Bought: The Penniless Lady (5 page)

Perhaps to forestall any more awkward comments from the vicar, Lady Artemis began walking toward the church. “Have witnesses been arranged?”

The vicar nodded. “My sister and the parish clerk have agreed to witness the ceremony and sign the register.”

Hadrian trailed after them with his nephew in his arms. Just as Lady Artemis had predicted, the child gazed around him, taking everything in. Whenever his eyes met
Hadrian’s, he flashed a wide, wet grin. If his aunt had tended him since his infancy, she’d done very well. The lad appeared healthy, happy and reasonably clever for his age.

They entered the church, which was softly lit by scattered candles and spring sunshine filtering through the stained glass of the altar window. It depicted a cloaked monk holding a traveler’s staff. The place reminded Hadrian of another old country church, far to the north.

As they followed the vicar down the aisle, Hadrian’s small nephew seemed to decide the church was too quiet.

“Ah-do-ma-ba!” He made a sudden grab for Hadrian’s ear, doing his best to yank it off. His other hand found Hadrian’s nose and gave it a sharp twist.

“Ow!” The pain shocked Hadrian back into the broad northern dialect of his youth. “Giveower and whisht, ye blasted wee bug—”

Artemis let out a horrified gasp that cut him off before he blurted out something very rude in church.

Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, she wrenched the child out of his arms. “I will thank you not to take such a rough tone with Lee. He is far too young to know what he is doing.”

Her icy rebuke stung Hadrian more than his hot outburst seemed to have bothered their nephew. The wee imp chortled as if he knew he’d done something naughty and managed to get away with it.

Hadrian rubbed his smarting nose. “He’s none too young to start learning to mind.”

He sensed she wanted to fling a pithy retort at him, but by now they had reached the chancel steps, where their
witnesses were waiting. Instead she turned away from him to greet the vicar’s sister, who looked absurdly like her brother in a voluminous black dress and high white collar. While the two women fussed over his nephew, Hadrian shook hands with the parish clerk. The vicar took his place and spent a moment leafing through his prayer book.

Once he found the right page, he cleared his throat and launched into the service. “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.”

Those words took Hadrian back to the last time he’d heard them, in Fort St. George, Madras. He could scarcely imagine a wedding more different from that one than this. He and his first bride had been so eager to wed. The early struggle to make his fortune was behind him, while the tragedy of his past had begun to loosen its grip upon his heart. Margaret’s vivacity and contagious high spirits had helped him look to the future with boundless hope.

He’d dreamed of siring a family of fine sons to carry on the Northmore name—lads who would never experience the danger and deprivation he and his brothers had endured. He’d foreseen a lifetime of happiness ahead with a family he would adore. Instead, after only two sweet, fleeting years, he’d lost his wife and infant daughter. And he had learned what a perilous thing hope could be.

An expectant pause wrenched Hadrian back from his painful reverie. Too late, he realized the moment for confessing any impediment to his present marriage had passed. Did the fact that he knew almost nothing about his bride count? Or that he did not much like the lady, let alone
love
her?

The vicar could not have guessed any of that, or he would never have fixed Hadrian with such a benevolent smile and asked, “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?”

Wife. Until now, that word had made him think of someone quite unlike Artemis Dearing. It troubled Hadrian to find her so very alluring when she was so different from the wife he’d lost. He held her in a solemn gaze, determined to betray nothing of the wrenching memories this ceremony had revived. “I will.”

Next the vicar addressed Lady Artemis. “Wilt thou take this man to thy wedded husband?”

“I will.” She focused her attention on her small nephew, as if pledging her love and life to
him
instead of her bridegroom.

Stifling an unexpected pang, Hadrian reminded himself this marriage was entirely for the child’s benefit. And he would have it no other way.

W
hile Reverend Curtis read the words of the marriage ceremony, Artemis struggled to keep her attention fixed upon her nephew, so she would not be so intensely aware of Mr. Northmore’s potent presence. His relentless gray gaze seemed to measure her value as a wife and find her lacking in all respects.

The tone in which he spoke his vows made it clear he would just as soon have been marrying the vicar’s middle-aged sister as her. Then why had he pressed that unsettling kiss upon her after she’d accepted his proposal? Did he think her a pathetic, lonely spinster who needed an amorous incentive to go through with this wedding?

“Please join hands,” the vicar bid them.

“But…” Artemis shrank from the prospect of Hadrian Northmore’s touch, though a small, traitorous part of her hankered for it. “My nephew…”

“
Our
nephew,” he muttered.

Miss Curtis stepped forward. “I can take him. Surely he will be content to let me hold him for a few moments.”

Artemis had her doubts, but she did not want to make a scene by refusing the lady’s help. Surrendering Lee to Miss Curtis, she turned quickly back to her bridegroom. She hoped he would not mistake her impatience to get the ceremony over with for eagerness to become his wife.

She willed herself not to flinch when Mr. Northmore’s large, powerful hand enveloped her slender, waxen fingers. The heat of his touch surprised her. As he repeated his vows after the vicar, she stared down at their clasped hands, refusing to meet his forbidding gaze. She told herself she did not care if he compared her unfavorably with other women—she had no illusions about her meager charms. Daphne had been the beauty of the family. She was the sensible one, the dutiful one—content to remain in the background while her adored sister captured all hearts.

“Repeat after me,” the vicar prompted her, “I, Artemis Caroline, take thee, Hadrian Arthur, to my wedded husband.”

Lee had begun to fuss the moment Miss Curtis took him. Now he was wailing so loudly his cries echoed off the old stone walls of the sanctuary.

For once, Artemis welcomed his tearful uproar, which drowned out her insincere promises to love, cherish and obey Hadrian Northmore. She hoped God would understand why she could never love the man, any more than he could love her. The best she could truly promise, for their nephew’s sake, was that she would try not to hate him.

“Have you the ring?” the vicar asked Mr. Northmore, raising his voice to carry over Lee’s howling.

Artemis could scarcely conceal her amazement when her bridegroom fished in his pocket and pulled one out. Had he purchased it in London while waiting for the license to be issued? She hadn’t thought him the sort of man to remember such niceties. Then again, she was not well enough acquainted with Hadrian Northmore to know
what
sort of man he might be.

Once the ring was on her finger, Artemis turned toward the vicar’s sister with her arms outstretched. “Let me take Lee again before he deafens us all.”

Flushed and flustered, poor Miss Curtis looked relieved to hand over her small, noisy charge. “The child certainly has a healthy set of lungs.”

“Hush, now.” Artemis spoke in a half-soothing, halfchiding tone as Lee burrowed into her embrace.

“Hush is right.” Hadrian Northmore pulled out a handkerchief to wipe Lee’s dribbling nose. “Or everyone will think this is your way of objecting to the marriage.”

As the vicar and their witnesses chuckled at the quip, Lee tried to avoid his uncle’s handkerchief by turning his face toward his aunt. Mr. Northmore refused to give up, slipping his hand between the child’s wet face and the bust of Artemis’s gown. While he made a thorough job of mopping Lee’s nose, the back of his hand brushed repeatedly against her bosom.

Artemis barely stifled a squeak of alarm. Or was it something else? Rather than shrinking from the casual friction of his touch, her nipples thrust out against her muslin bodice as if straining toward his hand, inviting the fevered chill he kindled in her flesh. By the time he drew back, Artemis was left shaken and breathless.

Fortunately no one else seemed to notice, Mr. Northmore least of all.

“That did the trick.” He nodded toward Lee, quietly sucking on his thumb. “Now that we can hear ourselves again, what comes next, Vicar? Are we finished yet?”

“Only a little more.” The vicar said a brief prayer, then pronounced them man and wife. “Once we have all signed the parish register, you are free to be on your way.”

Hard as she tried, Artemis could not keep her hand from trembling when she signed her name. The enormity of what she had just done threatened to overwhelm her. She desperately needed a few minutes to marshal her composure before she was forced to share close quarters in the post chaise with her new husband.

Mr. Northmore did not appear inclined to linger after he had given the vicar and their witnesses each a generous present of money.

“You go ahead.” Artemis searched for a plausible delay. “Lee and I will be along in a moment. There is something I would like to say to Miss Curtis.”

At the moment she had no idea what, but surely she would think of something.

“As you wish.” Mr. Northmore gave a brusque nod. “I’ll go tell the post boy to make ready for our journey.”

Journey? The word made Artemis even more uneasy. Where were they to go? She’d assumed they would stay at the local inn for tonight, at least, while discussing their plans for the future. Evidently, her new husband felt no need to consult her before making such decisions.

Had she made a grave mistake by placing her future, and Lee’s, into Hadrian Northmore’s powerful hands?

What sort of woman had he let into his life? Hadrian wondered as he strode out of St. Botolph’s. All his instincts assured him his bride had not really wanted to speak with Miss Curtis. How could he have wed a woman who would lie about something so trivial? Even if their marriage was only a convenient arrangement, he should not have rushed into it so blindly.

As he stalked through the churchyard trying to calm his doubts, a pretty young lady with red-gold hair came flying toward him.

“I’m too late, aren’t I?” She stopped in front of Hadrian, gasping for breath. “I’ve missed the wedding?”

“It just got over, I’m afraid. Are you a friend of the bride?”

“You might say that.” The girl fanned her flushed face with her hand. “Her sister was my best friend in the world. When I heard from the servants that she was to be married today, I felt I must come. Are you Mr. Northmore?”

“I am.” Hadrian gave a stiff, wary bow. “And you are…?”

“Susannah Penrose.” She curtsied. “Lady Kingsfold’s sister. I am sorry we did not get an opportunity to meet the other day when you called at Hawkesbourne.”

“Of course. I see the resemblance now.” Had the Dearing sisters looked alike, too? Hadrian found himself suddenly curious about the girl who had been his brother’s downfall. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, Miss Penrose. If I’d known you wished to attend the ceremony, I would have asked the vicar to wait.”

“That was not my only reason for coming here this morning.” Miss Penrose hesitated, as if gathering her
courage. “I know you are angry with Ford over what happened to your brother, but please do not blame him! He tried to talk sense to the Dearings, but they refused to listen. That was the day Mama died and Ford had to go all the way to Brighton to fetch Binny and Sidney home. Then—”

“Talk sense to the Dearings about what?” Hadrian demanded as soon as he could squeeze a word in.

“About allowing your brother to court Daphne. Laura told me what happened. Lord Henry was furious with them for interfering and said some beastly rude things.”

Her words rocked Hadrian. “Are you saying my brother wanted to court Lady Daphne…to marry her?”

He’d assumed the marquis had called Julian out for refusing to marry the lass after he’d bedded her. Even if that had been the case, Hadrian still considered death far too harsh a penalty. But if Julian had been killed simply because he’d aspired to a lady
above his station
…

Susannah Penrose bit her full lower lip. “I cannot say for certain if he meant to marry her. I do know he admired her a great deal and she was madly in love with him. When we first met your brother, I was quite envious of his interest in Daphne. It is my fault her sister found out she’d gone to meet him in secret. I never meant any harm, I swear! If she’d only confided in me, I would have kept her secret to my grave.”

The young lady’s pretty features crumpled, making her look like a tearful child. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began to wipe her eyes.

“Do not blame yourself, Miss Penrose.” Hadrian struggled to relax his stiff scowl. “It is clear where the responsibility
for my brother’s death lies. I wish Julian
had
set his sights on you rather than your friend.”

Would Julian have known that? A spasm of guilt gripped Hadrian as he recalled the advice he’d asked Ford to convey to his brother, about the sort of wife he should seek.
One with good breeding and useful connections who can help the lad continue his rise in the world.

Had Julian pursued Lady Daphne in a misguided effort to please
him?

“Forgive me.” Miss Penrose contorted her lips into a feeble smile. “I did not mean to stir up painful memories. I only wanted to say a few words in Ford’s defense and beg you to make up your quarrel with him.”

Hadrian hated to disappoint the girl, but he was still not convinced Ford had done all he might to avert this tragedy.

Miss Penrose clearly sensed his reluctance. “Surely you can forgive Ford if you could forgive Lady Artemis enough to marry her.”

“Our marriage has nothing to do with forgiveness.” Especially now that he had a clearer understanding of what had happened. “It is only for the sake of the child.”

“I was certain it must be.” Susannah Penrose stuffed her damp handkerchief back in her reticule. “It is very good of you to rescue the poor babe from that cold, crumbling old mansion. It grieved me to think of him growing up in such a place. Daphne hated it. She used to say genteel poverty was the worst kind. It must have been a wrench for Lady Artemis to leave, though. She was devoted to the horrid old place.”

“Genteel poverty?” Hadrian gave a harsh, mirthless chuckle. “What is that—having only five carriages instead of ten?”

“There may be a dozen carriages at Bramberley,” Miss Penrose replied, “but that hardly signifies if they are too old to be of use and there is only a single pair of horses to pull them. Ask Ford if you do not believe me. He says all the Dearings’ income goes to keep up appearances and prevent Bramberley from falling into total ruin. Lady Artemis and the child will be far better off with you.”

As the girl’s words sank in, a fever of rage swept through Hadrian. No wonder Artemis Dearing had been willing to wed him in spite of her obvious aversion. The wretched manipulator, pretending their marriage was for her nephew’s sake when she had only been using the child to secure her own comfort! And he had been so gullible, assuming she could have no mercenary motive for wedding him.

His countenance must have betrayed some of the indignation seething inside him, for Miss Penrose backed away, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and alarm. “Since I am too late for the wedding, I should be getting home. I hope you will consider what I said about Ford. I know he would be glad to make up your quarrel, though he might not be willing to make the first move.”

Hadrian made an effort to better hide his feelings. “I promise you, I will think carefully about everything you have said, Miss Penrose.”

His response seemed to satisfy her. “Good day, then, Mr. Northmore. Tell Lady Artemis I wish you both joy.”

Joy? The moment Susannah Penrose was out of sight, Hadrian let his features lapse into a bitter sneer. That was the last thing he expected his marriage to bring him.

“Where are we going?” Artemis tightened her hold on her nephew as their post chaise flew past the local inn without even slowing. “I thought we would be staying here for tonight at least.”

Since it appeared they would be going farther, she edged over as far as possible on the carriage seat. She did not want to risk getting jostled against Hadrian Northmore, their hips forced into brief contact or her knee brushing against his. Any such friction might excite the disturbing undercurrent of awareness she fought to suppress.

“We are going to Durham,” Mr. Northmore announced in a tone that brooked no opposition.

“Durham?” Artemis prayed she had heard him wrong. “But that is hundreds of miles away!”

Hundreds of miles from the safe, familiar countryside where she had lived her whole life. Where her family had lived for generations.

“Three hundred.” Mr. Northmore seemed to take grim satisfaction in conveying the information. “That is why I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible.”

“On the road?” Artemis hoped that did not mean what she feared it might. “Surely you do not propose we travel all the way to Durham in this carriage. It would be much faster and more comfortable to go by sea.”

“I just spent four months on a ship coming from Singapore.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I do not intend to set foot off dry land again until I go back.”

“My comfort and Lee’s mean nothing, I suppose.” As Artemis contemplated days spent bumping over rough
roads and nights trying to sleep in a succession of unfamiliar beds, her lip threatened to quiver. She bit down on it hard, determined not to give Hadrian Northmore the satisfaction of knowing how his imperious plans dismayed her.

His
lip curled. “Your comfort is very important to you, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t understand me?” His sneer darkened into a scowl. “Then I had better make myself plain, hadn’t I? You lured me into marriage to help yourself to my fortune and you used that child to do it! I wonder if your sister meant to do the same thing to Julian?”

If he had struck her a bruising blow with the back of his hand, Artemis could not have been more shocked or outraged. “How dare you?”