by Katy Madison
"Well, everyone is here now, so we shall proceed, shan't we?" said Cousin Jane.
Keene shook off his reaction to Daniel Farthing's expression. "The weather is turning ugly. The drive is icy. George nearly took a nasty spill. I am not sure we should risk the horses, let alone the company."
If anything, his father-in-law looked even more upset. "You cannot delay."
"Why don't we send for the vicar?" suggested Jane. "Surely we can use the chapel here in the house. I know that it hasn't been used it in many years and is tiny, but we are a small gathering and Keene has not brought so many friends that it will create a problem. We will just invite the vicar to spend the night."
"Some of our neighbors might be waiting at the church."
"The vicar could announce the change in plans and post a notice on the door." Jane patted her husband's arm.
"I would send my coach to pick him up, but I fear I have already exposed my coachman to too much of the weather." Not to mention there were muddy spots on the seats. To be sure, they had acquired sheets at the inn in order to protect their clean clothes, but Keene would rather not explain. Not to mention that George's spilled flask and discarded brandy bottle had left the interior smelling like a den of iniquity.
In less than an hour the vicar arrived at the house and opened the chapel. The paneled walls gleamed with the dark patina of age. The three short pews were crowded with the guests. There was only a narrow side aisle, which would make the bride's march a difficult proposition. The room was much taller than wide or long, giving Keene an odd feeling of foreboding. The family chapel had been designed in a time when religion was often a life or death matter, and it showed.
Victor slid into a seat. George tottered up the to the front with Keene, hitting the edge of the last pew as he rounded the corner toward the altar.
The finality made Keene feel like weaving, too. Instead, he held himself still. A sense of being watched made him look up at the rear section of the chapel. He couldn't see her, but she was there. Heat rivaled the pall of the chapel. George bumped his shoulder and when Keene turned back, he knew she was gone. He only hoped she had not had to scale a wall in order to see down into the chapel.
The ceremony went smoothly, until it was time to kiss his bride. Out of the corner of his eye, Keene caught sight of Victor slumped over, his right shoulder clutched in his hand. Keene brushed a kiss across Sophie's cheek and turned back to George and in a quiet whisper said, "See to him."
"I shink not," answered George rather loudly, in an attempt at precision that fell short of the mark.
Sophie chewed her lip and cast Keene a sidelong look. He wrapped his arm around her waist.
His father-in-law frowned at him. He moved her toward the narrow aisle. George stumbled and fell into him.
Keene reluctantly let go of Sophie. He needed to take care of his friends. He didn't want to call anymore attention to them than he already had. The only good thing about bringing the both of them was that they now seemed to be on speaking terms, even if it was only to hurtle insults at each other.
Sophie turned away to receive the hug of her mother. With only the narrow aisle, Keene didn't want to get trapped. He scooted around his bride and her mother. His wife and his mother-in-law. Somehow, it didn't seem real yet. He supposed later tonight the reality would set in.
He managed to get Victor to his feet and lead him out of the chapel. He walked him down the hallway away from the spill of guests from the open chapel doors. "My God, man, what is wrong?"
"I think I reopened the wound." Victor pushed him away. "It's your wedding. I shall be fine."
Keene cast around for an upper servant. Hearing rapid footfalls behind him, he turned just before Sophie drew to an abrupt stop. She dropped fistfuls of her skirt. "Keene, the vicar says we must sign the certificate."
He swallowed hard, thinking of the delicate turn of her ankles, now hidden below her dress. "I'll be there in a moment. I need to see that Victor is settled."
Sophie thrust out her hand. "I am Sophie."
Victor gave a small bow. "Charmed." He didn't reach for her hand, though.
Sophie cast a puzzled look in Keene's direction. She should have waited for him to introduce them, but since he had delayed, his mind on her legs, he supposed he couldn't fault her.
"Sophie, could you find a footman or a maid to take Lord Wedmont to his room?"
"Go on. Don't neglect your bride. I shall find my own way."
Keene was torn. Sophie frowned and then darted down the hall. She opened a door and called to a servant.
She returned in a trot. "Someone will be with you directly." She grabbed Keene's arm and tugged him back toward the chapel.
Victor watched with interest. Keene's new wife was a pretty thing, but vastly different from the sophisticated women who usually drew his attention. There was more here than Keene's sudden need for an heir.
As Keene pulled his wife back to lead her, Victor's knees buckled. He reached for the nearest door and found an office. Leaning all his weight on the doorknob he stumbled into the room, swinging with the opening door. When it hit the wall, he let go, only to watch the door slowly shut. He sank down against the wall, pressing hard against his shoulder. As he stared at the back of a chair he thought, it should be just his luck that a wound not initially fatal would prove so after a fistfight.
* * *
Sophie was disappointed that Keene was back to treating her as if he hardly noticed she was there. There had been a couple of times during the ceremony that he had turned his dark gaze on her, and she found his look enigmatic. Later, when they were alone, no doubt she would have his full attention.
She wanted to tell him that he could have kissed her properly, she wouldn't bite him. At least not in front of witnesses.
As soon as he signed the certificate, he had pulled away to lead his friend George to the dining room. Of course, during the breakfast, sitting next to her and receiving the toasts, he couldn't help but speak to her, but he didn't comment on her gown, or really do anything more than would be required of a polite meal companion. Afterward, they milled separately about the drawing room and received good wishes from relatives and neighbors.
Lord Whitley grabbed his son's arm and hauled him to a corner of the room. Keene did his best to appear as if he were simply walking alongside his father, although his mouth tightened. Sophie pushed around Keene's friend, Mr. Keeting. The other gentleman she assumed had retired to his room. The pathways through the room were clogged, so she scrambled over a footstool to reach Keene.
"I have done as you asked, sir," said Keene as she approached.
"But what you were you thinking to bring your drunken, brawling friends? I cannot believe you dishonor my cousin with such obnoxious personages."
"Lord Whitley, did I tell you how glad I am that Keene brought his friends to meet me? I shall be glad of a friendly face or two when I actually go to London." Sophie looped her arm in Keene's as she sidled up to him. "They have been ever so kind. Why, Mr. Keeting has been giving me pointers on piquet and has promised me a game later. I shall be so grateful to learn how to play. Oh, I should call you Papa, now, should I not?" She pasted a big smile on her mouth.
Lord Whitley appeared startled by the notion. "Why, yes. You may."
Keene watched her with such complete reserve she had no idea what he was thinking.
Her father crossed the room head down as if he was bent on a mission or searching for dropped pennies. He stopped in front of Keene. "I should like to speak with you, sir."
Sophie grabbed her father's arm. "And you should call Keene, son."
"I . . . I should like to do that," said her father distractedly. "If you would attend me in my office, sir."
Keene leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Don't ever do that again." He disengaged her arm from his without so much as a squeeze or pat.
Sophie kept her smile big and nodded, although her eyes stung. She only wanted to spare him one of his father's lect
ures. She knew how very unpleasant Keene could be afterward. Well, perhaps not exactly unpleasant, but so withdrawn as to seem not to be there.
She hardly thought as she spoke with Keene's father. She was too busy watching her husband follow her father out of the room.
"Well, you look very happy," said her new father-in-law.
"Oh, I am."
"I believe your eyes are sparkling. I do hope my scoundrel son will not dampen that sparkle."
Since Sophie suspected the shine was partly due to unshed tears, partly nerves, she replied, "Why, I'm sure your son put the sparkle there." And she smiled some more, and her face started to hurt, and she longed ever so much for a wild gallop—with a horse or without.
* * *
Keene followed his new father-in-law down the same corridor that led to the chapel. He wondered if he had neglected to sign some other paperwork, a family bible, a receipt for Sophie's dowry, a pledge of his soul to the devil.
He might as well pledge his afterlife to hell. After all, he had just married Sophie, a woman who only appealed to him in one way. The way she had intruded on his conversation with his father irritated him. As if he needed to hide behind a woman's skirts at his age. He'd been dealing with his father for years, since his mother died when he was twelve. He didn't need protecting, least of all from his wife, who couldn't possibly understand the basis of the animosity his father held for him.
Daniel ushered Keene into his office and walked forward to his desk.
"Sir?" asked Keene, impatient to be done and look in on Victor. As their valets had been left behind with the carriage with the broken axle, Keene didn't know if anyone had attended Victor.
Daniel didn't sit and kept his back to Keene. "I fear I have some grave news to impart."
What? He couldn't come up with the entire dowry? "I'm sure it won't be a problem," said Keene. After all, he was quite used to a life without regular funds, and his father had promised to keep him solvent.
"I hope not. You see, I would quite understand if you wished to seek an annulment."
That was taking things a little too melodramatically. "I'm sure that won't be necessary."
"I certainly hope not. You know Sophie is so frivolous, and I had meant to speak of how London should be so very bad for a girl of her disposition. She should be exposed to all sorts of temptations, and I very much hope that you consider her nature before you take her to that place. In fact, I advise you to keep her in the country."
So did his father-in-law think Sophie would spend money they didn't have? No, Farthing had insisted Sophie handled his accounts well. Perhaps he was having a hard time letting go of his daughter. "Sir, I shall take good care of Sophie. She shall not want for anything she needs."
"I do hope that you will take into consideration her weak character and not fault her too much for her condition."
A chill ran down his spine. Farthing continued to look away from him. Although the noon hour rapidly approached, the rain-snow mix continued, allowing little light through the streaming windows. Keene had the odd sense of being underwater.
Daniel lifted a paperweight from his desk and set it back down. "I have been far too indulgent with her. I fear her weakness can be laid at my door."
Keene didn't comment.
"This, sir, is one of the hardest conversations I've ever had."
Keene just wished they'd have it.
"You see, I've feared for some time that there was a problem."
No, Keene didn't see. Perhaps it really was the money. No one liked to admit to being insolvent, and last year had been a difficult year with crop failures across the country. "Is it about the money, sir?"
"Well, I have thought I could offer you an annual income of five hundred pounds if you are willing to stay married to her."
Keene almost laughed. He had to stay married to her to gain his inheritance. Besides, his father wanted her sons to inherit and guarantee the bloodline. "That is not necessary."
Daniel reached across his desk and picked up a bankdraft and handed it to Keene.
Keene stared at the numbers. The full three thousand pounds of Sophie's settlement. Dread trickled down his spine. If it wasn't the dowry, what was it?
"This is drawn on my account in Shrewsbury. I am assured you will have no trouble cashing it in London." Daniel moved to the window and stared outside. "It is starting to snow."
Keene wanted to shout at him to finish telling him what he wanted to say. "What was it you wished to say about Sophie?"
Daniel grabbed the curtain and bunched it in his fist. "I should have married her off sooner. I should have insisted, but she is my only child and perhaps in my own weakness I did not think of what was best for her with her weak character."
If Sophie had a weak character, Keene hated to think how his own character was classified. She might have a penchant for inappropriate behavior, but was she so headstrong as to defy all attempts to temper her faults? "To what weakness are you referring?"
"Why, her lack of innocence. I did wish to speak of it before the marriage was consummated. I wish before God to do the right thing. As much as I am tempted to conceal the truth of her condition, I cannot in good conscience allow this to go forward without informing you that . . ."
Keene wanted to scream, What? On the other hand, he preferred not to know.
"I do not pretend to understand my daughter. In many ways she is a foreign creature to me." Daniel's voice trembled as he spoke. "If you wish an annulment we will announce it directly."
Why would he want an annulment? "Sir?"
"I felt you must know. But in any case she has begun to exhibit symptoms of a delicate condition."
SEVEN
The silence in the room stretched thin. Victor feared the room's two other occupants would hear him breathe. He could see Keene's shoulders above the chair he sat in, and every now and again Sophie's father would enter the narrow line of vision between the chairs.
Victor had not meant to eavesdrop, and now that he had heard the worst—that the new bride was in a family way—he might be trapped in here forever. Certainly he couldn't intrude on such a private conversation. Such a thing was bad enough without witnesses.
Yet, how would Keene respond to his father-in-law's offer of more money to stand behind a wife bearing another man's child? If he were offered more, Victor would certainly take the money. Keene might take the other route offered and denounce the union.
But, Keene was his own man and his words proved it. "That won't be necessary. We shall speak no more of it."
"The pension?"
Take the money, Keene.
"Not necessary, sir."
"Thank you. I am so very relieved. I shall thank God that you have saved her from disgrace."
Keene was an idiot. His new father-in-law was worse, and Victor had no nice words for Sophie. The whole sordid affair made alerting anyone to his deteriorating condition a nightmare. Victor wished they would leave.
His head was awhirl. Holding his breath was about to make his lungs explode. His shoulder burned. They were so achingly polite to each other he wanted to shout for them. And Victor couldn't quite figure out why his concern over their pride ranked higher than his possible death. That rankled perhaps worse than that he had the luck to be neglected and forgotten for several hours.
Keene said, "I shall rejoin the company shortly."
No doubt a discreet request for time alone. Perhaps Keene had not expected this pretty turn. Victor exhaled with relief. While he couldn't intrude on both men, he could interrupt Keene's solitude. After all, Keene had been the one to insist upon his presence. He could damn well put up with the consequences of it.
"Yes, I should check with my wife to see how the accommodations for our unanticipated guests are going. N—not your friends, the vicar and our neighbors that will stay as the weather is so bad," said Sophie's father.
Keene's voice took on an edge as he asked, "Have you spoken with Sophie about this?"
"No.
I had no idea what to say. I saw . . . her leave his bedroom and . . . well, I knew she must be married as soon as possible. I swear, sir, if I had known that this complication had come to pass, I would have insisted she marry the man she . . . allowed . . . such . . . liberties with her person." Mr. Farthing shook his head and moved rapidly toward the door. "I shall pray for her soul."
Tears dripped down the older man's face. If Mr. Farthing had bothered to notice anything beyond himself, surely he would have seen Victor.
Victor grabbed the chair back in front of him. He wanted to see Keene before he spoke. He would have preferred to sneak out quietly and pretend he hadn't overheard, but he needed help. Keene sat motionless in his chair, his head bent forward and his forehead resting on his interlaced fingers, thumbs at his temples.
"As pure as you found her?"
Keene jerked. "What are you doing here?"
Which, now that Victor thought about it, Keene's statement had told him nothing. If she had not been a virgin when Keene proposed to her, and according to her father she wasn't, then certainly Keene's statement meant little other than he had not trespassed on unexplored territory.
"I came in here to avoid falling down in front of the company. I think I passed out. I promise I have never met your wife before this day." He'd meant it as a joke, but something in Keene's face made his words fade. "Are you all right?"
"Of course." Keene reached for Victor's good arm and hauled him to his feet. Sweat beaded Victor's upper lip, and he felt woozy.
"Good God, man, you're bleeding."
Victor looked down at the growing red stain on his jacket, which had undoubtedly ruined another shirt, as well. "You didn't think one bottle of brandy could put me under, did you?"
"Damned if I know."
Victor leaned heavily against Keene. "You don't suppose it is contagious, is it?"
Keene opened the door. "What?"
"This thing with the pregnant wives. First George, now you."
Keene guided him down the empty hallway to a back staircase. "Her father is inclined to presume the worst."
"You see, because I believe I shall be tying the knot soon myself, and I wonder if I shall be bearing the same burden."
"She's not carrying a child."
"With the quickness of the wedding, I daresay you shall never know for certain it is not yours." Victor cast a sidelong look at his friend as they slowly ascended the steps.
