The Substitute Bride: A historical romance with a spirited Regency heroine

by Dorothy Mack

  She sighed slightly and squared her shoulders for yet another public appearance. Thankfully, these were becoming easier, for by now she had renewed acquaintance with a few women with whom she had been upon friendly terms during her own season. They were now young matrons, secure in their positions, and she was grateful for their support. The assembly that evening was rather more enjoyable than most because she felt less of a curiosity now and there were several of her friends present, including Mrs. Anson. Angelica had taken a liking to this kind, outspoken lady and enjoyed a comfortable cose with her while Giles played cards with friends. The furious activity of the past week was beginning to wear her down though, so she was grateful when Giles collected her rather early. They chatted unselfconsciously in the carriage on the way home. She was ready to bid him goodnight at the stairs when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “Wait, I have something to say to you, Angelica. Come into the library. I know you are tired, but I won’t keep you more than a minute or two.”

  Preceding him into the book-lined room, Angelica thought fleetingly that all the important moments in her eventful few weeks in Giles’s home had occurred in this room. Her first nervous meeting with a prospective employer had taken place here. Here, Giles had put forth his startling proposal, and it was here she had first refused and then later agreed to marry him. A brief quirk of her lips lightened her sober expression as she recalled the day of Jenny’s slide and Giles’s accident. For a while, it had seemed every time she crossed the threshold she finished by drinking brandy.

  Giles was watching her face. “What memory has made you smile?”

  “I was wondering if you were going to ply me with brandy again,” she said with an impish smile.

  His answering smile was quick to comprehend her meaning.

  “Not this time. You are so tired it would probably knock you out. I just wanted to tell you that Billy and his wife will be arriving tomorrow in the late afternoon. They will stay here for the two days remaining before the wedding. And they are bringing a surprise for you.”

  He watched her smile fade and the sparkle die out of the green eyes at the mention of the wedding: she expressed polite appreciation for his hospitality to her cousin, but his voice was curt and he brushed aside her thanks as he bade her goodnight. After she had quietly left the room, however, his rigid composure slipped and his shoulders sagged slightly as he stared for a long moment at the closed door with a bleak face.

  It was a slightly nervous Angelica who sat with Lady Orbridge and Lydia in the drawing room the following afternoon, awaiting the arrival of her relatives. A strong affection existed between the cousins, and Billy had an uncanny knack of sensing her mood. The constant strain of pretending for his benefit to be fond of his Charlotte, a pretty widgeon with more hair than wit and jealous into the bargain, had been largely responsible for her decision to take up a position as a governess. She had no worries on that score now that she no longer had to endure Charlotte’s daily proximity, but she quite dreaded to have Billy discern the true state of affairs between Giles and herself. He had married for love and would wish nothing less for her. To ask Giles to pretend to Billy that he loved her was unthinkable. She could only hope he would not abandon for the duration of her cousin’s visit his public role of devoted suitor which had previously offended her. It was of the utmost importance that Billy should think her a happy bride.

  Consequently, it was with less than her customary composure that she rose to greet the party when at last Chilham announced them, but her first sight of her cousin’s smiling face banished all trace of nervousness. His light brown hair was brushed in a Brutus, and for once he had taken pains with his dress. The olive-green coat of fine wool fit beautifully over his strongly moulded shoulders, and his neckcloth was more intricately arranged than was his custom. Only the twinkling brown eyes were unchanged.

  “Oh, Billy, it is so good to see you.” She went hurriedly toward him with hands outstretched.

  He grasped them briefly then hugged her impulsively, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek. “I must say you are looking as fine as five pence, love. Being affianced agrees with you.”

  She laughed up at him, then the smile stiffened slightly as she glimpsed Giles over his shoulder. He had entered the room behind Billy and Charlotte, and his arctic expression both startled and disturbed her. She kept her voice gay, but there was a look of unconscious pleading in her eyes as she hastily freed herself from Billy’s embrace.

  “Oh, Giles, do come in. I am persuaded I have no need to present you to my cousin, but I think you have not yet met Charlotte.” She performed the introduction and noted with relief that his features had relaxed into a friendly smile as he bowed gracefully over Charlotte’s hand and made her welcome. He was still smiling as he turned toward her husband, extending his right hand while with his left he encircled Angelica’s shoulders and gently drew her close to his side.

  “I am glad we agree that Angelica looks charming. If being engaged is responsible, I am looking forward to seeing what marriage will do for her,” he murmured, enjoying her suddenly scarlet cheeks and the bronze-tipped lashes shadowing them.

  “Oh, Lord, Devil, have you not yet outgrown that schoolgirl trick of blushing?” demanded Billy with mock outrage.

  “Devil?” Giles raised one black brow slightly.

  Angelica intervened hastily. “My father was used to call me Angel, and Billy felt I needed to be put in my proper place, so adopted that foolish name for me.”

  “Now I wonder which is more apt?” Giles said silkily, then led their guests forward to be presented to his sister and aunt, thus thankfully rendering any answer to this question unnecessary.

  Dinner was a very gay affair that night. Even Charlotte, generally suffering from the extreme fatigue which often accompanies an interesting condition in its early stages, was able to participate wholeheartedly, having been persuaded to retire to her room for a therapeutic nap after tea. She declared the excitement of being in London again, especially for such a happy occasion, was better than any powders prescribed by her doctor.

  Angelica, on entering her room to dress for dinner, had paused in amazement on the threshold, then dashed across the room to enfold in a crushing embrace the large woman laying out her gown. “Annie, Annie! Charlotte didn’t tell me she was bringing you. How happy I am to see you!”

  “There, there, Miss Angelica. No need to act like a hoyden,” declared the old nurse sternly, but her eyes looked suspiciously moist. “It’s that glad I am to see you, though, and looking very bonny, too.” She held her erstwhile nursling at arm’s length and surveyed her through critical but loving eyes. “You still don’t pin your hair up neatly. Look at those wisps trailing down. Well, I’ll fix that after you have had your bath.”

  Angelica chuckled. “It’s lovely to have you here scolding me. I have missed you terribly. Perhaps Charlotte will allow you to dress my hair for the wedding?”

  “What, don’t you know yet that I’m to stay here with you as your dresser? His lordship wrote to Mr. Wroxham and asked him if he could spare me because he thought you would prefer it to having strangers around you.”

  “Oh, Annie, did Giles really do that for me? How kind of him! He told me Billy and Charlotte were bringing a surprise with them, but I thought it was a wedding gift, which of course it is, but from him, not them.” She hugged Annie again.

  “There now, Miss Angelica, stop dancing around, do, and let me get you ready for dinner.”

  Angelica subsided and allowed Annie to take charge. She felt foolishly happy, and the only time a slight shadow passed across her face was when Annie assumed complacently that the viscount must be very much in love with her. Annie had made the viscount’s acquaintance on entering the house and had obviously been won over by his charm and consideration. Angelica felt a deceitful wretch by her silence, but this is what Giles wished people to think. She banished thoughts of the future from her mind and went down to dinner happier than she ha
d been since discovering she loved a man who probably was no longer capable of returning any woman’s love.

  On entering the saloon, her eyes flew to Giles, who was standing before the fireplace looking magnificent in his severe black and white evening attire chatting with Charlotte and Lady Orbridge. He came forward immediately and asked teasingly if the surprise had met with her approval.

  “Oh, yes, Giles. Indeed I do not know how to thank you.” She smiled radiantly up at him.

  “May I suggest an eminently suitable method of expressing your appreciation, my love?” he said softly, with a gleam of laughter in his eyes. As he had wrapped an arm of iron around her waist and tightened his grip at her instinctive recoil, she accepted the inevitable and, reaching up, kissed him shyly on the cheek. He released her immediately and led her over to Lady Orbridge who had been indulgently watching the byplay from a sofa.

  The time remaining before the wedding passed swiftly. Angelica saw almost nothing of Giles who went off with Billy each day, nor did either disclose what passed between them on the subject of the marriage and settlement. Lydia was very helpful in keeping Charlotte entertained and assisting with the listing of wedding gifts, which were arriving in quantities. Angelica had been secretly appalled at the number of guests expected; even with the subtraction of Lady Barbara’s relatives it would be a large affair. She had promised Giles she would not think about the day at all, but it was not a promise she could entirely honour. It would be such a relief to have it behind her, so she could concentrate on making Lydia’s ball a memorable occasion for the young girl who had been her first friend in the house and would soon be in truth her sister.

  Fittings for the new wardrobe had taken up so many of her daytime hours that Angelica had scarcely seen Jenny alone for a sennight or more. Schoolroom luncheons had perforce been abandoned. Now, on the day of her wedding, she entered Jenny’s room to visit the child before beginning to dress.

  Nurse rose to her feet out of respect for her new mistress, but Jenny remained at a table where she was engaged in painting, a rather sulky expression on her lovely little face. She barely returned Angelica’s cheerful greeting.

  Angelica glanced at Nurse and raised a questioning eyebrow. That worthy lady merely shrugged in real or pretended ignorance, and obeying an absentminded gesture from Angelica, took herself out of the room.

  “Well, Jenny love, are you going to tell me what’s amiss?” She smiled coaxingly at the pale blonde head stubbornly bent over her painting.

  “Nothing is wrong,” came the uncompromising reply.

  “Oh, I see. That has me in a puzzle because if something were troubling you, I could try to make it right, but if nothing is wrong, how can I help?”

  There was a deepening silence from the table.

  Angelica moved over to the tense little figure and put a finger under her chin. Jenny resisted efforts to raise her face, continuing doggedly to slap paint on a sketch that was rapidly assuming the aspect of an explosion of colour. Angelica sighed and said gently, “I have not really seen you for several days, but you do know this state of affairs is only temporary, don’t you, Jenny?” She watched the small fingers pause over their daubing for an instant, and encouraged by this sign of attention, continued softly, “It was necessary you know, dearest. Your papa wanted me to have all the clothes I would need to take Aunt Lydia into society and, of course, I had to become acquainted with his friends. After the wedding, we will have much more time together.”

  The bright silver head jerked up. “I thought it was a good idea for you to marry Papa, because then you would stay here always. Nurse says you won’t be my governess anymore now.” Jenny’s eyes and voice held accusation and her paintbrush was still — waiting.

  It was a relief to have her suspicion as to the reason for Jenny’s fit of the sullens confirmed, and Angelica sought for the right words to comfort her.

  “No, I won’t be able to teach you your lessons every day, dearest, but I shall be so happy to be your mother instead. Now you may come to my room to have chocolate with me in the mornings, and when Lydia and I have lunch at home, you shall join us.” She noted that Jenny’s deep blue eyes had brightened considerably, though her mouth remained stubborn.

  “Shall I be able to come to your room every morning?” she demanded, staring intently at Angelica.

  “Every morning,” was the prompt reply.

  Jenny gave a shuddering sigh, flung her paintbrush down and burst into tears. She wrapped her arms around Angelica and sobbed out her fears that she had been abandoned by her father and her teacher. Angelica soothed and petted her, reminding her gently, after she had calmed down, that she must not look all red-eyed for the wedding.

  When she left to begin her own toilette, it was with a devout prayer of thankfulness that she had gone to see the child on impulse. Now if only if she could manage to convince herself that this marriage would be the best thing for everyone, including herself. She entered her own room slowly, unaware how faithfully her face reflected her troubled thoughts.

  Annie, after glancing keenly at her mistress, closed her lips firmly on the impatient words she had been about to utter. She urged Angelica into a chair before the small dressing table and proceeded to unpin the heavy hair. During the ensuing brushing she talked in a calm, monotonous tone of the comings and goings below stairs. She knew her mistress did not half listen to servants’ gossip, but noted with satisfaction the lessening of tension in her face and felt the relaxation of the slim shoulders under her soothing hands. It was difficult to accept that her nursling was now a grown woman and no longer confided her troubles to one who was, after all, merely a servant, but at least she had the power to ease her spirits. Annie’s clever fingers brushed, braided and coiled the honey-coloured mass into a more elaborate style than the usual soft knot, even weaving a rope of pearls into the arrangement. She kept it all to the back, though, because for her wedding Angelica would wear an exquisite diamond and pearl tiara, which had belonged to the viscount’s mother.

  By the time an excited Lydia had entered to inspect her new sister, Angelica was completely composed. If there was a hint of wistfulness in the green eyes, Lydia, at least, was unaware. She exclaimed over the simply cut gown of magnificent French lace sewn with thousands of tiny pearls, noting with a little pang that Angelica had the height to carry the court train with grace.

  “But you are too pale, Angel. Wait just a moment.”

  She was gone on the words and back before Annie had tucked a sheer handkerchief into one of the long, tight-fitting sleeves.

  “This will give you a just touch of colour,” the younger girl declared, rubbing something lightly into Angelica’s colourless cheeks and over her lips.

  “Lydia, you little hussy, where did you get that paint?” her victim demanded laughingly.

  Lydia observed the new sparkle in her friend’s eyes and called upon an indulgent Annie to admire her efforts. “There, now you look healthier. It isn’t in the least artificial, is it, Annie? I used the tiniest bit, Angel, and what you don’t know won’t worry you.”

  Angelica shook her head in mock despair. “I can see that I have as yet no real inkling of the task I have undertaken in presenting you, miss. I shall need as many eyes as Argus to see you do not ruin yourself.”

  Lydia, totally unabashed by this stricture, hugged Angelica warmly and helped her to enter the carriage which was to take Billy and his cousin to the cathedral.

  Never afterward was Angelica able to describe her wedding in any detail. For the most part, she went through the motions like a sleepwalker, but apparently she made the correct responses as the moment demanded. There were, however, a few images which impressed themselves on her memory. Billy, unnaturally quiet in the carriage, looking at her steadily with deep affection. They spoke little, but just before handing her over to Giles he had said, “He’s a lucky man, but so are you lucky, Devil. Be happy, my dear.” He had bent and kissed her quickly, then led her down the aisle to Giles.


  Neither would she forget Aunt Minerva’s warm embrace after the ceremony. “You have made me very happy, Angelica,” she said in the rich voice which belied her fragile physical condition. “Be good to her, my boy.” The snapping black eyes held her nephew’s equally dark ones for an instant.

  But the image which was most deeply seared into her memory was that of Giles himself, waiting to receive her from Billy’s care. He was so tall and vitally masculine that her heart had begun a rapid hammering before she was close enough to see his features. What would his expression be on this occasion? She knew a sudden stab of pure fear. Oh, please don’t let it be his customary sardonic regard. She knew with frightening clarity that she would be unable to bear that cynical quirk of lips and brow. It would shrivel the tiny seed of hope which never quite died. As they drew closer she searched his face closely, her own eyes desperately serious, her soft mouth not quite steady. Some of the tension left her as she noted his unsmiling countenance. His eyes were darkly serious and held her gaze for a long, heart-stopping moment. His mouth was tightened in a line of repression, but she was so relieved at the absence of any mockery that she softly released an indrawn breath, and her lips trembled into a slightly uncertain but incredibly sweet smile of welcome. Something flamed suddenly in the dark eyes looking down at her, and his mouth softened at the same time that his fingers tightened painfully around hers.

  Angelica listened intently to the bishop’s sonorous voice reading the beautiful words of the marriage service, knowing that she, at least, believed each one. For an instant, while Giles repeated the vows in a strong voice, she had the oddest little feeling that he could not have said these words binding her to him forever if he did not mean them. Something in his eyes questioned her, but she could not think straight; her mind was full of the sense of the vows they were exchanging. Her own voice, though soft, never faltered when her turn came, and again he held her gaze imprisoned in the fathomless depths of those eyes. They disturbed her concentration until she realized suddenly that the ceremony was over and Giles had been exhorted to kiss his bride. She glanced uncertainly at the bishop and gave a slight start as she felt Giles’s hand on her shoulder. He turned her slowly, his hands sliding up to encircle her neck, and he pushed up her chin with both thumbs.