Lord Gilbert (Sons of the Marquess Book 5)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Why, to convey my bride to Yorkshire, of course.”

  “There is no need for that. She will stay with me. You are an army captain, you will not want her left alone while you are gadding about the Peninsula. Her home is with me.”

  Gil stared at him in bemusement. Gadding about on the Peninsula? Was that how he saw it? But he said only, “You have an odd idea of marriage, sir. You cannot expect me to leave the church with my wife and return her tamely to her father’s house. That would look very queer.”

  “Hmpf. You may take her to Canterbury for a day or two. She will want to buy some new clothes, I daresay. But then you can bring her safely back to me.”

  “She will be safe enough in Yorkshire, with my family,” Gil said.

  “With strangers? She will not like that! No, she will stay in her own home, where she is comfortable and understands her place.”

  His expression was so complacent that Gil gave it up, for there was little point in arguing against such obduracy. But while the physician was busy making his arrangements for the gig, Gil quietly talked to the head ostler and ordered his post chaise. And there was no small satisfaction in knowing that, in the end, the physician was very much the loser from the marriage.

  ~~~~~

  “You’re goin’ to marry him?” Betty said, her tone as incredulous as if Genista had said she were to fly to the moon. “You never are!”

  “It’s true,” Genista said quietly, her gaze focused on the mixing bowl in her hands. “Father wishes it, and Captain Marford offered.”

  “Why’d he do that? He was protestin’ loud enough about it the night before.”

  “You heard all that, then?”

  “Couldn’t help but hear it, they was shoutin’ so loud, Dr Hamilton and your soldier.”

  Genista was about to object to the description of him as her soldier, when she realised that, in fact, he was exactly that, now. She would be Mrs Marford. What a strange thought. Tears pricked her eyelids again, but she blinked them away angrily, her wooden spoon flying around the bowl even faster. She would not cry about it any more. Father wanted it, and that was an end to the matter.

  “But you knows nothin’ about him!” Betty said. “How can Dr Hamilton marry you to a stranger like that?”

  “He’s a captain in the Hussars, so he has a profession. And… and he’s a gentleman.”

  “Aye, but is he a rich gentleman or a poor gentleman?”

  “I imagine Father will enquire into that.” She remembered the quality of his clothes and the purse heavy with silver, and wondered.

  “Yes but—”

  Genista slammed the bowl down. “Betty, it does no good, all these questions. Father knows what’s best for me.”

  “But does he know what’s best for himself?” the maid said darkly. “He’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

  Genista wondered about that herself. How would he manage? Everything she now did for him in his medical work he had once done for himself, but he was not so young now, and liked to sleep late in the mornings, and have a snooze before dinner too, if it could be managed. He got muddled sometimes when prescribing medicaments, and she had to gently correct him. And there was the work she did in the kitchen, too. He would have to get another cook once she was gone, for Betty would never manage the sort of dinners he liked. It puzzled her greatly that he was so willing to see her marry and leave her home, when he depended on her so much. But no doubt he had his reasons.

  James came back late in the morning with venison, veal and several brace of pigeon, as well as cheese and sugar, so she set about preparing some of her father’s favourite dishes to please him after the trials of the journey to Canterbury. It was curious to think that it was all on her account, so that she might be married.

  Married! She could not quite imagine it. All these years she had assumed that she would remain a spinster and look after her father, and now that life was snatched away from her. She would be a wife and, God willing, a mother. It was difficult to adjust to the dramatic change in her situation. How on earth was she to cope with it? She would have a husband. Gil would be her husband. She shivered, although whether more in pleasure or fear she could hardly say. The face of an angel and those wonderful long lashes… He was a pleasure to look at, that much was certain. But as a man? She had liked him well enough when he was just a patient. He had never given her the slightest cause for alarm through his behaviour, for he had always been perfectly gentlemanly towards her, and she had never thought of him in any other light. But now he would be her husband, and she had not the least idea what would be expected of her.

  So she went about her duties with her usual efficiency, and tried very hard not to think about what was to come. She had the fires lit well before the gig returned, so when it pulled up on the drive, she had the front door already open.

  Her father strode in, his face so thunderous she wondered what on earth could have happened. Usually he was tired, perhaps querulous, but never angry, like this. Behind him, Gil limped in with a face full of mischief. He winked at her as he went past. Whatever did that mean? Was the marriage to be called off after all? She felt a burst of happiness at the thought — perhaps Father had thought better of it, and would not let her go after all? Then Gil would go away and everything would be as it was before, except that she would have pleasant memories of a man with bright blue eyes and long lashes, who had gazed at her intently and wondered if any man had lain awake at night longing to kiss her.

  Before her eyes, a vision appeared of the endless empty years in front of her, as her father gradually declined into old age and failing health and poverty. And what was there for her, apart from a role as nurse and then, perhaps, to be squeezed into the household of one of her brothers or sisters, the unwanted poor relation, helping in the nursery or the kitchen? And no one would ever lie awake at night longing to kiss her. No one would ever again look at her with vivid blue eyes, listening to her as if he really cared about her.

  Her father retreated to the surgery and slammed the door.

  “Whatever has happened?” she whispered to Gil.

  But he just laughed. “You will find out soon enough.”

  It was not soon enough for Genista. When her father emerged from his room at dinner time, he displayed his usual composure, and talked only on indifferent matters during the meal. She could barely eat for apprehension, knowing that sooner or later the cause for his anger would be made clear. She reviewed everything she had done that day over and over, in case any misstep or omission had given rise to her father’s displeasure. It was not until the dishes were cleared and only the dessert was left on the table before she discovered the problem.

  “Well, daughter, it seems that Captain Marford has deceived us.”

  This was so unexpected that she gasped. Gil laughed again, and his amusement was so incongruous, set against her father’s anger, that she rounded on him.

  “Why is that funny? You should be ashamed!”

  “I am ashamed of nothing,” he said, his face instantly full of disdain. “It is your father who should be ashamed, for agreeing to marry you to a man of whom he knew nothing. Far from deceiving you, I have been entirely open with you, and had you ever asked me, I should have told you at once that my father was a marquess.”

  “What! You are a nobleman?”

  “I am Captain Lord Gilbert Marford, and my eldest brother is the Marquess of Carrbridge. No one has enquired into my ability to support a wife, but you should know that I have no income other than an allowance from my brother and my army pay, in total no more than nine hundred pounds a year, and I own no property, although my brother will very likely give me a house when I marry. If I marry,” he added, with the mischievous smile lighting up his face again. “I suspect your father is having second thoughts about that, Miss Hamilton.”

  Dr Hamilton emitted a low growl, and Genista looked at him in sudden terror, wondering what was to come, but he mastered whatever emotion had gripped him and lapsed into silen
ce.

  “Father?” she said tentatively.

  “Nine hundred a year,” he muttered. “Nine hundred a year for idle, good-for-nothing, arrogant dolts like him, when honest folk live on a tenth of that and work a hundred times harder. What kind of world is it that rewards the indolent and dissolute?”

  “The God-given one,” Gil said softly.

  “You dare to speak of God?” her father said, his face darkening. “What do you know of matters spiritual?”

  “Not much,” Gil admitted. “However, is it not the case that the same God who gave men dominion over women also gave nobles dominion over commoners?”

  “But God did not make them rich,” her father said.

  “No, the King made them rich, so that they need not till the soil or work with their hands, but might educate their minds and thereby employ their power wisely, for the good of all.”

  “Fine words, but how many of them bother to educate their minds or learn wisdom? They are too busy gambling and drinking and—” He stopped, with a glance at Genista. “It is of no use to argue logic with a man such as this. You cannot marry him, daughter.”

  “Yesterday it was imperative that I marry Gil to preserve my reputation. Today, you tell me that doesn’t matter. How am I to understand you, Father?”

  “Yesterday, I did not know him to be a member of the most worthless group of people in the kingdom. Would that we had dealt with our aristocracy as the French so bravely dealt with theirs! I will not have you tied to such a man, and drawn into his life of vice and depravity. Better to be ruined, for at least then you will have the opportunity to repent of your sins and pray for redemption and forgiveness.”

  “You are the strangest man I ever knew!” Gil cried. “You insist that Genista is ruined, and force us into a marriage that neither of us wants, even though neither she nor I can recall these sins of which you speak. You are so keen to marry her off that you make no effort to ask even the most basic question of me regarding my ability to support a wife. I could be the poorest man in England for all you know, but so long as I am willing to marry, that is all you require. Yet now, because you discover my brother is a peer, and I have more money than you, somehow I am the worst kind of reprobate, and must not come near your daughter. Half the fathers in the country would give anything to marry their daughters to someone like me, but I am not good enough for your daughter, seemingly.”

  “No, sir, you are not,” he said, eyes flashing. “This engagement is at an end.”

  “That is for Genista to say,” Gil said proudly, lifting his chin.

  “Is it?” she said, turning to him in bewilderment. “Don’t you have a say in the matter too?”

  He turned those blue eyes on her, the eyes with the impossibly long lashes. Such a beautiful man! Almost she could wish— But that was out of the question.

  “I am honour bound by my promise to you,” he said, haughtily.

  “You will not cry off?”

  “Of course not! Despite what your father thinks, I am a gentleman and I regard myself as irrevocably pledged. But you still have the choice.”

  And there it was, the opening she needed. All she had to do was to say no, and he would go away. She would stay with her father, in the safe, comfortable world she knew. She would never have to leave her home, never marry, never escape.

  Or she could say yes. She could have this man as her husband, and see those blue eyes every day. She could have her own house, and children, and a life beyond the orchards and fields of Kent. She could choose…

  With a deep breath, she lifted her chin.

  “You are mistaken. I’m every bit as honour bound as you are,” she said.

  Her father turned to her, his expression dark. “You cannot marry this man!”

  “But I must,” she said calmly. “Remember Dionisia, Father? A betrothal is binding and I am committed now.”

  He turned to Gil. “Then it is for you to withdraw, sir.”

  “That I will never do,” Gil said, eyes flashing. “I will marry your daughter tomorrow, as agreed, and perhaps one day you will be glad of it.”

  7: London

  Gil and Genista were married by the parish clergyman at Elversham, with the bride’s father on hand to give her away and the two servants as witnesses. The clergyman’s wife and three daughters, plus two women engaged in polishing the rood screen when they arrived were the only others present. The wedding ring was the bride’s mother’s, and was several sizes too large. The post chaise Gil had ordered was waiting for them as they emerged from the church, and the bride had packed a small portmanteau to accompany her on her nuptial journey. Gil had nothing to pack.

  As his bride bade a tearful farewell to her father and the servants, Gil was rather complacent about the whole affair. It was true that neither of them had wanted to wed, but once it became inevitable he had seen the benefits of the scheme, and besting her father was not the least of it. The man had seen his daughter married to a hated member of the nobility, despite his wishes, and Gil was determined that he should not see her again for a long time. Then there was Genista herself, who was quite pretty enough to please him. And within hours, all that glorious mass of hair would be unpinned for him to enjoy. For the first time in his life he would have a wife in his bed who was his own, everything legal, and no risk of an irate husband turning up and causing a fuss. What a fine thing, to be sure!

  The carriage lurched its way through the bogs and ruts and half-melted snow to Canterbury, as Genista watched the white fields pass by and Gil watched her pale face. They stopped briefly in Canterbury to collect a parcel from a tailor, as arranged the previous day, containing sufficient neckcloths and other necessities to last him until Gil reached London and his waiting boxes and valet. Then onwards again, as the busy streets of the town gradually gave way to open fields and woods again.

  Only then did she turn to him in surprise. “Are we not stopping tonight in Canterbury?”

  “No. We will spend the night in Sittingbourne and then on to London.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened a little, her lips parting in the most enticing way. He was seized with the urge to press kisses onto her pretty face.

  “A few days in London for you to see about some new clothes, and then we will go north to Yorkshire.”

  “Oh,” she said again.

  “I shall take you to the theatre when we are in town,” he said, watching her intently. “And the opera, perhaps.”

  A little smile played on her lips. “I shall like that.” Then, rather puzzled, “What about Father? He’s expecting me home.”

  “You may write to him from London to tell him of our plans.”

  “Oh.”

  She made no fuss about it, for which he was heartily grateful. “How does it feel to be married, Lady Gilbert?”

  “I hardly know,” she said. “It has all happened so quickly, and I never expected to be married at all. This is so new that I cannot yet tell what I feel.”

  He slid a little nearer to her, and said teasingly, “I daresay you have never even been kissed, have you?”

  “No.”

  At once, he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her towards him, bending his head to kiss her gently. Such sweetness in her lips! What a delightful little thing she was. She lay motionless in his arms as he pressed his lips to hers, and he broke away, laughing.

  “That will never do! I can see that you have a great deal to learn of the pleasures of love, my lady, and it will be my agreeable office to teach you.” He ran one finger softly down her cheek, and then across her parted lips. Her eyes were huge, fixed on his. “Here, then, is your first lesson. A kiss is not a passive business. One does not simply receive a kiss, one must give as well. Shall we try again?”

  She nodded, and he leaned closer. This time he patted little kisses on her mouth until he felt her relax in his arms and her eyes closed. Only then did he pull her tightly towards him and kiss her more thoroughly. When they broke apart, she was breathing heavily.
>
  “There! Was not that delicious?” She nodded again, her gaze never wavering. “Tonight, my little wife, I shall show you just how enjoyable kissing can be.”

  She smiled and snuggled closer into his arms.

  ~~~~~

  It amused him to watch Genista’s reactions to London. He was used to the noise and the busyness, the crowds and the smells, but to her it was all new and not, he surmised, very pleasant, for she displayed no animation or excitement. Several times he pointed out places that he thought might interest her, but she responded to every building or park or monument with the same subdued lack of enthusiasm. “Indeed?” she would say. “I see. Is it so?”

  “You are very quiet,” he asked her once, puzzled. “Are you… quite well?”

  “Oh yes… thank you,” she said. “But it’s all so… overwhelming.”

  “London?”

  “Oh… everything!” Then she blushed and lapsed back into near-silence, and after a while, he gave it up.

  They drew up outside an elegant town house just off Portman Square.

  “Wait here,” Gil said to her, climbing down from the carriage and limping up the steps to the front door. When it opened to reveal a stout butler, Gil marched past him. “Good day to you, Marks. And how are you keeping? Knee better?”

  “Much better, my lord, thank you for enquiring. Is her ladyship expecting you?”

  He pulled a wry face. “Not exactly, no. Is she entertaining?”

  The butler was impassive. “Not just now, my lord. Shall I announce you?”

  Gil agreed to it, and was led upstairs to the drawing room.

  “Captain Lord Gilbert Marford, my lady,” the butler intoned.

  The lady in the room, her elegantly coiffed head bent over a fashion journal, looked up in surprise, then jumped to her feet. “Gil! Well, this is a very unexpected pleasure, but you must know…” She waited until the door closed behind Marks. “Gil, I am with Ramsey now, and he will be here this evening. I cannot—”

  “Oh, no, no! Not looking for that kind of hospitality, Bella. Just a room for a night or two.”