“Indeed.” Trevor filled a crystal flute and placed it in her hand. All four clinked their goblets together, then exchanged a hearty laugh. Meredith took a large sip of her wine and felt a surge of optimism. Even though there had been long stretches of silence before and after the ceremony, the prevailing feeling had been one of ease.
There was some tension. How could there not be, given the circumstances of the wedding? Yet there were no barbed undercurrents. This unexpected and most welcome sense of serenity gave Meredith reason to hope.
Yes, she had undertaken this marriage partially for the sake of her brothers, to save them from future foolishness. She had also done this partially for the marquess’s sake. Though she still doubted her abilities to be the type of wife he might expect, she felt confident she could at least provide some of the essential elements of a comfortable marriage.
Companionship, if he so desired, lively conversation, a warm, welcoming home, perhaps even a child or two someday, if the marquess wished. She remembered the strength of his kisses, the heat of his caress, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of creating that life.
And so that was the last bit of truth. She had married him in part because of her brothers, in part because he needed someone to take care of him, and in part because she knew her feelings for him went beyond mere concern. Beyond mere attraction. She was in love with him. Unexpectedly, inexplicably and foolishly in love with him. Meredith had been deeply afraid to acknowledge that truth to herself because she had been frightened of the implications.
Yet she could not hold back her emotions when it appeared the marquess might not live to see another dawn. If that happened, Meredith conceded it would be nearly impossible to face each day that remained of her life.
And now, if given the chance, she could make him and herself very, very happy. Meredith took another large gulp of her champagne and nearly laughed out loud at her own sense of arrogant self-importance. Though a part of her acknowledged it was comical to believe she could control the world when she lacked the power to command her wayward heart, she was nevertheless determined to try.
She was not like other brides, filled with false illusions about a lifetime together that would be filled with only love, happiness, and good fortune. She was prepared to face the challenges of the difficult and uncertain times that lay ahead.
Meredith’s gaze was pulled to her new husband. He had dressed formally in a dark coat, knee breeches, silk stockings and black shoes. The embroidery on his waistcoat was an exquisite creation of wildflowers done in threads of gold and silver. The sight was mesmerizing.
Her mouth had momentarily fell open when he swept into the room earlier. Fortunately she managed to snap it closed quickly, hopefully before he noticed.
“More champagne?”
Startled, Meredith abandoned her thoughts and extended her empty goblet toward her husband. She tilted her chin so she could gaze fully upon his handsome face, then muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”
The marquess returned her perusal. His expression was set and locked, almost grim. She could feel his eyes searching her face and had no idea what he saw. Her feelings were such a mass of contradictions that she knew no one emotion could be clearly displayed.
Then he lifted his glass fractionally, smiled and wet his lips. The small edge of fear that she might have made a monumental mistake by marrying him vanished. Meredith imitated the marquess’s gesture, emptying her glass in the process.
No matter what occurred, she would do all that was within her power to make the best of it.
The first test of her union came less than an hour after she had spoken her vows, when Jason innocently inquired where the newly married couple would reside.
“I no longer keep a house in London,” the marquess answered slowly. “However, I do own three estates, two of which are of considerable size. The nearest is in Devon. Would you like to take up residence there?”
“Today?”
“We could leave within the hour.” The marquess stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though I rarely visit Hawthorne Manor, I employ a full staff that prides itself on always being ready to receive me with no advance warning.”
“How long would we stay?” Meredith inquired.
Marquess shrugged. “Indefinitely. However if Hawthorne Manor is not to your liking, you may travel to Chester House. Or Billingsworth Castle.”
“Are these properties close to each other?”
“Not exactly. Billingsworth Castle is very picturesque, if you enjoy the country.” A puzzled expression appeared on the marquess’s face. “Do you enjoy the countryside? It occurs to me you might prefer to stay in town, at least for a few more weeks. The Season has yet to reach its full height.”
“The activities of the Season do not hold great appeal for me,” Meredith answered truthfully, wondering if it would be a wise or foolish thing to leave London. “However, I would not like to give the impression we are running away from anything by suddenly going off to the country to rusticate.”
The marquess’s eyebrows drew together. “You are now my wife, under my protection, and, as the Marchioness of Dardington, are therefore above the petty gossip that so amuses the ton.”
With effort, Meredith bit back her cynical retort. She suspected just the opposite was true, and she would in truth be the object of much gossip and speculation. Yet she had no wish to start an argument with her husband, especially in front of her brothers. “I see no pressing need for us to remain in town. I can be ready to leave for Hawthorne Manor whenever you wish.”
“Fine. I shall be pleased to escort you there and leave instructions with my staff that you are to be brought to the other properties if you so desire.”
“Will you not accompany me if I travel to the other estates, my lord?”
The marquess gave her a questioning look, but said nothing. Meredith faltered. His silence clearly meant something significant, yet she refused to believe the obvious.
The air in the room suddenly felt icy. “You plan on returning to London without me?” she finally asked.
“Of course.”
“When?”
“I am not sure.” He continued, ignoring her sharp intake of breath. “Most likely in a week. Two at the most.”
“And I am to be left behind in the country? At Hawthorne Manor?” There was an uncomfortable churning in her stomach and a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Don’t look so stricken, my lady. I assure that it is a fine estate,” Trevor said in a level tone. “And I have already given you my permission to move to the other estates if you feel the need.”
“What if I wish to return to London?”
Trevor frowned. “You just said there was no pressing need to remain in town.”
“What if I wish to remain with my husband?” she asked curtly. “What if I object to being left in the country while you spend your days and nights in town? Without me.”
“You just said the social activities of the Season are of little interest to you.”
“And so they are, but I must confess your activities are of interest to me.”
He was clearly taken aback by her blunt response. “It makes little sense to journey to the countryside if neither of us has any intention of staying for any length of time. We might as well remain in town.”
“Fine.” The strain of keeping her tone even and steady was difficult. “Since you have no appropriate lodgings, I shall have rooms prepared for us here. I am certain we can make you comfortable.”
Meredith turned her head swiftly and glanced over at the twins. Their eyes were filled with sympathy. She smothered a sense of anger and irritation. More than anything, Meredith hated to be pitied.
“I will not impose upon the hospitality of my newly acquired in-laws as though I were some indigent fortune hunter,” the marquess snapped. “Especially when your parents are not available to grant their permission.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, we are all family now,” Meredith cried out.
“If you require permission, my lord husband, then I will grant it to you.”
The moment the words fell from her tongue Meredith wished she could call them back. The thunderous expression on the marquess’s face let her know this was not a solution he found acceptable.
“We need stay only until your man of affairs can locate a property in town for us to rent,” she added hastily.
Chilled by the mask-like expression of determination on the marquess’s face, Meredith wisely made no more additional suggestions.
“Instruct your maid to pack your clothing.”
To Meredith’s ears the words sounded all the more forceful because they were spoken with such quiet, stubborn authority.
She made a slight curtsy before quitting the room. Yet Meredith made a point of returning quickly, dressed in her newest walking cloak and matching bonnet. “I told Rose to pack a smaller case with any garments that are needed for a few days. The rest of my clothing and personal items can be sent for later.”
The marquess looked startled when she made her announcement. Meredith nearly smiled. Had he expected her to refuse? To delay until the hour became impossibly late? Or to defy him and lock herself in her room?
Suddenly it was time to go. There were hugs and kisses of farewell for her brothers. Meredith clung to them tightly, surprised at the depth of emotion she was experiencing. She never thought it would be this hard to leave them.
“We wish you joy,” Jasper said softly in her ear. “But if you ever have a need for us, for any reason, send word. You are our sister, and we shall always love you.”
“I know.”
She gave Jasper’s broad shoulders a final squeeze, then turned away. The marquess was looking at her expectantly.
“I am ready, my lord.” Meredith straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“Then come, my lady. The hour grows late and we have a very great surprise to bestow upon my noble father.”
Nine
Any regrets the marquess had felt over his impulsive, hastily orchestrated marriage to Meredith increased tenfold as their carriage pulled up to his father’s front door.
“Is the duke expecting us?” Meredith inquired curiously as an army of footmen and underfootmen, dressed in formal livery, scurried to assist them from the coach.
“I do not believe so,” Trevor replied. “There was no opportunity to inform him of our arrival. Or marriage.”
The last statement was uttered in a dull whisper as they crossed the threshold of the mansion. Trevor heard his bride catch her breath. Then she turned to him, her eyes wide with astonishment.
He held her gaze with a steady, lazy look, almost daring her to create a scene in front of the many curious servants. She studied him hard, then had the audacity to appear amused.
“Coward,” she muttered.
The marquess found himself swallowing a smile as he trailed obediently behind his wife. They were led directly to his father in the green salon, so named because of the many shades of that color dominating every scrap of fabric, inch of carpet, and length of drapery in the room. As a child Trevor had found the effect caused his head to swim, just like the light-headed feeling he achieved when holding his breath for a long period of time.
He bowed in polite greeting to the duke and admitted reaching adulthood had not altered his reaction to the sea of green dancing before his eyes.
“You’re early,” the duke said impatiently. “Though I suppose it is better than being fashionably late. Or not coming at all.” The duke moved forward, then stopped suddenly. The look of surprise on his father’s features told Trevor the duke had only just noticed his son had not arrived alone. “I was not informed you were bringing a guest to my dinner party.”
The blasted dinner party! How could he have forgotten that stellar event was being held this evening? Trevor nearly kicked himself at this unlucky turn. The timing for announcing his sudden marriage could not have been worse, for this was the very night his father expected to introduce the marquess to the woman the duke deemed to be a suitable bride for his son.
Trevor never had much use for panic, but it was the dominant emotion that now embraced him. Until he resolutely pushed it aside.
“We have not come to attend your dinner party, sir,” Trevor said.
“Why not?” the duke bellowed in an exasperated tone. “I told you of its importance three days ago.”
The marquess shrugged, conveying clearly that the duke’s dictates meant little to him.
“Beg pardon, Your Grace,” the butler interrupted the escalating tension with a respectful bow. “Mrs. Pritcher would like to know to which chambers you wish the luggage be brought.”
“Luggage?” The duke’s brow lifted and a slow smile spread across his face. “You brought luggage with you? Are you planning on moving back home?” Darting a joyful glance at his son, the duke continued, “I feared you might never come to your senses and return where you belonged. Now, don’t go all pucker-faced on me, Trevor. ’Tis splendid news, my boy. Splendid.”
Trevor tried to hide the edge of panic that once again crept forward. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. “We shall decide about the luggage later,” the marquess said, waving the butler to the door.
The moment the servant left the room, Trevor stepped over and grasped his wife’s hand. Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, her fingers felt cold. “We have come to share some rather important news. Lady Meredith and I were married a few hours ago.”
“What?” The duke’s eyes were round and horrified. “You have gone and married this woman after I expressly told you to leave her alone? Are you incapable of heeding my advice on any matter? Or are you determined to drive me to my grave, a broken and unhappy man?”
“I am no longer a boy, sir, but a man of thirty years. Your approval is neither sought nor necessary for any of my actions. I thought only to give you the courtesy of hearing the news from my lips instead of reading of it in the Times. Perhaps I was mistaken in my judgment.”
“Well, perhaps not only your judgment has been hasty in this matter.” The duke’s eyes dropped pointedly at Meredith’s stomach. “What is the real reason you married so swiftly? And in secret?”
Trevor felt a sudden clenching in his gut. For an instant he worried that Meredith might flounder before the duke’s obvious disapproval, but the sparkle in her eyes revealed only her pride and determination.
“It might be wise of you both to remember that I am neither deaf nor dumb and standing but a few feet away, hearing every disagreeable word spoken about me,” she declared in a steady voice. “Fortunately, I am a practical woman who did not expect a welcoming embrace from my new family.
“However, I would appreciate it if you would at least do me the courtesy of ceasing to discuss me as though I were across the ocean and unable to take offense at your numerous unkind remarks and unfounded accusations.”
“My comments are hardly unfounded,” the duke retorted. “You spent time in the garden alone together during Lady Dermond’s ball, returning unkempt and disheveled.”
“Gossip and innuendo, Your Grace. We were not seen by anyone in the garden.”
The duke compressed his lips. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” Meredith replied, as she boldly met his gaze. “Though you may not be pleased that I am now your daughter-in-law, at the very least you owe me and your son your support against those who would slander our good name. Your good name.”
Meredith’s rebuke was so surprising it shocked the duke into silence. Trevor watched in amazement as his father sputtered, then turned a deep shade of red. The marquess realized, with some amusement, it was the first time in his life he had ever seen his father blush.
The marquess gazed at his wife, and a sense of pride washed over him. If nothing else, his father must allow that he had excellent taste in women. She was poised, beautiful and in total control, a rare combination of elegance and feminine perfection.
“This is a
family matter, miss. Nothing to concern your pretty head over.”
“I thank you, Your Grace, for the compliment about my pretty head.” Meredith, it appeared, was making no allowances for temper. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and stood at a challenging angle. “If you would please listen for a moment the marquees will explain everything.”
“Oh, will he now?” the duke asked, in a voice laced with sarcasm.
“Actually there is nothing to explain.” Trevor felt his own temper begin to rise. He would not stand here and be treated like a wayward child, nor would he subject his wife to such unpleasantness. “I asked Lady Meredith to marry me immediately, she agreed, and we decided today would be the perfect day. I am sorry if that offends you, sir, but it cannot, and will not, be changed.”
The duke’s body went stiff. The marquess swallowed the bitterness that rose to his mouth, then whirled around to leave. A part of him had hoped his father would accept this marriage, but that appeared vastly unlikely. Better to go while he still retained a modicum of dignity.
“May we stay for dinner, Your Grace?”
The soft tones of Meredith’s sweet voice rang through the room. Trevor opened his mouth to recant the request, but felt her fingers give his arm a strong squeeze. He watched the duke’s jaw work rebelliously and braced himself for the inevitable set down.
“My butler said you brought luggage with you. Seems to me you were intending to stay for more than just a meal.”
Meredith’s nostrils curled. “It would be rude to make assumptions or foist ourselves where we are not wanted. That is why I asked about the dinner party.”
“This is your home,” the duke said gruffly. “ ’Tis insulting to imply that a formal invitation must be extended.”
“My lord?” She turned to the marquess in a display of wifely deference that seemed genuine, though greatly out of character. Trevor found it oddly intoxicating.
He pushed his fingers through his hair, puzzled. Given the reaction to the announcement of their marriage, he would expect Meredith to bolt for the door the moment the opportunity presented itself. Yet for some reason she seemed determined to stay. “We would be honored to join you and your guests for dinner,” the marquess replied.
To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) Page 13
