The Most Unlikely Lady

by Barbara Devlin

  “Papa.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Sabrina swallowed a sob. “I shall miss you always.”

  “None of that, now.” He chucked her playfully on the chin, something he had done for as long as she could remember. “My Sabrina never cries.” With precision and grace, he lifted her veil and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I loved you before you were born, and no doubt I shall love you even after I am gone from this life.”

  Wrapping her arms about his waist, as far as she could reach, Sabrina hugged her father. His hand cradled the back of her head, and the sunlight filtering through the windows bathed them in comforting warmth.

  #

  The ballroom at Everett’s posh Park Lane mansion filled to capacity. He could not believe how many members of the ton had turned out to see him wed Sabrina.

  Bloody hypocrites.

  Casting a side-glance at his wife, who sat beside him, pretty as a picture, devouring the second course of their wedding breakfast with her customary gusto, he chuckled. If he were lucky, her healthy appetite might extend beyond a mere zest for food. How Everett longed to whisk her upstairs and relieve her of the lacy confection that was the stuff of many a man’s fantasy.

  It had taken all his concentration to focus on the ceremony. Twice, Admiral Douglas had to nudge Everett when it was his turn to speak. With Trevor at sea, Everett had asked the admiral to stand with him. Hoping his parents and older brother might see fit to attend his wedding, he had written to them as a common courtesy. There had been no response, no sought after condemnation. They merely ignored him.

  Some things never changed.

  But should it matter? Everett had his own family now. He had Sabrina. They would have a pack of children, and he would love them all with equal fervor, never favoring one over the other. They would take trips together. They would celebrate the holidays, and he would do them up grand.

  Never again would he be alone.

  From where he stood, the future looked rosy, indeed. And he had everything planned to the smallest detail. Life was good.

  And what he had once borne as a ball and chain, his lack of a title, was actually a blessing in disguise. Because of his status, or lack thereof, he could marry a woman of his choosing. There were no agreements to be honored between two noble houses, no longstanding alliances to be fortified. A union would gain nothing with him. He could not be more grateful, more content.

  As though sensing his perusal, Sabrina turned to him and smiled. Her blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed. Without care for the audience, Everett cupped her chin, leaned forward, and kissed her passionately.

  He had not thought it possible to be so happy.

  A commotion in the crowd brought him up for air.

  “Make way! Make way!”

  The revelers parted, and a grey-haired couple neared the bridal table. Their expressions were harsh, severe, and forbidding. But it was their attire that brought the throng to attention.

  They were dressed in the somber black garb of full mourning.

  Everett stood, wondering if the shock encompassing his being was evident in his countenance.

  “What is it?” His bride stared at him. “Who are they?”

  “My parents.”

  #

  Sabrina was certain she would swoon.

  In a rush of confusion, the celebration ended and the guests were hustled out the door. At last, after the final felicitation was offered, Sabrina, Everett, and their respective parents gathered in the study.

  “Charles was thrown from his horse,” Lady Elizabeth, the marchioness of Talbot, said in a sterile tone. “His neck snapped, and there was nothing we could do to save him.”

  “The boy was foxed, Lizzy.” The marquess snorted and perched on the edge of Everett’s desk. “It was a miracle he was able to get in the saddle.”

  Still wearing her wedding gown, Sabrina fiddled with the lace sleeve in an effort to disguise her dismay in regard to her callous in-laws. How could they be so indifferent to their heir’s passing?

  “John,” the marchioness snapped, “Please refrain from addressing me so informally in front of strangers.”

  “As of today, they are family.” Everett reclined in his chair and steepled his hands. “You need not worry about appearances, Lady Elizabeth.”

  Sitting on a daybed and hugging the wall, Sabrina stifled a gasp at her husband’s sharp retort. Never had it occurred to her that her heretofore-charming spouse could have such a barbed tongue.

  “Lord and Lady Talbot.” Her father bowed in deference to their rank. “Please accept our sincerest condolences on the loss of your son.”

  “Thank you, Admiral.” Lady Elizabeth compressed her lips, and Sabrina wondered if she was plagued with a digestive ailment. “We had intended to arrive in time to delay the nuptials. Since Charles was unwed, Everett stands to inherit. There were agreements made that he will have to honor in his brother’s stead.”

  A tremor of unease shuddered through Sabrina’s not so petite frame.

  “I see no problem with that.” Her husband seemed none too pleased, as he shifted in his seat. “Rest assured I would do as must needs.”

  “Excellent.” The marchioness stared down her nose at Sabrina. “I am sure Miss Douglas will understand. Now that you are an earl, she cannot hope to hold you to this union.”

  Sabrina just managed to keep herself from fainting--or swearing. Or punching the marchioness in her face. She had not married Everett to gain a title anymore than she had married him for money. What objection could his mother have to the daughter of a respected naval officer?

  “I beg your pardon.” His face as red as a tomato, her father appeared on the verge of an apoplectic fit. “What the devil are you insinuating, Madam?”

  “Easy, Admiral.” With a tug at his cravat, Everett loosened his neck cloth, tossed the linen to the blotter and adopted an almost predatory demeanor. “Mother, Sabrina is my wife. And it would seem she is now the countess of Woverton. If Charles made an arrangement on that account, then it will go unfulfilled.”

  “But, Everett--”

  “It will go unfulfilled.” Everett stood, crossed the room, and took Sabrina’s hand. She rose, and he positioned her at his side. “This woman is my wife, and in that there will be no argument.”

  “But you were recently wed.” Raising her chin to imperious heights, the marchioness said, “Unless the vows have been consummated, there is still time to obtain an annulment.” She reached into her reticule and produced a bundle of documents. “I have taken the liberty of having our solicitor draw up the necessary papers. He assures me everything can be handled with the utmost discretion and expedience.”

  The world tilted beneath her feet, and Sabrina clutched her husband’s arm. Afraid she might spill the contents of her belly on Everett’s fine rug, she bit the fleshy side of her hand.

  “Lady Talbot, I have never struck a woman in my life, but you stretch the limits of feminine deportment to dangerous depths.” Her formidable father glowered as he came to her defense. “I suggest you guard your tongue.”

  “Well.” Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide with shock. “I have never--”

  “Indeed!” Her mother, who thus far had remained silent, stepped into the fray. “How dare you insult my daughter? I ought to--”

  “Pray, a moment.” Everett accepted the offensive documents from his mother, made a show of perusing them, walked to the fireplace, and tossed them into the flames.

  It was then that Sabrina realized she had been holding her breath. Had she swooned in front of her mother-in-law, she would have killed herself.

  “What are you doing?” the marchioness asked.

  “I am fully prepared to undertake the responsibilities of the title.” Slowly, deliberately, Everett turned and pinned his mother with a harsh stare. “As to the matter of my wife, there will be no annulment. End of discussion.”

  #

  Much later, Everett escorted Sabrina to her chambers. Her parents had gone ho
me, her mother having promised to send a suitable dress for mourning. Her reluctant in-laws had been ensconced in a guestroom for the night. They were to journey to Oxfordshire at first light.

  It had not occurred to Sabrina that her wedding night loomed until they entered her sitting room. Despite the sad revelation of the day, and the fact that her new relations wanted nothing to do with her, nervous excitement burned beneath her skin. Desire licked at her senses, and she suppressed a quiver of anticipation.

  Everett closed the door and leaned against the oak panel. “Are you all right?”

  “I am fine.” She mustered her best smile. “And I was going to ask you the same.”

  Cool and casual, he strolled to her. Was there something she was supposed to do, as his wife? When he snaked his arms about her waist, she skimmed her palms over his shoulders and twined her fingers in his hair.

  And waited for the kiss that never came.

  Instead, he nuzzled her temple. “This is not how I had planned to spend our wedding night.”

  “I am sure we can survive it.” She pressed her lips to the warm flesh of his neck. “We will have enough nights for two lifetimes, I imagine.”

  Everett pulled back, brought up her hands, tugged off her gloves, and tossed them to a chair. Her pulse raced out of control and her heartbeat sounded in her ears as he paused to nip each fingertip and then licked her palms.

  The apprehension that gripped her at the mention of an annulment vanished. In its place, the flame of desire flickered, commanding her senses. Pleasure danced a wicked waltz over her skin, and lust burned in her loins. And for the first time, Sabrina understood the pain Everett had spoken of that day in her parent’s drawing room.

  Because she ached with a powerful hunger.

  With boldness she never knew she possessed, she set her mouth to his and a sensuous duel ensued. A desperate need bloomed in the pit of her belly, and she was frightened and undaunted, at once. But when she slid her hands beneath his coat, he broke their kiss.

  “You should rest.” He escorted her to the entrance of her bedchamber. “Try to forget about today.”

  Sabrina recalled the fascinating conversation with her mother concerning the event that would take place tonight. No doubt her thoughtful husband would allow her the customary opportunity to prepare herself. It would not be proper for her to appear too interested. So, despite the inclination to topple him to the floor, she deferred to his judgment.

  “All right.” Should she inform him she could be naked in a matter of seconds? A countess would probably not be so hasty. “I shall ready myself for bed.”

  #

  Fighting every urge to claim his bride in the most elemental fashion possible, Everett turned on his heel and had not stopped until he gained the safety and sanity of his study. Staring into the flames in the hearth, a balloon of brandy sat, untouched, in his hand.

  “Charles, you must have needed this every day of your life.” He toasted his older brother and downed the contents in one gulp.

  Everett revisited the loneliness of his childhood and the years spent in confinement with only his nanny for company. While his brother was included in all the family gatherings, and was often the center of attention, Everett had been left to watch from afar--as an outsider. And though no one had ever said as much, he knew what he was, nothing more than a spare. He was the extra, the second son.

  But as Charles achieved adulthood with nary a scratch, it became painfully evident no one had much use for Everett. While Charles cried like a pathetic milquetoast when he left home for Eton, Everett had welcomed the move. At least at school, he expected to be alone.

  How ironic was it that Eton was where he had discovered true friendship in the form of Trevor Marshall. With similar parental relationships, he and Trevor shared their despair. Years of solitude made them a perfect pair. When other boys went home for the holidays, he and Trevor stayed behind, often taking dinner with their schoolmaster and his family. At night, they ran the cavernous halls of their dorms, playing hide and seek or telling scary stories until they grew tired and finally slept.

  They never talked about their relations.

  As they grew into men, they entered Oxford. The family pinned their hopes on Charles, only to be disappointed as he failed his exams, time and again. To his abiding delight, Everett graduated at the top of his class. Afterward, he entered the Royal Navy and fought under Nelson. He served his commission with honor, while his elder sibling had done nothing more than bear the societal rank.

  Having survived the infamous Battle of Trafalgar, he opted to go into business for himself, rather than re-commission in the navy. He purchased shares in an American timber company and made a fortune. Shortly thereafter, he acquired property, while his brother had done nothing but squander money by gambling and drinking.

  Strange, he had spent his entire life envying his elder sibling, his title, and the love and affection he garnered from their parents. Now that he had it--all of it--Everett realized he had not wanted it.

  The future he had planned seemed impossible, because he was now the earl of Woverton. There were strictures to observe, estates to manage, and tenants to oversee. The weight of the title and its accompanying duties were an anchor about his neck.

  The only positive aspect was he needed to get himself an heir. At the moment, there was nothing he would rather do than tumble his wife. But Sabrina had married Lord Everett Markham, second son and ordinary man.

  What if she preferred not to be a countess?

  While he could not walk away from his family, she could. When he declared there would be no annulment, he had spoken on his behalf. He had not considered what she wanted. If he took her now, if he consummated their vows, there would be no escape. Regardless of how much he desired her, he could not make love to his wife.

  At least, not yet.

  He needed to give her time, even if it killed him--and it might. Tomorrow, they would journey to Tantallon Hall, the Talbot ancestral pile. Everett despised the place. It held no happy memories for him, because he had never felt welcome there. His brother would be buried in the family plot, amid a sea of Markham’s past.

  Once the unpleasant business concluded, he and Sabrina would do as he had originally intended. They would journey to his home, Beaumaris. Then, should she express such a wish, he would grant her an annulment.

  “God, help me if it comes to that.”

  Resting elbows to knees, Everett buried his face in his hands.

  #

  Sabrina woke slowly the following morning, stared at the ceiling, stretched her arms above her head, and frowned. Something was amiss. Seconds later, she bolted upright.

  She was not in bed.

  She was not naked.

  She was not curled beside her equally naked husband.

  According to her mother, that was to be expected.

  Her heart beat, wild and rapid, in her chest, and she winced with shock. It was morning, and she had spent her wedding night, alone, on the chaise, where she had adopted a seductive pose to wait for Everett to return.

  Standing, she paused to rub the small of her back before crossing the room to tug on the bell pull. After dressing in a high-neck, black bombazine contraption she might have read about in a book on torture, she descended the grand staircase, her mood as morose as her attire.

  Nodding an acknowledgement, Everett said nothing when she entered the dining room. At the table, Sabrina sipped some tea and shuffled her eggs from one side of the plate to the other. It was remarkable that she was too upset to eat. But food was not on her mind. A single question claimed her attention to the detriment of all else.

  Why had Everett not come to her last night?

  She was a married woman and still a virgin. Surely there was something wrong with that.

  After his numerous promises.

  After the subtle innuendoes and naughty whispers.

  After the illicit caresses.

  He had done nothing? It made no sense.
Unless...Everett had not intended to consummate their vows, given the change in his circumstances.

  There was one reason she could think of for not relieving her of her maidenhead. Despite what he had said in the study, her husband considered an annulment. Perhaps, now that he was an earl, he no longer found her an acceptable wife.

  And she could not blame him.

  Because Sabrina knew not the first thing about being a countess. There were so many rules to follow--and she had never been good with rules. Her experience was in breaking them. But she knew the expectations were high, and there would be many among the ton hoping to see her fail, if only for a good chuckle.

  In a blur of activity, their trunks were packed, and Sabrina soon found herself sitting beside her silent spouse in the sumptuous traveling coach belonging to his parents. Occupying the seat opposite them, the marquess and marchioness gazed out the windows. Without warning, Everett’s father inclined his head and caught her studying him. He appeared a friendly sort when he smiled, which he had done just then. Sabrina returned the gesture. Her father-in-law stretched his legs and shuffled in his seat before settling once more.

  “Tell me a bit about yourself, my dear,” the marquess asked, unaware of the hazard into which he had entered.

  It was his misfortune, and probably that of the others present, not to know that when Sabrina Francis Douglas Markham was nervous, she chatted incessantly at the slightest prompt.

  “Well, my mother always says I am my father’s daughter, and I suppose she would know. I have always preferred fishing to embroidery.” Sabrina grimaced. “Never have taken a liking to such drudgery. I ask you, what good can come of it?”

  The marquess chuckled.

  The marchioness humphed and turned up her nose.

  Everett reclined in the corner, folded his arms, and closed his eyes.

  Two hours later...

  “When I was ten, I could climb a tree better than most boys, though my mother thought it highly improper. But she had Cara, and my older sister is the feminine ideal. I call her Miss Perfect, and I cannot fathom why she is not married. You know, I never thought much of getting married, as it seemed quite unfair to be subjected to the whims of a man.”