Fortune's Bride (Heiress, Book Four)

by Roberta Gellis

  When she tore open the parcel and a hairbrush, comb, and toothbrush tumbled out, she had to bite her lips hard to keep from either laughing or crying aloud. How ridiculous to think so odd-shaped a parcel could contain coin. And how clear a betrayal of her emotions that silly fear had been. No matter what pain she would suffer in the end, there was nothing she desired more than to marry Captain Moreton and travel south with him. But if they were to be married—an odd warmth suffused her—she realized that she would have to use his given name now. Robert…how nice it was to think of him as Robert… Robert would have to call her Esmeralda, too.

  She had been staring at the toilet articles without really seeing them while these thoughts ran through her mind, but when she focused on them, the realization of Robert’s consideration rushed upon her. Very few men would have thought of her need. She had been so eager to leave the village, she had taken with her only the clothing she was wearing. Tears stung her eyes. He was the dearest, kindest man in the world. How unfortunate that he should be so handsome. If only he had been ugly, there would have been a chance for her to win his affection.

  The hand Esmeralda had stretched out to touch Robert’s gifts hung suspended as she considered her last thought. Was it utterly impossible that Robert could come to care for her? He seemed far more irritated by his own appearance than proud of it. Could it be possible that he was also annoyed or embarrassed by the pursuit of women attracted by his looks? If so, would not the presence of a wife be an advantage? Particularly a wife who would encourage his dedication to his career and never interfere with him?

  But never interfere could mean something quite different from not making a fuss when one’s husband went into battle. Esmeralda bit her lip again as fear washed over her, bringing a cold sweat out over her body. Still, she knew she could look outwardly calm and smile and speak cheerfully while she shook like a jelly inside. She had had plenty of practice at that when she had done things of which, had he discovered them, her father would have disapproved violently. And she was certain she would never show hurt, nor, indeed, feel it, when Robert dined with his mess rather than with her. But what if, protected by a plain wife for whom he did not care, he developed a taste for pretty women?

  Esmeralda looked down at the brush and comb, which she had automatically laid on the mirrored dressing table. Robert was kind. He would not flaunt his affairs in her face. If she did not look for trouble, she told herself, she would not find it. But she would know. Esmeralda shuddered. Would she be able to bear it, loving him as she did? Would it be more agonizing to her to walk away from the marriage, as Robert now planned, or to try to induce him to continue it, knowing he did not love her?

  Chapter Seven

  What devices Robert used to induce the bishop to direct his priest to marry them, Esmeralda never discovered. However, she needed to exercise considerable willpower to control a tendency to giggle all through the service, since the poor priest was so plainly astonished at what he was doing. Not that it took much that morning to make Esmeralda laugh. She had eaten her supper and gone to bed in a very uncertain frame of mind and spirits, quite unable to decide what she wanted. By the time she wakened in the morning, however, her depression had evaporated with her fatigue.

  It was dreadfully foolish, Esmeralda decided, to worry about the future of her marriage as if planning in advance could help her direct that future. In this case, where she knew so little really of the person with whom she was involved and, in addition, had not the slightest notion of what would occur, it was impossible to lay plans. A far more sensible line of procedure would be simply to enjoy each moment as it came, without considering the future at all.

  To encourage this brighter viewpoint, a note from Robert came up with Esmeralda’s breakfast tray, “having the pleasure and honor” to inform her that the wedding was set for one o’clock that afternoon, and if Esmeralda had no objection, he would do himself the honor of joining her for a light luncheon at noon so he could escort her to the church. The formal tone tickled Esmeralda’s fancy, but she realized she had no time to waste on amusement and sent an urgent message to the dressmaker with the waiter who had brought up the note.

  By heroic efforts on both their parts, the morning dress was ready by eleven. It was not what Esmeralda would have chosen as a wedding dress under ordinary circumstances, but nothing else was available. The gown was made of a soft silk crepe in a dull orange color, cut very low over the bosom, with tiny puffed sleeves, and with the tight waist right under the breast. It was fortunate that Esmeralda’s breast was very firm and not overlarge. Looking down at herself, Esmeralda resolved not to take any deep breaths, lest she become totally naked above the waistline. In addition, the soft silk clung to her body in a rather startling manner.

  As soon as she saw the dress, Esmeralda had been aware that this might be true and had sent the dressmaker’s assistant to procure pantalets and petticoats. Unfortunately, although several of each were available in Esmeralda’s size, they were all of silk and, although they somewhat blurred the lines of her body, only encouraged the dress to cling. The color, too, was scarcely suitable to a wedding, but when Esmeralda looked in the mirror, her spirits lifted.

  The gown did become her. She had a fine figure, which the dresses her father insisted on her wearing had deliberately obscured, the color lent warmth to her complexion, making her skin look rich and velvety, and it also seemed to brighten her eyes. Only her hair was wrong. The sun’s bleaching had dulled its rich chestnut in irregular streaks, which were made more apparent by the fact that it was drawn smoothly back into a heavy knot at the nape. Esmeralda’s small, round chin became more prominent as a daring notion came to her.

  She dismissed the dressmaker with strict injunctions to bring the riding dress to her room by dinnertime at the latest, even if it was not completed. They would work on it all night if need be. Then, as soon as the woman was gone, she slipped out of her dress, undid her hair, took a deep breath, and seized a pair of scissors she had asked to borrow. Closing her eyes momentarily and offering up a prayer, Esmeralda began to snip the hair surrounding her face. Although she knew that some women cut their hair short and realized that it would be much easier to care for that way, she did not dare attempt the back. Besides, she was reluctant to sacrifice her heavy mane.

  Fifteen minutes later, she gathered the cut strands from the floor and dressing table, brushed short bits off her shoulders and breast, and put on her new dress again. Then, taking a deep breath, she put up the long hair in a high bun at the top of her head and attacked the short ends around her face with dampened brush and comb. Finally she permitted herself to inspect the result.

  A long sigh eased out of Esmeralda. Her daring had not utterly destroyed her. The trimming had not turned her into a beauty, Esmeralda knew she would never be a beauty, but there was an improvement. She looked fashionable. A smile of pleasure further illuminated her features, but she was accustomed to her own expressions and did not realize the charm it added to her appearance. Still, she felt satisfied and happy so that when Robert entered less than half an hour later in full regimentals which she realized he had donned in honor of the occasion, she greeted him with a glow of confidence.

  His reaction was an additional delight, for he paused when he saw her and almost seemed about to excuse himself for intruding on a stranger. Then he grinned broadly. “That’s a bang-up dress, Miss Talbot,” he said. “I hardly recognized you. I’m glad it was done in time. I’m a little early, but I wanted to ask whether you would prefer to eat here or in the dining room?”

  “In the dining room, by all means,” Esmeralda replied. “I’m rather tired of this apartment. Orange isn’t exactly the right color—”

  “Why not?” Robert asked. “It certainly suits you.”

  “Thank you,” Esmeralda said, her high spirits momentarily checked by the realization of just how unreal the wedding was to him. Obviously he did not associate her comment with the fact that young brides wore pale and delicate
colors. However, bubbles of mirth rose in her, and she said with abnormal gravity, “But do you not think you had better call me Esmeralda now? You will not be able to continue to call me Miss Talbot without arousing considerable curiosity among your fellow officers, and it is our first purpose, is it not, to avoid—”

  Robert’s hearty laughter interrupted her. “You’re a bit of a tease, aren’t you?” he asked with obvious enjoyment. “I was just about to suggest that we do away with surnames. In case you don’t know, I’m Robert Francis Edward—the Honorable Robert Francis Edward, second son of the Earl of Moreton.”

  Esmeralda’s big eyes opened wide. “No,” she gasped, “I didn’t know, that is, I remembered that your name was Robert, but I had no idea… Oh dear, whatever will your parents think of this escapade? Perhaps—”

  “We aren’t going to tell them,” Robert said firmly, “but not because they’d have any objections. Thing is, my rnother’d welcome you with open arms. Very set on seeing me married, no matter how often I tell her that it wouldn’t do at all for a military man to take a wife. Damned unfair thing to do to a woman. Don’t think my father would mind, either After all, you’re a gentlewoman. Nothing wrong with your family, even if…” He stopped abruptly.

  “It’s all right,” she said a bit absently. “I don’t mind that you think Papa was a queer nabs.”

  “Speaking of your father,” Robert added, avoiding a direct reply to Esmeralda’s rather unfilial statement, “I have obtained a certificate of his decease and burial. I think you will need that.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Esmeralda replied, accepting the folded document Robert held out to her.

  But her mind was not on what she was saying. Robert’s statement about the unfairness of marriage for a man of his profession obscured every other idea, even the essential subject of proving her father’s death so she could obtain her inheritance. At the moment it was more important to her that Robert’s stated feelings came very close to her own thoughts on the subject and added considerable weight to her guess that his forthright remarks were owing to a relative ignorance in the handling of women rather than any intention of warning her off.

  Even more interesting were his comments on his family’s probable attitude to a sudden marriage under peculiar circumstances. He might be mistaken, but even if he were, the revelation of a dowry of over five hundred thousand pounds would, Esmeralda was cynically certain, reconcile the Earl and Countess of Moreton to any slight irregularity in the marriage or the background of the bride.

  The information could not resolve the problem of how she would feel about being married to a man who did not love her, however, the implication that the Moretons were not so high in the instep that they would add disdain to her problems or even attempt to dissolve the marriage increased Esmeralda’s pleasure. She responded to another remark without being aware of what she had said, until Robert opened the door and stood aside for her to pass.

  Having shepherded her down, seated her, and ascertained with the utmost courtesy what she wished to eat, Robert suddenly seemed at a loss. Esmeralda smiled as another piece of evidence was added to the growing record. Plainly Robert had no small talk suitable for a woman who was not a relative.

  “Is all your stock in as you expected?” she asked.

  His face lighted. “Yes. They even managed to turn up about a hundred and fifty horses, and there are over five hundred mules. On the other hand, there are very few oxen.”

  “I should think the mules would be better for military purposes,” Esmeralda offered tentatively. “Oxen are dreadfully slow.”

  “That’s true enough,” Robert replied, beaming with approval and thinking that he had never come across so sensible a girl or one so easy to talk to. “But any draft animals at all are precious. As it is, I’m afraid half the guns will have to be left behind. It’s those damned Spaniards. Almost everything they told us seems to have been a lie.”

  “Are you permitted to tell me about it?” Esmeralda asked, aware that she had made Robert comfortable and that he would remain comfortable and eager to talk as long as he could stick to his favorite subject.

  Esmeralda had not the smallest objection. In fact, she was delighted that Robert was willing to discuss serious matters with a woman. Many men were not, Esmeralda knew, and she had been worried about being bored if Robert wanted to make the kind of conversation she had heard between young men and young women at the houses of friends. Being Henry’s daughter had honed Esmeralda’s mind, for what he said to her—although it was largely not addressed to her personally, being letters or instructions he required her to write to his bankers, agents, and customers—had given her a taste for exercising her brain. That, plus the fact that she had rarely been an object of more than the briefest civil attention, resulted in Esmeralda being no more accustomed to small chitchat than Robert.

  “God knows, it’s no military secret,” Robert said. “The Spanish sent a mission to Britain in June to say that they had taken up arms against the French and to appeal for aid from us. I believe the government was given to understand that the Spanish army would push the French out, provided they were able to obtain arms and money and a leavening of experienced troops. The damned Spaniards said there would be no want of supplies or of horses and draft animals if the British could pay for them. Well, when Sir Arthur arrived, they wouldn’t permit the troops to land, and though they were glad enough to take guns and money, they didn’t like to be asked what they intended to do with them.”

  “That does not seem very open behavior,” Esmeralda remarked to show her interest and encourage him to continue.

  “Open!” Robert exclaimed. “I said they were damned liars. They told Sir Arthur that their General Blake had had a great victory, but it turns out that Blake had been beaten to flinders. Heaven only knows what’s going on in the rest of the country.”

  “I hope you will find the Portuguese more honest,” Esmeralda commented, frowning in thought.

  Robert shrugged and mentioned the unwillingness of the Portuguese to advance him credit or even change money, and Esmeralda spoke soothingly of the fears they must have concerning the eventual outcome of the present effort to drive out the French.

  This made such good sense that Robert complimented her on her perspicacity and went on to discuss methods for getting his cattle over the awful roads in the shortest time and for arranging that they not starve along the way. This led naturally to the question of the choice of a mount for Esmeralda, which permitted her to ask if she could come with Robert when he looked over the animals.

  He agreed readily, even with pleasure, to this request and said, “We can do it right after the wedding, if that will suit you,” and then looked stricken.

  “If you dislike it so much—” Esmeralda began, her voice shaking.

  “No, no, not at all,” Robert assured her “I just remembered that I forgot to get a ring. I remembered about the saddle, and I even remembered flowers—”

  “Flowers?” Esmeralda repeated in amazement.

  Robert flushed slightly. “I know it isn’t real, but…well, it seemed wrong not to mark the occasion with some small observance. Why the devil I didn’t think about the ring when I ordered the flowers, I don’t know.”

  Esmeralda did not reply to that directly, only saying calmly that they could no doubt find a shop that sold trinkets on their way to the church, but she had to look down at her plate while she spoke to hide the mist of tears that rose in her eyes. She understood Robert’s omission, even if he himself did not. Flowers were a kindness, a small gift any man might give to any woman on the slightest pretext. A wedding ring was a symbol of their union, no matter how temporary.

  However, once Robert took the plunge, he was generous about it. He could not afford to buy Esmeralda a real ring since no jeweler would take pounds for gold and gems, but he would not allow her to choose the plainest and narrowest silver band, either. He searched through the stock of the shop until he discovered a lovely filigree ring set
with tiny semiprecious stones.

  “After all,” he said, as he looked with satisfaction at the pretty ring on her finger, “one doesn’t have an adventure like this every day. You’ll want something to remember it by. I’m sorry the something can’t be better, but this is at least attractive.”

  Again Esmeralda could find no more to say than a simple, “Thank you.” Her emotions were too tangled to make speech safe, for the joy of Robert’s desire to please her was poisoned by the flat statement of his intention that the relationship would be temporary. However, Esmeralda’s immediate feeling that she really could not bear a life of this kind of unintentional brutality was considerably diminished by Robert’s thoughtful gift of a posy of white camellias delivered to her at the door of the church and by his cheerful demeanor during the wedding ceremony.

  Having adjusted to the situation, Robert was clearly no longer distressed by it. Esmeralda remembered that he had put on full-dress uniform even before he had seen her in her new dress, and the way he blushed when he kissed her made her wonder if he might not be almost as innocent as she was. That blush restored all her determination to remain his wife if she could manage by any means to do so.

  Nothing occurred during the remainder of the day to shake Esmeralda’s resolution. Robert seemed pleased by her willingness at his suggestion to choose her own mount, then was impressed both by the animal she picked and her reasons for her choice. Esmeralda had pointed out a light chestnut mare, which she judged could carry her well but might be too small for a heavy trooper and was certainly unsuited for cartage. Robert agreed heartily and had the animal led out at once so he could examine her for soundness.