by Imogene Nix
He found a carriage and gave orders to proceed to St Paul’s Cathedral. He could have walked the distance, but something inside said to be quick. The gnawing concern was building deep within his gut. Hurry, hurry, ran the refrain. So he had given in and watched the seething mass of people making way for the cab. They were within the grounds now, and heading up the long path. The clatter of cobbles beneath the wheels jarred him from his thoughts.
The carriage halted, and he vaulted down, handing the coachman some coin before heading for the building, the total of his focus now on securing the license. On securing Elspeth, he told himself. Aeddan entered the building, the cool, refreshing air clearing some of the noonday fog from his mind.
“Hello, my son. What can I do for you?” One of the clerics swept forward, his long, white cassock swishing over the floors. His face wreathed in a welcoming smile.
“I’ve come to see the bishop.”
The man stopped, his eyes assessing him from behind metal-rimmed spectacles. The cleric frowned over his glasses. “I see. And that would be about?”
“I wish to obtain a special license.” He waited, holding his ground under the smaller man’s scrutiny.
“Ahh, I see. In order to meet the bishop, you will need to make an appointment. Let me…”
Appointment be damned! Somehow though, he managed to keep himself from hurling the epithet at the man. Aeddan’s lips firmed as he held out the letter Lytton had granted him. “I believe this will expedite my appointment.”
The man’s eyebrows drew up, and he broke the wax seal. Whatever it contained drained any color from the man’s face.
“Follow me, Major Fitzsimmons.” The man walked toward a doorway at the head of the chapel, and Aeddan followed. They moved through into an antechamber beyond, and the cleric indicated a hard, wooden bench. “If you’ll take a seat, I’ll see the bishop immediately.”
“I’d rather stand.”
The cleric was clearly discomforted by his words, and he gave a jerky nod then withdrew to the room beyond.
Aeddan looked through the vaulted windows, the depiction of the saints soothing his ragged emotions. It was a reminder of home, of cool breezes and a time when life moved at a less frenetic pace. When danger didn’t lurk on every street corner. He breathed deeply, the stillness and peace of the room filling him. It washed away the rage and fear that had built within him.
The squeak of the door opening captured his attention, and he turned. There, clad in his purple robes, was the bishop.
“Major Fitzsimmons, I have received the communiqué from Lord Lytton. If you would please follow me?” The bishop beckoned within, and the cleric made his escape as the door closed quietly. An imposing wood desk filled the room, but the bishop merely leaned on it. “A special license?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The man frowned, and Aeddan had the impression he wasn’t so sure of granting it.
“It had been my intention to marry Miss Forster before all this rose.” Maybe it had and maybe it hadn’t, his conscience reminded him, but he refused to allow anything to get in his way.
The bishop nodded and headed to the pigeonholes, unerringly reaching for the papers he required, then opened a large tome which sat on his desk. “I will need all the details of both bride and groom.”
Aeddan rattled off the information, watching as the bishop transcribed them, his script careful. Then he laid the parchment on the table and called for the cleric. He scurried in and accepted the payment of coin, nodded, then left again.
“The marriage...” He glanced at the bishop who watched him.
“Any priest can officiate.”
The license was handed over wordlessly, and Aeddan started to thank the bishop who had continued his scrutiny, but then thought differently. Instead, he gave a bow and retreated from the room, moving swiftly, heading through the large structure and in the direction of the road. The piece of paper tucked carefully in the pocket of his jacket.
Elspeth… He needed to see Elspeth. He hailed the first cab that passed him, waiting for it to slow before climbing in and giving directions.
As her house appeared before him, he caught a glimpse of black. Uniforms. Damn. It was Fortescue and Albemarle leaving the house. A curl of some emotion he refused to name rose in his chest. He paid the driver and stepped from the carriage at the portico. The sun beat down, hot and humid, and he ignored the need to peel his jacket from his sweat-slicked body.
Jacinthe, Elspeth’s young maid, opened the door with a smile. “Major! I believe congratulations are in order.” She accepted his hat and ushered him into the parlor where the two women waited.
His brief “thank you,” was accepted with another smile and he entered the room. Isabelle beamed broadly at him, while Elspeth watched him in silence.
“Well, Major. I am pleased to see you here. Welcome.”
“Why thank you, Miss Isabelle. If I may...”
Isabelle rose. “Of course, Major. I have some tasks to attend to, so I shall leave you to it.” She moved swiftly to the door, but stopped, her hand on the brass knob. “Oh, and Major? You may call me Isabelle.” Then she was gone, with a tinkle of laughter and the swish of silk skirts.
His advance into the room was slow. Steady. Measured.
Elspeth watched him, the calm façade marred only by the narrowing of her eyes. “So, Major…”
“Aeddan.”
She narrowed her eyes further at the correction. “Fine. Aeddan.”
He sighed.
* * * *
Elspeth watched him advance. Her natural balance was off with all the changes surrounding her. Isabelle was practically bouncing, her excitement at the coming nuptials surprising Elspeth more than she ever would have expected. That and the note he’d sent earlier left her unsure of herself.
This was not the way she would normally act.
He advanced, and Elspeth controlled her desire to back up. His easy smile belayed the gravity of his gaze. “Elspeth, we need to talk.”
Her breath whooshed out. Talk? He wants to talk? “What about?”
“Our wedding. Or...” He blushed slightly and turned away.
He’s changed his mind. Needs me to release him from this travesty of an engagement. The contents of her stomach congealed. It seemed obvious that upon greater inspection he regretted his impulsive actions of the night before.
“I... I release you from our engagement.” She spoke as clearly as she could. She ignored the pain in the region of her heart and expected him to accept and leave.
Instead, he turned back with a frown. A pregnant silence rose between them as he studied her, his gaze intent. “It’s too late for that, Elspeth.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she lifted a hand a little way. “What do you mean, too late? We aren’t yet married. No official announcement has been made.”
The grin he turned in her direction burned her. “I have no intention of releasing you from our engagement. Indeed, I have obtained...”
She watched as his eyes twinkled, and she was captivated. The boyish good looks she noticed before entranced her. “You’ve obtained what?” A seed of suspicion took root. “A special license?” The words were little more than a whisper.
He nodded. “Yes. Now, there are reasons for choosing this option.”
She clutched her stomach. Special licenses were usually reserved for early births and those who were ruined. The thought flittered and she cringed.
“But we haven’t...” She clapped a shaking hand over her mouth. We haven’t been intimate almost slipped out.
“No. We haven’t acted inappropriately. Well, not totally. But I do have very good reasons.” He slid his fingers around her arm, tugging gently. “Come sit beside me. We have many things to discuss.”
She dropped into the chair gracelessly as she slipped from his grasp. His eyebrows curved up, and she blushed, then cursed her precipitous action under her breath. The look he bestowed on her was gentle, and Elspeth bit h
er lip and glanced away momentarily.
“So, what do you wish to discuss then?” She stared at him, aware the look was probably belligerent.
He had retreated to a chair and lounged indolently. “You wanted to know the details, I thought.”
Elspeth sucked in an unsteady breath. “Family. Children. Dowry.”
Aeddan’s nod unnerved her. “Family. I want children. I have sisters and brothers... Both my parents are alive. Your dowry doesn’t really matter to me, but I can have a contract drawn up to secure whatever portion is yours. We can make provision that it be held in trust for our daughters, if you wish.”
My dowry doesn’t matter? Hold in trust for our daughters? The thought ricocheted through her. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter to you?”
“I have funds enough to ensure our comfort. Should you wish to continue running the shipping company, I will support your decision, but my own funds are not sparse.”
She stared at him, for the first time taking in the expensive and well-fitted clothing he wore. The comfortable way they fitted him, and his own nonchalant disregard for them.
“I have enough to outfit you like a queen and any children we may have.”
“Where will we live?” She could no longer contain her curiosity.
“I have a house here, in Calcutta, as well as my home in London and a small estate outside of Lichfield. It was my maternal grandfather’s.” He blinked, and for a moment she wondered just what he tried to hide from her. “There are other...aspects of my history that you need to be apprised of. My father...” He squirmed in his seat as if uncomfortable with what he was about to reveal.
She waved her hand, not wishing to push him when there had already been so many surprises to this day. “No, I don’t need to know right now. If you are as well set up as you said, then my sister... She will have somewhere to reside?”
“Indeed she will, Elspeth. In the short term, while we are India, she will live with us at North Point. Then, on our way home—”
Elspeth shook her head. “We will be traveling to Shanghai first. Isabelle is particularly interested in the importation of jade to England. Our agents have already made contact with people.” She expected him to argue, but he surprised her yet again with a short nod.
“Then we shall travel home via Shanghai.”
It all seemed too easy. Where was the catch she could almost see?
“So you have plans to arrange the contracts when, exactly?” she asked.
“As soon as possible. Within the week would be best. You see, there’s a further issue. One that is quite…” Aeddan shook his head, as if lost for words. “At some point your father entered negotiations with the Colonial Secretariat. The captains of the ships are carrying intelligence for the Viceroy back to England.”
Shock coursed through her. Carrying intelligence?
“No. That absolutely cannot be right. I would know.” Her voice shook. But of course, everything she’d learned of Aeddan told her it was quite possible that he spoke only the truth.
“No. Your father made it clear to the captains that under no circumstances were you to be apprised. After he died, the captains continued this role without informing you.”
“But...”
“The Russians have learned of this. We think...” He looked away, sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped. “There is someone within Government House feeding information to the Russians. They have decided that you would be a prize. If they hold you, then the captains will be forced to negotiate. That’s why Captain Elliott left you here, in my care. The suddenness of his reloading is unusual, is it not? He’s joining a squadron who are en route to Falmouth. They will escort him and the Zephyr safely home. Even now he carries information, strategic details, to the Admiralty.”
Her stomach coiled with dread. “But why us? Why Forster shipping lines?”
Aeddan shook his head, and she had the feeling he was telling as much of the information as he felt she needed to know. What he’d already imparted left her reeling.
“The rest isn’t important. All you need to know is that I intend to wed you as soon as can be arranged. I have a special license and—”
“No.” Finally, a spurt of white-hot anger coursed through her veins. She stood, shaking out her skirts. Every movement was little more than a jerk, which told of her agitation. “I will not be pushed into marriage. No one could possibly wish to hurt me. I have no value to anyone other than myself and my family.” Her eyes burned.
“Elspeth, don’t be...” He held out a hand, as if to stop her from reacting.
“What? Absurd? Hysterical?” She drew herself up to her impressive-for-a-female height. “Do not patronize me, sir.”
“Damn it, Elspeth, I’m not patronizing you. But you and your sister are in danger. The sooner we wed, the sooner I can ensure your safety, openly.”
His words bit deep, drawing her to sudden stillness. What if he was right? If he was, then Isabelle was in jeopardy too. Isabelle was still recovering from the malarial illness. Elspeth had responsibilities, not just Isabelle, but also to those employed by Forster shipping.
She sat back down and faced him, heartily ashamed of her outburst. The sting of a blush rose as the final spike of adrenaline seeped away. “I do beg your pardon. Of course, you would be aware of these issues.”
Aeddan watched her for a moment before no doubt coming to the realization that she had regained her equilibrium—but it was a tenuous grip.
Obviously satisfied, Aeddan rose to stride across the room and took the seat opposite her. “I also need to tell you about my family.” He gazed at her with an unusual earnestness.
Elspeth extended her hand. “There is no need at this time. Tell me your plan.”
He sighed but complied.
Chapter 10
The cathedral was cool and peaceful as the four made their way up the aisle. They’d traveled together in the carriage, Grundy sitting with the driver and Isabelle, Aeddan, and herself in the body of the carriage.
She twitched at the bodice of her gown as she’d done several times since dressing. The pale blue morning gown wasn’t what she would have chosen to be wed in; the material clung to her body, making her itch under the noonday heat. She’d only had five days to prepare, so there hadn’t been time to arrange a custom-made dress, and she had to make do with one of the gowns she already had on hand. This one was a winter gown, yet the lightest color she owned. But as with most of the preparations, it reinforced the furtive feeling.
“Stop that,” Isabelle whispered in her ear, and Elspeth pulled her hand away, aware that her action had been noted.
She glanced in the direction of Aeddan. It amazed her that he wanted her for his wife when so many of the younger set were better suited to his role. Yet, if any of the embraces they’d shared were indicative, he was as interested in pursuing the passionate side of their relationship as she was. She tingled all over at the thought of the liberties he’d already taken—the touches and kisses.
“Stop fidgeting, Elspeth.”
She started at Isabelle’s words. What am I thinking? And in a church?
Aeddan had cleared the path to their wedding with a ruthless efficiency that she’d found unsurprising. He’d had a man draw up the nuptial contract with speed and ensured she’d had someone to act on her behalf. He’d spoken to the vicar, making the necessary arrangements so they could be wed today. It was under his direction that her household had been packed up, ready to move to his much larger home, the last boxes heading to North Point—a house she’d never yet seen—this morning.
He’d convinced Lady Manton that Isabelle should stay with her, taking Jacinthe as her personal maid, while Elspeth and Aeddan traveled into the wilds of India. Nothing was left to chance.
If he’d been somewhat distracted, she told herself, he was busy. The week had passed in a blur while she prepared for her new life. What small amount of household items they’d amassed had been deemed unnecessary, and had been bequ
eathed to the next inhabitant.
When he’d met them at the door, he’d presented her with a tiny bouquet of lilies. The romantic gesture surprised her.
His fingers slid around her arm, and she shook herself free of the reverie.
“It’s time.”
His whisper, so close to her ear, was intimate, and she gasped. Glancing in his direction, she noted the smokiness of his gaze. Perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected as she thought.
The vicar waited for them at the end of the aisle, his black gown severe and unrelieved, but he smiled and welcomed them. She had a vague impression of kind blue eyes and white sideburns.
“Come, friends. We will complete the ceremony here.” He indicated a side altar, and Aeddan nodded acceptance.
The vicar’s words flittered through her mind like a bug crawling through congealing honey, while her mind skittered and danced as if it were a dream. She focused hard, listened, and answered the questions that would change her status from spinster to wife. It was only when she felt the slide of the ring on her finger that the sense of unreality faded away.
Aeddan looked into her eyes, and she was sure there was a flash of heat there.
“You may kiss your bride now.”
She watched as his head dropped toward her, the soft whisper of his breath teasing her senses. Their lips touched, gentle and cautious. Warmth to warmth. She reached up and clutched the black cloth at his shoulder, steadying herself against the onslaught of hunger erupting.
The delicious warmth she now associated with Aeddan curled in her belly, and she moaned quietly as he pulled away. He gazed deeply into her eyes then stepped back.
“Congratulations, Elspeth.”
She was enveloped in a hug from Isabelle. Her sister clutched her tightly, held for an instant, then released her. She watched, confusion filling her, as Isabelle turned to Aeddan. My husband, her mind supplied.
“And Aeddan. May I call you that?”
My husband. The thought stole her breath. Her husband...the one she hadn’t expected to have.
