by Lisa Campell
“Now, Eliza,” Judith soothed. “You know how Matthew is. He frets, that’s all. He wants you to have the best life possible.” She let out her breath. “I agree that he might be a little…hasty…in pursuing a wedding, but he thinks this is what will bring you the most success.”
Normally, Judith did not disagree too sharply with her husband, if at all. On the subject of the Earl of Wyhurst, however, she stubbornly dug in her heels. The cad was worthless in her eyes, lower than worms in dirt. Certainly not good enough for precious, sweet Eliza.
Much to Judith’s chagrin, although she made sure not to let Eliza know, Matthew appeared unmoving. A marriage to Lord Wyhurst was the only way out of the pit his sister had fallen into. Were she to remain both soiled and unattached, Eliza would never recover her social standing. She’d be an outcast until the day she died.
Sebastian came to see her one time during the beginning of her isolation. Eliza had heard that he was at Colchester Manor to see Matthew, and despite her deadened state, the sound of his name made her broken heart show signs of life. Still, she doubted he would favor her with a visit, as his alliances surely lay with her brother.
Then, late in the afternoon, a knock came at her door. Assuming it was Judith, Eliza received her visitor without looking.
“Come in,” she called out, her eyes on the garden, where the spring was just beginning to touch the plants.
“I haven’t had a reception this cold in years,” Sebastian remarked.
She spun around so fast that she nearly fell off the window seat. His eyes sparkled with subtle amusement, and a slight smile curved his lip. At his back, the door stood open, as it likely would for the rest of her days. Even that brought her grief. Sebastian hadn’t even rated a chaperone.
“Forgive me, dear Seb,” she beseeched him. “I haven’t been myself ever since…well, you know.” She had always secretly harbored a deep affection for him. He was her older brother’s handsome friend. Eliza could never hope to be anything other to him than his best friend’s much younger sister. A child, in his eyes, she imagined.
Oh, that things could have been much different, she thought. If Seb loved me, then I wouldn’t be in this predicament. I could have married him and been done with it.
His countenance grew somber. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
She bit her lip. “So am I. I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m going to do.” The whisperings over shipping her off to the Irish cliffs had reached her ears in spite of Judith and Matthew’s best efforts. To Eliza, that wasn’t much better than marrying Lord Wyhurst. Her memories of the Ireland estate were vague; she’d been but a child the last time she had seen it. In her mind, it smelled of salt and mildew, and there were soft spots in the floor.
“That’s why I’ve come.” Sebastian’s bright cerulean eyes fixed intently on hers. Eliza’s heart sped up in her chest. A part of her thrilled whenever Sebastian Campden looked at her with such raw intensity. She feared and anticipated what he was about to say in equal measure.
But nothing could have prepared her for his proposition. “Matthew has granted me a private audience with you. ”
Eliza frowned, her pulse suddenly racing. “What for?”
“I am offering you my hand in marriage,” he said, to her ultimate shock. “If you’ll have me.” He spoke the words so simply, as if they were nothing to fuss about.
Eliza’s jaw dropped before she had a chance to control her reaction. Seeing her surprise, Sebastian grinned. “What…?” she managed to sputter out. “When? How? What will Matthew say?”
“Matthew has given me his tenuous blessing.” Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t say it’s the happiest he’s ever been, or that I’m the one he expected you to marry, but he won’t stop us if you agree.”
Eliza turned her face away from him, in an attempt to calm herself. She looked out the window, where the street was filled with carriages and people, walking beneath the trees that lined the road. Her hand was on her waist, for she suddenly felt as though she might faint. It was the very thing that she had secretly wished, ever since she was old enough to realize how she felt about him. She could hardly believe her ears. To think that she’d suffered such misery to be rewarded with her deepest, most hidden wish felt too good to be true.
Sebastian cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. She turned back towards him, seeing him for a moment, as her husband to be. He smiled at her hesitantly, and she found herself beaming back. She felt like she might wake up at any moment.
“I would be…honored. To be your wife,” she said, her gaze on the floor that lay in between them. Her cheeks were hot, for she was blushing furiously. Then a sudden flash of doubt clouded her instinctive happiness. She lifted her chin and looked him full in the face. “But…please don’t do this because you feel sorry for me, Sebastian. I couldn’t bear knowing that my husband only married me out of pity.” Especially not if that husband were Sebastian Campden, Marquess of Dain: the very gentleman that she had secretly adored for years.
He looked at her quizzically. “I don’t do anything out of pity.” The relief she felt was short-lived. “That being said, I should let you know now that there won’t be any of the normal goings-on between husband and wife after the ceremony is over.”
The bright spark of joy in Eliza’s heart dimmed a bit. “What do you mean?” She thought she could guess his meaning, and she didn’t like it. A wave of dread settled in, where just moments before she had been on the brink of feeling marvelously and incandescently happy.
“Listen.” Sebastian took her hand in his, gently pressing it. “I care about you, Eliza. Your parents practically raised me as one of their own. That’s why I’m doing this. I can’t stand by and see you fall to ruins. I won’t allow it.” He looked away, licking his lips with his tongue. That gesture made Eliza filled with want for him. “But we will be husband and wife in name and nothing else. That can’t ever change.”
With that, her whole happiness fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces as if it had been a crystal bowl. The disappointment was as crushing as it was illogical. She thought she could live with little to no physical interaction if it meant she got to be with Sebastian.
Besides, there was plenty of time to work on changing his mind. No doubt it was because he thought that she was young. That she was like a sister to him.
“All right,” she replied, forcing a faltering smile. “I can’t say I’m in any position to complain. We’ll do this however you like.” She paused. “And thank you, Sebastian. I do believe you’ve saved me from some extremely significant trials and tribulations.”
His grin returned. “No need to thank me, darling. I’m only looking out for you. Come. We must go and tell Matthew and Judith our good news.” He offered her his arm. She stood up, placing her hand in the bend of his elbow. As they walked from the room, she felt as though she was exactly where she should have always been: at Sebastian’s side, as his lady.
From then on, Eliza’s days began to brighten. The sun broke through clouds over her heart that she had once assumed were permanent. She basked in this new, more reserved brand of happiness whenever it came, for if she thought too hard about her upcoming wedding, the sadness started to creep back in. Her cavalier attitude toward Sebastian’s bizarre terms only lasted so long. The more she dwelt on the idea of a cold, sexless marriage, the sadder she became.
Why wouldn’t Sebastian want to consummate their union even once? Surely, he did not intend to be celibate for the rest of his life, even as he slept by her side. And if he did, what would he expect of her? She dreaded having to follow through the motions of her dream romance with a physically perfect, yet emotionally unwilling partner. To think he was willing to offer her another chance at society, but not at her first wanted kiss, unforced. It was a particular brand of torment she had not expected.
Eliza’s wedding day dawned bright and golden. Judith and her lady’s maid helped her to dress in
a beautiful white silk gown. It was empire-waisted, with French lace at the short sleeves and the low neckline. Eliza’s hair was gathered in a low chignon, with curls framing her cheeks. Two white roses had been woven into her hair, one underneath, the other on the top.
“You make a beautiful bride,” Judith told her as she stood behind Eliza in the mirror. Even Eliza had to smile, even though she had no idea what to expect. She knew what she hoped would happen—that Sebastian would want to at the very least consummate their union. So that no one would ever be able to say that it was anything other than a true, respectable marriage. There was a knock on the door, and when Judith answered it, Matthew entered.
“Oh, Eliza,” he gasped, tears in his eyes. “How Mother and Father would have been so happy to see you on this day.”
Eliza smiled at her brother, walking over to take his hand. She was so grateful to him, for sparing no expense. She had the feeling that he was trying to make amends for insisting that she wed the Earl of Wyhurst. “Thank you for today, Matthew.”
“Today is a most welcome day,” he assured her with a genuine smile. “My best friend marries my beloved sister. I could not be any happier, or prouder. It is a very good match, in my opinion.”
Eliza grinned at him, even though she was confused on the inside. Sebastian’s rules that he had set forth for their union were strange to her. She didn’t know what to think of them. Matthew offered her his arm, and they left for the church.
It was a lovely day. Everyone in attendance proclaimed that it was the perfect wedding. Warm light poured in through the arched windows of the church, dappling the silk of Eliza’s dress. She was escorted to the ceremony by Matthew, and steadfast Judith stood by her side as always.
Eliza would always remember the moment that Sebastian turned to see her. His smile was warm, his eyes sparkling. He was breathtakingly handsome in his black formal tail coat and a crisp white shirt and cravat, his boots shining, with his hair carefully combed. He shook hands with Matthew, and then smiled as he took her hand in his.
I have always wondered what it would be like, Eliza mused. To hold his hand like this. His palm was calloused, from riding and fencing. But warm and dry. She realized that he was not at all nervous. Not like she was.
Though the words of the ceremony were familiar, they felt different in Eliza’s ears. She was so anxious that her heart was racing as she faced Sebastian and he took both of her sweaty, trembling hands in his. He was smiling at her, though she was almost certain that he did not love her.
With the way that his eyes softened as he spoke his vows, Eliza could almost pretend that he loved her, and was glad to marry her, while her own voice wavered in the silence of the church. She knew that, whatever Sebastian felt or did not feel, Eliza did love him—she had loved him for years. She was happy to wed him.
She had to keep her unbridled happiness in check at the words “husband and wife.” In a perfect world, that was the moment she would have leapt into Sebastian’s arms and passionately embraced him, but such a display of affection was not to be.
He leaned in to give her a chaste peck on the cheek, just to seal their union.
Eliza pretended not to savor the moment. The feel of his lips, soft against her skin, left a gentle tingle, which did not abate. She could still feel the soft caress of his lips, even as they left the church, hand in hand to attend their wedding-breakfast, which Matthew and Judith were throwing at Colchester Manor.
The reality, however, was that a little taste of intimacy awakened a great hunger in her for more. The strength of her own desires left her distraught, questioning how she’d be able to keep them under control while she and Sebastian were sharing a home.
The breakfast was small—only close friends and family. Eliza sat beside Sebastian, only speaking to him briefly. For the most part, she spoke to Judith, who was beside herself with joy. As Eliza glanced around at all those who were gathered, she wondered if anyone could tell that she was truly unhappy. She wanted to be. When she glanced over at him, Sebastian smiled at her.
I can almost pretend, she thought bitterly.
Though Eliza had known Sebastian for almost her entire life, she had never been to Campden Hall. He had always come to them. They were never invited there. His parents, the later Lord and Lady Dain, had thrown few events in their later lives, though Eliza hadn’t questioned it. She did then, wondering why they would have shirked their responsibilities as parents, as members of the ton. She was too nervous to ask Sebastian, as they rode away from Colchester Manor as a newly married couple.
As the carriage pulled up after their wedding, it was the first time she’d ever seen it. It was an imposing sandstone façade, with three stories of glittering windows that had a warm glow from within.
She allowed him to escort her to the sleek, black painted door, where the butler opened it for them. He bowed low. He was an older man, with silver hair.
“Lady Dain, welcome home,” he said.
“Thank you, she murmured, getting a good look at the entryway. A sweeping staircase led up to the third floor. The foyer was open, all of the way to the ceiling, where there was a pergola, upon which was painted a blue sky with golden stars and a thin slice of crescent moon.
There was a shining black and white tile floor, and the cream-colored walls had golden accents, which brought a tight focus on the lush oil paintings that hung there. She did her best not to gape, for Colchester Manor was not nearly so fine. After all, her brother’s Barony was modest.
I hadn’t realized just how well-off Seb is, she thought, swallowing nervously at the thought of how well-off she then was by association. It was all new to her. So utterly new.
Sebastian turned to her.
“I have had the butler arrange for your things to be placed in your bed chamber,” he explained. “It is on the other side of the house from mine.”
“We won’t share a marital bed?” she asked, her stomach feeling like it had dropped to the floor. She had, at the very least, expected him to consummate the marriage—so that then no one at all could question that they were wed, properly.
“No, my darling. You know the bargain which we struck,” he said.
Eliza could only stare at him. She felt as if she’d been struck herself. She sighed, nodding. She glanced down at the fine white gown she wore.
“I will allow you to settle in.” He bowed to her, then strode away, into the depths of the house. Eliza turned toward the butler, who lead her away, to her solitary room. She sank down onto the mattress, still dressed in her gown.
She felt horribly sad and lonely as she looked around at the fine room. It was decorated specifically for a lady. It had a delicate cream wallpaper, with a pattern of roses emblazoned across it. The furniture was dark hardwood, and the bedspread was thick, a soft cream to match the walls. She kicked off her dancing slippers, to bury her toes in the carpet.
Any other bride would have been incandescently happy on her wedding day. But Eliza was not a normal bride. She had married in order to right the wrong that Lord Wyhurst had committed. She felt as though she were living someone else’s life.
She stood, walking over to the wood dressing table, where there was a ceramic vase, filled with fully blown cabbage roses, which had most certainly been bought from a hot house. She looked around at all of the fine things and felt despair.
I’ve married the gentleman of my dreams, she thought. But it’s all wrong. He couldn’t care less.
Eliza yearned for her husband, his caresses, closeness. She wanted, to make something of this spontaneous marriage of convenience, to convince Sebastian that they could be partners, lovers, and everything else. To be Lady Dain in name, marchioness in title, but never Sebastian’s wife in spirit or heart—that could never be enough for her.
Chapter Six
Eliza had never been particularly skilled at concealing her affection for Sebastian, and as his wife, she was no better. Sebastian had always been flattered by her attentions—what gentleman
wouldn’t be?—but he knew he should not reciprocate. It pleased him, however, to see her taking a pronounced interest in the house. Perhaps a project of that magnitude would keep most of her needs sufficiently satisfied.
She had been busy, taking on little projects, here and there. He was happy to foot the bill for her to redecorate the parlor and the dining room to suit her taste. There was money enough for her to redecorate all of Campden Hall, as well as Dain Castle, if it pleased her.
As for the others, the ones he had had expressly forbidden himself to act upon, Sebastian had developed yet another unorthodox plan. He’d intentionally kept it secret from Eliza until after the wedding, in case she reacted adversely. He hoped she would be able to see that he meant well, and that he wanted to make sure she was attended to in all possible ways.
He was sitting in his bed chamber, his book open in his lap. He sat in one of the red velvet armchairs by the fireplace. The fire was crackling in the grate. He was staring into the flames, thinking of the way that his wife eyed him across the dinner table. There was a soft knock at the door. He knew, instinctively, who it was.
