To Make a Marriage

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Mrs. Redmond opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a single word, the closed doors to the large and airy room opened. All heads turned that way. And there Victoria stood, very much the actress who had been standing in the wings and listening for her cue to make her grand entrance. And grand she was: a vision in a navy blue day dress that captured the color of her eyes. Stunning. Rich mahogany hair piled atop her head. Bewitching figure.

  Spencer, along with the other men present, rose to their feet. Utter silence filled the room.

  Victoria’s gaze sought and found Spencer’s. In that instant, he was seized by an unearthly feeling of such magnitude that he felt pinned to the floor, unable to move a muscle or to look away from Victoria. The room, the other people in it with him and her, faded to one feathery-edged blur of sight and sound. Only she and he existed. A sudden, overwhelming feeling of time and energy rushing forward in defiance of the very laws of nature seized Spencer. He felt he was being pushed, flung against his will and without taking a step, right up to Victoria. Like opposing magnetic fields compelled to connect and to collide.

  Despite everything she’d done and how she’d humiliated him, Spencer could not look away from her. She seemed no more capable of breaking their locked gazes than he was. This was the most awful and wonderful feeling—

  And then it was gone. All was suddenly ordinary motion and action. Spencer exhaled as subtly as was possible for a man who felt he’d just reentered his own body. He frowned, calling himself a practical man who had both feet firmly on the ground. Odd things such as that moment did not happen to him. It was utterly ridiculous. Thus, he was able to convince himself that it hadn’t happened at all and nothing was changed. Especially not him. And certainly not Victoria.

  She was approaching him now, appearing almost to glide toward him. She stopped in front of him and rested her hand intimately on his sleeve as she raised her face to his. Frowning, wary—Victoria had never before voluntarily touched him—Spencer looked from her hand on his arm to her face. He expected to see guilt in her blue eyes, or maybe a gloating tilt to her expression. But what he actually saw was some jagged, broken emotion that unsettled him and begged him to … do what, he had no idea.

  “Hello, darling,” she finally said, her voice soft and husky.

  Spencer came to attention. So, a public scene of tender reunion was to be her game. Very well. He smiled, knowing that only he and she knew she’d never before called him “darling” or any other form of endearment.

  “Hello, my dear,” he replied glibly. He looked her up and down pointedly, noting her lovely gown. “You’re dressed for company. I’m sorry, have I come at an inconvenient time?”

  She blinked, looking fearful, and shook her head no. “Company? Who would I be expecting— I mean, no, of course not.” She tried a smile but it wouldn’t hold. “You’re hardly company. I dressed like this for you … Spencer.”

  “You did? For me? How very clever of you, especially since you had no idea I would be arriving today … or even at all.”

  Flicking his gaze to her family, Spencer saw her father and mother and brother exchange anxious glances. But only Spencer saw Victoria’s pink little tongue flick out to moisten her lips. So she was nervous, was she? Good. She’d damned well better be.

  She quickly recovered and gave his chest a playful pat that had Spencer raising his eyebrows. “Don’t be silly. Of course I knew you were coming. I just didn’t know … when, exactly. And I find myself wondering what took you so long getting here.”

  Did she seriously expect him to go along with this charade? “What took me so long? Why, the Atlantic Ocean, mostly. Crossing it, I mean. It’s a rather large pond. And we found ourselves on a slow boat.”

  A snort of amusement from Edward’s direction reminded everyone of his presence.

  “And you’ve brought Edward,” Victoria announced happily, pulling away from Spencer. No doubt, she was relieved to do so. She turned a dazzling smile on his cousin as she went to grip the young earl’s eager hands. “Why, Edward, I do declare, you handsome scamp you, it is wonderful to see you again.”

  That fool Edward preened and bowed. “Why, thank you, Your Grace—”

  “Oh, la. We’re family. I’m Victoria to you. And you’ve been introduced to my family, I am certain?”

  “Oh, yes, quite delightful. I must say you’re looking radiant, Victoria. It’s so good to see you again, too.”

  He sounded so damned sincere and charming that Spencer could have choked him. Before he could act on that impulse, Mrs. Redmond abruptly stood and cried out. “Victoria! What—? I don’t understand. What is the meaning of this?”

  Taken aback, Spencer stared from mother to daughter. He watched Victoria release Edward’s hands and turn to her mother. “The meaning of what, Mama? I am merely greeting—”

  “Not that. You know very well what I mean. This. I’m talking about this.” Clearly vexed, Mrs. Redmond pointed out to the hallway beyond the open doors to the parlor. Mr. Redmond edged over to see for himself, raised his eyebrows, and bleated a surprised curse.

  What now? All Spencer could see was the wall and a large painting of Mrs. Redmond in her younger days. But, in short order, she cleared up the mystery.

  “Your traveling bags, Victoria. Duke and Rubin just went by with them and out the front door. And Rosanna followed them, carrying her bags. What are you doing? Where are you going now?”

  Her posture stiffening, Victoria raised her chin. “Why, I’m leaving with my husband, Mama.”

  Her entire family raised protests of one sort or another. Surprised, Spencer looked from his wife to her family and then to Edward, who shrugged, and finally settled his gaze again on Victoria as she continued.

  “Isn’t that what you and Daddy wanted? Wasn’t that what you said to me not more than thirty minutes ago? How River’s End is no longer my home? Did I misunderstand?”

  “We said nothing of the sort,” Isaac Redmond contradicted her. “Certainly your husband and his cousin are more than welcome to stay here. Why, we have already welcomed them into our home and are happy to have them here with us, Victoria, as we are you.”

  “What your father says is true,” her mother seconded. “Even now, rooms are being aired out and made ready.”

  “I am so sorry, Mama, Daddy. But the rooms won’t be needed. We won’t be staying.”

  Though Spencer had no idea what had happened here before he arrived, and who might be at fault, he did intend to support his wife in this. He might have his own devil of a time with her, but she was still the Duchess of Moreland and therefore deserving of his respect. For now and in this matter, at any rate.

  Mrs. Redmond held her hands out in supplication. “I don’t understand, Victoria. After everything you said at breakfast about”—she cut her gaze over to Spencer—“uh, your life in England, I believe it would be best if you stayed here with us.”

  So she had made him out to be the villain. Spencer angrily firmed his lips together in an effort not to speak precipitously. Let Victoria have her say now. He’d have his when he got her alone.

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” she was saying, “but I can’t stay here.” Her voice, to Spencer’s surprise, was a hard chip of flint. “It’s really very simple. My visit here at home…” She stopped, laughed … a brittle sound … and raised a hand as if to say, Give me a moment. “No, I’m sorry, this isn’t home anymore, is it?”

  Mrs. Redmond pressed a hand against her chest. “Of course it is.”

  “What I should have said,” Victoria continued, ignoring her mother’s protest to the contrary, “was my time here at River’s End, though of short duration, has been very pleasant, and you’ve all made me feel quite … welcome. However, my husband is here now, and I wish to leave with him.”

  “Oh, Victoria, honey, not like this,” her mother cried, pushing her knuckles against her mouth and staring, her heart in her eyes, at her daughter.

  Mr. Redmond stepped forward and put his arm ar
ound his wife’s waist. “Victoria,” he said, looking miserable, “this isn’t necessary.”

  Jefferson Redmond came to his feet. “Yes, it is, Daddy. We all know it is. It’s way past time Victoria left.”

  Though Spencer heard Edward’s discreet little cough that spoke eloquently of his discomfort in witnessing this domestic scene, Spencer ignored him, glared at Jefferson, and then watched Victoria. For some reason he couldn’t name, he admired her at this moment. He really did.

  “Why, thank you, Jeff,” she said sweetly to her brother. “As always, you’re on my side.” She turned to her parents. “It breaks my heart, but this is how it has to be.” She pivoted to face Spencer. “Isn’t it necessary that I go with you?”

  “I’m afraid it is,” he said without hesitation and thinking how right he’d been to detain the carriages and Mr. Hepplewhite and his son. “It’s absolutely necessary that you go with me. And stay with me, Victoria.”

  Spencer saw the uncertainty residing in her eyes. “Yes, of course. Stay with you. That’s only as it should be.”

  He nodded slowly, pointedly. “As long as you understand.”

  “I do. I understand.”

  Spencer thought he knew better. He was too smart to delude himself with the notion that she had come to her senses and meant to be an obedient wife from here on out. Hardly. He knew full well that he was, at this moment, nothing more to her than a convenient means of escape from whatever the quarrel with her family had been. Well enough. He could play that role. He also knew that the moment of her need for him would pass … and soon.

  This realization did nothing to improve his mood, especially on a morning when he was already dead with weariness. Nevertheless Spencer turned his attention to the elder Redmonds. “If you would be so good as to ring for someone to ask my valet and secretary to make ready to leave? Thank you. And you will, I hope, forgive me for leaving after so short a visit?”

  He gave them no time to reply as he turned to his wife. “Victoria?” He held a hand out to her. She came to him and allowed him to take her elbow.

  Spencer meant only to turn to Edward to signal him to follow, but Victoria’s nearness, her sweet-scented body, the very female warmth of her, caught him off guard. An unexpected jolt of sensual awareness shot through Spencer, leaving him appalled at his body’s stiffening response. He breathed in deeply, searching for calm and control, and then exhaled through his mouth, refusing to be affected. When he sought Edward’s gaze, he found him smirking. Curse him, he knew. Spencer frowned mightily at him. “Shall we take our leave, Edward?”

  Though his mouth twitched with merriment, the Earl of Roxley nodded regally. “Of course. Would you, uh, like me to precede you out of the room?”

  Denying the rising heat up his neck to his face, as well as downward and elsewhere, Spencer curled his lip at his cousin. “It won’t be necessary.”

  Edward’s gaze momentarily flicked to below Spencer’s waist and then again met Spencer’s glaring countenance. “I could beg to differ; however, I will not.” He then turned to the Redmonds, making his manners. “It was my pleasure to meet you. Perhaps we’ll have an opportunity to see each other again.”

  “You will,” Spencer said, surprising them all. “We travel only so far as Savannah at this point.” Victoria wrenched in his grasp, but he held her tightly as he told her parents: “We will secure lodging there, and we will let you know where we can be reached.”

  “There’s no need,” Mr. Redmond said, holding up a hand to stop Spencer’s ready protest to the contrary. “I have just had a new townhouse completed in Savannah proper. It is furnished and staffed and fronts onto Oglethorpe Square. I think you will find it very comfortable there. I would be honored if you would consider it your residence while you are here.”

  It was a neat solution, and Spencer grabbed it. He nodded his acquiescence to the older man. “As you wish.”

  “It’s not at all what I wish, but it’s the best I can do right now.” The steely look in his light-colored eyes reminded Spencer that Isaac Redmond was a wily businessman, a self-made baron of international industry, and a man who drove a very hard bargain. He was not to be trifled with. “Victoria knows where it is and can direct you. I’ll send a messenger ahead to tell my staff there to ready it for you. You’ll find everything you need, including a carriage and horses.”

  As Spencer gave his attention and his quiet regard to his father-in-law, a look of understanding and mutual respect passed between them. Spencer smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  Mr. Redmond’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You be the same to my daughter, Your Grace. Or you’ll deal with me.”

  The implicit warning in the man’s words tensed Spencer, but he nodded his understanding and his respect. “I understand, sir.”

  Following that exchange, with no one protesting or commenting further, and with Edward flanking them, Spencer turned and walked his wife out of her parents’ plantation home.

  * * *

  Victoria thought the house in Savannah an absolute jewel. The resplendent three-story, gray-bricked Italianate mansion on Oglethorpe Square boasted iron balconies and railings on its façade. At its back resided an intimate, well-manicured and high-walled garden that ran the width of the back of the house and the length of the property to the alley. A lush growth of trees, magnolia and oak among them, provided welcome shelter from the afternoon sun as she sat alone on a delicately carved wrought-iron, decorative bench.

  She allowed her gaze to follow the meandering gravel path that wound its way around the riotously blooming beds of late-summer flowers. At the garden’s other end, a securely latched wooden gate opened onto the alley used by the various delivery wagons that plied their trade among the upper crust of Savannah society. One such wagon was making its trundling way past the Redmond home just now. The driver was singing low, probably amusing himself and soothing his horse at the same time.

  Though Victoria could only hear the wagon, not see it, she still looked in that direction and smiled. She hadn’t realized until now how much she had missed the unique sights, sounds, and smells of Savannah. There wasn’t a thing about this gracious city that she didn’t love. Well, except the gossips. But she could hardly complain. She’d certainly given them enough to talk about since the days of her not-so-well-behaved childhood onward, although nothing like she had a few months ago. And knowing herself like she did, Victoria sighed, she was nowhere near done giving Savannah’s tongues a reason to wag.

  They’d do more than wag. Given the reason she’d come home, and the people and lies and misdeeds she might be forced to expose, she only hoped the well-bred, upper-class society didn’t lynch her. They very well could, she knew, because the guilty parties whom she suspected were among their ranks. Victoria shook her head. “Lord above, what have I got myself into this time?”

  If she received no answer, it was because she already knew what she’d got herself into. And she hated it. Though her body felt refreshed—she’d slept, leaning against her husband’s shoulder … the familiar scent of him had lulled her senses … all the way from River’s End and then upstairs most of the day—she still felt weary right to her very soul. What a complication it was that Spencer had come here. She didn’t have to wonder why he’d come after her, a woman he’d said he didn’t wish to see. Even despite her carrying his possible heir, wounded male pride, turned to anger that she would leave against his specific instructions, would be enough to get him across the Atlantic. But now that he was here, what was she supposed to do with him?

  Her woman’s heart knew what it would like to do with him, making its point eloquently with some intriguing and sensual images. Chuckling guiltily—well-bred girls were not supposed to enjoy that act in all its varieties—Victoria stared at her shoes, dainty-heeled slippers that matched her navy-blue day dress, and gave in to her purely feminine thoughts that society could not dictate. She would not deny what she felt. The thrill of seeing Spencer again and knowing he had chased
her and did want her to come back had made her feel wanted. She hadn’t realized how important knowing that was to her until it had happened. Yes, she knew he wanted her back because of the baby and only until she delivered it. Yes, she knew that should it prove not to be a Whitfield, he would send her away. And, yes, she knew she should guard her heart against that day. And she would. But none of those eventualities could lessen, at this moment, the heartwarming thrill she’d experienced just knowing he did care enough, for whatever reason, to come after her.

  A sudden, unbidden frisson of desire skittered over Victoria’s senses, reminding her that this man wanted her, physically at least, in all the ways a man can want a woman. And she wanted him. His passion for her, and hers for him, had to mean something deeper was there between them, didn’t it? But even if it was, dare she give herself over to it? Dare she forget, for even one moment, to guard her heart until the day the baby came? And even if the baby turned out to be his, could she live with him and the knowledge that had the baby not been his, he would have set her aside? Could she love someone like that? Could she trust someone like that?

  This wasn’t the first time she’d asked herself these questions. The answers to them kept nagging at her, yet she always tried to push them away. But sometimes, like now, they barged through her doubts and shouted to her that the only solution was for her not to allow herself to care for him. Ever. Victoria swallowed the rising emotion clogging her throat. It was already too late. She did care. But how could he have come to mean so much to her already? This wanting to run to him and throw her arms around him and beg him never to put her aside was awful. Had she no pride? How cold and uncaring did he have to be before she cried enough?

  And yet he wasn’t really cold and uncaring. He was, of course, right now, extremely angry with her and mistrusting. But many times he’d been so tender and kind and solicitous of her—admittedly, before they knew about this baby—that she had found herself coming to like and respect him. Again, she saw him, in her mind, squiring her around London as they’d attended balls and she’d been presented at court. His very nearness, the scent of him, the way he wore his clothes, everything about him, had swept her off her feet.