Murdock nodded silently to Cassie and they withdrew to the back of the chapel, affording the others privacy.
It was Jack who finally answered Anne. “He told me earlier that he has been in love with you for some time, but he has never been certain of your feelings for him.”
“My feelings for him?” Anne echoed. “I have no idea what they are.”
“Then it is easy to understand why Tenbury is confused,” her ladyship said gently. “Is it true, Anne? Is he in love with you?”
“He has said he is, my lady,” Anne replied. “I cannot be certain if it is true.”
Here Arelia joined the conversation. “If Nate said he loves you, then he does. You must know him well enough to know he would never lie—especially about that.”
Perhaps he would not lie, Anne thought, but is not deceit the same thing? He did deceive me, for months. Then suddenly she realized she had forgiven him long ago. “He said he wanted to marry me even before the events of last night. I know I am not beautiful or accomplished like the women he admires—”
“My dear, dear girl,” Lady Tenbury interrupted, “You underrate yourself. Had Tenbury been seeking only superficial qualities in a wife, he would have married long since. He found in you something we have all seen, something rare. How willing were you to marry him tonight?”
“I agreed, but not willingly,” Anne admitted.
Her ladyship nodded knowingly.
“Then we have answers to the questions you asked,” Dennis offered. “At the last moment Lord Tenbury found himself unable to turn the unfortunate happenings of yesterday to his gain. Not certain of your feelings, he did not wish to force you into a marriage you might later regret.”
“It seems to me,” Arelia said gently, “that the next move is yours, Anne. What do you intend to do?”
“I don’t know.”
Dennis, who had recognized her regard for Tenbury months ago, decided to give providence a shove. “I think we should finish the ceremony,” he said unexpectedly. Raising his voice he called Murdock and Cassie back to the front of the chapel.
“Can you finish without Tenbury?” Arelia asked, amazed that he should even suggest it.
“I certainly intend to,” he replied. “Tomorrow, when his lordship is more amenable, we shall do this last bit once again, just to be certain we get it right.”
Then, with all the pomp and ceremony he could muster in the absence of the groom, Mr. Pearce declared Lord Tenbury and Miss Waverly husband and wife.
Amid kisses and congratulations, done as if the groom were indeed present, Dennis placed a gentle kiss on Anne’s cheek and whispered in her ear. “I have given you some ammunition, Anne. Go to him and use it, and remember in all things to let your heart lead you.”
When Anne scratched at Tenbury’s door and he snapped, “Go away!” she knew he thought her his valet, so she ignored the command. She opened the door instead and slipped inside, closing it quickly and leaning against it in trepidation. Tenbury was seated in a deep armchair near the fire. From where she stood, all she could see was his forearm and hand extended to hover over a glass of brandy on the table beside him.
Her slippered feet made no sound as she padded across the soft carpet toward him. Her gown, however, rustled quietly, and he turned his head in annoyance to see who dared disobey him. When he saw her, he rose quickly from the chair and turned to face her. He had removed his coat and waistcoat, and stood now in his shirt-sleeves. He had discarded his cravat, and his shirt lay open at the throat.
“You should not be here,” was all he said.
“No? I thought a wife was always welcome in her husband’s room.”
“You are not my wife, nor I your husband. Pearce never declared us so.”
“Oh, but he did,” Anne insisted. “Had you stayed to the end of the service, you would have heard it.”
His eyes narrowed, and she could see he was wondering what game she was playing at. “He could not finish the ceremony once I had gone,” he said unequivocally.
“But I have just told you that he did. And they all heard him—your mother, Arelia, Jack, Murdock, and Cassie.”
“It matters not what they heard. There was no valid marriage.” Walking to the brandy decanter, he refilled his glass.
“Then you did not mean the vows you swore tonight before God?” she challenged.
His eyes glinted angrily as he replied briefly, “Take care what you say, madam.”
“It is a simple enough question, sir. Either you meant what you swore, or you lied before God. Which was it?”
“I meant what I swore.”
“So I thought. Therefore it makes no difference to me whether the service finished or not. I heard your vows, and I wear your ring. In God’s eyes I am your wife.”
“Enough of this foolishness,” he said impatiently, “Why have you come?”
“I believe it is customary for a wife to spend her wedding night with her husband.”
“That may well be, but it is also customary for the husband to come to her, not vice versa.”
“I would not presume to argue with you, for you must understand these things better than I,” she replied. “But I happen to believe that were I to go to my room as you suggest, you would not come to me. Therefore, I hold my plan to be the better one.”
Walking to him, she deliberately turned her back. “You must help me out of this gown. As you can see, the buttons are at the back.”
Despite himself, Tenbury found his melancholy mood dissipating in the face of Anne’s uncharacteristic behavior. “You will catch cold at this game, my dear,” he warned. “You have not enough experience to play the part of bold fancy.”
She said nothing, but stood still before him, presenting her buttons. He half smiled as he reached to undo them, willing to take part, to a point, in her little charade. Yet as he slowly undid the gown, the soft scent of her hair rose to greet him. The slippery silk yielded beneath his fingers to expose her stays beneath. Then he was remembering the night at the pool, her vibrant body molded closely to his. With the last button opened, he slipped his hands under the gown and eased it off her shoulders, allowing his fingertips to gently caress her skin. She shivered involuntarily as the gown slithered over her hips and settled around her feet. Without asking he continued with the stays, deftly loosening the laces until the garment joined her dress on the floor. The petticoat followed next. She stood now in only her soft cotton chemise.
Probing gently in her hair, Tenbury removed the pins one by one, casting each in turn upon the table until her hair cascaded in heavy waves down her back. He then crossed to his chair by the fire and reseated himself, took a swallow from his brandy, and then set the glass aside and folded his arms across his chest, regarding her in the candlelight.
“You may proceed now, madam. I have conquered the difficult buttons and laces for you.”
Anne sat on the small couch opposite his chair and removed her delicate slippers. Next, she began to roll down her stockings, baring her shapely legs. When she finished she stood and laid the stockings neatly aside, then stooped to collect her other garments from the floor.
He had known from the beginning that her role of seductress would carry her only to the point where her natural modesty would intrude. He suspected she had reached that point. She no doubt had expected him to be involved by now, taking the initiative. Standing in her chemise, with her hair tumbled about her shoulders, she looked ridiculously young. Her inexperience and insecurity showed in every aspect of her bearing, from the worried look in her eyes to the nervous clenching and unclenching of her laced fingers.
“Proceed, madam wife,” Tenbury taunted again. “You have my complete attention.”
Anne stood dejectedly before him for as he suspected, she had come to a point she had no courage to pass. Why can I never do anything right? she asked herself. She had thought this through carefully before she came to his room. She needed to show him that she cared. She thought if she could reestablish
the closeness they had shared that night at the pool … then perhaps the barriers between them would crumble. But nothing had gone as she planned. She had tried, as Dennis suggested, to follow her heart. It had brought her to this.
As she looked at Tenbury, sitting very much at his ease, swilling brandy as if he had not a care in the world, she realized there could be only one explanation for his behavior.
“You never wanted me, did you?” she challenged. “It was a lie, after all.”
“I do want you—very much.”
“But you walked out on our wedding.”
“Because I wanted you to have a choice! I wanted a willing bride, not one forced to wed me through circumstance.”
“Did my wealth play any part in your wish to marry me?”
“No.”
“I thought it did. The Duke of Chadwicke said many men would overlook my shortcomings because of my fortune.”
“You have no shortcomings, my love.”
“He also said men would pay me effusive compliments.”
He rose finally from his chair and came to her, pulling her down to sit beside him. He collected his brocade dressing gown from the back of the couch and draped it round her, partly because he felt she must be cold, and partly because he found her low-cut chemise and bare shoulders distracting. “I am sorry if you thought the inheritance influenced me. Unfortunately, there is no way I can prove that it did not, since I knew of it before we met.”
“You proved it to me in the chapel, beyond any doubt.”
“And how, pray, did I do that?” he asked.
“By leaving me at the altar. If my wealth had been your motive, you would have finished the ceremony.”
“Are you saying that my outrageous and dishonorable behavior tonight has convinced you that my love is sincere?”
“In a way, yes. That, and several things your mother and Arelia said.”
“You have not explained why you permitted the marriage ceremony to continue after I left.”
“It was Dennis’s idea,” she said, “but I could see it was a good one. As you know, yesterday and this morning were not particularly pleasant for me, what with the robbery, and Jack being shot, then our cold walk and unpleasant accommodations at the Boar’s Head. After all that, I did not much care for being left at the altar. It did not seem quite fair, for I do not feel any of it was precisely my fault, and I would rather not retire to Pentworth House and live in obscurity. If I did so, I doubt I would ever see you again.”
“I was not sure you would forgive me for conspiring with Chadwicke,” he said.
“I realized soon after I left Tenton that you had little choice. You were doing the best you could, within the limits of my grandfather’s directives.”
“I know I have botched this whole affair from the beginning,” he said, “but you must understand something: I have never been in love before. I never knew how strong a force it could be, or how firmly it could take control of one’s thoughts and actions. The day I saw you and Jack kissing, I reacted with scorn and disapproval. I did not realize until much later that my response was rooted in jealousy. Only that night at the pool did I finally understand how much I loved you.”
He paused a moment to take her hand and hold it gently between his. “Anne. That night … when you were in my arms … I believed you wanted to be there. You responded so naturally; you felt so wonderful. Was I wrong to think you enjoyed the moment as much as I?”
“No. I did enjoy it. But later, when I took time to consider, I decided my response was one of passion, and therefore not to be trusted.”
His features had passed from faint hope to dejection during her short speech, and she would alter them once more as she continued. “But I was wrong, because I see now that I must have loved you even then, though I—”
What more she had to say would have to wait, for when those words he had hoped so long to hear greeted his ears, he swept her into his arms and silenced her with kisses.
When they emerged from the embrace some minutes later, Anne could see in his eyes that he did not intend to desist for long.
“Perhaps I should mention,” she said, “while I have the chance, that Dennis should like us all to gather again in the morning to complete the wedding service properly.”
“Jade,” he accused, rising to his feet. “You insisted he finished without me.”
“He did. But he also said we should do it again with you present, to be sure all would be right and tight.”
Bending over, Tenbury collected Anne in his arms, then walked with her to his bed and unceremoniously dropped her onto it. “By all that’s holy!” he exclaimed. “I have a lady in my bed who is not my wife.”
“We swore our vows before God,” she insisted, “and to each other.”
“So we did,” he agreed. “And I will do so again tomorrow if Pearce wishes it, and the day after, and every day if need be.”
“I could dress again, and we could collect Dennis and Jack and Arelia and your mother—”
“I have no patience for that,” Tenbury interrupted. “Tonight you will in truth be my wife. Tomorrow will be time enough to worry about legalities.”
Copyright © 1991 by Lois Menzel
Originally published by Fawcett (ISBN 0449217892)
Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
Table of Contents
RULED BY PASSION
Lois Menzel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Lois Menzel Page 21