Wedding the Widow

by Jenna Jaxon

  Sure enough, lips pursed, Mama finally nodded. “Very well, Elizabeth. We will meet Lord Brack, but for God’s sake, allow us to do it at home out of the cold. Wentworth, assist me into the carriage before my feathers freeze.”

  As Papa helped her in, Elizabeth turned to Jemmy, whose eyes twinkled a bright blue. “Do you think you can manage one more turn on a horse today? It is not far, as you know.”

  Jemmy grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “I would ride to hell and back just to see you perform in such high dudgeon. It quite becomes you, my love.” He released her hand and bowed to her father. “I will see you shortly, my lord.” With a flash of his grin, he hurried toward a tired-looking black stallion, tied to one of the church’s posts.

  “Elizabeth.” Her father called her back to the waiting carriage, and with a sigh, she gave him her hand and stepped up into it. This short ride would be accomplished in deathly silence or with Mama’s noisy recriminations. Either way, it didn’t matter, as long as Jemmy was there at the end of it.

  Chapter 27

  The quick ride home was silent, thank goodness, though Mama’s glare could have melted the Sphinx. Papa had opened his mouth once, but she had fixed him with her fiery eye, and he subsided into a fit of coughing.

  They had scarcely pulled up in front of Worth House before the door opened, and there was Jemmy, reaching in to hand her down. He still looked windblown and rough, but he’d managed to remove most of the clumps of mud from his jacket.

  Brimming with joy, as though she was really returning from church duly wed, Elizabeth took his arm and led him into the house.

  Tawes’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline when he opened the door, but he speedily recovered. “Mrs. Easton”—a subtle pause—“my lord.”

  She smothered a giggle as she relinquished her spencer to the butler. Jemmy had presented himself as Lord Robert’s brother. No wonder poor Tawes would be flustered, wondering why she would leave to marry one brother and return on the arm of another.

  “Come into the family room. There’s a small wedding breakfast laid there that we may as well eat.” Elizabeth took his arm and led him up the stairs, her steps so much lighter than when she’d come down them an hour before.

  “So we shall anticipate the wedding yet again?” Jemmy whispered, his grin widening.

  Smothering a laugh, Elizabeth ducked her head, her cheeks heating, remembering the last time they had done so. “We’ve done more scandalous things than almost any couple I know.”

  His face sobered instantly.

  “What’s wrong?” Fear clutched her heart. He was precious to her, now more than ever. She couldn’t bear to contemplate anything else going amiss.

  “Nothing, my love. At least, nothing that won’t keep until we speak with your parents.”

  A niggle of unease continued to nag her, but his strong, warm presence beside her dispelled any lingering worry. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

  They entered the family drawing room, the sideboard laid with savories and a cake, decorated with pink and white icing.

  Bella and Dotty, sipping tea with their heads together, looked up at their entrance.

  “Elizabeth! How was—” Bella stopped, her cup midway to its saucer.

  “Who is that?” Dotty whispered loudly to her sister, her own cup also suspended in the air.

  “I don’t know.” Bella set her teacup down carefully and rose. “Elizabeth, what’s going on?”

  Dotty’s cup rattled into its saucer as she followed Bella toward them.

  “Isabella, Dorothea, may I make known to you Lord Brack? These are my sisters, my lord. Miss Worth and Miss Dorothea Worth.” Elizabeth’s heart beat strangely. She did so hope some of her family approved of Jemmy.

  “This is Lord Brack?” Bella’s eyes lit up. “How do you do, my lord? Elizabeth has spoken of you to us quite often this past fall.” Her pleased smile faltered. “But, Elizabeth, I do not understand.” She peered behind Jemmy at the door. “You left this morning to marry . . .” Blushing, Bella clutched her throat and looked away.

  “Weren’t you supposed to marry Lord Robert?” Dotty’s shrill voice broke in. “Whatever has happened, Elizabeth?”

  “She’s taken leave of her senses, girls.” Mama strode into the room, imperious as always. “Bella, ring for more tea. I am in dire need of something hot. Dotty, fetch me two of the lobster patties.”

  “Aren’t they for the wedding breakfast, Mama?” Confusion mounting, Dotty looked from her mother, to Elizabeth, to Jemmy. “Was there no wedding?”

  “There was not.” Mama glared at Elizabeth before settling into her accustomed gold jacquard wing-backed chair. “This is now a festive luncheon, although I see no cause to celebrate.”

  Shooting her sister a look of utter bewilderment, Dotty threw up her hands and headed to the loaded sideboard.

  “Circumstances may not be as dire as you fear, my dear.” Her father entered the room and made straight for the decanter on the desk. “At least Lord Brack has put in an appearance, eleventh hour though it was. I suggest we reserve our judgment until we hear the whole story.”

  “But, dear Lord Robert—” Producing a lace handkerchief that matched her blue sprigged gown, Mama dabbed her eyes, even though no tears seemed evident.

  “Do not distress yourself over Robert.” Pouring until his tumbler was half full of his favorite cognac, Papa paused to sip his drink. “He is quite content to return to Shropshire unencumbered by a wife and two children.” Her father shook his head, looking sheepish. “I should never have brought him into this affair in the first place. But I wanted Elizabeth settled quickly, and when he suddenly appeared at the club, I took the chance.”

  “Still, he seemed so much more suitable than . . .” Mama shot an unrepentant glance of dismay at Jemmy.

  “My dear, let us meet the gentleman before you disparage him. Elizabeth,” Papa ambled over to stand beside Mama’s chair. “Won’t you introduce us to your friend?”

  Gratitude toward her father flooded Elizabeth’s heart as she brought Jemmy forward to stand before Mama’s chair. Introducing him to the queen would be easier. “Mama, Papa, may I present Lord Brack? Lord Brack, my parents, Lord and Lady Wentworth.”

  “My lord, my lady.” Making a crisp bow, Jemmy smiled broadly, bringing out a dimple in his left cheek Elizabeth somehow hadn’t noticed before. “I am so pleased to meet you at last.”

  Mama had the grace to blush at that.

  “Get you a drink, Brack?” Papa raised his glass.

  “I’d be obliged, my lord. It’s been a long night.” Jemmy followed her father over to the sideboard.

  “So, Mama.” Elizabeth sat on the sofa beside Mama’s chair, eager for this conversation. “What do you say now?”

  Pursed lips wavered as her mother struggled with some strong emotion. At last, a tear rolled down her cheek, and she dashed it away. “He is very, very like Louisa,” she whispered. “Not at all like Blackham.”

  Sighing in relief, Elizabeth took her mother’s hand. “He is a wonderful man, Mama. I love him. I am certain you will come to like him as well if you can just give him a chance.”

  Her mother nodded and squeezed her hand, her lips still trembling. She sent another glance at Jemmy, then wiped her eyes once more.

  The girls slid next to Elizabeth, all atwitter.

  “He’s very handsome, Elizabeth.” Dotty cast a glance over her shoulder at Papa and Jemmy. “Such nice curly hair. Just like Lord Byron’s. I must marry a man with curly hair. I adore it so.” She clasped her hands together over her bosom, her eyes bright.

  “We will see about that this spring, young lady.” Mama’s no-nonsense persona had apparently resurfaced. “You will do as you are told, and perhaps you will find a gentleman willing to marry you, curly hair or not.”

  “Don’t be a goose, Dotty. A man’s hair doesn’t matter a fig.” Bella lifted her chin, nose quite in the air. “I’m sure I don’t care at all
that Haxton’s hair is straight and black.”

  “What you do care about is that you are to be Countess of Haxton.” Dotty stuck her tongue out at her sister.

  “Girls, please.” Massaging her temple, Mama groaned softly. “My poor head. Bella, did you ring for tea? This day has been trying enough as it is without you and your sister fussing over nothing.”

  “And will likely become more trying, my dear.” Papa and Jemmy reappeared from their conversation by the decanter.

  “What on earth do you mean, Wentworth? Oh, thank goodness.” Mama relaxed back in her chair as the footman entered with a fresh pot of tea and cups. “Do pour for me, Elizabeth. And don’t stint on the sugar. I fear I will need fortification for your father’s next revelation.”

  “Not mine, my dear.” Grim lines etching his face, Papa sipped his drink. “I’ll let Brack tell you, as it is his tale.”

  “What is it, my lord?” Elizabeth dropped four lumps into her mother’s cup, contemplating dumping the whole lot in. Best not. She might find herself needing something to strengthen her as well by the time Jemmy had finished.

  “Before my father locked me in my room at the castle—”

  “He locked you in, my lord?” Dotty bounced up on the sofa, her eyes shining with excitement. “Do you mean like Emily St. Aubert in The Mysteries of Udolpho?

  “Dorothea, calm yourself.” Mama fixed her youngest child with a stern eye. “If you cannot learn to comport yourself in a more unexceptional manner, you may find your Season postponed for a year or more.”

  Lips poked out in a pout, Dotty sank back onto the sofa. “But he said he was locked in a castle, Mama. I should think that called for an exceptional manner. It sounds terribly thrilling.”

  “It may sound thrilling to you, Dorothea. And it may have been thrilling for Lord Brack, but you simply cannot shout about it as if you were still ten years old. Now, my lord”—Mama turned her attention back to Jemmy—“pray continue.”

  He smiled at Dotty and winked conspiratorially. “Well, escaping was rather thrilling, I must admit, but the confinement was most inconvenient. I had no means to tell your sister I was coming for her. But by the grace of God, my sister, and Lady Wrotham, I managed to arrive here in time. Thank goodness, you hit upon that clever method of sending your letters through Lady Wrotham, my dear. It quite saved the day, I tell you.”

  “It was my mother’s idea, my lord.” Elizabeth turned from her beloved to beam at Mama.

  Jemmy’s jovial face softened. “Then I am truly forever in your debt, my lady. I would never have known of Elizabeth’s plans were it not for her letters.”

  Pulling a Friday face, Mama grasped her tea but gave a nod of thanks before sipping it and sighing.

  “Now, Miss Dorothea,” Jemmy returned smoothly to Dotty, who sat across from Elizabeth, staring at him, quivering like a coiled spring, “I will tell you all about the daring escape; however, I must relay my unfortunate news first.” His smile fled as he seated himself next to Elizabeth.

  She grasped his hand, steadying herself with his touch. “Go on, my lord.”

  “Father has written a letter to Lady Locke, denouncing you as a scheming minx trying to foist a child off on me that is not mine.”

  “Dear Lord.” Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. This could ruin not only her, but her entire family. Lady Locke would relish such a tale, no doubt. Truth rarely mattered in her pursuit of the latest scandal. And to be the first to know such information would certainly be a feather in her cap.

  “This is outrageous, even for Blackham.” Mama had gone as white as the teacup clutched in her hand.

  “He said he’d waited a long time for his vengeance.” Jemmy turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “I assume you know to what he was referring.”

  “I do.” Mama’s lips pressed together, a red slash across her pale face. She rubbed her temple with short, rounded strokes, a sure sign of one of her headaches. It had been a day of stresses, to be sure.

  “I will elaborate on that situation later in private, Lord Brack.” Elizabeth wanted to spare Mama from reliving that painful experience yet again, especially in front of her younger daughters.

  Jemmy nodded, but his attention remained on her parents. “As soon as my escape was reported to him, we must assume he sent the letter to Lady Locke. The post had already come by that time yesterday, so either he put it in today’s post or he sent it by one of his footmen, with directions to put it directly into the lady’s hand. In any case, she will likely receive it today or tomorrow at the latest.”

  “How could he say something so . . . so horrible about you, Elizabeth?” Bella’s pinched face had paled as well. Her betrothal might well be thrown into jeopardy should this tale be spread about. “It is wicked, wicked to tell such lies. Does he not know you would never do something so shameful?”

  “Can’t you simply inform Lady Locke that Lord Blackham is lying, Elizabeth?” Dotty turned a trusting face from her sister to her mother. “Won’t people believe your word over that of Lord Blackham?”

  Shifting uneasily, Jemmy ran a hand through his already unruly hair.

  Elizabeth’s face heated until she had to fan herself with her hand. Oh, what a thing to have to admit to her innocent sister. “They might believe for a while, my dear.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. “However, when our child is born two months early, the ton will think back, and wonder, and whisper.”

  “How do you know your first child will be born early?” Dotty’s pink face was screwed into a frown.

  “Because . . .” Elizabeth gazed down at her lap, unable to meet Dotty’s puzzled expression.

  “Elizabeth!” Bella’s hushed voice sounded loud in her ears. “You aren’t . . .”

  “Yes, I am.” Still keeping her head down, she forced the admission out from between clenched teeth.

  A sharp gasp from Bella, and Elizabeth wanted to bury her face in her lap.

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Dotty’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and bewilderment.

  In the silence that followed her question, Elizabeth raised her head to find her sister scowling first at her, then at her mother. It was her fault. She must be the one to explain. “I am already carrying Lord Brack’s child, Dotty.”

  The shock in her sister’s face was almost comical. “Elizabeth! You can’t do that. You’re not married to him yet!”

  “Hold your tongue, Dorothea.” Mama snapped at her. “This is not a discussion for the ears of a girl betrothed, much less one not yet out. However, as it could well affect your prospects, I suppose you must hear it.” Marshaling a calmness she certainly must not feel, Mama stared into Dotty’s face. “A woman does not have to be married to have a baby. She is ruined if she does, so take note of that, miss, but the fact remains that it is not impossible to do so. Elizabeth and Lord Brack will marry soon, so we hope it will be of no consequence for us. However”—Mama pinned her youngest daughter with an evil glare—“you should not take their somewhat special circumstances as an example to follow.”

  “Oh, no, Mama.” Dotty scooted away from Elizabeth as though she might contract leprosy.

  “Lord Brack,” her mother turned her keen gaze toward Jemmy, “do you know the direction of your father’s letter to Lady Locke?”

  “No, I’m afraid not, my lady.”

  The smile that touched Mama’s mouth had an air of triumph to it. “Well, even so, I am thinking that perhaps we are not quite lost after all.” She sat back and took up one of the lobster patties.

  “How so, Mama?” Elizabeth grasped her teacup and added another lump of sugar. After this conversation, she needed some fortifications of her own.

  “Yesterday, when I was visiting Lady Gant, I learned that Lady Locke, who is her cousin, has left London and gone to her daughter’s home in Northumberland. So if Lord Blackham isn’t possessed of this particular piece of news, and likely he isn’t, he will have sent the letter to either the lady’s London addres
s or to her late husband’s estate in West Sussex. In either case”—her mother’s voice took on that triumphant sound reserved for her particularly satisfying coups—“it will languish for at least a month, unless she’s left instructions to have her mail sent to her. Should that be the case, we should still have a week or more, what with the holiday and the state of the post roads in this weather. As soon as you are married, we can put it about that your father was trying to discourage the match, Lord Brack. Then when Lady Locke’s letter comes to light, we will have already sown the seeds of doubt.”

  “Whatever the case, we should marry as soon as possible, to help dispel any rumors that might pop up.” Jemmy came forward again and sat beside Elizabeth. “The problem remains that I will not inherit the bulk of my mother’s money until I am thirty. That is only until next August, but it will be a hardship until then.”

  “So you propose to marry my daughter when you have no means whatsoever of supporting her?” Mama drew herself up from the depths of the wing-backed chair like a dragon emerging from its lair.

  He raised his chin and looked her parents squarely in their faces. “I intend to lay the problem before my mother’s father after Elizabeth and I marry. He may feel inclined to assist us for the few months it will take to get past this obstacle.”

  “And at this point, my dear”—Papa hastened to deflect her mother’s wrath—“I think they have very little choice.” He nodded to Jemmy, kindness in his eyes. “I believe we can accommodate you and Elizabeth here at Worth House, Brack, until August. This is not the time for Elizabeth to be any more distressed than she already has been.”

  “Thank you, my lord, for that generous offer, but I am in the process of working out a solution on my own.” Jemmy’s lips were set in a very firm line, but his ears had turned a disturbing shade of pink. Did that happen when he was under duress?

  “I understand your wanting to provide for you family yourself, young man,” Mama came back at him, determinedly, “but my daughter is in a delicate condition. She has two children who should not be uprooted higgledy-piggledy. I insist that you remain with us after the wedding and until the child is born. Then you may set up your housekeeping wherever you wish and move them all into it. Not a day before.” Her gimlet eye made even Jemmy squirm.