“Will you be visiting again before then?” She felt better now than she had before their meeting, but she was still far from comfortable about the turns her life was taking. Not to mention she still didn’t trust him to respect her, not yet. The more time he spent with her, the more she might be able to convince him to see her as a person.
He shook his head. “I have other business to take care of here in town before the wedding, as we’ll leave for my estate immediately afterward.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box. “I did bring this for you. It’s not anything fancy, but I thought you deserved at least some of the traditions associated with a betrothal, short as ours will be.”
Touched despite herself by the unexpected gesture, Teresa’s breath caught in her throat. She took the box and opened it to find a thin gold band bearing a sapphire flanked by two diamonds.
“It’s beautiful.” Her tone was reverent as she removed the ring and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Martin nodded as if he had expected just that.
“Until Thursday, then.” He barely waited for her farewell before turning and letting himself out of the room, leaving her to stare after him.
Chapter 12
Given the rush, it was no surprise that the wedding was small, attended only by her family and James, who stood up with Martin after providing the special license. The breakfast that followed was also small, much to Charlotte’s displeasure. Both the circumstances of the engagement and the fact that Martin was still in mourning for his grandfather dictated that few invitations had been offered but she still seemed to feel that the low attendance was a black mark upon her social standing.
Martin could hardly see where it mattered.
The only exception to Charlotte’s foul mood had been the presence of the Duke of Debenford, who had accepted Martin’s invitation to see the happy couple at the wedding breakfast. Even then, she had dithered over the lack of advanced warning when the Duke had arrived with his wife, dropping a pointed look in Martin’s direction.
As far as Martin was concerned, he would have been perfectly happy if the company for the breakfast had stayed as small as it had been for the wedding. He hadn’t known the rest of the guests for the wedding breakfast — unsurprising, really, given that Charlotte had taken on the responsibility of organizing it and had clearly been interested in showing off her new connection to the Earl of Carlington.
His patience for that sort of thing, always limited, had run out about halfway through. Fortunately for him, the majority of those present interpreted his silences and laconic comments as the arrogance expected of a member of the peerage rather than the fraying temper of a man with little tolerance for the social dances. Useful, if irritating.
His new bride appeared equally uninterested in the social whirl surrounding them, although she was doing a better job at hiding her disinterest under a facade of vacant pleasantries. A nod here, a sympathetic murmur there, the smile with thanks that looked precisely as it should but didn’t quite reach her eyes. All up to Society’s standards and yet none of it real.
He was a little surprised to find that her mask bothered him. As unsettling as their interactions thus far might have been, she was a breath of fresh air compared to the social climbing, gossip-focused ladies of the ton that he was used to.
Focus. Just a little more and then we head north. With Parliament done for the Season, he had been able to spend most of the previous day wrapping up the remainder of his business in London. There were meetings regarding his horses, arrangements for several races, and several decisions that needed to be made regarding tenant concerns. His staff, at least, required little overview as they prepared to once again shutter the townhouse for the year.
“Allow me to offer my congratulations, Martin.” Martin turned to find his uncle, now the Duke of Debenford, standing with his hand held out.
He took it in a quick handshake. “Charles. I appreciate that you could make it on such short notice.”
Debenford raised an eyebrow. “I admit I was a little taken aback by the date on the invitation when it arrived. I hadn’t expected something like that from you.”
The implied criticism stung, for all that it wasn’t unexpected. Because of the difference in their ages, they had seen little enough of each other while growing up. Despite that, during the holidays he had spent at his grandfather’s, his mother’s younger brother Charles had taken him under his wing, treating him like a younger brother instead of a nephew. He might have learned about estate management and honor from the old Duke, but he’d learned about integrity from Charles.
“I can’t blame you for having snapped her up though. His Grace would have approved.” The old Duke had been a stickler for protocol; the title had turned into a joke between Martin and Charles when Martin was a child. Charles looked towards Teresa, who looked up and smiled at him — a real smile, instead of simply her polite mask — before turning back to the older dowager offering her congratulations. “She’s quite charming — a much better choice than most of the silly chits on the market these days.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you knew her.”
“I didn’t before this. It doesn’t take long to recognize she has more going on upstairs than the average Society miss, though.” He nodded at her as she moved to accept congratulations from the next guest. The crowd was thinning and Martin had reason to hope they would be able to leave soon. Charles lowered his voice. “I’ll speak with my lawyer this week to begin the process of transferring the funds to you.”
“I appreciate it.” Martin kept his voice equally low. “Let me know if anything comes up.”
Charles shook his head. “I don’t anticipate any problems. Now go enjoy some time with your bride! No one will object if you leave now, given the distance you have to travel today.”
That was advice Martin was more than happy to take. He nodded a farewell to Debenford.
It took several minutes to finish extricating himself from the crowd, small as it was, but he was able to step outside and find his carriage waiting at the front door, as he had arranged. The footmen were just strapping the last of Teresa’s boxes to the outside of the carriage as he watched, waiting for her to finish her goodbyes to her aunt and her uncle.
Even given the distance he’d noticed between them, it was a surprisingly unemotional set of goodbyes. Teresa seemed more relieved than anything else when she took his hand for assistance up into the traveling compartment. He turned and bowed an acknowledgment and farewell to them before climbing up to join Teresa. He settled into the seat across from her, taking a deep breath as he let himself relax for the first time since waking up that morning.
As it was still early afternoon, the streets were full of the normal traffic and bustle and the carriage made slow progress at best. Inured as he was to long carriage rides, Martin stretched out his legs, being careful not to intrude on Teresa’s space, and closed his eyes.
The footmen had left the curtains open and his new wife seemed perfectly content to watch the world pass by outside the windows. Teresa apparently didn’t need to fill up the empty space with needless chatter, a trait he hadn’t anticipated but he very much appreciated. After the near-constant stream of interaction with the ton at the wedding breakfast, the silence was a blessing.
He considered Teresa through half-closed eyelids. She still wore her wedding gown, a pale blue dress with simple, clean lines and darker blue embroidery around the neckline and the cuffs. The color reflected up to her eyes, making them seem more blue than gray in the light streaming in through the windows.
The betrothal ring he’d given her at their last meeting sparkled as it caught the light. The ring had been a rare impulse purchase for him during his time at Cambridge; one of the few times he hadn’t invested all of his winnings at gaming into the horses or the estate. He hadn’t been able to explain his actions at the time but seeing it on her hand now, he was pleased he had held onto it. The sapphires suited her. He made a
mental note to consider looking for a necklace of them once the estate finances had settled into the steady, positive return he expected with the inflow of cash he would receive with his inheritance from his grandfather.
When he’d inherited the estate, it was on the brink of ruin after years of neglect and outright mismanagement by his father. He’d scrambled to address the most pressing needs through careful investment of his winnings at the card tables and the racetrack while slowly building up the stables for the horses. Years of careful work had pushed disaster back, slowly, until now the estate was nearing profitability again. Once these last repairs were complete, it would be more than capable of producing sufficient income to see to its own needs, given that it was nearly there already.
He looked forward to getting back home. Taking his seat in the House of Lords meant his time on the estate itself during the spring planting was limited, if he could find any to spare at all. That had caused problems in the past, like when he’d first started working to modernize the estate.
His father’s estate manager, a dour old man, had balked at some of his proposals, particularly when it came to the tenant cottages. Martin had been forced to replace him early on with Allsworth, who understood what Martin was working towards. Neither of them had been surprised when the tenants had enthusiastically embraced the other proposals Martin made after those first improvements — even those that had initially met with resistance because that “wasn’t how their fathers had done it.”
These days, Allsworth did an admirable job managing all of the particulars but it still rankled to be absent during such a critical time. If the weather cooperated, remaining clear instead of reverting to rain like it had much of the last three weeks, they would arrive at Moorhall after six days on the road.
He wondered what Teresa’s impression of it would be.
“It’s been so long since I’ve left London.” Teresa’s voice jarred him from his thoughts and he looked up to realize they were already rolling through Highgate, having left the city proper. She had taken off her bonnet at some point, he realized, and it now lay forgotten on the cushion next to her as she sat, leaning against the window to get the best view.
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you attend any house parties?”
He might vacate London as soon as Parliament adjourned but even he knew that the majority of the ton left after the Season ended, preferring to escape to their country estates during the summer heat and the fall hunting season. For someone as socially-conscious as Charlotte, he would have expected her to do the same — or to join the crowd that holidayed at Brighton for the summer.
Teresa shook her head, her gaze still on the window. “We didn’t get many invitations after my first Season, and for those did come, my uncle could never spare the carriage.” She sighed. “He never gave a reason for it, but I suspect it was because my aunt abhors the country and prefers to spend as little time out of the city as possible. Since no one else was willing to serve as a chaperone, she would have had to accompany me and none of the invitations I received were to parties she considered worth her time.”
The thought of being trapped in London for more than three years made his skin crawl. “I can’t understand that at all.”
“This does not surprise me.” Glancing up, she laughed at his slightly affronted expression. “Not that I disagree with that, these days. I used to be so excited about the chance to come to London, when I was younger, but it’s lost its appeal. I can’t wait to live out in the country again, away from London. Sometimes I wish I’d never gone to London at all.”
“You grew up in the country?” As soon as the question was out of his mouth, he wished it back. It sounded so stupidly banal.
Teresa didn’t seem to notice, merely nodding. “Close to a small village, a day’s distance from Norwich. Our house was on a hill overlooking the sea. My parents used to take me out for walks along the cliffs when I was young. I haven’t been back there since I moved to London with my aunt and uncle, after my parents died.” Her voice, which had started out strong, trailed off at the end.
Uncertain on how to respond to that, Martin shifted in his seat. A neutral topic seemed the best choice. “Moorhall isn’t near the sea, but I find there are few places like it in England. When I have time to spare, I like to ride out over the hills.”
Her face brightened. “You enjoy riding? I didn’t want to assume from your pair that you must, but I had hoped.”
Martin nodded. “Most of my horses are back at the estate already. The remainder of those I brought to London with me started on their way back yesterday.” Keeping them in London as long as he had had been a gamble, but with the number of foals they were expecting he didn’t think they would be as busy with stud fees for this year, and they were good advertising. The contracts he carried proved that.
He eyed her, considering what she might look like on one of the mares from his stable. “Do you ride?”
“My father once said I had a better seat than half the young men he saw on hunts!” Her face glowed with pride at the memory before falling again. “I haven’t ridden since moving to London, though. My uncle said there wasn’t any room in his stables for my mare and sold her off before they brought me to town.”
There were several horses in the stables intended to be ladies’ mounts, although it would be impossible to say which one would suit her best until he’d seen her ride. He eyed her figure and then immediately regretted it as desire flared back into full force. Not now. Not yet.
It was his lack of control that had gotten them into this mess. He could very well wait until she was comfortable to take the next step. In the meantime, focus. If he focused on the conversation at hand, he might be able to get his body under control again. Horses. “There are a few horses in my stables that might be to your liking.”
Her smile lit up the inside of the carriage. “Really? I would like that very, very much, my lord.”
“Martin,” he reminded her. “We are married now.”
Teresa flushed and bit her lip. He did his best to ignore it. “I know, it’s just… it’s hard to believe. Less than two weeks ago, we’d never spoken to each other and yet here we are, married.”
“That is indeed the result of this morning’s activities.” For a moment, he had the distinct sensation that she wanted to throw her bonnet at him, but instead she merely looked up at the carriage roof and sighed before looking back at him.
“This has to be strange for you too.” She looked back out the window, although he had the sensation she wasn’t really seeing the scenery going by. “I know neither of us expected to end up with each other. For all I know, you’d already decided on one of the other girls at the masquerade.”
Martin judged it impolitic to point out that for his purposes, she was as good as any other. “It was not the most traditional of courtships, I agree. But I believe we have as reasonable a chance of getting along as most couples in the ton.”
*
Teresa considered this statement. It was true. Her time along the edges of the ballrooms had given her plenty of time to observe the ton and very few of her observations had been positive. Most couples shared only superficial commonalities, if any at all. Aside from the maneuvering for an advantageous marriage for a daughter or son by an ambitious mother, the bonds of family were few and far between.
Love was hardly mentioned at all, and it had been a rare couple where she thought there might be something real between them.
The ton had seen nothing wrong with this, of course. She rather thought the mockery she had received after Society learned she wanted something more went a long way towards explaining why her parents had been so happy in the country — and why she had so rarely seen her parents’ friends in town.
Ironically, it was precisely because she had wanted something more and expressed that opinion that she was now married to a man who believed that love and marriage were completely separate concepts.
To be fair, that makes him ju
st another regular man of the ton. And a better candidate than some of the others who had offered for her hand. Lord Radcliff hadn’t considered love necessary for marriage either and he made her skin crawl. She could still feel his stare on her back as Charlotte had led Teresa into the ballroom at the masquerade.
Martin made her aware of her skin too, but in an entirely different way. The memory of his lips on hers made her shiver. She couldn’t think about that, not now. Not while she was trapped in a carriage with him. Besides, the physical response was only one side of things. There was a lot more to a marriage than a physical connection.
“I suppose that’s true enough, but more time to get to know each other before the wedding would have been nice.” She knew why it couldn’t have happened, of course — marrying quickly was the only way to stem the scandal — but she still hadn’t forgotten his high-handed behavior that night either.
“There’s no reason we should remain strangers now.” Martin shrugged, and the movement drew her eyes up. The late afternoon sun painted the carriage with golden light, burnishing his curls and highlighting the auburn streaks in the dark brown. “No rule says we can’t just declare this a new beginning now and move forward from there.”
Teresa blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Consider it a chance to start over. We’re married, of course, and that won’t change, but we could get to know each other now, outside of all the rules and restrictions of the ton.” Martin spread his hands. “Something like a courtship, except for the part where the end result is done.”
Teresa caught her breath. She’d dreamed of being courted, before London, and then done her best to convince herself that it hadn’t hurt to stand by the side of the ballroom as other girls had been courted with dancing and words and flowers. Helping her aunt with the wedding preparations had only driven home the reality that would never happen for her.
Entangled with the Earl (Tangled Threads Book 1) Page 11