by Dayna Quince
“I was not,” Hazel cried.
“I’m afraid you were, dear—as evidenced by the healthy state of both Anabelle and me.” Lucy grimaced. “You drank a whole bottle worth yourself, at least.”
Anabelle glared at Lucy. “This isn’t helping.”
“What are we to say? Excitement got the best of her?” Thea broke in.
“The first rumor to break free will be that she is pregnant. Irrelevant now that they are married. If it were known she drank heavily the night before, what is the point? I don’t see much harm at all. Talk is just talk now.”
“I suppose not. Mrs. Danford was miffed,” Lucy added.
Hazel sat up. “Thank you, Mary.”
Mary nodded and retreated. The girls waited until they were alone.
Hazel cleared her throat. “She didn’t look when I came down the aisle. What do you suppose that means?”
The girls shared glances.
“What is it?” Hazel asked.
“It’s nothing,” Anabelle assured her. “Everyone in kingdom come knows what a sour note she is. I wouldn’t pay any attention to her.”
“I’d get her moved to a cottage on the far side of the estate as soon as possible,” Heather stated.
Hazel’s head snapped toward her. “Now you’re scaring me.”
“She’s dicked in the knob,” Lucy added. “My mother warned me about the nature of mothers and only sons. They can be rather incorrigible.”
“She’s his aunt, not his mother,” Hazel scoffed.
“But she did raise him. I think you ought to tread carefully where she is concerned,” Anabelle finished.
“I need to return downstairs.” Hazel sighed.
“We’ll do our best to trample the gossip.” They nodded.
They returned downstairs as a group. Her mother caught up with her on the stairs.
“I was just about to fetch you. Everyone is waiting for you, dear. We’re almost seated and brunch is set out.”
Hazel inwardly cringed. She didn’t want food. Her mother took her hand and they paused on the stairs. The others kept going, but Anabelle halted at her side.
“Are you sure you are feeling well?”
“Yes, Mother.” Hazel hurried down the stairs. She wanted to get the nightmare over with. She looked up to find Lord Bainbridge waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She almost lost her balance when her eyes caught his. She slowed as she came to the last step.
“I don’t know if I will ever stop apologizing for this day.”
He smiled. “I promise it will get better.”
“How?”
“It must. What else could go wrong?”
“That sounds like a challenge to the fates. Tread carefully.”
“Come, wife. The pastor is waiting in the drawing room.”
Hazel looked back, but her mother and sister had gone on to the brunch. They would be announced once they were finished with the pastor. Hazel was surprised to see her father and Draven waiting to sign as witnesses.
“Hazel, you look much better.” Her father touched her shoulder.
“Thank you.”
“Here we are.” The pastor directed them to the book.
Hazel signed her new name and watched as Lord Bainbridge signed his. Garrett Henry William, Earl of Bainbridge. She was now Lady Bainbridge, no longer a Darling. Her eyes felt a little misty. Draven caught her eye. He was smiling in that way of his that was both at one’s expense and yet kind. He broke the contact and clapped Bainbridge on the back.
“Leg shackled for the rest of your life. May it be long and fruitful.”
“My dear, I wish you all the happiness. I always have.” Her father kissed her cheek. He shook Bainbridge’s hand and left them.
“I too must return. They are serving champagne, Hazel. Try not to drink it all,” Draven chided.
Hazel scowled at him. She glared at his back as he quit the room. She turned back towards her groom. They were very much alone now and allowed to be. It was an odd situation. She still felt like she knew so little about him.
“We’re married now?” She tried to sound casual.
He nodded. “Do you feel any different?”
“No. Should I?”
“I have no idea.” He took her hand and set it on his arm. “It’s time we make our entrance.”
“The sooner this day is over…” Hazel let him lead her from the room. He paused at the door.
“Are you anxious to get into bed, my dear?”
Hazels gaze snapped to his. Color rushed to her cheeks.
He chuckled.
Chapter 3
That single sentence claimed her mind for the rest of the day. It was a wonderful distraction. The hours raced by. Toasts, dancing, the endless stream of well wishes… It all blurred into background noise as her mind refused to erase the image of herself in bed with Bainbridge. She was staring off into the distance, imagining that very thing, when someone took her hand.
“Slip away with me,” Anabelle whispered in her ear.
“What? Oh.” Thank heavens. It was time for the bride to slip away. Only close family remained now. An informal dinner had been served and dancing was taking place on the terrace with the accompaniment of only a piano.
It occurred to Hazel how odd it was to lose her virginity in a house overflowing with family who knew precisely what she would be up to. It was expected, even celebrated, but awfully humiliating. Anabelle held her hand as they entered her room. This would be even stranger. There would be a man in her childhood room. Between the sheets, possibly unclothed—what was she thinking? Of course, he would be unclothed, as would she.
She could feel her palms sweating already.
“Mother has allowed me to be the one to talk about…duties and such,” Anabelle began. She urged Hazel to sit at the foot of the bed.
“Duties?” Hazel cringed.
“Absurd use of the word, isn’t it?”
“Are we going to talk about marital congress now?” Hazel finally felt a fissure of excitement.
Anabelle sat next to her. “I want you to forget all those silly words.” Anabelle grew serious. She took her sister’s hand.
“I never told you, but Draven and I shared a fair amount of intimacy before our wedding.”
Hazel’s eyes widened. She knew there was a lot her sister hadn’t told her about her strange courtship with her now husband.
“I was looking for passion and excitement. I knew that was what I wanted to share with my future husband, but I didn’t know what those things felt like. Draven showed me the light, but I didn’t want to believe he was the man I was looking for. You of all people know how stubborn I can be.”
“Yes.” Hazel nodded.
“I know you don’t know Bainbridge very well. Have you shared any intimacies at all?”
Hazel shook her head. “He kissed me the day of your wedding.” Hazel finally admitted. “After you and Draven had left. We watched from the window on the first-floor landing. It took me by surprise.”
“Did you like it?”
Hazel smiled. “Very much so.”
“Good.” Anabelle returned her smile. “There will be lots of kissing tonight, and more.”
“It’s the more I’m foggy about.”
“Let the emotions take you, Hazel. You will feel many wonderful things. I know he cares for you. I won’t say it won’t hurt the first time, but the more you focus on the good parts, the quicker the pain will fade.”
“There is pain?”
Anabelle grimaced. “Only at first.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Anabelle sighed. “You understand the basics, of course?”
“Yes, but—.”
“Let your body lead the way. He will kiss you and touch you places you didn’t know could feel so lovely.”
“Like where?”
“Behind your knees or even your wrists. The discovery is yours to make, but the only advice I can give you is to simply let yourself go. Fol
low the wants of your heart and body.”
Hazel frowned. “None of that is very clear.”
“It’s better if you don’t over think things. I promise.” Anabelle stood. “I will summon Mary.”
“I wish we weren’t here. Everyone will know.”
“Your presence is not expected tomorrow,” Anabelle assured her. “Stay in bed all day with your husband.” She winked.
Hazel sighed as her sister left. “I’m intrigued, but also puzzled.” She heard a soft knock. “Come in, Mary.” Hazel moved to her vanity and began to take down her hair. The figure that appeared behind her was not Mary.
“Mrs. Danford?” Hazel dropped her hands and turned to face the woman.
Mrs. Danford had her hands folded in front of her. Hazel was grateful the woman didn’t attempt to help her with her hair. It was an odd thought, but nothing about this rigid woman urged Hazel to form any sort of comfortable bond with her. “May I help you?”
“I saw you and your sister retire together. Having been married myself, I knew the ritual that was about to occur, and I thought it prudent that I attend to your experience as well. You are a William now, more importantly, you bear the Bainbridge title and with that, a mantle of breeding, exceptional behavior, and status. In honor of my brother’s memory, I will impart to you the manner in which you will comport yourself with my nephew while ensuring the Bainbridge bloodline.”
If Hazel had any measure of excitement for her wedding night, it died a quick death. She was positive whatever this woman said next would smother any of the lovely things Anabelle said she might feel. Hazel waited for Mrs. Danford to continue.
“The duties of a Bainbridge wife are to conduct one’s self with utmost propriety in all things. Marital intimacies are for the continuance of the bloodline and shall be conducted with dignity and respect. Such intimacies will be regularly conducted until the conception is achieved and cease.”
Hazel knew she should utter some sort of response, but whatever ability she had to form words was lost.
Mrs. Danford turned and made a small circle around her room. “The procuring of an heir is serious business. I was alarmed by your antics this morning. In front of the whole of the church—in front of God, no less. It was apparent that perhaps you may already be with child. I am tasked with the delicate and distasteful obligation of asking whether that child be my nephews.” She turned her head slightly toward Hazel, one eye pinning her.
“I most certainly am not with child.” Hazel uttered with horror. “How could you ask such a thing?”
“I can only be assumed given this morning’s performance.”
Rage filled Hazel. “But no one would dare speak of it if they had any sort of tact.”
Mrs. Danford faced her again. “I am the protector of my brother’s legacy.”
Hazel was speechless. She turned back to her vanity. Her door opened, and Hazel looked in the reflection to see Mary entering. She saw the question in her eyes.
“I’ll have my bath now, Mary.”
Mary nodded and held the door while two footmen carried in a tub. Mrs. Danford remained silent. Hazel prayed she would soon leave and not stay as Hazel bathed. How was she to get this woman out of her room?
“If that is all, Mrs. Danford?”
Mrs. Danford faced her again. “I think I’ve adequately issued my commands, Lady Hazel. Conduct yourself with dignity and respect this evening.” She turned and strolled toward the door, her back poker straight.
Hazel wanted to cry with relief. She watched as Mrs. Danford paused by the door.
“Welcome to the family, Lady Hazel.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Danford.” Hazel exhaled when Mrs. Danford finally passed through the doorway. The last footman emptied his bucket, and she was finally alone with Mary.
“That was…odd,” Mary remarked as Hazel silently removed the pins from her hair. She couldn’t believe the horror that was her wedding day. Some of it was her fault. She should never have drank to excess the eve of her wedding, but her nerves had gotten the best of her, and each sip alleviated the terror just the smallest bit.
Now the day was over.
She sank into the tub, and Mary washed her hair. The hot water was blissful, but she could not get Mrs. Danford’s words out of her mind. The gall of that woman! Hazel closed her eyes as Mary’s nimble fingers rubbed at the tight tendons of her neck.
“Are you ready for your wedding night?” Mary asked with a little giggle.
Hazel closed her eyes. Her throat tightened. “No.”
Mary’s hands stilled. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”
Hazel swallowed. “This day has been… unbelievable.”
“It was that woman, wasn’t it? She looks meaner than a shaved cat.”
“It’s not only Mrs. Danford.” Hazel felt a tear slip past her lashes. “I don’t know what I thought my wedding day would be like, but I never thought of this. Now I’m going to share my wedding night with a whole house full of family and a woman whom I suspect finds me disagreeable.”
“But Lord Bainbridge, he’s a handsome fellow. Surely, he will put your mind at ease. The way you talked about him leading up to the wedding, I know you care for him. There is something there. You don’t regret it, do you?”
Hazel let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know, Mary.”
Mary remained silent as she began to rinse her hair. Her heart ached to hear the sorrow in Lady Hazel’s voice. She should be shivering with excited anticipation, not weeping into her bath water.
“I’m sure it will all come together the way it ought to. You are your own mistress now.”
Hazel nodded halfheartedly. “What do I do when he comes in here, Mary?”
Mary waited for the right words to say. She had no experience giving wedding night advice. “Perhaps if you are honest about your fears tonight, he will understand.”
“I dearly hope so,” Hazel muttered. But where would she find the nerve?
Garrett withdrew himself from Lord Wellsford’s study. He’d had enough of the manly ribbing and innuendo for the evening. While grateful for Lord Wellsford’s hospitality and trust in allowing him to offer for and marry his daughter, he was not looking forward to his wedding night under the man’s roof. He made his way to his allotted guest room. He found his valet waiting.
“Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening, Smith.”
“My congratulations, sir, on your wedding.”
“Thank you, Smith. A quick bath if you please.”
“Yes, sir. Shall I set out your crimson robe and slippers?”
Garrett considered this. Many of the overnight guests were still carousing downstairs. What if he were seen heading to her room? He found that distasteful. He didn’t want others thinking of his wedding night activities. It already felt like the whole world was watching.
“No. The beige breeches, clean shirt, and my hunter green jacket will do.” He could see Smith frowning from the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to be seen in my robe, Smith.”
“Yes, sir.” Smith went about his duties. He’d already had the tub partially filled and buckets warming by the fire before his master’s arrival, as was the usual evening routine. Usually, his master wasn’t this edgy.
Garrett bathed and dressed quickly. He had noted when Hazel had departed the drawing room and wanted to give her ample time to prepare herself. He was now ready to make the trek to her room and prayed no one had the indecency to spot him and remark upon it.
He dismissed Smith for the evening and paused outside his door. As far as he could tell, the hall and stairs were empty. He kept to the shadows and made his way to the stairs, mentally repeating the directions to her room.
This felt more like an affair than a wedding night.
He took the back stairs two at a time, reaching her floor and then slipped down the hall. He stopped at her door and knocked softly. His heart was racing.
He heard her voice. Hand to the handle, he twisted and pu
shed the portal open just enough to slip inside. Why he was moving like a thief he had no idea. He closed the door quietly, his back to the room. He turned and exhaled slowly.
She was sitting on the bed, candles on the bedside table flickering in the breeze that wafted from the balcony doors left open to the cool summer evening.
“Good evening,” she said softly. It was almost a whisper.
She had the coverlet over her lap and pillows tucked behind her like an invalid. Her nightgown was virginal white and covered all of her, from what he could see. He felt a spark of disappointment.
“Good evening, my lady.” His voice sounded wheezy. He took a deep breath and stepped away from the door.
“We may as well dispense with formalities. We are married now.” She looked and sounded so small from the middle of the bed. It wasn’t even a very large bed. It looked more suited for a child’s room—he looked around with surprise. This was her room from the time she left the nursery. A girl’s room. He instantly felt wrong for being there. A man intent on deflowering her. His feet rooted to the spot, awkwardly standing in the middle of escape and her bed. He swallowed and hoped his rising panic wasn’t evident on his face.
Thankfully, she wasn’t looking at him, only at her hands.
“Hazel,” he began, but he had nothing else to say. Words failed him, and it was quickly becoming evident his body would too. He’d thought of her for so long, yearned for her, and now there was nothing but an embarrassment to cap the end of the worst wedding day in history. He choked as he tried to smother a laugh.
Her head snapped up. “Are you laughing?”
Garrett broke from his stance and went to her vanity to sit on her stool. She looked at him as if he were mad. He must be.
“My apologies.” He put a fist to his mouth.
“Gar—” She froze.
“Garrett is my name.”
“I know.” She blushed, a vibrant pink. “I need to talk to you about tonight.”
He nodded for her to continue. She was obviously struggling with what she wanted to say.