In the Arms of an Earl (19 page)

“Oh, Frederick, I do not need new clothes.”

She bit her lip a moment later. Her wardrobe was woefully bereft of appropriate gowns for town, and her linen appallingly plain and over-washed. The lace on her best night rail was frayed. Did she expect to wear it on her wedding night?

“I insist upon it, and you will not sway me—no matter how many kisses you bestow.” He grinned, sobering a moment later. “But I must tell you something first. You may decide to reconsider your answer.”

He looked unusually serious, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled. His eyes were shadowed as if he had not slept well. Instinctively, she took his hand and clasped it to her heart.

“Nothing will change my mind, I warn you.”

He laughed a little, although he still looked worried. He stared down at her hand.

“When I was injured in the war…when I lost my hand, I was wounded in…in other places, as well. I took several pieces of shrapnel to my legs and lower back, and of course, the worst was to my arm. I owe my life to the surgeon who patched me up when all hope seemed lost.”

She slipped her arm around his waist, taking in the solid strength of him. Seeing and hearing him, so energetic and vibrant, made it almost impossible to think he had battled death.

At her touch, he gave her arm a little squeeze and continued.

“The truth of it is, I don’t know if I can…” He cleared his throat and continued. “I do not know if I can father a child. One of the injuries was…” He stopped again, a flush spreading up from his throat. “We are to be married, and I should be able to speak to you of such things.” He shifted away from her, but she stubbornly stayed where she was. “So,” he said after a few moments, “I will perfectly understand your breaking our engagement and…”

“Do you honestly believe I would reject you for any impediment that is purely physical?” She framed his face in her hands and looked directly into his eyes, which were wide with surprise at the force of her emotions.

“Well, no, but I had to tell you…”

“You said you may not be able to father a child. There is a chance you may, am I right?” He nodded. “And many couples, without any injuries at all, often are not able to bear children. Your own brother, for instance.” Again, he nodded, his eyes slowly brightening. She drew a deep breath as a wave of emotion washed over her, dragging her back to the shore she loved. “I will be your wife, Frederick Blakeney, and it is not for your title or your ten thousand a year, or your ability to father children. I will marry you because I love you, and…”

She gulped back a sob at the tender look in his eyes and embraced him.

He threaded his fingers through her hair. “You are too good for me, Jane. I do not know what I would do without you.”

His lips were dangerously inviting, and she closed her eyes when he lowered his head and kissed her.

“Life will not be easy for us in London,” he said a minute later. “It is different from what you are used to.”

“We won’t be there long, will we? When the season is over, we’ll go to Dornley Park.” She could hardly wait to see his country estate. To think she had been close enough to it while at Everhill.

“Yes, we will go to Dornley Park.” His frown vanished, and her heart soared at the absence of anxiety in his eyes. “You will love it, Jane. I have not lived there for a while, so things are quite jumbled up. But you may decorate any way you see fit.” He picked a daisy and proceeded to tickle her chin with it. “London is another matter.” The daisy fluttered against her lips. “Alice, my sister-in-law, lives there and will be good company for you. I fear I will be gone frequently.” He shrugged as if with resignation. “You will be much occupied, I hope, in my absence. And we will always have the theatre, the opera…”

“Picnics in the park.”

Again, his rakish grin. He traced the rim of her lips with the daisy, and then with his fingertip. “The stuffy old Earl of Falconbury will cause a public spectacle of himself, kissing his new bride in the center of St. James’s.” He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I cannot wait to show you the house. I’ve already chosen our rooms.” He laughed when she lowered her head to hide a blush. “And there are my mother’s things I’ll give you.” He winked. “Though her pearls did not come from the same islands as your sister’s.”

Because of his kind nature, she knew he teased about her mother. Butterflies fluttered again in her stomach. The idea of wearing jewels beyond her bead bracelet she’d received from her aunt when she was a child, or Mamma’s silver brooch was overwhelming.

“I don’t need anything, Frederick. Just you.”

“Always tell me so, Jane. I could not bear—”

Her kiss cut off the rest of his sentence. He seemed amused at her new boldness, and she was grateful she didn’t blush when he gazed into her eyes, his lips twitching as he tried to hide his grin.

“I almost forgot. I have something for you.” He reached into his coat and made a show of searching for something. Keeping her in suspense, he next checked inside his waistcoat. “Now, where can it be?”

“What is it?”

“An engagement present. I understand it is the custom.” He poked around a bit more and slowly withdrew his hand.

She held her breath in almost fearful anticipation. Rosalind had received a set of rubies upon her engagement.

“Close your eyes,” he said in a singsong voice, making her laugh. Something firm and awkward, and obviously not jewelry, was placed in her lap. She opened her eyes and stared down at a rolled up canvas, tied with a red ribbon. He sat back, watching her with evident amusement. “Open it.”

She tugged the ribbon free and unrolled the material. She gasped with a mixture of shock and delight at the painting Lucinda had started in the library. Dressed in a demure toga with flowers twined through her long hair, Jane was a Grecian maiden, while Frederick, his left arm obscured by an emblazoned shield, had been depicted as a brave Perseus.

“She finished it.”

“Yes, after you’d gone.” He traced his fingertip over the painted curve of her cheek. “She gave it to me after I expressed my disappointment in your absence.”

Lucinda had been true to her word. How much of Frederick’s decision to come to Hartleigh had been any of Lucinda’s doing? Jane fervently hoped to thank her properly one day.

“I was upset when I returned to Everhill after you’d gone. Well, upset is a mild word. I believe I ranted for a while.” A flush spread from his neck up to his jaw. “For all her childishness, Lucinda is wise. She told me I should go after you and gave me this.” He glanced down at the painting again, seemingly embarrassed about his revelation. “She has caught your most becoming blush. You blushed a lot in my presence. It was really quite charming.”

His words had the desired effect, and she hid her face against his coat for a moment until her embarrassment passed. “Thank you for this. We shall have it framed, and hang it in our…” She nearly said
chamber
, which brought on another fit of blushing, followed by a nervous laugh. He kissed her.

“I realize you cannot wear this around your neck or finger, but…”

“It’s a perfect gift, truly,” she said quickly, and absolutely believed there was nothing more she could want. He had offered her the world already, and all she ever wanted was, simply, him.

“Oh, Jane,” he said with a laugh, “I am not nearly as ancient and stuffy as Lucinda thinks.” Again, he reached into his inner pocket and withdrew a gold ring with a large diamond set amongst a cluster of smaller stones. He slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand, and she gazed down at it in amazement.

“The diamond is very garish, I’m afraid. I believe it has its own name, which has left my mind for the moment. Something silly, as I recall. I have it on good authority the Duchess of Devonshire had her eye on it, but my credit was a trifle better.” He took her limp hand in his and held it between them, turning it so the gem caught the sun’s rays. “Speak, my dear.”

She shook her head, dazzled by the sight. “I do not know what to say, Frederick. I never imagined…”

Horrified, she sobbed aloud. Tears poured forth from nowhere, and she clung to him.

“There, now! Come, Jane.” He laughed in surprise, but his arms were around her, his head close. “It is only a ring. If you detest it so much, I shall return it.”

“Forgive me.” She hiccupped and brushed awkwardly at her damp face. “It isn’t the ring. It’s the idea that you…” She looked up at him then, their faces so close she could almost count his every eyelash. “I can hardly believe it, Frederick.”

“Believe what?”

“That you love me. That this is not all a dream…some perfect, wonderful dream.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I feel our hearts and souls have joined. It sounds silly, I know.” She forgot the rest of what she wanted to say, because he’d captured her lips in a burning kiss.

“I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, so I hope you are strong enough for what I have planned for us.”

“I am only strong when I’m with you.”

She touched his cheek. Always shy before, her shyness had somehow vanished, and she brushed her fingers over his lips, receiving a firm kiss in reply.

“Then I will see to it you are always with me.”

She drew him close for another kiss. After all, he had promised to kiss her until supper.

Chapter Eighteen

Jane received their guests at her husband’s side. The wedding ceremony had been so brief she could hardly believe it had happened. Certain moments were indelibly marked in her mind. Frederick slipping the extravagant ring onto her finger. The rector’s droning voice when he pronounced them man and wife. She stumbled into Frederick’s arms when he’d unexpectedly embraced her, his lips warm and loving on hers.

“Mrs. Blakeney,” he’d murmured. She clung to him, reluctant to part with him even to kiss her mother, whose loud sobs rang through the chapel eaves.

“Lady Falconbury! Oh, Jane, child, come and kiss your mamma!” Jane spun like a top down the aisle from her family to their close friends, Lord Simpson and his wife, and lastly, to her sisters, who were either laughing or crying; she couldn’t tell which.

Now, sitting at her parents’ table, she couldn’t eat the succulent lobster or fruit compote in front of her. Every passing second brought her closer to the inevitability of their departure. Frederick ate heartily, his face animated as he conversed with Mr. Copeland and her father. She was relieved Mr. Shelbourne had not been able to attend due to pressing business, as he’d always intimidated her. She had to remind herself she was no longer shy, bookworm Jane Brooke, but the Countess of Falconbury.

“Eat up, my dears!” her mother sang. “The earl has ordered enough lobster for everyone to have three, if he or she chooses. Amelia, do not be bashful! There’s a lovely one here, Mr. Copeland,” she said to her son-in-law. “I know you don’t often dine on lobsters at Lyonsgate, but this is a special occasion, you know!”

Mercifully, the conversations were loud enough to drown out her words, but Jane felt a pang. She would never again have to cringe when her mother spoke to their guests. She would miss her.

Her father remained quiet during the meal until Lord Simpson urged him to give a speech. The others cried out in hearty agreement, and he stood, his glass of wine punch held aloft. The room hushed. Mrs. Brooke was silent at last, content to cool herself with a lacy fan, a gift from her newest son-in-law.

“This day has been long in coming, though it seems like only this morning I was discussing John Donne with my six-year-old daughter, Jane.”

She smiled at her father through a haze of tears. He looked directly at her, a hundred emotions crossing his face.

“We have all watched you grow from an inquisitive, sensitive girl, into a compassionate, intelligent young woman. Though I know his lordship”—he nodded at Frederick—“will give you everything your heart could ever wish, it will never rival the greatest treasure I gave him today.” His voice cracked, and he hastily took a sip from his glass while everyone applauded.

Frederick cleared his throat and stood. Rosalind and Amelia exchanged exuberant, tearful smiles, their sniffles only drowned out by their mother’s.

“A man considers himself fortunate if he has good friends and family,” he said. He lifted Jane’s chin with his fingertip and gazed down at her. “But it is a rare thing, a rare thing, indeed, to find the sort of love only poets and dreamers can possibly imagine. I promised you today, Jane Blakeney, that I will always love, protect, and cherish you. I make that vow again, before your family and dear ones. I love you.”

He stooped, and she clasped her hands around his neck while he kissed her. There was a general outcry of good wishes and emotional demonstration. The clock struck noon. Frederick pulled back her chair while she stood.

“I suppose we’ll be off now,” she said, torn between the anticipation of starting her new life with Frederick and reluctance in leaving her father’s home. Of course, she could always visit, but it would never be the same. Her real home now lay with Frederick.

Their family and friends went outside with them to the coach and four. It was hired, but Frederick had spared no expense. The black exterior was glossed to a high shine, while rich, blue velvet lined the interior walls and seats. The footman held the door open while they said goodbye.

Her mother pressed her wet cheek to hers. Jane sensed she was struggling to find some last sage bit of advice, but all she could manage was, “Be a good girl.”

Lady Simpson handed her a silk handkerchief. “I made one for each of your sisters and my girls when they married. It may be fashioned into a baby’s cap for a christening.”