Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1)

by Rebecca J. Greenwood

  She was Lady Daniel.

  Would she disappear in the role? Become the perfect lady he seemed to think she was? Would she wake tomorrow a different woman to go with her new name? Be subsumed?

  She had always disliked that the woman was overtaken by the man in marriage. She had thought she would only marry when strong feelings of affection led her to.

  But that was before the debts and the deaths, when her life had been secure. She had wanted to be happy in marriage, as every person wanted.

  Now, she married only to disappear into it.

  She hated that. She didn’t want to disappear. She wanted to be herself, a woman with talents, aspirations, dreams.

  Her new husband led her by the arm to the vestry where they signed the registry, committing their marriage to permanent record. A second copy on unbound paper had been prepared, and she signed it as well as Daniel, the clergyman, and their witnesses: Lord Kentworth, and Daniel’s best man, Major Yarrow.

  This certificate was given to her. Her marriage lines. She drew the heavy sheet of rolled paper close. She was a married woman, and this was her legal proof.

  They exited the chapel doors to thrown rice and flower petals. Crowds of well-wishers surrounded her now, hand clasps, enthusiastic hugs from Florentia, kissed cheeks, the marchioness smiling at her with her gentle, concerned smile, visibly pushing back her worries, eyes bright with unshed tears. The matron of the Magdalen House pressed Eliza’s hand with a pleased smile. Even kind-eyed Mr. Prince shook her hand.

  She thanked them for coming, and for all they did for her.

  Young, friendly Pauline, her neighbor at the Magdalen House, had been able to come, dressed in what must be a borrowed gown. She gave Eliza a bright, starry-eyed smile. Eliza warmed in response. Pauline found this all romantic and fairytale-like, Eliza could tell.

  Daniel stood beside her, grinning broadly, buoyant in his answers to each congratulations and well-wish. Her arm was tucked into his, and he held her close.

  They gradually made it through the crowd, her nerves heightened by the closeness of the people and the loud attention.

  He escorted her back to Ashton House, a walk of only a few minutes, the jubilant crowd following them.

  Finally, finally, they reached the front door. The butler opened it for them, but instead of entering, Daniel turned back, still grinning, pulled his tall hat from his head, and waved it at the cheering crowd with enthusiasm enough for the both of them.

  Daniel said something about the wedding breakfast to the crowd, but Eliza stopped attending. Her mind churned slowly over the strangeness of her new position.

  What if she could have stayed at the Magdalen Hospital, and dedicated her life to teaching music to the women there? What if she could have had the character to become a governess?

  She should have sought a position as a governess while living in her cousins’ home. She should have made plans and struck out on her own. But it had not been accepted, nor expected of her. Her doing so would have raised eyebrows.

  But eyebrows were raised now, and only to her ruin, not to her making something of herself on her own.

  People walking on the other side of Curzon Street stared at them. Eliza turned her eyes to her husband as he gave a speech, ignoring the gawkers.

  She was a Lady now.

  Before her Grandmama’s death, she had told Eliza sternly to find a good man with title and position to marry, and then to fall in love with him. The thought amused her now. She’d gotten that title, courtesy though it was.

  The life-altering, course-determining deed was done, and she was bound to this stranger for life.

  She watched him past her bonnet brim as he talked to the crowd.

  It wasn’t fair to Daniel to call him a stranger. He was a good man. How could he not be, with all he was sacrificing for her? Though they had only been reintroduced to each other four days ago, he had been there for her as no one else in her life ever had.

  And such a man he was. His body was large and solid, all wide-shouldered muscle over long limbs. He was physically powerful, this new husband of hers. But on his arm, when he was near, she felt surrounded, protected, and safe. This powerful man would never intentionally hurt her.

  A passing breeze stirred the fashionable waves of his blond hair, making them becomingly disheveled.

  His skin was a bit weather-beaten, and in the sunlight she noticed some pockmarked scarring, usually invisible, that remained from his youthful spots.

  He must have finished his speech, because he looked down at her, gray-blue eyes sparkling. His joyful smile softened.

  He led her into the house. The quieter interior was a relief. As if he knew she needed a peaceful moment, he led her to the second-best parlor, closed the door behind them, helped her sit, then collapsed in a nearby chair.

  He let out a long sigh that puffed out his cheeks, rubbed at his face, and gave her a rueful crinkle of his eyes. “My cheeks are hurting from the smiling.”

  A warmth for him kindled in her chest. She had rarely felt so much care and friendliness from another directed toward her since her family had died.

  Daniel’s smile slipped and he grew serious. “How are you, Eliza?”

  She blinked, pulled herself out of her thoughts and into self-consciousness. She had been staring at him. “I am well.” She looked away to hide her heated face.

  Chapter 24

  They departed for their wedding trip at three o’clock after the wedding breakfast. The wedding cake had been as tasteless as dust in Eliza’s dry mouth.

  Her body relaxed as the sway of the carriage and change of the roads indicated they had left London. She was finally free from the oppressive stares and the gossip sheets.

  She wished their marriage wouldn’t be announced in the papers. If she could just become Lady Daniel Ashton, with no link to Eliza Moore, then she could be free of her tarnished name completely.

  But Lord Kentworth had assured them it would be in the papers tomorrow, the formal version he paid for, and then the gossip and society pages that would snatch it up.

  Best they be out of the city before it ran.

  As a gift, and to get them out of town with more anonymity, Major Yarrow had lent them a carriage. The hired horses were driven by the post boys.

  Eliza started as Daniel took her hand and squeezed. He sat beside her in the padded seat of the coach.

  “We’ll stay the night at an inn in High Wycombe. We should arrive at Thomas’s hunting lodge after noon tomorrow.”

  She stared down at his gloved grip on her kidskin-covered fingers. She was in a closed carriage with a man. Daniel had placed her maid up top with the footman, ridding them of their only chaperone.

  Years of training and conditioning warned her that this was dangerous, an indiscretion that would ruin her, would make her vulnerable to him. She had to remind herself that she was now married to this man. It was like being in a closed carriage with her father or her brother.

  Except different. Vitally different.

  For her husband had claim on her person as no father or brother ever had. A moral, legal claim, sanctioned by God and man. And she’d agreed to it.

  His hand was on hers.

  Stories whispered at night in the dormitories of the Magdalen Hospital arose in her mind. The disobeyed injunction to “Tell no one your story”. Many of the girls were there because they didn’t obey commands easily. Others were talkers, chatterers. Compelled to speak, she could only suppose, by their very nature.

  From their tales, more than one girl had been ruined—truly ruined, taken advantage of, seduced, or further—in a closed carriage.

  She looked at his hand on hers and swallowed. Her heart pounded. Her earlier conviction of safety in his presence fled. She closed her eyes.

  “Eliza.”

  She looked at him. His expression was concerned.

  “Is this alright? May I hold your hand?”

  She was loath to say yes. Just as she was loath to remove h
er hand, and perhaps provoke him to take it back more forcefully, and do more.

  His shoulders. They were so broad. His arms, they were so powerful.

  “Eliza. If I promise to not do anything further in this carriage today, will you allow me to retain your hand?”

  Nothing further? Her eyes widened. Her lips trembled. She pressed them together.

  He looked deeply into her eyes, holding her gaze, a soft, concerned expression on his face. “I want you to be easy and comfortable with me. If you do not like something I do, please, tell me.”

  Her heart squeezed.

  “May I retain your hand?”

  She lowered her head in a nod.

  A half-smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.” He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed it. She raised her brow. He dropped their hands, and his cheeks reddened. He looked down and grimaced.

  “I apologize. I’ve already broken my vow. I . . . can I add kissing your hands to the bargain?” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes, like a child asking for sweetmeats, or a puppy wanting affection.

  He was wanting affection.

  She found it difficult to say no to that face. How was that possible? She looked away to lessen its power. “I suppose.”

  “Thank you, my dear lady.” And he lifted her covered hand again to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss there.

  He took her other hand and kissed it as well. Her side was pressed into his. The lengths of their bodies touched as the carriage rocked. His closeness was doing strange things to her.

  He caught her eye again. “Could I add kissing your forehead to our bargain, my love?”

  She widened her eyes and averted her gaze from his entreating look.

  “No,” she said, “and you are only allowed one hand at a time.” She pulled her right hand away. Having both clasped was much too restrictive.

  He made a noise of dismay.

  A smile of amusement tugged at her lips. She flashed a glance at him.

  His eyes widened in surprise. A slow answering smile lifted his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “I see, then. I will bow to your dictates.”

  She raised a brow. “I will keep you to the letter of your bargain, my lord. As is legal and proper. A gentleman keeps his word, does he not?”

  “Yes, yes, he does. And I will, my lady. You can trust me.”

  He said that with sincerity shining as if from his soul. She felt tugged, pulled, drawn in even further by his words.

  She breathed out, and then turned her face to the window to calm her emotions, and keep him from seeing them on her face. She squeezed his hand.

  * * *

  His wife’s head was on his shoulder.

  Through the course of the afternoon drive, she had pulled the wilting flowers from her hair, and placed them on her lap, and then the bonnet. She’d grown sleepy, and her grip on them had loosened. When her head had lolled, Daniel had tossed the bonnet and flowers onto the forward seat, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and tucked her drowsing body into him more closely. It was breaking his bargain—stretching it, he justified to himself—but it was making her more comfortable. And him, thrillingly less comfortable.

  Show some self-restraint, man. She was his wife, but he had to be careful. He had to be slow, meticulous. He had a plan.

  He was known for his plans. And his tenacity. A dog with a bone, more than one fellow officer had said of him.

  He would survey the situation, evaluate the logistics, come up with a course of action, and set in pursuit of his goal. His success with his plans had won him his captaincy.

  He went over his plan to win over Eliza in his mind. To win her regard, her esteem, he needed her trust. Her trust was the key to everything.

  To gain it, he must be measured, steadfast, sympathetic, and trustworthy.

  But no plan survived engagement with the enemy intact.

  He was finding it difficult to stick with the plan with Eliza so close to him. He wanted to be closer and closer, to kiss her, to love her fully and completely.

  He had the hardest time keeping his hands to himself. To be near her was to want to touch her.

  But if he didn’t restrain himself, she might shut him out for good.

  Eliza shifted in her sleep and buried her face deeper into his chest.

  He shut his eyes and relished this closeness.

  Despite all his mental urgings to keep his bargain, he couldn’t bring himself to loose his arms from around her until she stirred and blinked up at him sleepily.

  He slackened his hold. She moved away from him but didn’t chide him on it.

  * * *

  At the inn, Daniel assisted his wife—his wife!—to exit the carriage, and escorted her in.

  “I would like the second room on the first floor,” he told the innkeeper. “If it’s available.” He gave him an extra tip.

  “It is, sir.”

  Daniel was spending money far too freely, had been tipping generously. But all those who served should be rewarded: the maids who worked over Eliza’s new wardrobe in scarce days with long hours, the kitchen staff who worked double-time, the clergy at the chapel, all deserved to be paid and more. His brother, Frederick, had urged Daniel to let him pay for all, but Daniel couldn’t do that. He knew how stretched with debt the Kentworth estates were.

  The day before, after the household had calmed in the wake of their uncle leaving, Daniel and Frederick had met together to discuss his monetary situation.

  “And your portion, Daniel,” Frederick had said.

  “Wait on it,” Daniel had answered.

  “When else than on your marriage?”

  “Just . . . pay it out as an annuity until it is all paid.”

  “That is the least effective way to gain it. You can’t earn interest on such small sums.”

  “It’s fine. We will survive. I still have my commission, and will seek an appointment so I can be on full pay again.”

  His brother had grimaced, his pale eyes darkening from discontent.

  Daniel signed the register at the inn as Mr. D. Ashton. He’d instructed the maid, Betsey, and the footman, Bill, that they were traveling incognito.

  He escorted his lady up the stairs, Betsey trailing behind with several bags, and Bill with Eliza’s trunk.

  “Here we are.” He unlocked the door. The room was simple and appeared clean. A good sign.

  “Please put Mrs. Ashton’s trunk there, Bill. Thank you.”

  Eliza looked with a tightly closed mouth and over-wide eyes at the large bed. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

  Bill exited to fetch Daniel’s trunk. Betsey turned away from them, focused on her mistress’s baggage.

  Daniel came up close and spoke low in Eliza’s ear. “There is a trundle bed.”

  She turned her head sharply to look at him.

  “It’s why I requested this room. See it there, under the bed? I will sleep there. I don’t want you to fear, Eliza.”

  Her eyes were wide, but he could feel as the tension in her body eased. She gave a nod. He answered with a small smile.

  As much as he’d like to do elsewise, this was wisdom.

  But he took her hand and intertwined their fingers. Her hands were still gloved. He craved the touch of her skin.

  Soon.

  He looked deep into her eyes. Time slowed as he drank in their dark depths. He lifted her gloved hand and kissed the soft leather over her knuckle. Where her body brushed his, he warmed.

  Bill arrived with Daniel’s trunk, and he came out of the enchantment that had arrested him.

  “Betsey, there is a place for you in the servants’ quarters. Will you ready your lady for bed? I will be in the taproom.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He kissed Eliza’s hand again and retreated after Bill.

  * * *

  The nightgown had been Florentia’s. Eliza felt most uncomfortable in her trussed-up trousseau. Like a beggar, supplied from this and that, with g
uilt at having taken items that were meant for Florentia’s come-out Season.

  It was done. Her own things were too worn. The marchioness had not even tried to salvage the thrice turned-over dresses Eliza owned.

  She sat in the bed, the covers pulled up over her stay-less chest, the robe still wrapped tightly around her.

  She fingered the loose braid in her long hair. The pins had held her hair so tightly, it felt good to have her hair down.

  When would Daniel come back?

  Nerves shot through her. She felt small and vulnerable in this large bed in her borrowed, overlarge nightgown. His sister’s nightgown!

  The trundle remained under the bed. She dared not pull it out till Betsey was gone. She didn’t want their arrangement to be known and gossiped about.

  He would be coming back soon, wouldn’t he?

  If he stumbled in late smelling of spirits, she might scream. It would be bad enough to share a room with a man. Worse if he was in his cups.

  “Will you be needing me anymore tonight, my lady?”

  “No, thank you, Betsey. You may retire to bed now.”

  She curtseyed and opened the door to exit.

  “Oh, m’lord! She’s ready and put to bed,” the maid said.

  Nerves shot through Eliza’s spine.

  Daniel.

  “Very good, Betsey.”

  His heavy footsteps sounded, and the door shut. The air suddenly felt close around her. Breathless.

  “Eliza.”

  She was unable to keep her eyes away from him any further. He was clear-eyed, with a small smile on his lips.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  Of course not!

  She gave a nod, her hands wrapped in her braid, her cap tied solidly over her head.

  “I will ready myself for bed.”

  She stilled.

  He removed his coat, revealing his tan waistcoat. And then he removed the waistcoat. He walked over to the chair opposite the bed, sat, and pulled off a boot.

  She stared at his stockinged foot. Soon the other was free as well. Then the stockings were removed. His feet and toes were long and narrow, and strangely beautiful in their masculinity.

  Her face heated.