by Jane Lark
It went no further than that. The cigar was still alight and he had a glass of whiskey in his other hand. She made herself at home on his lap, though.
He had never thought he would find a woman who could make him want a wife. Yet he had. She fit him, and fit his life—regardless of the situation that had made him make this choice, and he was going to give her her happy ending. He stubbed out the cigar and drank the last of his whiskey. Then he wrapped his arm about her shoulders and slipped the other beneath her legs and stood up.
‘I am taking you to bed. Tomorrow is our wedding day and I will not allow you to be tired or have a headache from drinking too much.’
She laughed as she gripped his shoulders.
When she sought to begin a sexual exchange in the room, though, he stopped her. ‘Not tonight, I feel as though it would be bad luck. Tomorrow.’ But it was not only that, his parents had slept in the bed and Hillier and her, when she had been fourteen, was still in his mind.
Damn.
Chapter 9
Charlie woke, screaming. The sound erupted from her throat and jolted her awake.
Her throat…
She’d screamed in her dream and she must have screamed aloud.
She sat up.
Harry had woken and was sitting up too. He looked shaken, his muscles were taut, as though he’d braced himself for defence. Her screaming must have woken him and her nightmare had probably stirred one of his. They made a pair… ‘Sorry. I did not mean to wake you.’
He smiled at her, then lifted an eyebrow. ‘Did you have a dream?’
‘Yes.’ She had been at home and a child again, the child who had climbed up into the carriage with Mark. Why had she made that choice?
‘A bad dream?’ he clarified.
She nodded. Tears gathered in her eyes and blurred the room.
‘Do not worry.’ His arms came around her as the memories behind the conversation they’d had last night spun about her, drowning her in images and feelings from the past. She had relived them in her dream. They were memories she’d pushed aside. She did not want to recall them. She did not want them in her head.
His hand stroked over her hair. ‘It is because you let the memories out of their box last night and talked of it. The dreams will go away again; it is the same with war. I never speak.’ His voice had lifted with a lilt of humour. He’d said the last words to make her laugh.
She did laugh, although the sound broke, it was not laughter that she felt in her soul.
After she’d told him about Mark, he’d told her more about his rich, noble brother, uncles and cousins. His past was very different to hers. He had grown up in luxury and love. He’d had everything he could have wanted. She’d had nothing beyond her family and a simple happiness, even though there had been hunger at times—until she had been fourteen. She was a long way beneath his status in life. Yet he did not appear to care nor judge her at all. He’d said he still wanted to marry her.
His fingers touched beneath her chin and lifted her head so he looked into her eyes. The pale blue of his said he was speaking honestly to her. There was an openness in his eyes that had never been in Mark’s. ‘May we agree on one thing before we marry? You must feel free to talk to me about anything. If you have a bad dream or feel like crying you must not hold anything in. I know how it feels to hold those emotions in; you need not any more. If you wish to talk, ignore my guidance to hold it back, you may talk. You must talk.’
Strangely, because he gave her the permission to cry, the tears dried. Instead it made her not want to cry, but to hold it in. She had stopped weeping over such things for years until she’d met Harry and she wanted to be with him, so why was she crying? This was the best thing that had happened to her.
His fingers braced her chin as he looked even harder into her eyes, as though he sought something. But then his gaze changed and his eyes just looked at her face. ‘I promise to make you happy.’
‘And I promise to make you happy too,’ she answered.
‘Charlie, that is one thing I know you will do.’ He kissed her, pressing his lips against hers for a moment, but only that, then he pulled away. ‘Shall we dress and prepare for our wedding, then?’
She smiled. ‘Yes.’ Yes. She was going to be married today. He knew everything about her and he was going to marry her anyway. There was that sense of pride swelling in her chest. She was going to be so proud to be his wife. He had said he’d make her happy. She knew he would. Simply walking beside him and knowing she was his and he was hers, made her happy.
He helped her dress as he dressed too and she put on one of the gowns he’d bought for her yesterday, a pale-green muslin with a dark-green leaf print. He had said yesterday that the colour set off her eyes and her hair. She put on her new straw bonnet too, with a cream ribbon.
‘You look magnificent,’ he said as he strapped on his sword belt.
‘You do too, but then you always do.’
He smiled.
When they walked downstairs her arm was wrapped about his.
‘When we come back, before we go to John’s, we will eat and I will give you a tour of the house while they prepare our luncheon.’
She could not believe the size of the place and yet he’d said this had never been his home and she took heart in that. Without those words this would have terrified her. He’d paid no attention to their difference in status, yet if she had to live this life, she would feel embarrassed every hour of every day at her own lack. She did not fit in this grandiose place. She had fitted with Harry, though, in his small barrack room and her parlour, and in the inns.
As they reached the last flight of stairs descending from the first floor she looked down and saw the porter there. He was opening the door wide. ‘Good morning, Lord Framlington.’
Charlie’s gaze shot to look at Harry. She could not remember which member of his family Lord Framlington was. Her heart jumped into a sharp, fast rhythm as a man stepped through the door.
She thought of Harry’s father’s letter, the wording swiped at her with the force of the slap Mark had landed, which had knocked her off balance. Harry had said last night that his family would look after her if she did not marry him. She had not believed that. He might love them but she had seen the words his father had written about her.
Her fingers clasped his arm. ‘Will we be in trouble?’ she whispered.
He looked at her and laughed. ‘From Drew… No. He is my rogue of a brother-in-law, remember? I told you.’
His sister Mary’s husband. Yes, she recalled the name now. She would have to begin reciting the names of his family once a day so she remembered them all.
‘Hello!’ Harry shouted as they kept walking down the steps.
‘Uncle Baba! Good Lord! You are a surprise!’ The man looked at her, but said nothing, then looked back at Harry. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Getting married,’ Harry said, smiling as he continued walking down, while the man stood just inside the door, which the porter shut behind him.
The man frowned. ‘I take it you are joking.’ He walked across the room. There was a look of… it was more than surprise; it was shock in his eyes.
‘No. I am absolutely serious.’ They stepped from the bottom stair together and Harry lifted his elbow, as though to present her. ‘Meet my soon-to-be wife, Miss Charlotte Cotton.’
‘Well, good grief.’ The man was still frowning, but he lifted a hand and stepped forward, implying a wish to take her hand. ‘Miss Cotton. How have you captured him? What did you do?’
Harry laughed. ‘You will scare her off, Drew, and I would have thought you must have heard all about it by now.’
Charlie accepted the stranger’s hand. He bowed, then let her hand go.
He looked at Harry again. ‘All about what?’
‘I spoke to Phillip yesterday and asked him to help me arrange the marriage. I am sure he would have written to John.’
‘I was not staying at John’s, I came from home on b
usiness. I have heard nothing.’
Harry clasped her hand, as though to reassure her, as he carried on talking. ‘I think we will be disapproved of, but I do not care. I am posted to India in six weeks and so there must be some haste about the matter.’
The man’s eyebrows lifted once more. ‘Well, Mary and I know all about a hasty marriage and your family’s disapproval.’
‘Then you will be on our side and a voice with me against their judgement. Tell me that will be so, because I am counting on it.’
‘Of course,’ the man smiled.
‘Why are you here? Is your business in town urgent? Do you think you can spare us an hour to be a witness?’
‘I will put off my business indefinitely for the spectacle of seeing Mary’s little terror of a brother wed. Where are you getting married?’
Harry withdrew the piece of paper with the address on it from his pocket and handed it over.
His brother-in-law looked up and smiled again. ‘It is where I married Mary. You can use my carriage if you wish, it is outside, ready. I presume you hired that wreck of a bounder out there? You can let it go and travel to John’s with me.’
‘Thank you.’ Harry took back the paper. Then they were all walking across the hall, she one side of Harry and his brother-in-law the other.
Her heart thumped out a hard pace of nervous fear. She was to step into Harry’s life then, and she had been afraid of doing that when it was a silent, empty building. What would this place and his world be like when it was full of people?
She did not speak in the carriage, but sat and stared out of the window as Harry held her hand firmly and talked with Lord Framlington. They travelled into a less-affluent area of London.
She had never been to London before and so she had no idea where they were.
A small church stood on one side of the street, surrounded by a wall and tombstones. It seemed wedged into the space.
She saw the church in the village where she’d grown up, with its churchyard, which looked out across the fields.
Harry climbed out of the carriage, held out his hand and helped her down. ‘Do not be nervous,’ he said in a quiet voice so his brother-in-law would not hear.
When Lord Framlington climbed out, he looked about the street. ‘Lord. This brings back memories. Sadly they would probably not be good memories for Mary. Which is perhaps why we have never come back for a sentimental view of the place.’
‘Good morning.’ The man from the office yesterday approached them, walking out from the churchyard. Phillip – that had been what Harry had called him. Another man and a woman with auburn hair walked beside Phillip.
Harry looked across at them. ‘Phillip. Rupert. Meredith.’
Charlie had not expected all these people. She only wanted Harry here.
‘I invited Lord and Lady Morton as they were in town. I thought there should be more witnesses, but I’m sorry…’ The man called Phillip smiled at Lord Framlington, then at Harry. ‘I see you have already made arrangements.’
Harry smiled too. ‘No. Drew’s arrival was coincidence.’ Harry glanced over his shoulder at Charlie. ‘Charlie, this is my father’s cousin Rupert Stanforth and his wife Meredith. Rupert is the Earl of Morton.’
The Earl… and so it began. She was standing with a Lord and an Earl and they had not even been wed, but Harry did not appear to think it odd for her to be beside him. He still held her hand.
The Earl bowed stiffly. Charlie curtsied as deeply as she was able, though it was unpractised and wobbly. The woman bobbed a slight curtsey back at her.
This was all so bizarre—her life was contorting in a hall of bowed mirrors. She was meeting an earl and Harry had spoken of dukes last night. She was not sure she could do this. Yet none of them would be in India. In India it would be only her and Harry in somewhere like one of the rooms in the inns.
‘The bride and groom?’ They all looked towards the church.
The vicar was walking towards them, wearing a long, black gown.
‘That is us.’ Harry lifted their joined hands.
‘Come along then, come in.’ The vicar beckoned. ‘Have you the licence?’
Harry let go of Charlie’s hand and delved into his coat pocket. She felt as though she was standing on the beach in Brighton while the waves roared, washing the pebbles around and the seagulls cried out above her. In the houses behind her on the seashore, normal life continued; families together while she stood alone.
Harry looked back. She tried to tell him with her eyes—she could not do this. She wanted to run. She would not fit among his family when these people discovered the truth…
He looked about the others. ‘Go in. We will be there in a moment.’
When they were only feet away she clasped Harry’s hand. ‘I do not know them, I—’
‘They are my family and we need witnesses.’
‘They will judge me, they—’
‘They will not.’ He shook his head and held her hand with both of his. ‘Drew is the one that calls me a black sheep and he was the worst of rogues himself, yet my sister saw into his heart and fell in love with him. He will think nothing bad of you. And Rupert has a stiff upper lip but he married Meredith over some scandal, so he is in no place to condemn us either. Do not worry about what they think. I would not have invited them. Perhaps they are the misfits of my family, but even so they are a part of my family.’
Her teeth pressed gently into her lower lip as she fought the fear that sought to overwhelm her.
He pulled her hand. ‘Come along, they are waiting for us and I want to marry you.’
The beat of her heart thudded through her body as she conceded and let him draw her towards the church. If she had ever dreamed about being married she would never have imagined this. But with Harry… She just wanted to be with Harry.
I love you. The words whispered through her head again as he pulled her on into the shadowy porch of the church. She had not walked into a church since she’d been fourteen.
The vicar now wore a white robe over his black dress and the others stood in a group at the bottom of the aisle.
Harry stopped, and turned to her. ‘Let me have your ring back?’
Oh. ‘Yes.’ She took off her gloves.
‘I’ll take them.’ He took her gloves, then took off his hat and set it down on a pew. Her gloves were left in his hat as she took off the ring and handed that to him.
He smiled, then raised his elbow, implying she should hold his arm. Her fingers clasped the scarlet woollen cloth. Then they walked through the small group of people he had called misfits and on up the aisle.
Perhaps these people were the best congregation for their wedding—she was a misfit too—and Harry had said he was a misfit in his family? It is the same with war. I never speak. Harry seemed to understand her. No one else had ever understood her choices.
Harry slid the ring back on to her finger, then held her hands and looked into her eyes through the rest of the service. Not once did he look at either the vicar or his family and he spoke only to her. This marriage was for them. In weeks it would just be the two of them in India. He knew that too. It was only about them, no matter who watched.
India… She was going to India.
Her fingers clung to his. He was a solid, good man. She felt safe when he was with her.
‘Charlie…’ He prompted in a whisper.
She glanced at the vicar, she was meant to have replied. What was she supposed to have said? ‘I do…’ he whispered at her.
Oh. She looked at Harry. ‘I do.’
He squeezed her fingers. ‘I do,’ she said again quietly to him.
‘I know,’ he whispered back, with humour in his eyes.
This was their moment.
‘I now pronounce you man and wife!’ The vicar called out about the echoing church.
Harry leant forward and she looked up so he could reach beneath the brim of her bonnet and kiss her. He still held both her hands.
�
�I did not expect to say this today or perhaps ever; congratulations on your marriage, Harry.’
Harry let go of one of her hands and turned to face his brother-in-law. ‘The unexpected can sometimes floor us with a single blow.’
The man laughed. ‘So now, is there a wedding breakfast?’ He spoke more quietly, ‘and if so, are we inviting Rupert?’
Harry smiled and whispered back. ‘Why not, because you think him dull?’
‘He is dull.’
‘Yet, it is my wedding and I am inclined to include him. Be nice to him, Drew.’
Drew. She captured the name and tried to hold it in her mind.
‘Rupert. Meredith. Phillip,’ Harry stated, looking past Drew. ‘We are going back to John’s for luncheon, would you care to join us?’
‘I have work to do,’ Phillip replied.
‘Thank you, but we are expected at home,’ Rupert refused too.
Were they rejecting her?
‘Well, I will celebrate with you,’ Drew stated. Harry let go of her hand and turned to face Drew.
The woman who had not yet spoken came forward and touched Charlie’s arm. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It is a strange feeling, isn’t it? When things are so hurried.’ The woman smiled in a way that implied empathy and almost a conspiratorial nature.
‘Yes.’
‘It is quite hard to believe it at first. My marriage to Rupert was a very long time ago, but we are happy even now. You must not fret too much as things settle. They will settle.’
Harry had said they’d married after a scandal. Charlie could not imagine the scandal being anything very great. Her husband had a posture that implied he thought himself better than the rest of them.
The woman turned away, but her words had left Charlie more unsettled. If this man was an earl and acted so proudly, Charlie could not imagine how the dukes in Harry’s family might react to her.
Harry looked back at the vicar. ‘Thank you.’ He took some money out from his pocket and gave it to the minister.
