver the ruling and pass sentence now.” He looked down his nose and down the bench to the glowing pair of lovers. “In the first charge the evidence is ponderous and convincing. It is the finding of this court that the defendant is guilty of advocating and promulgating ideas injurious to both the common moral will and the common good, to wit: views and opinions denigrating the holy and majestic institution of marriage.”

  Guilty. The verdict staggered Antonia. She looked up at Remington and found his face set with equal parts of determination and dread. She slipped her hand in his and tried to ignore the clamor of outrage coming from the gallery.

  “Order!” He hammered for silence again and got a lowering of the roar from the back instead. “And in the matter of the second charge, the Crown’s evidence is found woefully insufficient. The defendant is found not guilty.”

  Remington looked at Antonia with a bit of relief, then squeezed her hand.

  “Now as to the sentence. A prison term is generally called for …”

  Antonia’s stomach sank.

  “However, seeing that there were special circumstances in this case … and that the miscreant has already been more than rehabilitated, we have decided upon a more fitting sentence. Remington Carr, Earl of Landon, this court sentences you to life—in marriage with one Mrs. Antonia Paxton. The sentence to begin this very day, in this courtroom.” And he bent down over the bench toward them with a bit of fire in his eyes. “And may God have mercy on your souls.”

  Remington broke into a stunned grin. “I believe, Your Honor, He already has.”

  In seconds they were being hugged and embraced by Paddington and Hermione, who fought their way through the bailiffs to stand up with them. The justice sent for the rector of the church down the street and gave them a few moments to prepare. Antonia’s ladies were permitted down on the floor of the court with them, and among them they managed to find something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. Some romantic soul outside located a flower vendor down the street and sent a nosegay of flowers through the crowd and up the court to Antonia.

  By the time they were ready, the rector arrived, the special license was issued, and in a few short minutes they were indeed married. For better or worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. For the rest of their lives.

  There was hardly a dry eye in the courtroom when he took her gently in his arms and kissed her.

  Shortly, they were barraged with handshakes, hugs, and congratulations. Among those who came down to wish them well was Sir Henry Peckenpaugh and his wife, Rosamund Garvey Peckenpaugh, the sixth and last of Antonia’s Bentick brides. She hugged Antonia and answered Antonia’s question of how she was getting on with a beaming smile. “Henry and I are … expecting,” she whispered. “And, Lady Toni, it’s made us do a lot of thinking and talking. It’s getting better every day.” Antonia laughed, feeling her spirits rise at the realization that perhaps some of her protégées had found happiness. It seemed the perfect thing to set her own happiness in her new marriage.

  Together they fought their way through the crowd to the church down the street to register their vows, then managed to find a cab and escape to Remington’s house for a while. Antonia’s ladies, the Bentick couples, and Hermione and Paddington went with them. And with Gertrude’s help Remington’s overwhelmed cook managed to put on a simple but tasty wedding dinner. Toasts were drunk, music was made, and Remington’s mansion was duly explored and admired by the ladies of Paxton House. But when it came time for the guests to leave for their respective homes, the host and hostess were missing.

  Paddington roused himself to go look for them, but Hermione pulled him back down on the settee. “Don’t bother, Paddington dear. I’m sure they’re somewhere perfectly safe … learning to play footsie.”

  The sun was high in the sky the next morning when Antonia awakened in her grand new bed … to the feel of something sliding sinuously over her naked hip. It felt wonderful, and she knew without opening her eyes who was responsible
. After a few delicious moments she opened them and found Remington tantalizing her skin with a lock of her own hair. She turned from her side onto her back, smiling up at him.

  He was wearing the most indecent smile—something between saturated with pleasure and ravenously aroused. “Wake up, Countess. I have a present for you.” He took her left hand and placed on her ring finger an exquisite cut diamond set in an intricate bed of gold and polished rubies. “It was my mother’s ring … and my grandmother’s. It has been worn by several generations of Landon countesses. I didn’t expect ever to give it to anyone.”

  “It’s breathtaking,” she said softly, her eyes shining as she turned her hand to admire it. Then she glanced flirtatiously at him from beneath lowered lashes. “If I’d known there were so many benefits to being your countess, I might have said yes to you earlier.”

  “It would have saved me a bit of grief, sweetheart. You know, of course, that the queen—” But he halted. Maybe he’d save the news of the queen’s marriage ultimatum for another time. He quickly substituted: “… may never receive us at court.”

  “I’ll try to bear up under the disappointment.” She laughed wickedly and turned toward him, rubbing the side of his bare leg with her foot, luxuriating in the sensual feeling it roused between them. “I just hope we won’t be totally shunned.”

  “I suspect we’ll live it all down … in thirty or forty years,” he said, nuzzling her shoulders and drifting up her throat toward her mouth. She frowned and bit her lip and he looked up to see the beginnings of real worry in her face.

  “Constance Ellingson will probably be the only one who will invite us …”

  Remington groaned as if in pain. “That settles it—I won’t be stuck with Lady Constance and her interminable soirees. As soon as it’s decently possible—in two or three months, when the season is well under way—we’ll throw a huge, lavish ball to celebrate our marriage. And their curiosity about the beautiful and sensuous Countess of Landon and the ravening, depraved beast she rescued by marriage will overcome their proper and prudish impulses. They’ll come. And they’ll see how you’ve tamed and changed me. And we’ll be positively in demand.” He grinned down into her glistening eyes. “Sound better?”