In the Arms of an Earl

by Anna Small

  “Believe what?”

  “That you love me. That this is not all a dream…some perfect, wonderful dream.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I feel our hearts and souls have joined. It sounds silly, I know.” She forgot the rest of what she wanted to say, because he’d captured her lips in a burning kiss.

  “I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, so I hope you are strong enough for what I have planned for us.”

  “I am only strong when I’m with you.”

  She touched his cheek. Always shy before, her shyness had somehow vanished, and she brushed her fingers over his lips, receiving a firm kiss in reply.

  “Then I will see to it you are always with me.”

  She drew him close for another kiss. After all, he had promised to kiss her until supper.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jane received their guests at her husband’s side. The wedding ceremony had been so brief she could hardly believe it had happened. Certain moments were indelibly marked in her mind. Frederick slipping the extravagant ring onto her finger. The rector’s droning voice when he pronounced them man and wife. She stumbled into Frederick’s arms when he’d unexpectedly embraced her, his lips warm and loving on hers.

  “Mrs. Blakeney,” he’d murmured. She clung to him, reluctant to part with him even to kiss her mother, whose loud sobs rang through the chapel eaves.

  “Lady Falconbury! Oh, Jane, child, come and kiss your mamma!” Jane spun like a top down the aisle from her family to their close friends, Lord Simpson and his wife, and lastly, to her sisters, who were either laughing or crying; she couldn’t tell which.

  Now, sitting at her parents’ table, she couldn’t eat the succulent lobster or fruit compote in front of her. Every passing second brought her closer to the inevitability of their departure. Frederick ate heartily, his face animated as he conversed with Mr. Copeland and her father. She was relieved Mr. Shelbourne had not been able to attend due to pressing business, as he’d always intimidated her. She had to remind herself she was no longer shy, bookworm Jane Brooke, but the Countess of Falconbury.

  “Eat up, my dears!” her mother sang. “The earl has ordered enough lobster for everyone to have three, if he or she chooses. Amelia, do not be bashful! There’s a lovely one here, Mr. Copeland,” she said to her son-in-law. “I know you don’t often dine on lobsters at Lyonsgate, but this is a special occasion, you know!”

  Mercifully, the conversations were loud enough to drown out her words, but Jane felt a pang. She would never again have to cringe when her mother spoke to their guests. She would miss her.

  Her father remained quiet during the meal until Lord Simpson urged him to give a speech. The others cried out in hearty agreement, and he stood, his glass of wine punch held aloft. The room hushed. Mrs. Brooke was silent at last, content to cool herself with a lacy fan, a gift from her newest son-in-law.

  “This day has been long in coming, though it seems like only this morning I was discussing John Donne with my six-year-old daughter, Jane.”

  She smiled at her father through a haze of tears. He looked directly at her, a hundred emotions crossing his face.

  “We have all watched you grow from an inquisitive, sensitive girl, into a compassionate, intelligent young woman. Though I know his lordship”—he nodded at Frederick—“will give you everything your heart could ever wish, it will never rival the greatest treasure I gave him today.” His voice cracked, and he hastily took a sip from his glass while everyone applauded.

  Frederick cleared his throat and stood. Rosalind and Amelia exchanged exuberant, tearful smiles, their sniffles only drowned out by their mother’s.

  “A man considers himself fortunate if he has good friends and family,” he said. He lifted Jane’s chin with his fingertip and gazed down at her. “But it is a rare thing, a rare thing, indeed, to find the sort of love only poets and dreamers can possibly imagine. I promised you today, Jane Blakeney, that I will always love, protect, and cherish you. I make that vow again, before your family and dear ones. I love you.”

  He stooped, and she clasped her hands around his neck while he kissed her. There was a general outcry of good wishes and emotional demonstration. The clock struck noon. Frederick pulled back her chair while she stood.

  “I suppose we’ll be off now,” she said, torn between the anticipation of starting her new life with Frederick and reluctance in leaving her father’s home. Of course, she could always visit, but it would never be the same. Her real home now lay with Frederick.

  Their family and friends went outside with them to the coach and four. It was hired, but Frederick had spared no expense. The black exterior was glossed to a high shine, while rich, blue velvet lined the interior walls and seats. The footman held the door open while they said goodbye.

  Her mother pressed her wet cheek to hers. Jane sensed she was struggling to find some last sage bit of advice, but all she could manage was, “Be a good girl.”

  Lady Simpson handed her a silk handkerchief. “I made one for each of your sisters and my girls when they married. It may be fashioned into a baby’s cap for a christening.”

  Jane blushed at the suggestion and hugged their old friend goodbye. More tearful embraces followed, and she clung to her sisters for a moment before releasing them. She took in their whispered best wishes and last-minute advice. Rosalind uttered, “Do not be intimidated by his people. You are every bit as good as they are, puss.”

  Her father held her tightly and kissed her on both cheeks. “Off you go, now.” He looked beseechingly at Frederick, who shook his hand. “The road from London is not so very far.”

  “You and Mrs. Brooke must come and visit us soon,” Frederick replied. “We shall write and make arrangements once we’re settled.”

  Mrs. Brooke waved her handkerchief as they climbed into the coach. Jane leaned out the window and waved goodbye. Her heart was so full she could find no words, but the fear of the unknown mixed with her joy. Frederick joined in her goodbyes, his head so close his breath warmed her neck. She fumbled for his hand and his fingers clasped hers, strong and reassuring.

  As the footman closed the door and prepared the horses for departure, Lady Simpson said to Mrs. Brooke, “Why, Sally, now all your daughters are married!”

  Rosalind and Amelia caught their mother before she hit the ground in a dead faint.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We’ll bring up the rest of your things shortly, my lord.” The innkeeper had greeted them in the yard and personally escorted them to their room. He tugged his forelock at Jane. “Congratulations on the occasion of your marriage, Miss Brooke…ahem, I mean your ladyship.” He turned to Frederick. “You have a sweet young lady, there, sir, if I may say.”

  “Mr. Porter has known our family a long time,” she explained to her husband, lest he think the man too familiar. She should have known better. Frederick pressed a guinea into his hand.

  “I thank you for your kind wishes and am apt to agree with you. I am the luckiest man in all of England.”

  The door closed behind the innkeeper, and Jane took in her surroundings. It was the largest and most comfortable at the Royal Crown, and she and her sisters had always wanted to stay there when they’d traveled to Brighton, but their father had eschewed it in favor of cheaper, smaller rooms. She couldn’t help but notice the heavy bedstead in the corner and quickly turned away, fussing with her valise and arranging Frederick’s glove and hat on the table by the door. Her legs trembled for a moment, but she shook off the nervousness. She was with her husband, after all.

  He hadn’t spoken for a few moments, and she turned to look at him. His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched, but when he caught her gaze upon him, he smiled, his teeth white against his swarthy skin.

  “The ride was longer than I’d remembered. I’ll go down and order some dinner. Are you hungry?” Eating was the furthest thing from her mind, but she nodded, in case he was putting off his own needs for hers. “I’ll return shortly.”

  Ja
ne stared after him, confusion mingling with the onset of exhaustion. She sat on a stiff-backed chair, unsure of how to occupy herself. There was little unpacking, since their morning departure for London would be very early. Her feet ached from the new shoes, and her corset had been laced too tightly. She smoothed the creases in her skirt and frowned at how wrinkled her blue silk gown had become in the coach.

  They’d hardly spoken during their journey. He’d slept most of the time or stared out the window, clutching his empty wrist when he thought she wasn’t looking. She didn’t understand how his missing hand could pain him so and offered to rub the appendage for him, but he’d declined, changing the subject a moment later.

  He had kissed her once, shortly after they departed, and she’d kissed him back, anxious if she would please him, now he was her husband. Then she remembered how much she loved him, and her shyness vanished.

  ****

  “What have you done, Blakeney?”

  A few patrons glanced over at his table, and Frederick raised his mug of ale to them, a false smile plastered on his face. He hadn’t meant to speak his doubts aloud, but there it was.

  He should not have left Jane alone. Not on their wedding night, or on any night, for that matter. The pain was particularly sharp since that morning, however, with spasms and tingling that nearly drove him mad. To add to his discomfort, he’d finished off the last of his laudanum, and had no time to inquire in Weston before they’d departed.

  The thought of returning to London made him uneasy, but he’d hidden his misgivings for Jane’s sake. It wasn’t as if there was another alternative. He and his brothers were raised to understand their familial obligations and duty. Living in London meant becoming part of the ton again. It wasn’t just the unending balls and soirees with their staring, nosy guests, but being out in society made it more likely he would meet Susanna Olivier. He didn’t know if he could bear the pain accompanying her presence.

  A red-cheeked tavern maid came to his table. “Anything else, sir?”

  He downed the ale, wishing for something stronger. “This will be all. My bride…” He hesitated. “My bride and I will be departing early in the morning. Please tell your master to have someone awaken us.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Yer bride? What, she’s upstairs by herself? And yer down here, lookin’ already like ye’d shot the cat.”

  His brother, Henry, would have seen her sacked on the spot for insolence. He turned from her seeking gaze and stared instead at the mug clenched in his hand. “I am…not well.”

  He lifted his left wrist from its position on his thigh. The scarred end of his stump looked shockingly out of place peeking from his coat sleeve. To her credit, the girl didn’t flinch.

  “So?”

  He blinked. “I lost my hand in the war. It pains me a bit.”

  “Have you tried…?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve tried everything, miss. I’ve been bled and leached, poked and poulticed by the finest physicians. There’s nothing to be done.”

  “Aye, so ye throw back a pint or two and dissolve yer anguish that way. Yer liver will be the next to join yer missing hand.”

  She was not judging him, but Frederick still felt as if she were looking down on him. Odd he should mind what a tavern maid would think.

  “You cannot know what it’s like.”

  The girl snatched the top of her bodice and pulled it down several inches before he could stop her. Instead of a breast, which he’d expected to see, she exposed a scarred, flat area. He winced.

  “Five years with a man who took a strap to me whenever he liked. He beat me senseless one night.” A shudder seemed to run through her, but it was so quick Frederick wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “When I came to, I saw he’d cut it off.” She rearranged her blouse in a matter-of-fact manner.

  “How terrible for you,” he finally uttered.

  “We all have our scars, is the point.” She nodded toward the stairs. “I saw yer wife. She couldn’t take her eyes off ye, an’ I don’t blame her. If I were married to a handsome toff such as yerself, one-handed or not, I’d be walkin’ the floorboards down to the nails waitin’ on ye. Only I would not wait too long.”

  She turned to walk away. He caught her hand.

  “Wait.” He placed two sovereigns in her palm.

  “And what’s this for? We all have our own sad tale, sir.”

  “It’s for safekeeping, then. To ensure you do not meet another man such as the monster you knew before.”

  She laughed in a throaty way. “Oh, I have a new man, sir. He’s plain and older than I am, but he lays off the drink most nights and rubs me feet when I trod home.”

  He grinned. “What else could anyone want?”

  “A bridegroom in his bridal chamber.” She took his half-empty mug and indicated the stairs again. “And if I catch ye down here before sunup, I’ll be takin’ Missus Toff aside and tellin’ her how to treat a husband who won’t do his duty by her.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Muffled voices from guests in the other rooms echoed through the thin walls. Jane pondered their fates to pass the time, trying to guess by footfalls and banging doors who was coming and who was going. The distraction only worked for a few minutes until her thoughts were dragged back to Frederick’s absence. Why had he been gone so long? A dreadful image of him ordering the carriage and leaving her behind struck her like a mallet.

  She pressed her hands to her chest, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. Ridiculous to fear he would abandon her. Impossible. She drew a breath, and it whistled through her teeth. He was merely detained downstairs. Perhaps he was inquiring about the schedules or seeing to the horses. He would return any moment. Her ears strained for the familiar sound of his footsteps in the corridor, but heard nothing.

  Rising from the chair, she removed her bonnet and placed it beside his hat. She laid her gloves carefully beside the bonnet and unbuttoned her pelisse, taking little pleasure in the silk ribbon roses scattered over the skirt as if she’d walked beneath a bower during a brisk wind. He’d chosen her wedding clothes and she’d marveled at his taste and keen eye for color. She’d dressed with a hopeful and happy heart, but now her wedding finery was almost a mockery. How many other new brides waited alone on their wedding night?

  From her reflection in the mirror, she looked like a rabbit at the receiving end of a hunter’s gun. She patted her cheeks the way her mother used to do to brighten her face and forced her eyebrows to relax. He’ll be here. Any moment, he’ll open the door. She stared at her anxious expression in the mirror, and forced a smile. She almost cried out when Frederick appeared in the doorway.

  She pretended she’d seen him all along and turned away from the mirror, her face aflame with a new blush.

  “I ordered a platter of cold meat and cheese for us—something to peck at for the evening. They had a stew, but it resembled something from my school days, so I left it.”

  He strode to the window and shut the dusty drapes, then knelt before the fireplace and stoked the fire. When he dawdled over the hearth, an outbreak of perspiration trickled down her back. First, he’d been absent longer than it took to order a meal. Now, he was contemplating the fire as if the answers to the world’s secrets lay buried in the smoky depths.

  A knock on the door broke the awkward silence. A servant entered with a tray of bread and butter, two kinds of cheese, and a thick slice of ham. A steaming pot of tea and a bottle of wine finished off the meal. Grateful for something to do, Jane spread thick country butter on a piece of bread. The girl bobbed a curtsy and closed the door behind her.

  Frederick rose to his feet, his face flushed. “I was thinking, my dear, this room is not quite the place I would have you spend our wedding night. Our rooms in London are more”—he paused—“suitable.”

  She didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed. She settled on something in between. “As you wish.”

  Whatever did he mean? She picked at the bread, its texture dry
and tasteless. He poured two glasses of wine and drained his in a single gulp.

  A sense of dread threatened to overcome her, but she forced back her anxiety and sipped from her glass. She had waited all day…for weeks, planning this night, fearing it and dreaming of it. Every time he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her until her toes curled, she’d sensed a deeper, larger force, both mysterious and alluring. Yet always, the kisses stopped before her heart thumped out of control; his caresses were just chaste enough but tinged with the promise of more to come.

  Her sisters had given their advice, whether asked for or not. Even Mamma had chucked her on the chin and told her to follow her instincts. Now, it looked as if her wedding night would be a mere end to the day and not the torrent of passion she had imagined.

  Grimacing, he suddenly seized his empty wrist and rubbed it briskly. Unable to bear to see him in pain, her anxiety faded as her sympathy bloomed. The long carriage ride and the day’s events had probably taken their toll.

  “We can…” She dropped her gaze when he looked at her. “We can just sleep here for now. We have the rest of our lives.” Her voice warbled a little.

  “I had expected to be closer to town by now, but the coach was slower than I’d thought. My injury has bothered me more than usual. I tried not to show it this morning, because I didn’t want to ruin our wedding day.”

  A sad sweetness in his voice touched her, sparking tears. She stood in front of him and pressed the pads of her fingertips onto his coat buttons.

  “Nothing could have ruined today. It was perfect.” Her lips still tingled from the memory of their first married kiss and the restrained strength of his embrace. She had pulled away, but only because she had to. Otherwise, she could have remained in his arms forever. “I want to thank you again—for the breakfast, the gown…” Her voice trembled. “I felt like a princess.”

  “You are. You’re my princess.” His finger skimmed her cheek. “Would you mind terribly if we simply rest here a few hours, then go on to London? I am anxious to show you your new home and introduce you to Alice. This inn is only a brief stop. And, as you said, we have the rest of our lives.”