Always the Wallflower (Never the Bride Book 5)

by Emily E K Murdoch

  “Adoptive brother,” came Mariah’s automatic response, then her gray eyes sharpened. “Do you mean to say…do you mean you are having second thoughts, cold feet? Am I about to help you escape to the continent?”

  Letitia laughed as she stepped across the room and dropped onto the bed. “Whether or not I get married today, I think we can agree that I would never have the bravery to escape to anywhere.”

  But Mariah was no longer laughing. She reached and took Letitia’s hand in hers. “If you do not want to marry him…”

  “’Tis not that, exactly.” Letitia could barely understand the panic herself. “I am not sure whether I can go into that church with everyone looking at me.”

  Just the thought of people watching her, judging her, making comments about her gown, her hair, whether or not Edward was a fool to marry her…

  Mariah smiled wistfully. “Do you remember Miss Gray?”

  Letitia started. “Miss Gray?”

  Mariah nodded. “The governess we shared when we were young.”

  “Only for a summer, if I remember rightly.” Letitia tried to think back. She hadn’t met Edward that summer; he had been sent away for a reason she had never known. “She was formidable if I remember correctly.”

  “A true bluestocking,” said Mariah proudly, a fondness in her voice that rarely crept in. “She told you off once, do you remember, for not completing your mathematics exercises correctly.”

  Letitia remembered, and another detail came to mind. “Was that the same day that she chastised you for completing the next chapter early, before we had got to it?”

  Mariah giggled, her chestnut hair catching the light and her spectacles sparkling. “Even then, I had far more interest in books than gentlemen. Even then, with just the three of us in that schoolroom, I could see how mortified the attention made you.”

  Letitia’s smile disappeared. The memory was sharp now. She could almost smell the mustiness of the schoolroom. Oh, how she had burned with shame as Miss Gray had pointed out her mistakes.

  “I have never sought the spotlight,” she said quietly. “And today will be focused on me.”

  It was impossible to prevent the fear and anxiety flowing into her voice. The thought of meeting Edward at the end of the aisle was not enough to still her frantically beating heart.

  Mariah smiled wryly. “Does a small part of you think you will go up the aisle with your father, and Edward won’t be there?”

  Letitia nodded. It pained her to think so negatively about the man soon to become her husband, but he had not exactly given her overwhelming evidence of his reliability.

  “I know he cares about me, but he is changing so much for me, leaving behind so many habits,” Letitia said quietly. “What if he has woken today and realized I am not worth it? There are so many other young ladies out there, so many other women he has not met. What if one of them…”

  Her voice trailed away. She could not bear to think the words hiding in her heart.

  Mariah said nothing but rose from the bed, pulling Letitia with her. They stood hands together, Mariah looking fiercely into her eyes.

  “Then he is not worth it,” she said finally. “And that will be an end to it. Besides, he would have to be a fool to think he could never change. He has already changed so much—remember how he spoke to your father last night at dinner.”

  Letitia smiled. She had never expected anyone to take the time to discover her father’s quirks, but even Lord Cavendish was not totally immune to Edward’s charms. Within the hour, they were happily comparing the texture and flavor of different cigars.

  “He never bothered with that before,” Mariah said quietly. “I have never seen him dedicate time to ensure he was accepted by anyone, Letitia. He is serious in his intentions towards you. Put those worries from your mind.”

  Letitia smiled through the tears threatening to fall. Mariah was right. Edward had proven himself over the last few weeks to be a gentleman of honor. Now all she needed to do was overcome her own fears.

  “This is a day to enjoy!” Mariah’s earnestness was catching. “There we go. Now, when do we need to leave to reach the church in time?”

  Letitia dropped her friend’s hands and glanced at the clock above her mantlepiece.

  “Five minutes ago!”

  Letitia grabbed the posy of flowers, waiting in a vase by her looking glass.

  “We are late,” said Lord Cavendish peevishly as they descended the stairs.

  Letitia swallowed. “My apologies, Papa.”

  “My fault, Lord Cavendish,” said Mariah quietly. “But did not Aesop say that slow and steady wins the race? I, myself, follow the edicts of Newton, who believed time to be a construct that—”

  “Thank you, Mariah,” Letitia interrupted hastily. She knew that look on her father’s face. “We are ready now, Papa.”

  Lord Cavendish’s eyes moved from Mariah, a friend he evidently thought most unsuitable for his daughter.

  His face softened. “You look beautiful, Letitia. Like your mother.”

  Warmth spread across Letitia’s heart, melting away her fear. Her father rarely complimented her, and she could see in his face he meant every word.

  “Now, if we are going to prevent heartache for a particular young gentleman,” Lord Cavendish said brusquely, “we should probably think about going. Your mother is already there.”

  Letitia nodded and took her father’s arm.

  She barely knew how they reached the church. It felt like only a few minutes before she was standing outside, bells pealing, roses around the door which matched the posy in her hand.

  “I cannot believe it,” she breathed.

  Two months ago, she was a wallflower with whom no one wanted to dance. She was a joke to those around her, the poor Cavendish girl who was so shy, no gentleman ever wanted to stand up with her.

  Now she was about to stand up with one of the biggest rakes, and not just stand up in a dance set, but in church to become husband and wife.

  Assuming he was waiting for her.

  “Time to go in, Letitia,” said Lord Cavendish quietly.

  Within a heartbeat, she was standing before Edward, Viscount Wynn—but she had no memory of passing the numerous faces in the church.

  She looked into his dark eyes and smiled as she saw her future. How was it possible she, of all the young ladies in the world, was so fortunate to catch his eye and capture his heart?

  What had she done to be so fortunate?

  “Who brings this woman to be married to this man?”

  Letitia felt her father hesitate, and then he said, “I do.”

  Edward bowed low as Letitia’s hand was passed over to his. Her father was gone, and she was left alone at the altar with the vicar and Edward. She smiled at the man she loved, and he grinned back.

  “The vows you are about to take—”

  “I thought you would never get here,” Edward whispered.

  “Neither did I.”

  The first gentleman to see more in her than she did herself. The first and last gentleman to make love to her.

  Her husband.

  “—pronounce you man and wife,” said the vicar grandly, opening up his arms.

  Edward squeezed her hand, and as they stepped out of the church, he pulled her into his arms.

  “I have been looking forward to this all day,” he growled before kissing her with a desperation mirrored by her own heart.

  When they broke apart, there were mutterings and some rather scandalized looks.

  “What, kiss me?”

  Edward smiled. “No, kiss my wife.”

  Joy she had never known before rose in Letitia’s heart, and ignoring the increasing gasps and one woman’s tutting, she pulled Edward toward her and threw her arms around his neck as she kissed him.

  “And what was that for?” Edward whispered as the kiss ended.

  “Because I can.”

  She had thought the wedding ceremony would be the most uncomfortable part o
f the day, but Letitia was wrong. It was not until they returned to Cavendish Square did her mother’s enthusiasm became apparent.

  “God in his Heaven, half of society is here!” Edward stared at the numerous carriages trundling around the square.

  Letitia sighed. “I should have expected it. I am their only child, after all. This is the only wedding celebration they will host.”

  It was a whirlwind inside. Everyone wanted to wish them well, including plenty of her parents’ friends and acquaintances who Letitia had never met.

  “Oh, your mother and I were such firm friends when we were your age,” said a matronly looking woman who pinched Edward’s cheek. “And I am so thrilled for you, Louisa.”

  “Letitia,” Edward growled, but he went unnoticed as another couple moved forward to congratulate them. “And just where do you think you are going?”

  Letitia smiled. She had taken a few steps away but turned back to explain with one word. “Mariah.”

  Her friend was half-hidden behind one of her mother’s overly large plants. A New Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary had escaped her reticule, and Mariah was utterly absorbed, oblivious to the bustle of the wedding party.

  “Mariah,” Letitia said quietly as she approached her. “I had hoped you would enjoy yourself.”

  Mariah looked up, her spectacles half falling down her nose. “Enjoy myself? I am enjoying myself. Did you know—”

  But she was interrupted by Letitia’s giggle. “You know, I never thought I would be the one encouraging someone else to dance!”

  Mariah closed the book on her finger. “I know, ’tis a rather strange turn of events, isn’t it? But you are happy, that is what matters, even if it is with my brother.”

  “Adoptive brother,” Letitia teased gently. “And one day, now that you are my sister, Mariah, I want to hear more about what happened between the two of you.”

  A shadow passed over Mariah’s face, and she looked down at her closed book before she replied. “Perhaps, one day, but not today. It is not a story for a wedding.”

  Curiosity piqued, Letitia wanted to ask more but knew better than anyone the sign of someone who wanted to be left alone.

  “If you want to stay here and continue reading, of course, you can,” she said softly.

  Mariah nodded gratefully. “If I am ever going to get a good university education, I need to read—”

  “Stop badgering my sister and come here!” Edward interrupted inelegantly, crashing to a halt and grinning. “And you abandoned me with more wedding guests than I know what to do with.”

  Edward pulled her across the room, she could not help a small pang of concern. Mariah Wynn, the eternal bluestocking. Her devotion to her studies trumped all else.

  “And now,” said Edward quietly, “that is better.”

  They had emerged into an empty corridor, the noise of the wedding reception disappearing.

  Letitia leaned against the wall and breathed out heavily. “Just the two of us.”

  A mischievous grin appeared on Edward’s face. “Just how I like it.”

  Before Letitia could say anything, he had covered her body with his and was kissing her more passionately than she could ever remember.

  She allowed herself to be overcome by the kiss for a moment, then remembered where she was and pushed him away.

  “Edward, we cannot possibly—not here!”

  Her husband grinned. “Oh, everyone else is celebrating. What are the chances that someone is going to come along here?”

  Letitia bit her lip and looked along the corridor. It was rarely used.

  A wild sense of abandon overwhelmed her as the desire to be touched by her husband rose. It was thrilling.

  “Hardly ever,” she whispered, reaching for his hand—but instead of interlocking her fingers with his, she guided his hand, amazed at her own brazenness, to that special place between her thighs that was throbbing for his touch.

  Edward laughed as he nuzzled her neck. “God, Letitia, I promise you—this is the only kind of wallflower you will ever be again.”

  About Emily E K Murdoch

  If you love falling in love, then you’ve come to the right place.

  I am a historian and writer and have a varied career to date: from examining medieval manuscripts to designing museum exhibitions, to working as a researcher for the BBC to working for the National Trust.

  My books range from England 1050 to Texas 1848, and I can’t wait for you to fall in love with my heroes and heroines!

  Follow me on twitter and instagram @emilyekmurdoch, find me on facebook at facebook.com/theemilyekmurdoch, and read my blog at www.emilyekmurdoch.com.