Let Me Be The One (33 page)

Lady Northam had eyes a few shades lighter than the cobalt blue of her son's, and infinitely more in common with a frozen lake than a halcyon sky. For a moment Elizabeth had not been able to breathe. She still had not fully recovered when it was time to say her vows.

She heard Reverend Rawlings address her inquiringly. His spectacles flashed a spectrum of color at her and broke her concentration. Panicked, she found herself looking to Northam, never questioning but that she would find something in his face to quiet her.

His smile was more than kind; it was understanding. His eyes simply held hers, making neither a demand nor offering judgment. She could change her mind, he seemed to say, but his was set.

The vicar began again, and this time Elizabeth heard herself repeat the vows, her voice clear and steady, the intonation almost heartfelt. She never looked away from Northam, and for this brief passage of time she forgot that anyone save him was with her. Then she was hearing the words again, this time with more resonance and not the slightest hesitation. North made his promises as a knight might express fealty to his lord, pledging not just his loyalty but his life, and the manner of his spoken word left Elizabeth profoundly shaken.

The ring he slipped on her finger did nothing to change Elizabeth's impression that he had become hers. She was humbled by the depth of his trust even though she had begged him not to give it.

The vicar cleared his throat, a less than subtle prompt to encourage Northam to kiss his bride. Elizabeth's nod, more a fine lowering of her lashes than a movement of her chin, was imperceptible to everyone but her husband. He inclined his head toward her, his lips hovering just a hairsbreadth above hers. It was then that she entirely understood the extent of his patience and the cleverness of his strategy. In front of his mother, his friends, Lord and Lady Battenburn, the vicar, and before God, Brendan David Hampton, sixth Earl of Northam, waited for her to kiss him.

Elizabeth closed the distance between them and kissed him full on the mouth. There was a raucous cheer from the second pew, something more suited to a Covent Garden entertainment than a wedding, and it died so suddenly that Elizabeth imagined Northam's mother must have delivered a quelling look. She felt North's lips change shape against hers and knew he was smiling, probably thinking the very same thing as she. Her arms came around his shoulders as he slipped his around her back.

It would be so very easy to fall in love with him.

That thought was enough to steel her heart and make her stiffen in his embrace. Northam felt the change in Elizabeth instantly and let her go. Without a word and no alteration of their expressions, they turned simultaneously and faced their audience for the first time as husband and wife.

Lady Battenburn reached Elizabeth first and hugged her to her ample bosom. "I am so happy for you, my dear. You will see how splendidly a married state suits your temperament. Already you are glowing! Is she not, Battenburn?"

She kissed Elizabeth on the cheek. "Yes, you are warm. Your joy must be evident to even those who cannot see."

Northam spared a glance at his wife's face and thought Louise a bit lavish in her assessment of Elizabeth's mood. While Elizabeth no longer looked as if she might faint, to characterize her as glowing was far from the truth. What color flushed her cheeks was most likely there as a result of Louise's enthusiastic embrace and the determined advance of his own mother.

Battenburn bowed his head toward Elizabeth as his wife stepped out of the way."You are indeed looking very pretty, my dear."

Northam thought this was damning Elizabeth with faint praise. She was extraordinarily lovely this morning. Even in her most uncertain moments, her beauty was undiminished in his eyes. She wore a gown of white bombazine, trimmed with a tier of lace ruffles at the hem and bands of satin ribbon on the sleeves and bodice. Matching ribbon was threaded through her coiled hair and great pains had been taken to curl gold and ginger tendrils so they framed her oval face. She looked like nothing so much as an angel, but when he stopped to consider that perhaps this was a mere fancy on his part, he saw that his friends' regard was a similar blend of admiration and awe, and came to conclude that his own perception was not a mere bias of affection.

The Dowager Countess of Northam was a full head shorter than her much-beloved son. She noticed this disparity in their heights around the time of his fourteenth birthday and promptly dismissed it as unimportant. For his part, North pretended he never noticed at all. In the figurative sense, at least, he was inclined to look up to her.

She was an attractive woman, well-regarded, and remained influential among the
ton.
Northam suspected she had taken lovers in the years since his father's death, but she was discreet, and he had no desire to know the truth of it. There were a few steady companions and many hopefuls. Her interests in fashion and fashionable entertainments concealed a clever mind, occasionally even from herself. Northam knew his mother did not always appreciate how astute her political observations were, and he was loath to encourage her too much in this arena. He had read Mary Wollstonecraft's
Vindication of the Rights of Women
even if she hadn't. The implications of his mother taking up the cause of women's rights always gave him pause. She never did anything by half measures, even when she did not know quite what she was doing.

"Mother," he said, bending to kiss the cheek she offered. "It was very good of you to come."

"There is that saying about wild horses," she said. "I fancy you know the one."

"Indeed I do."

She tapped him on his shoulder with the tip of her sandalwood fan. "You must not simply stand there welcoming me—though I have had a most difficult journey and despaired of a timely arrival—pray, introduce me to your bride."

Northam turned to Elizabeth and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Mother, this is my wife Elizabeth, Lady Northam. My lady, my mother the Dowager Lady Northam."

Elizabeth made a careful curtsy that did not expose any awkwardness. "My lady," she murmured. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I don't know how that can be," announced Celia Worth Hampton. "It cannot have escaped your notice that I am most vexed. Whether it should be with you or my son, I have not yet decided. At this moment I am inclined to be more put out with you, but that could change." She leveled North with a clear blue glance that was only moderately thawed. "Is that not so?"

"Indeed it is," he said.

"You are being impudent."

He chuckled. "Mother, I just agreed with you."

"That is precisely how I know you are being impudent," she said tartly. She addressed Elizabeth again. "It is all in his tone. I collect you will know what I mean."

"Oh, yes," said Elizabeth. "I do."

Celia nodded approvingly. "Good. That is a beginning." She indicated the three men hovering behind her. "You see these three, my dear? When a mother knows her son chooses to befriend such as these, what hope can she have that he will make a better match in his marriage?"

Elizabeth looked at each of North's friends in turn. They had come to stand by him, wish him happy, regardless of what they thought privately about the manner of his marriage. In spite of losing the wager, South was looking inordinately pleased with himself, while Eastlyn and Mr. Marchman were hardly more reserved. Elizabeth had to believe they would not be of such like minds if Northam himself were not satisfied with the arrangement.

At the risk of offending the dowager countess, Elizabeth said quietly, "I should count myself fortunate to have friends such as these. I think a mother would be glad if her daughter-in-law proves she is but one-half the good companion to her son that these men have been."

Complete silence greeted Elizabeth. She fought the urge to lift her chin, suspecting this nervous gesture of defiance would not be looked on kindly.

Celia Worth Hampton inclined her head and smiled in a most conciliatory manner. "Just so, m'dear." With that, she turned her back on North and Elizabeth and held her palm out to the Compass Club. "One hundred pounds each," she said. "I will graciously accept your markers. I told you North would not choose a bride who could be cowed by his mama."

North groaned slightly, while Elizabeth looked on in astonishment. Lord and Lady Battenburn exchanged startled glances. Leaning toward Elizabeth, North whispered, "My mother enjoys a larger wager than we usually allow among ourselves."

"I heard that," Celia said. "I am not yet in my dotage. None of you has the least sense of how to manage a proper wager." She nodded to Southerton, Eastlyn, and Marchman in turn as they dropped their markers into her open palm.

She closed her hand around the markers and placed them in her reticule. "Thank you, gentlemen. I always enjoy taking your money."

Southerton shook his head, a sheepish grin making him seem a score of years younger. "How could we know she wouldn't be afraid of you?
We
are."

Celia patted his cheek."Just as I intend you always should be."

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned back to her son and new daughter. "Oh, do not be so disapproving, North. If you are not careful, you will soon be as priggish as your grandfather, and you know how unbecoming that is." She glanced at Elizabeth, whose mouth was still parted and missed being a full gape by only the narrowest fraction. "And you, dear, you really must not blame North. He knew nothing about this. You can see for yourself, he doesn't have the sense of humor for it. I am going to trust you to see that he doesn't become a complete dullard as I can only boast modest success on that account." She ignored North's long suffering sigh and raised her smooth cheek for Elizabeth's kiss. "Come, I should like something more affectionate than a curtsy. It was very nicely done, infinitely respectful, and just the thing my father will find to his liking when you meet him."

Still somewhat bewildered, Elizabeth placed her lips on Celia's proffered cheek. "May I take it that you are not so vexed as you first appeared?"

"Oh, it was not entirely an act, though I could see immediately that you were not faint of heart. I am still inclined to be unhappy with my son. However, it will pass. It always does. Though generally much too soon, as I cannot help but dote on the boy."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together to tamp down her smile. Beside her, she felt Northam shift his weight from one leg to the other as he heroically tried to bear the burden of his embarrassment. She slipped her arm around his and gave it the slightest squeeze. He looked down at her and smiled. For a moment it was just as if there were only the two of them.

Eastlyn cleared his throat. Southerton grinned. Mr. Marchman coughed politely, while Reverend Rawlings studied the embossed cover of his Bible. Lord and Lady Battenburn exchanged another glance, this one self-congratulatory, and Celia Worth Hampton blinked to stem a sudden tide of tears.

No one noticed the doors to the church opening until an authoritarian voice boomed out, "Am I come too late to deliver the bride to her groom?"

Chapter 10

The arrival of Colonel Blackwood delayed the newlyweds' departure from Battenburn until evening. It was necessary to light the lanterns by the time North and Elizabeth were able to make their farewells and climb into the carriage. There had been some discussion of remaining at Battenburn for their wedding night, but they both privately agreed they wanted to be away.

Northam's elegant carriage had been brought up from London that morning, outfitted with a team of four matched grays. Brill, Northam's dour valet, sat with the driver and groom, and the driver's young son rode standing at the rear, quite happy with his new status as tiger. He kept his eye on the tower of trunks piled high on the carriage roof lest any one of them should take a bad bounce to the road.

Elizabeth sat beside North on a comfortably padded leather seat. She was very much aware of the luxury of her surroundings, from the beautifully etched windows to the polished brass sconces that lighted the interior of the carriage. By Northam's own admission, as well as information shared by others, Elizabeth knew he had substantial lands and at least 12,000 pounds per annum, but she had never given a thought as to how he might use his wealth.

"You're very quiet," North said. He was leaning back into one corner of the carriage, his long frame already assuming a half-reclining position across part of the seat. He had removed his hat and tossed it on the opposite bench. Now he ran one hand through hair that was made gold by the lantern light. "What are you thinking?"