Finally, he pulled away and sought her gaze. Nothing except concern and compassion were reflected in her brown eyes. “I apologize for that moment of weakness.” He looked away lest she see the demons on his face.
“Never apologize for everything you’re fighting against. It means you haven’t given up, and that means you’re alive.” She sat back with her legs folded beneath her, and putting a palm to his cheek, she turned his head until she could stare into his eyes. “In this moment, you are enough. Keep building those moments before going forward.”
Somehow, for some reason, she understood at least a part of what ailed him. And the freedom therein was incredible. He nodded, but then couldn’t help himself. He surged into her and claimed her lips in a brief kiss that was all too short but what he needed. “Thank you. I vow to make you proud.”
“Find pride in yourself first.” She patted his cheek and then sat back. “Should we do justice to your cook’s basket?”
“Of course, but first, I want you to have this.” Drew delved a finger into the pocket of his waistcoat and brought forth a ring. Sunlight sparkled off the round two-carat emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds. The gold setting gleamed as bright as her hair. “This belonged to my grandmother. I believe it was her engagement ring once upon a time.” Taking up her left hand, he tugged on the kid glove until it slipped from the appendage. “I’d be honored if you’d accept it as yours.”
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed.
“The color suits you.” His hand shook as he slipped the bauble onto the fourth finger. “You have my promise that I’ll do my best.”
“That’s a step toward a solid foundation.” When she smiled, a trace of moisture welled in her eyes. “You’re not alone, Andrew. Remember that.”
Somehow, she’d gotten past his defenses and had already made an impression. How long would it be until that foundation she talked of crumbled and he was exposed as the colossal failure that he truly was?
Chapter Ten
June 25, 1817
Sarah’s nerves felt strung too tight while flutters tickled through her lower belly. In mere moments, she would recite vows to Andrew that would forever bind her to him, yet she hadn’t seen him for three days thanks to her great uncle’s dictates that she should spend all her time with his children.
Not that the spoiled young ones cared. They hadn’t been any more interested in learning yesterday than they’d been during her whole term as their governess. The one piece of business that caused a sensation had been Mary blurting out a question Sarah would never forget.
“Mother told George and I that you were marrying the earl next door. Is that true?”
“It absolutely is,” she had replied with a slight smile, but inside she’d been sticking out her tongue.
The girl had looked incredulous. “No one can quite figure out why the devil he—or any man—would offer for you when you’re nobody,” she’d uttered in exasperated tones.
Sarah had shrugged. “Everyone is worthy, regardless of other peoples’ opinions. Remember that.” And then she’d gone on teaching as if nothing were amiss.
Even now, the memory made her smile. Let them all wonder. She cared not. This new path beckoned before her and she couldn’t wait to see where it led. It was no one’s business how the engagement had come about or why. The fact was, today she would marry at the ripe old age of four and thirty, and she wouldn’t need to fret over her future again.
Despite her confidence, Sarah waited in the drawing room. It was as lovely as one could imagine a room in an earl’s home to be. Delicate Louis XIV furnishings, cushions of pleasing shades of blue, the walls decorated with oil paintings of pastoral or seaside landscapes all in heavy gilt frames, thick Aubusson carpeting, and heavy navy velvet drapes all spoke to wealth and high position. Both impressive and a tad intimidating.
Was she truly ready to step into this life and live it? She had no prior experience of mixing with the ton or how to conduct herself therein. What if I fail?
Then she’d merely start over the next day until she figured out how to use the new title to her advantage and put her own stamp on it. None of those thoughts soothed her racing heartbeat, though. She paced in front of the windows where bright noon day sunlight streamed in while pushing her spectacles back onto the bridge of her nose. Where was he? Surely, he wouldn’t beg off at the last second and embarrass her. She smoothed her palms down the front of her gown.
The emerald satin was cool against her skin, but the ruffle at the hem and around the edges of the tulip petals of the overskirt brought strength to her confidence. Two dear little fabric rosettes on the hem ruffle made her think of a garden she’d seen once in a painting. The matching slippers pinched her toes, but they were equally as beautiful. Beneath the gown that had cost an enormous amount of coin—gifted to her with Andrew’s compliments—she wore garments she’d purchased for herself: fine lawn petticoat and shift, both embroidered with green vines and leaves as well as pink rosebuds, and the embroidered stockings that had been in her basket that first day she’d met Andrew. Never had she been outfitted in such finery.
This day was much like a dream, except for the delinquent groom. A slight pang of sadness went through her chest. And the absence of her parents. She touched a fingertip to the silver locket around her neck. It would have been more special if she could have them back for one moment so they could know that she’d taken steps to secure her future.
The clearing of a masculine throat brought Sarah out of her musings. “Are you quite certain Lord Hadleigh wishes to marry you?” The question from her great uncle rankled, and she turned to look at him. He and his wife sat on a low sofa near the center of the room—the only official guests. Witnesses really. “Perhaps you misunderstood the conversation.”
“That’s easy to do,” her aunt agreed with a sage nod that had her double chin wagging. “A woman your age with no prospects or offers can often see her mind playing tricks.”
Oh, drat. Sarah huffed out a frustrated breath. Her spectacles slid down her nose. After today, she wouldn’t need to pander to these two, for her obligation had ended at teatime yesterday. Andrew had sent a coach for her. Whereupon she’d taken her one trunk and a carpetbag, tucked herself into the vehicle, and proceed to leave her great uncle’s home for the last time. The night before she’d slept in the most luxurious suite of rooms she’d ever seen, and now she was here…
Waiting.
Would Andrew show? Was he even now suffering through an attack? “There was nothing to misconstrue, Auntie,” Sarah finally said in response. “He will be here.” She tamped the urge to lash out with the anger brewing deep in her chest. This was not the time nor place to let her temper fly. “If you’ll notice, the vicar hasn’t arrived either.”
Of course, that fact didn’t help her cause.
Her great uncle and aunt exchanged a speaking glance. Obviously, neither expected there to be a wedding here today.
A tremble of worry moved up her spine as she pushed the eyewear back into place. Sarah faced the window once more and fought against the rise of unshed tears crowding her throat. Please, Andrew, keep your promise. A few fat, puffy clouds moved to block the sun, and the resulting shadows were almost mocking with their indifference. Then, a commotion and the rustle of fabric at the door had her spinning about.
He’s here! Her pulse hammered behind her ribs as he came into the room, resplendent and oh so handsome in his dark formal clothes.
“I apologize for my tardiness, but I wanted to extend an invitation to my staff in the event they wished to serve as witnesses.” The earl stood aside.
A few women came into the room, followed by the man she’d seen as the butler, as well as another man who nodded at Andrew as he passed. All of them glanced at her with speculation and interest in their expressions. Briefly last night she’d met the butler as well as the housekeeper, but at the moment, she couldn’t recall their names. Finally, the local vicar entered. In his somber and plain back
suit with the white contrasting collar, he was every bit how she’d envisioned he would look on this day.
“You would have servants at your nuptial ceremony?” Her great uncle stood as Andrew made his way to him. He made it sound as if the earl had invited vermin into the room.
Now she knew exactly where she’d stood with her relatives.
“Why not? They’ve been much like family to me, and quite frankly, they’re a fat lot less aggravating,” Andrew responded smoothly, his baritone rumbling through the room. When her aunt stood, he greeted them both. “I trust you’ll forgive me for taking away someone as incomparable as Miss Copeland.”
“Of course, of course,” her great uncle enthused as he pumped Andrew’s hand. “We hate to give her up.”
“Yes,” her aunt said as she dropped as shaky curtsy. “She’s been ever so valuable to us. The children are sad to see her go.”
At the window, Sarah rolled her eyes. She hoped the earl was intelligent enough to see through their false concern. On the other hand, she didn’t wish him to fly into a temper because of them.
“Well, Miss Copeland is in my care now. She’ll want for nothing and shall be treated with the respect she deserves.” A warning growled in his tone. “I’m sure her time will be spoken for, so please do make an appointment should you plan to call.”
“We will indeed.” Her great uncle nodded as if he were a puppet on a string. “My wife and I intend to throw a rout next month to celebrate your marriage, if it pleases you.”
With slightly narrowed eyes, Andrew nodded. “You’d do well to make certain it pleases my new countess, but keep me informed, Sir Gearwell.” Then he turned and locked eyes with her and a grin slowly curved his sensual lips.
Oh, dear heavens. Butterflies began a ballet, causing a riot with her insides. He is rather potent. And he’d stood up for her against the two of them. That earned him more respect.
As the various people in the room talked in low voices, the earl came toward her, never breaking eye contact. Almost as if he were a large jungle cat stalking his prey.
Me. Another tremble went down her spine, but this one also tickled through her lower belly, for tonight she would know him far more personally…
When he reached her, his grin merely widened. An answering wicked glint lit his blue-gray eyes. “I knew you’d look lovely in emerald. You should always wear bold colors. They suit you.”
“I appreciate that.” Heat infused her cheeks from his unexpected praise. “And thank you once more for the gown. It’s stunning.”
He nodded. “Have you changed your mind? If so, I’m sure your great uncle would be thrilled to have you back to work.”
A wild near-hysterical giggle erupted from her. “I think I’ll take my chances with you.” It didn’t matter that she’d wished to tease him, for the spell of anticipation had broken.
“I’d like to hope you view me in a better light than him.” A trace of annoyance flickered in his expression to chase away the good humor he’d entered the room with, but it was gone by his next breath. “I assume you have met the vicar?”
“Yes. On the few occasions I’ve attended church.”
“Then let me introduce you to some key members of my staff—your staff now. Though I suspect you’ve met some already out of necessity.”
“I have,” she whispered. Her stomach bottomed out. This was all too real. In an hour, her life would shift, and she’d begin anew as a countess.
Before Andrew could guide her over to the butler, Vicar Baring came up to them. He was a man of indeterminate years with hair the color of mud and a rather unfortunate long nose.
“It’s an honor to be here, Lord Hadleigh.” His long fingers tightened over a battered copy of the Book of Common Prayer. “However, I’ve been invited to luncheon at a home in the next village over, so I’d like to have this underway and soon.”
Which meant the home to which he’d been asked featured a young lady who was looking for a husband. She must be quite something if the vicar flirted with upsetting the earl, who no doubt provided said vicar’s living.
“Very well. No ill-will taken.” Andrew nodded as the vicar moved toward the center of the room. He fit his lips to the shell of her ear and whispered, “Introductions will need to wait.” The warmth of his breath skated over her cheek.
A shiver of something danced down her spine. “It matters not. I’ll see to them later this afternoon.” Sarah looked up at him while he pulled away and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
Let something good come from this union.
“Spoken like a countess. Come. We mustn’t keep the vicar waiting.”
In a daze, she followed him to the middle of the room where she was instructed to stand by Andrew’s side. The earl gave him a small leather purse that jangled with coins, payment, no doubt for services rendered. The vicar tucked it away and then rifled through his book.
“Shall we begin?”
“I see no reason not to.” Andrew frowned. “Best have it done, don’t you think?”
Sarah’s stomach muscles knotted. Of course, to him this was merely another task associated with doing his duty to the title, while to her… it was life changing.
“Excellent.” Vicar Baring nodded. He glanced at the handful of witnesses. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
Oh, my goodness. If Sarah’s heart beat any faster, she’d surely expire on the spot to what the minister said as he addressed the earl. If she took Andrew’s arm, would he lash out? Knowing his touch now when her mind spun with everything she would promise this day would be appreciated, but he didn’t move. Instead, he kept his hands clasped behind him, staring at the vicar with a bland expression.
Vicar Baring addressed Andrew. “Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Sarah couldn’t stop the tremble that moved through her. Did he understand the severity of those words and the responsibility created therein? What sort of husband would he be?
“I will.” The answer in his baritone resonated in her chest, but when she glanced at him, he’d clenched his jaw so tight the muscle stood out against his skin.
Perhaps he wished for support too. Daring much, she laid a hand upon his arm. His muscles flexed and jumped beneath her fingertips. All too soon, Vicar Baring addressed her.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Some of the words stuck in her mind. She would only obey and serve him as long as his temper stayed in check, and she had no guarantee that it would. But the vicar waited for an answer. She squeezed Andrew’s arm. “I will.” A fair amount of breathlessness accompanied the answer, for she wasn’t entirely certain this wasn’t the biggest folly she’d ever committed.
We don’t love each other.
The vicar instructed Andrew to take her right hand in his right hand. He held so tight that she peered into his face, and only then did she see the signs of an impending attack. His lips were slightly parted. He took small, panting breaths. Sweat beaded at his temple. Sarah leaned into him and whispered, “Breathe, Andrew. You’re not going to the gallows.”
He grunted. “That would, at least, cause my demons to quiet.”
Poor man. She feared he would break, and soon. How can I reach him when he refuses to acknowledge that the struggle is pa
rt of living? Absently, she pushed her spectacles back into place.
“Is there an issue?” Vicar Baring asked as he darted his gaze between them. When Sarah shook her head, he cleared his throat and continued. “Lord Hadleigh, please repeat after me.” The words the vicar said blurred together while Sarah worried over Andrew’s health. They didn’t make an impression until the earl repeated them as he faced her.
“I, Andrew James Storme, the Eighth Earl of Hadleigh, take thee Miss Sarah Elizabeth Copeland to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love,” he choked over that word, “and to cherish, ‘till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.” He gasped for breath as he squeezed her hand hard. “And thereto I pledge thee my troth.”
Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. He both wished to wed and dreaded it, for he couldn’t see a way out what he considered a morass of the title. She patted his hand, hoping to give him a modicum of comfort.
They were directed to release hands, and Sarah was told to then hold Andrew’s right hand with her right hand. Vicar Baring addressed her while she stared into the earl’s eyes. The anger and resentment that roiled in those stormy depths cramped her stomach. “Miss Copeland, repeat after me.” He gave her the words, and she nodded.
There was no calling it off now. “I, Miss Sarah Elizabeth Copeland, take thee Andrew James Storme, the Eighth Earl of Hadleigh to my wedded Husband.” Her hand shook, both in anticipation and fear. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, ‘till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.” She didn’t care that a tear fell to her cheek. Would she come to love Andrew over the course of their union? If she did, would he return the sentiment? At the vicar’s prompt, she rushed onward. “And thereto I give thee my troth.”
Dear God, please let this not show as a mistake.
The Soul of a Storme Page 12