by Jenna Jaxon
The service proceeded swiftly. Before she could blink, Lord Manning had escorted her back down the aisle, the new Lady Manning. There were no cheering crowds, but the bells rang their deep peals and Katarina, Lady Juliet, and Eithne all hugged her and wished her happy. Meanwhile her husband had his hand shaken over and over, his shoulder slapped, and congratulations given just as heartily. After this protracted interlude, Katarina spoke up. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have prepared a small wedding breakfast for Jack and Alethea at Dunham House. Let us return there and toast the new couple in fine style.”
Lord Manning broke away from his friends and made his way over to her, offering his arm deftly. “Shall we, my dear?”
“Yes, my lord.” Alethea managed a smile and hoped it did not look like a grimace.
He settled her in his well-appointed carriage and gave the direction.
“Well,” he said finally, the word dropping into the silence that had engulfed them.
“Thank you, my lord.” Alethea ducked her head, studying her lap. “You have been most kind to do this.”
“Jack.”
Her head shot up. “I beg your pardon?”
“When we are alone or with my sister and her family, I would like it if you called me by my given name. Well”—he smiled, and the stern lines in his face relaxed—“my given name is actually John Thomas, but I’ve always been called Jack. I was raised in Virginia, if you recall, and without a title, so I’ve yet to get used to being called Lord Manning.”
His grin completely transformed his visage from forbidding to charming.
“When we are in public, Society dictates you call me Manning, although Kat defies that edict whenever she can.” He chuckled. “You have my leave to follow suit if you dare.”
Smiling back, she replied, “Thank you, my lord,” then clapped her hand over her mouth. “I beg pardon, my…”
Her husband laughed, a carefree sound that suddenly calmed her fears. “Thank you, Jack.”
A glimmer of hope, like a single candle in a dark house, flamed anew in her heart. Perhaps, beyond all reasoning, this marriage had been the right choice.
* * * *
After a pleasant wedding breakfast at Dunham House, filled with good wishes for her happiness that put her even more at ease with her new family, Alethea and Jack set off for his own townhouse in St. James. Conversation in the carriage lagged immediately. Alethea lapsed into silence after two comments drew only single word replies from her husband. His face, illuminated by the carriage lamp, had turned dour, with a firm set to his lips she’d not seen before. Perhaps simple fatigue from the earlier myriad activities explained it. Still, a touch of foreboding whispered in her ear, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
They arrived at the fashionable townhouse, all white brick and Corinthian columns, in good order, and Jack handed her down and offered his arm. Nothing out of the ordinary, save he still had a grim set to his countenance.
She simply mustn’t read too much into his expression. His world had turned upside down in a space of a few days. The weight of that alone might account for his dark look. Still, Alethea braced herself as she lifted her gown and mounted the steps of her new home.
At Jack’s knock, the butler immediately opened the door revealing a string of servants stretching down the corridor toward the rear of the house.
“My dear, this is Simons, my butler. Simons, my bride, Lady Manning.”
“My lady. My sincere best wishes to you.” The older man bowed low. “My congratulations, my lord.” He indicated the line of servants. “I took the liberty of assembling the staff so they could pay their respects to her ladyship.”
“Very good, Simons. Come, my dear.” Jack helped her off with her cloak and handed both of theirs to a footman. Simons stepped forward and began the introductions.
“This is Mrs. Ashford, the housekeeper.” A prim woman with graying hair and kind eyes. “Mrs. Tobias, the cook.” A much older woman who looked formidable. “George, the first footman.” Tall, upstanding, very serious.
The butler continued down the line through the mass of servants until Alethea’s head spun with all the names and faces. When at last they reached the end of the line, the little scullery maid Alice, Alethea breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow she would be in charge of all the servants save for the butler, her husband’s valet and the grooms. She would need to learn their names and personalities as quickly as possible if she was to be successful in fulfilling her duties as chatelaine here. Somehow she’d not quite considered that she would have the running of the household when she married, although she’d witnessed both Eithne and her own mother dealing with servants all her life. Tomorrow morning, then, she would take herself in hand and meet with Mrs. Ashford. She’d vowed to make Jack a good wife; best to begin immediately with a good start to her duties.
“Come my dear.” Her husband twined his arm with hers, pulling her back from her musings. “You should have ample time to rest and settle in before dinner. I will show you to the countess’s apartments. Your lady’s maid has been there seeing to your things.”
Nodding, Alethea took a firmer grip on his arm as they mounted the stairs. Thank goodness for Clemons. “I think a rest would do me good after so much excitement.” She glanced at him, hoping for the hint of a smile.
Jack, however, still maintained the slightly aloof countenance of before. Had she done something wrong? Did he already have regrets?
At the landing of the first floor they turned to the left and stopped at the first door.
“This is the countess’s suite.” He indicated a dark paneled door. “My sister occupied it briefly before her marriage. I have had the rooms freshened, but they were last renovated by my grandmother in a style now considered passé. You may consider any changes you wish to create a set of rooms that suit your own tastes and style.” With that pronouncement he actually managed a smile and opened the door. “I will call for you, if you like, when it is time for dinner. I wouldn’t want you to get lost on your first night here.”
“Thank you.” The return of his easy manner reassured her. “What time should I be ready?”
“I suppose we should keep country hours tonight as it has been a taxing day. Usually I dine at eight o’clock, summer or winter, city or country. However, will six suit you this once? We will want an early night tonight.”
Tonight was their wedding night of course. All brides and grooms would seek an early bed. Her heart beat wildly and warmth spread from her neck to her hairline. “S…six will be fine, my lord.”
“Jack.” He chuckled.
“Jack,” she whispered, suddenly shy. Gaze on the carpet, she brushed past him, the clean, citrus scent of him filling her head. Stepping over the threshold she stopped, overawed at the size of her chamber as the door closed behind her. Whirling toward it, she wanted to call him back. She’d not taken proper leave of him. But he had gone and this massive suite, now hers, called to her. The spacious sitting room before her boasted a cheery fire, a comfortable chaise and a companion chair beside it, both of pale gold brocade. To the side a table held a tray of cakes and sandwiches, a teapot and tea cups. The walls glowed with the late afternoon sunshine striking the gold and green paper, faded but serviceable. An inviting room and one she would renovate but little.
After her first bedazzled look at the room, Alethea fled toward the fireplace to hold her hands out to the merry flames. She sank gratefully onto the chair, relaxing onto its soft cushions. If only she could remain this way until her world stopped spinning.
“My lady.” Clemons emerged from a room to the right of the fireplace. “How are you? I hope all the fuss hasn’t distressed you overmuch.” She ran a keen gaze over Alethea. “Let me get you out of these clothes and into your nightgown.” The maid held out a plain chemise. “Then you can nap until dinner. You must be tired to death.”
“Allow me
one sandwich, Clemons. And a sip or two of tea. I am famished, though I found I simply could not eat a mouthful at the breakfast.”
“Yes, my lady. May I wish you happy? All the happiness in the world for as long as you live, my lady.” Clemons smiled at the new title. “That has such a lovely sound, doesn’t it?”
Alethea smothered a smile at Clemons’s eagerness. “Well, I am pleased to have it and to have the care of both the title and Lord Manning. His was a great sacrifice for me. Something I promise you I shall not forget.”
* * * *
Arriving for dinner on the arm of her husband, Alethea experienced that same air of unreality as earlier. The formal dining room, long and narrow, with large pastoral scenes on the dark paneled walls, would be where she ate for the rest of her life, across the table from Jack. Indeed, the gleaming mahogany table was this minute set with two places at the far end.
“I’ve instructed Simons to lay the table thus when we dine alone. We sat this way before Kat left to allow us to speak without shouting every word.” His easy smile had returned. “We tried it once with each of us at an end. I was quite hoarse with yelling by the end of the meal.”
Smiling at the thought, Alethea followed him to the far end. “This seems a very handy solution,” she said as he seated her at the end of the table.
“Yes, well, neither of us would benefit from losing our voices.” He sat at his place at her right hand, then nodded to a footman hovering nearby.
The man disappeared through a door and reemerged almost instantly with a white soup.
A wonderful aroma brought a growl from Alethea’s stomach. She clamped her hand over it, but Jack laughed.
“Please, let us begin, my dear. We cannot have you going hungry on today of all days.” He began on his with gusto. “I fear you will need to add pepper to the soup. Cook never puts in enough for my taste.”
Trying a spoonful of the thick, creamy soup, Alethea found Jack was correct. “It is delicious. However, a bit more pepper would bring out the flavors nicely.” After adding just a dash, she concentrated on savoring the flavorful concoction.
A second course, fish, also elicited a comment from the earl. “The turbot may be nice and flaky, but I prefer it with a lemon cream sauce rather than the butter sauce Mrs. Tobias makes.”
“Why don’t you instruct her to prepare the dishes the way you like?” Alethea tasted the fish, which turned out to be prepared well. Still, if the earl wanted it in lemon cream sauce…
Jack paused from devouring the turbot and grinned at her. “One would assume that if one was an earl he could have a say in how his food was cooked, but no. Mrs. Tobias has been cook here since my father was a boy, so I am told how I shall have my fish, my meat, and my sweets.” He picked up his fork again.
Her husband looked so put out Alethea couldn’t contain a giggle. The fish was truly excellent and the lack of a more piquant sauce didn’t bother her a jot. Still, she nodded again. “I do agree with you, Jack. This may be delicious, but it would be improved by either a lemon or a caper sauce.” She took another bite, thinking. “I will be speaking with Mrs. Tobias tomorrow. As the new mistress, I will be setting up new guidelines for meals. I daresay I can manage additional pepper and lemon sauce for you.”
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, then a frown marred his features. “I am sorry, my dear, but you will not be able to meet with her tomorrow for we are off early in the morning on our wedding trip.”
“Wedding trip?” A fresh baked roll stopped on its way to Alethea’s mouth.
“Yes, a customary excursion. Were you not in an interesting condition, we might attempt Italy. I have not seen it. Have you?”
“No.” Oh, but such a trip would be magnificent. “I’ve crossed the Irish Sea to get here, but nothing else.” Her heart raced. To travel to Italy, to be seen everywhere on the arm of her handsome husband would be a dream come true. Drat her condition. “I would love to explore Rome, the Coliseum, the ruins. Venice and ride on a gondola.” All her fault they could not do so. “Still, you have made other arrangements?”
Jack nodded, sipping wine. “I spoke with Braeton about it when we signed the settlements. He suggested we journey to Knowlton’s Keep for a few weeks’ time. A place we could be alone and become acquainted.”
“Knowlton’s Keep?” Astonished, Alethea stopped in the middle of bringing her wineglass to her lips. She’d traveled there with Eithne and Braeton last summer. To put it bluntly, there was nothing to do there.
“Your cousin believed time alone together would be good for us, together yet apart from the ton. He certainly painted the ancient castle as a treasure for those seeking solitude from the world.”
“Well, that much is true.” Laying her napkin on the table, Alethea clasped her hands in her lap. Lord, the thought of going back to Sussex filled her with loathing.
“You object to the Keep?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline.
“No, not at all.” Of course she did. But she wouldn’t voice that to her husband. “Merely startled. I’ve only been there in the summer. It may be drastically different in winter.”
“I’m sure we’ll manage to stay warm.” His eyes twinkled and he raised his wineglass, his gaze never wavering from her face.
Heat touched her cheeks. It might have been the wine she’d already drunk, but she didn’t think so. She clutched her wineglass and continued it to her lips. Tonight would be awkward. She was prepared for that. As long as he was at least somewhat gentle, she’d get through it. The first time had been bad, but that had been her own fault. Excitement bubbled up in her, despite her misgivings. She’d dreamed of this night often enough, ever since she’d met Lord Manning. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would get better.
Dinner flew by in a flurry of meats, vegetables, salad, and at last small white iced cakes for dessert. Alethea at least tasted everything, but lost her appetite about halfway through the courses. At last the footman removed their dessert plates and Jack took her hand.
“Let us retire, my dear. We have quite a journey tomorrow.”
Suddenly shy, she nodded and rose, her mouth dry. She took his arm and tried to still her trembling hands as he led her back up the stairs. She’d been dreaming of this moment almost since she’d met this gorgeous man. And now he would be hers, in name as well as in the flesh. Breath quickening the closer they got to her apartment, Alethea tried holding it to calm herself. Anything to keep from fainting.
He stopped outside her apartment, opened the door and faced her.
Her heart beat fast then slow, unable to make up its mind which suited it best.
“May I come in, Alethea?”
She swallowed hard, expecting this of course, wanting this, just not quite so soon. She hadn’t prepared… “Of course, my…Jack. If you would allow me some little time to prepare for …”
“You can get ready for bed when I’ve left.”
Casting a wild glance into the room, searching desperately for Clemons, Alethea could think of nothing to do, so she smiled back at him. What could she do now? Allow him simply to come in? What if Clemons appeared? What if he wanted to watch her disrobe? And just how was she to accomplish that without assistance?
“I don’t quite know how…I mean, I’ll need to get ready for you if…”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh, I’m sorry, my dear.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I see you are under the wrong impression. We have not had time to talk properly.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Despite our nuptials this morning, we will not be sharing intimacies tonight.”
Chapter 10
She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Alethea stared at her husband, trying to make sense of his words. Surely they would spend at least part of their wedding night together? Eithne had told her some time ago that husbands did not often stay the night in their wife’s bed. Still, it seemed her husband
did not want to share her bed at all.
“You mean you don’t want to—” She had no words to even discuss such a thing with him. “You don’t want to be with me tonight?” Devastation and humiliation tore through her so viciously she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. The agony of his rejection brought tears to her eyes.
“Come inside.” He stepped back and she rushed in, blinking back her tears.
Clemons had done remarkably well with the little time she’d had to make the room cozy and inviting. Fire blazed in the grate, radiating a steady warmth, with the chaise drawn up in front of it. Some of her things—books, writing materials, fresh flowers in a vase—had been arranged on the writing desk. Her best cashmere shawl lay draped over the back of a chair. A good effort to make her feel more at home. She needed that comfort now.
She plucked the shawl from the chair and headed to the chaise. Shivering as though buffeted by an icy wind, she wound it around her and sat before the fire.
Jack sat beside her, but she couldn’t look at him.
“Is it because I’m not…I’m not…a virgin?” The last word came out a whisper as shame poured through her. How could she have been so stupid as to think Lord Manning could desire a ruined woman? An honorable man would agree to save her good name from her folly, but that didn’t mean he held her in affection or even in esteem. Why would he wish to take her to his bed? What hell had she cast herself into, marrying a man she loved who would never want her?
