Charlotte Louise Dolan (5 page)

“But don’t set your expectations too high. My cousin’s in perfect health, and his wife-to-be has all the appearance of a good breeder, or so I have been informed by numerous helpful relatives.”

Aunt Theo’s obvious disappointment at hearing this was not shared by Elizabeth. She had no desire to be a duchess. Her plans for a future filled with children were not compatible with a high position in society and all that would entail. Just the thought of mansions with hundreds of rooms and a like number of servants made her shudder.

She wanted the same kind of warm family life she had known before her parents died, not a life spent going from one house party to another. A few weeks in London during the Season were enjoyable enough, but for the most part she preferred a quiet life in a comfortable manor house like Oakhaven.

One secret Elizabeth had never revealed to anyone was that the Earl of Arkness had actually come up to scratch. Her aunt would have been scandalized if she knew Elizabeth had turned down a chance to be a countess, especially as the earl was a pleasant enough young man.

If fact, if Aunt Theo had learned of her refusal, she would probably have had Elizabeth clapped up in Bedlam. Even Nicholas would undoubtedly think she had lost her wits.

Now she could not keep from offering up a heartfelt entreaty that Cousin Algernon should have a dozen sons, preferably starting with triplets nine months after the wedding.

* * * *

Elizabeth looked around the bedroom in which she stood. She could not feel that she belonged here, and wished she could be in the room she usually occupied when they stayed in London. Even more devoutly did she wish she were looking forward to Dorie coming in for her usual bedtime coze, rather than waiting for the arrival of the stranger she had so foolishly married.

Time, which had seemed the night before to stand still, was now rushing by at an indecorous pace. Darius had elected to ride ahead, and almost as soon as good-byes had been said that morning and the post chaise had departed for London, Elizabeth had fallen asleep with her head on Maggie’s shoulder. It had seemed as if only minutes passed before they had arrived in front of her aunt’s town house.

The cook, warned in advance of their coming, had had a cold collation laid out for them in the drawing room, but Elizabeth had been unable even to look at food, much less eat. She had excused herself from joining Captain St. John on the grounds of fatigue and retired to her room.

Or rather, she had tried to. To her dismay, the housekeeper had insisted her usual room was not suitable, since it was not a suite. “I have put you in the master bedroom, Mrs. St. John, and the captain will have the adjoining room, what used to be your uncle’s. It’s more fitting that way, now that you’re married.”

Chattering about the wedding, Maggie had assisted Elizabeth with her bath, then had helped her into her nightgown—not her usual cotton gown, but a gossamer creation of ivory silk, purchased especially for her wedding night.

None of it had relaxed her nerves, not even when Maggie had brushed her hair.

Now Elizabeth waited alone, shivering in the thin grown, feeling guilty that she was in her aunt’s room, and wishing desperately there were some way to postpone the too rapidly approaching confrontation.

Whyever had she agreed to this marriage? She was not totally ignorant of the intimacies expected of a wife. How had she thought she could go through it with someone she didn’t love?

Not only was this man she had married a complete stranger, but he cared not one whit about her. To make matters worse, he was a soldier, used to discipline, to harshness, to brutality.

She had seen no sign of gentleness either in his features or in his character. The tenderness a bride could normally expect was not to be her lot.

There was a light tap at the connecting door, and she stiffened her back, determined never to reveal the slightest sign of fear. No matter what happened, she would not disgrace herself by fainting or giving in to hysterics.

When the captain entered, wearing a ruby-colored dressing gown, she forced herself not to look down at the floor. This was the first time since she had accepted his offer of marriage that they had been alone together, and for the life of her she could not utter a word.

“Tomorrow we will buy you a more suitable ring,” Captain St. John said mildly, taking her left hand in his. The ring was so large for her finger, Maggie had tied it to her wrist with a ribbon, least it fall off and be lost. “You must excuse me for not being properly prepared. I am afraid I have not had much experience with getting married.”

He was smiling slightly, but she was not able to respond. It took all her effort to hold herself together, to keep herself from betraying the panic which was now all encompassing.

* * * *

Darius looked at the woman standing rigid in front of him, her blue eyes enormous with fear. He had seen young ensigns freeze in much the same way when they first came under direct fire from the enemy, but somehow he didn’t think it would be appropriate to slap his bride, a practice that worked well enough with soldiers.

On the other hand, the idea of making love to a terrified woman held no particular appeal for him either.

He had not expected anything like this. She had always seemed so calm, so mature, that she had appeared older than the twenty years he knew her to be. And, yes, she had even appeared a bit forward the day before, calmly quizzing him about the details of the bargain he was offering.

But now her hand was trembling in his, and she was paler than the ivory nightgown she was wearing. Against his will, he felt pity for her.

“We should also pay a visit to your lawyer, to inform him of our marriage.” Damn, he wasn’t sure she could even hear him, she was so caught up in her fear.

Maybe it would be more humane simply to leave her alone for tonight, to allow her a few days to accustom herself to his presence before he made her his wife?

“I have a commission from Dorie,” he said very softly. “She informed me that with enough kisses, your scar can be made to disappear.” He bent his head and placed his lips very gently on the scar.

She sighed in his ear, and he could feel her hand relax in his. Very carefully, to avoid frightening her again, he enfolded her in his arms. She softened against him, and the delicate scent of lavender filled his senses, and he knew there was no way he could postpone their wedding night.

* * * *

The sun was quite high in the sky when Elizabeth awoke the next morning. For the first time since her accident, she felt as if it would be a good day.

Fighting off the urge simply to lie there in bed remembering the night before, she rang instead for Maggie, who brought her a cup of hot chocolate, some toast, and a message from the captain to the effect that whenever she was ready, they would go together to pick out a proper wedding ring for her.

“Merciful heavens, Maggie,” Elizabeth said, catching sight of the clock over the mantel. “It’s gone on two o’clock. I’ve never stayed in bed this late even after dancing until three in the morning.”

“Aye, but then you’ve never had a man in your bed before, neither,” her maid replied, causing Elizabeth to blush.

She bathed and dressed hurriedly in a rose-colored walking dress, then fidgeted while Maggie put up her hair.

It took them a while to find the heavy black veil she had worn when she had been in full mourning for her parents, but they finally unearthed it in the smallest of her bandboxes, and Maggie helped her arrange it carefully over her bonnet, so that it covered her face completely.

Elizabeth did not want to admit to herself that she was eager to see her husband again, but it was all she could do not to race helter-skelter down the stairs, as if she were a child instead of a married woman.

Opening the door of the study quietly, she admired her husband for several minutes. He was comfortably ensconced in what had been her uncle’s favorite chair reading a book, his forehead creased with concentration.

He glanced up and saw her standing there, and his expression darkened to a scowl. Tossing the book aside, he came striding toward her. “What the devil is the meaning of this?”

She took an involuntary step backward, then held her ground. “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting long,” she began, but he ignored her and ripped the veil from her head. She had never seen anyone in such a rage, but strangely enough, she felt no fear of him, perhaps because he had shown her such gentleness the night before.

“You are a St. John,” he thundered. “You will not hide behind a veil like a coward.”

So, she thought, it appeared the captain did have certain requirements of a wife. Very well, she would see to it that he did not find her lacking.

She calmly retied her bonnet, which had become disarranged when he’d removed the veil, then took her gloves out of her reticule. Pulling them on, she asked, “Are you ready to go?” Without waiting for a reply she turned and walked toward the door, her head held high. As much as she was determined to be brave, she could not help but be thankful the Season was essentially over, so there would be little chance of seeing anyone she knew.

An unfamiliar phaeton was waiting in front of the house, and Munke was standing at the head of the pair of black horses hitched to it. After helping her into the carriage, the captain climbed in beside her and took the reins. He was again the stiff, unbending soldier.

Elizabeth watched the skilled way he handed the pair and was curious as to the origin of the horses and carriage, but good manners automatically prevented her from quizzing the captain about their unexpected appearance on the scene. Then it occurred to her that she was his wife, and as such, she surely had a right to know a few details of his life.

“Are these your horses?” At his affirmative reply she continued, “Will you be taking them back to Portugal with you?”

“I have no need of carriage horses there.”

There was a long pause, during which Elizabeth stared at the man beside her, a quizzical expression on her face. The captain glanced at her a time or two, and she realized to her amusement that she was making him nervous. “I was wondering ...” she broke off her sentence and continued to stare at him.

“Well?” he finally asked.

She smiled. “I was wondering if I am going to have to pry out every little bit of information about you. It has occurred to me that, as I know so very little about you, it may take a very, very long time.”

He glanced over at her again, then relaxed slightly. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“The beginning. Ah, yes. In 1579 my sixth great-grandfather was a pirate who managed to pillage and plunder well enough that good Queen Bess made him the Duke of Colthurst. The succeeding generations managed to hang on to their heads and their estates by fair means or foul, until this very day. My grandfather, however, was the second son and went into the army. He fought on the winning side of Culloden in ‘46, and my father in turn became a soldier, fought on the losing side in the Colonies, and was lost at sea in ‘85, about three months before I was born.” He swerved to avoid a peddler’s cart.

“When I was ten I went to live with Cousin Algernon on the ducal estate near Bath and shared his tutor. When I came down from Oxford, I purchased my commission and have been a soldier ever since.”

He gave her a challenging look, but she did not feel up to asking more about his childhood ... or about his mother, who was conspicuous by her absence from his recital. “And your horses?”

“My cousin stables my team for me while I am abroad and has the use of them in return. Now that we are married, I shall arrange to have them taken down to Somerset for you. I am afraid the only carriage I have at the moment is this phaeton.”

“They are beautiful horses, but I am not sure that I would have much use for them, as I have no experience with driving anything but a pony trap, and my brother has his own team of bays.”

“I shall give you driving lessons,” he said as if the matter were settled. He halted the horses in front of the jeweler’s establishment and turned toward her.

“And if I decline to be so instructed?”

“You have no choice.”

The expression on his face made her smile. “That makes two,” she said, being deliberately enigmatic.

“Two what?”

“Two requirements you have for a wife.” She held up one finger. “One is that she be brave, and two—” she held up a second finger—”is that she be able to drive a phaeton. Are there any other requirements?”

His expression was rather harsh when he looked at her, but she merely continued to smile. Finally his features relaxed into an almost smile, and he replied, “Three is that she always show the greatest respect for her husband.”

“Oh, dear.” She pretended to consider. “Do you suppose two out of three will be adequate? You did say that you found yourself singularly lacking in the attributes required for a husband.”

He could no longer hold back a laugh, and she was feeling quite in charity with him when he helped her down out of the carriage.

She was also quite proud of the way she ignored the clerk, who kept sneaking surreptitious glances at her face while he showed them a wide assortment of wedding rings. She let the captain pick out the ring, and he chose an oval-cut sapphire, which, according to the clerk, was an excellent choice, as it exactly matched her blue eyes.

While the captain was paying for the ring, she wandered over to look at a case filled with assorted bracelets. The bell over the door to the shop tinkled, and she heard footsteps approaching.

“Why, I do believe it is Elizabeth Goldsborough! Merciful heavens, whatever are you doing in London?”

Even without turning to see who it was, Elizabeth recognized the voice of the woman who had accosted her. Lady Emily, the daughter of Viscount Ardendale, had come out the same Season she did, and their paths had crossed frequently, though they had never become more than nodding acquaintances. To hear her speak now, though, one would be forgiven for thinking them bosom friends.

“Oh, Elizabeth, I was
devastated
to hear about your accident, and just this morning I read the announcement in the paper that you have
broken off
your
engagement to Simon Bellgrave.
Tears
came to my eyes when I realized how your whole life has been so totally
shattered
—I was quite
distraught. “