The kitchen was old-fashioned, but spotless, and Mrs. Perry lost no time in inviting Roxanne to sit down while she bustled about making tea and trotting into the pantry for biscuits. Roxanne felt awkward about explaining her future role in the house. Surely the servants would find the whole situation bizarre. They did not, or even if they did, they pretended that everything was normal. When Roxanne ventured a halting explanation and mentioned the words “long-standing betrothal,” the two women dropped a polite curtsey, gave each other satisfied nods, and beamed at the new mistress-to-be. Roxanne was incredulous. Even to her ears it sounded like a transparent story. The two women behaved as if Roxanne had never arrived at the house in a dreadful state after being rescued on the side of the road by their master, who at that exact moment was a perfect stranger to Roxanne. The fact that she was clad in another woman’s attire also seemed to have escaped anyone’s notice. Clearly this pretence of normality was their way of protecting their master’s interests.
“I am sure you will find it difficult to have a new mistress in the house,” Roxanne ventured, in an effort to shake their equanimity.
“Not at all, Miss!” exclaimed Mrs. Dawson, while her relative murmured that it was the best news they had ever heard and Penrose had been too long without someone at the helm of household affairs.
“I hope you’ll be suggesting some new ideas for menus, Miss,” said Mrs. Perry with a hopeful expression. “I am ever so tired of doing the same thing over and over, but the Master…well…he has no idea of what he wants to eat.”
Roxanne replied that she was used to cooking for her father and had a few suggestions which could prove helpful. Beaming, Mrs. Dawson nudged her sister and grinned, folding her hands comfortably under her apron.
Roxanne could only assume that Mrs. Dawson’s belief in her employer’s infallibility stemmed from her having worked for the family since she was a young girl. She later discovered that this blind faith extended to the entire household. The neighbourhood held the earl in high regard as a man of integrity and compassion. In his home his every wish was their command and his actions, no matter how odd, were above criticism. If Julian Trevallon wished for Roxanne to be his bride, his desire met with his servants’ approval. Roxanne was bewildered by this single-minded devotion, but could only surmise that it was Julian’s good nature that inspired such loyalty.
The sound of Rufus’ frantic barking brought them all to their feet.
“The Master’s home!” exclaimed Mrs. Dawson.
Roxanne felt a jolt in her chest and then a strange thrill of excitement rippled through her body. Trying to appear composed, she went into the hallway just as Gregson opened the front door, grinning from ear to ear, and with Rufus leaping in excitement around him.
Julian had returned in high spirits and brought Mr. Musgrove with him. Roxanne felt a twinge of panic as the trio sat down in the library. Mr. Musgrove, as starchy as Julian had promised he would be, peered at Roxanne through his spectacles. His expression was dry and almost disapproving, but there was a faint twinkle of appreciation in his eyes as he gazed upon the proposed new Countess of Pennington.
“Miss Chesney.” Julian smiled at Roxanne. “Forgive me for revealing our plans to Mr. Musgrove, but, considering our agreement, we must be completely frank with him.”
Mr. Musgrove cleared his throat.
“I think you will find,” he said in a quiet voice, “that the agreement I have drawn up is simple and short. It is not a complicated matter. The arrangement between Roxanne Chesney and Julian Trevallon is that they enter into a contract for exactly six months. At the end of that period, Miss Chesney is to be paid the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds.”
Julian nodded in agreement. But Mr. Musgrove had evidently given the matter further thought.
“However, my lord, what happens at the end of the six months if one or both parties change their minds?”
Julian looked startled. “What do you mean? I certainly won’t change my mind. The money is to be paid to Miss Chesney.”
The solicitor gazed at him. A small, almost unwilling smile tugged at his mouth.
“My lord, have you considered whether you and Miss Chesney might wish to…er…continue with the marriage?”
Julian and Roxanne looked at each other. Neither spoke. Roxanne glanced at Mr. Musgrove who twitched his mouth and looked down at his papers.
Roxanne felt a hollow in her stomach. Within such a short space of time she had come to enjoy Julian’s company. But she could not even imagine further than the laughing, easy camaraderie he displayed towards her. Marriage! That meant physicality, the consummation of the union, warm passion, their bodies clasped together in an intimate embrace. She pushed the thoughts away.
Julian looked at Mr. Musgrove and said bluntly, “We will not change our minds.”
Mr. Musgrove shuffled the papers. “So there is no need for any clauses in the event of—”
“None!”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Roxanne gave a tight smile although her heart turned over. In careless moments, she had thought of being with Julian every day, of laughing with him at Rufus’ begging tricks, of walking outdoors arm in arm, of spending time together. But his answer told her that he had no thoughts beyond receiving his inheritance and restoring Penrose. Well, that made things easier. She now knew exactly where she stood. He looked upon her as a sister. Anyway, she thought crossly, there was no reason why he should think of her in any other manner. After all, up until a few days ago, she had been a perfect stranger. How foolish of her to indulge in these ridiculous, romantic notions. He owed her nothing. Why on earth should he fall in love with her? Besides, had she not decided that any union with a man would be a disaster?
Roxanne pretended to rearrange her shawl around her shoulders while she mastered her conflicting emotions. “If we are in agreement upon that score, then perhaps we should sign the papers, Mr. Musgrove?”
He nodded and laid the pages on the desk. Roxanne signed her name where he indicated; Julian did the same. They each signed a copy for the other party, with another copy for Mr. Musgrove.
After the solicitor had taken his leave, Julian went to a bureau and opened a drawer.
“I have purchased a wedding band for the ceremony tonight. However, I feel I should present you with this beforehand.”
He gave her a small box. Roxanne opened it and saw a beautiful antique ring, consisting of diamonds and sapphires set in a wide band. In the centre a massive sapphire reposed. Roxanne gasped. It was obviously an heirloom.
“I cannot accept this, Mr. Trevallon,” she said, closing the box and handing it back to him.
Julian opened the box and took out the ring. “Miss Chesney…no…it has to be Roxanne and you must call me Julian, otherwise people will think it strange for us to be so formal. After all”—his gaze held a sly twinkle—“we have known each other for ever so long and have a long-standing, albeit secret betrothal.”
Roxanne blushed and laughed as he slid the ring onto her finger.
“I am afraid since this is an heirloom it is only on loan, but you must wear it. It would be considered odd if we did not do everything properly, no matter how improper the reasons behind our actions. All the Trevallon brides have worn this ring.”
Roxanne flushed a fiery red. How could she have been so stupid to imagine he would give her something so valuable? She wished the floor would open and swallow her up. But Julian seemed not to notice her embarrassment. He was talking eagerly of the ceremony later that evening.
“I hope you’ll be able to find something pretty from Sophia’s clothes.” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Are you listening to me, Roxanne?”
Roxanne gave a guilty start. She was doing everything wrong. How could she expect to hold up her end of the bargain if she was behaving like a histrionic girl just out the schoolroom? She took a deep breath and nodded.
“I am attending, Mr. Trev—I mean, Julian.”
He look
ed questioningly at her and then said, “Splendid. Now, fix yourself up with something to wear and I have arranged for a bouquet so you’ll feel just a bit bridal. I’ll be sending the carriage for Mr. Lobb the parson. Don’t be nervous. He’ll be more nervous than you. He’s a very flustered sort of person. Just the idea of a marriage at midnight has put him into such a pelter. I got the feeling he was unsure if he should be excited or shocked.”
The change in Julian was palpable. Roxanne thought he looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His eyes sparkled with excitement and he was filled with energy and ebullience. Such gaiety was infectious and Roxanne smiled in return.
“A nervous parson?” She laughed. “It’s the bride who reserves the right to be anxious. I shall demand my fair share of swooning or consider myself cheated out of my due rights.”
He chuckled, showing his even, white teeth and spontaneously hugged her. “Oh Roxanne, I can’t tell you what this means to me.”
Crushed against the hardness of his chest, breathing in the scent of his masculinity, feeling a desire to slip her arms around him, Roxanne longed to lay her head on his chest. Julian quickly dropped his arms and stepped back.
“I’ll leave you then until dinner,” he said.
Roxanne went up to her room to rest. Her nerves felt jangled and she was irritable, even a little tearful. She attributed this to anxiety and her uneasiness at what faced her. Mrs. Dawson was there already contemplating several dresses laid out on the bed. Her forehead was wrinkled in concentration. Becky stood silent and helpful behind her, ready to obey instructions.
The housekeeper looked up as Roxanne entered the room.
“I hope you don’t mind, Miss, but I thought perhaps you should settle upon a gown for this evening.”
Roxanne sat down on a nearby chair.
“I have no idea what to choose, Mrs. Dawson.” Her voice was tired. “Perhaps you should decide for me.”
Roxanne felt as if it was a futile exercise. Did it matter what she wore since the whole thing was a charade.
Mrs. Dawson was shocked. Muttering to Becky to fetch a cup of strong tea, she indicated one of the dresses on the bed.
“Now cheer up, Miss. Every bride goes through the same kind of doldrums.”
Roxanne looked at her. Not every bride, she wanted to retort, not every bride because there are none like me, about to enter a false marriage. Her eyes fell upon the dress Mrs. Dawson indicated. It was an evening gown of ivory coloured silk with a filmy over-dress and knots of ivory ribbons decorating the embroidered bodice. The sleeves were short and puffed. However, Mrs. Dawson brandished a pair of long, matching gloves under Roxanne’s nose with a triumphant smile.
“This’ll be perfect, Miss. Your colouring will go so nicely as well.”
Roxanne brightened. It was true the dress was beautiful. There was also a spangled gauze scarf to drape over her shoulders.
“Perhaps this will do, Mrs. Dawson,” she said slowly. “It looks like a ball gown.”
“I think so, too,” replied the housekeeper. “And it’s just right for your wedding!”
The dress decided upon, Roxanne finished her tea and lay down to rest. She slept for several hours, only waking when Mrs. Dawson knocked on the door to remind her of the time. She had brought hot water for Roxanne to bathe. Roxanne jumped up in haste; it was so late! Her stomach writhed with anticipation. She refused any dinner, but accepted a glass of wine. Mrs. Dawson was on hand to help her dress. Excitement was written all over the housekeeper’s face and Roxanne noticed she wore a dark blue silk dress and had dispensed with her apron.
“Why, Mrs. Dawson, you’re all dressed for the occasion.”
Mrs. Dawson shivered with barely suppressed excitement.
“Oh, this is an event we’ve been longing for, Miss. Now everything will be put right. Penrose will be as it always was.” She gazed at Roxanne’s reflection in the long mirror. “You look perfect, Miss.”
Roxanne looked at herself. Her hair was brushed until each curl gleamed like polished bronze. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, giving her a glow of radiance. Her eyes were the dark green of hidden pools. A beautiful bride. What a pity it is not for a real husband, she reflected. Then Roxanne frowned.
“Something’s missing.”
Mrs. Dawson whisked a flat packet into view.
“I have it,” she said, carefully unfolding the tissue paper. She held up a lace veil, as fine as cobwebs.
“It’s Brussels lace, Miss,” she confided.
“Where did you get it?”
“It was the Master’s mother’s veil, from her wedding.” Mrs. Dawson blinked back tears and said tremulously, “Can I put it on your hair, Miss?”
Roxanne was doubtful. “Do you think Mr. Trevallon will object?”
“I think he’ll be pleased,” was the housekeeper’s firm opinion.
The candlelight cast a soft glow in the room and imbued the bride with an ethereal radiance. Mr. Lobb had a faint sense that the proceedings were slightly irregular. He could not remember anyone performing a marriage ceremony at midnight before. It smacked of the exotic, something he had never been encouraged to consider. However, the appearance of Roxanne, a vision in ivory silk and lace rendered, the scene romantic rather than sinister. Mr. Lobb was even more agitated than ever since brides in the village were never as beautiful as the dream of loveliness that Roxanne presented. He gulped several times, and his large Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he found himself temporarily speechless. Roxanne shook hands with him, and he gasped and wheezed before managing a strangled “Good evening.” The worldly thought that the Earl of Pennington was to be envied in his choice of bride sneaked into the back of his mind, and he uttered a small sigh of rapture. Mrs. Dawson and Gregson attended in the capacity of witnesses. Rufus had been banished to the stables, but the howling that emitted from behind the doors was so awful that Julian had relented at last on the condition of good behaviour. The hound lay in front of the fire, his nose on his paws, behaving impeccably.
Roxanne felt an awful sense of rising hysteria. This was like a strange dream, a dream she had already experienced as a nightmare when she married Edgar. Panic welled up in her throat, almost choking her. Was she simply walking straight into another similar situation? Would Julian keep his promises to her? Then Julian took her hand in his firm grasp. The strength seemed to flow from him into her fingers. He squeezed her hand and when she looked at him, he raised one enquiring eyebrow.
“All right?” he whispered with a grin. “You look wonderful. A perfect bride.”
Roxanne felt her heart settle down as the sick feeling dissipated. She gave him a small smile in return. Of course, it was not going to be the same. Julian was not like Edgar at all. His sense of honour and pride in his family name meant so much to him. He was truly a gentleman. Julian had promised her she would be protected. All she had to do was get through the ceremony and she would be on the way to the safety of a new life with no financial worries.
Mr. Lobb cleared his throat and fumbled with his book. Roxanne hardly heard the words. She clung to Julian and repeated the words as if in a daze. Everything seemed to happen so quickly. She felt the ring slip over her knuckle, then the paper was signed, and suddenly it was all over. Mrs. Dawson had laid out a tasty supper in the dining room. She and Gregson slipped away and left the Earl and Countess of Pennington alone.
Roxanne and Julian stood gazing as each other. Roxanne suddenly noticed how handsome her groom looked. He was in full evening attire of black satin coat, white shirt and waistcoat and satin knee breeches.
“You look so elegant!” she exclaimed.
He bowed his thanks. “So do you.”
Roxanne caught the glimpse of deeper emotion in his eyes and turned away, fumbling for a chair in her sudden shyness. Her heart beat strangely.
“I feel quite giddy and breathless!” she exclaimed. “I should sit down.”
Julian gave a nervous laugh. “I feel
exactly the same way and I’m starving.”
Roxanne felt the pangs of hunger as well. She sat down at the dining table.
“We’re in for a treat. Look what Mrs. Perry has prepared for us.”
Julian poured wine into two glasses and took his seat opposite her. He raised his glass in a toast.
“What shall we drink to?”
Roxanne raised her glass. “To your birthday and your inheritance, I think.”
Julian look surprised. “Of course! It’s my birthday. I had quite forgotten in all this excitement.” He sipped his wine.
The bridal pair fell upon the meal with hearty appetites. Roxanne ate and drank and a warm glow of contentment settled on her. She began to think of the next six months as a kind of holiday, where she would be occupied, happy, and safe.
When they were finished, Julian rose from his seat and gave an exaggerated bow.
“Dear Countess,” he said with a flourish, “allow me to escort you to your boudoir. I am sure you must be exhausted.”
Roxanne giggled. The wine had gone to her head, but a tiny voice of common sense told her that it would be wiser to retire for the night.
Gregson had left a pair of candles burning on a table at the foot of the stairs. They tiptoed up the stairs, giggling like a pair of naughty schoolchildren. Once Roxanne stumbled and Julian put his arm around her waist to support her. Strangely, she liked the feel of him against her body. Julian accompanied Roxanne to her bedroom door.
As they looked into each other’s eyes, Roxanne was unexpectedly assailed by a feeling of awkwardness. They had entered into an intimate arrangement, yet hardly knew each other.
Married at Midnight: An Authentic Regency Romance Page 7
