Let Me Be The One

by Jo Goodman

  Still somewhat bewildered, Elizabeth placed her lips on Celia's proffered cheek. "May I take it that you are not so vexed as you first appeared?"

  "Oh, it was not entirely an act, though I could see immediately that you were not faint of heart. I am still inclined to be unhappy with my son. However, it will pass. It always does. Though generally much too soon, as I cannot help but dote on the boy."

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together to tamp down her smile. Beside her, she felt Northam shift his weight from one leg to the other as he heroically tried to bear the burden of his embarrassment. She slipped her arm around his and gave it the slightest squeeze. He looked down at her and smiled. For a moment it was just as if there were only the two of them.

  Eastlyn cleared his throat. Southerton grinned. Mr. Marchman coughed politely, while Reverend Rawlings studied the embossed cover of his Bible. Lord and Lady Battenburn exchanged another glance, this one self-congratulatory, and Celia Worth Hampton blinked to stem a sudden tide of tears.

  No one noticed the doors to the church opening until an authoritarian voice boomed out, "Am I come too late to deliver the bride to her groom?"

  Chapter 10

  The arrival of Colonel Blackwood delayed the newlyweds' departure from Battenburn until evening. It was necessary to light the lanterns by the time North and Elizabeth were able to make their farewells and climb into the carriage. There had been some discussion of remaining at Battenburn for their wedding night, but they both privately agreed they wanted to be away.

  Northam's elegant carriage had been brought up from London that morning, outfitted with a team of four matched grays. Brill, Northam's dour valet, sat with the driver and groom, and the driver's young son rode standing at the rear, quite happy with his new status as tiger. He kept his eye on the tower of trunks piled high on the carriage roof lest any one of them should take a bad bounce to the road.

  Elizabeth sat beside North on a comfortably padded leather seat. She was very much aware of the luxury of her surroundings, from the beautifully etched windows to the polished brass sconces that lighted the interior of the carriage. By Northam's own admission, as well as information shared by others, Elizabeth knew he had substantial lands and at least 12,000 pounds per annum, but she had never given a thought as to how he might use his wealth.

  "You're very quiet," North said. He was leaning back into one corner of the carriage, his long frame already assuming a half-reclining position across part of the seat. He had removed his hat and tossed it on the opposite bench. Now he ran one hand through hair that was made gold by the lantern light. "What are you thinking?"

  Elizabeth raised one hand, turning her palm over in a graceful gesture to indicate the interior of the carriage. "This," she said. "I was thinking that my father's income is easily as large as yours and he would never deign to spend so much money on his equippage. Lord and Lady Battenburn have several fine carriages but none as enormously handsome or comfortable as this."

  "Are you concerned I will spend your allowance?"

  Embarrassed, Elizabeth prickled defensively. "I assure you, the matter of an allowance had not—"

  "Elizabeth," North said calmly, "I am teasing you."

  She glanced at him uncertainly and saw that the corners of his mouth were turned up ever so slightly. Even the slumberous, heavy-lidded look of his eyes could not quite hide his amusement. Her insides turned over queerly. Elizabeth quickly looked away. She tried to think of some clever riposte, but the best she could come up with was, "Oh."

  He chuckled quietly. "I dislike traveling by any means save horseback. Since it is not always practical to do so, I find it helps if the carriage is of the finest construction. The seats are wider than is the norm, and the heavy springs in the undercarriage protect us from jouncing with every rut in the road. I believe I've had this equippage for a year and I've ridden in it but half a dozen times. I lend it out more than I've used it." He casually folded his arms across his chest. "Does it satisfy you that I am not a spendthrift?"

  "You are teasing me again."

  "Yes, I am."

  Elizabeth found she did not mind overmuch. She settled back against the soft leather squabs and smoothed her gown over her lap. It was tempting to close her eyes, but she was afraid she would sleep and her mouth would fall agape. It could not be an attractive pose. When she knew North better perhaps she would let him see her in such a state, but not on their wedding night. "How far do we travel tonight?"

  "As far as Weybourne. There is an inn there that was recommended to me."

  "I know the one. I have stayed there on my way to—" She stopped, struck by a possibility that had never once occurred to her in the days leading up to this one. "Where are we going?"

  "I suppose I have ruined the surprise. Your father has invited us to Rosemont."

  Any thought of sleep fled. Elizabeth sat up straight. "You are teasing me."

  One of North's brows lifted. "No, not this time."

  "But—"

  "You are distressed?"

  "Yes... no... I am..." What? she wondered. Confused? Frightened? Surprised? Perhaps all of those things. "It is most unexpected," she said finally, inadequately."My father does not often call for me."

  "I am not certain he has called for you this time," North pointed out. "I believe he wants to inspect me."

  Elizabeth nodded slowly. He was right, of course, at least as far as he could understand. "He will not be as pleasant as your mother, and much less likely to find something to recommend you."

  "No one is as pleasant as my mother when she has determined to be so. As to your second point, I am unconcerned by your father's opinion in any matter, including his judgment of my character, so I suspect we will get on fine."

  Elizabeth did not know whether to be worried or grateful. North had hit upon the very thing that would ensure the peace. The key was not to care overmuch. By caring not at all Northam might actually be conferred a grudging respect. It was more than she had received these last ten years.

  Drawing a steadying breath, Elizabeth pressed two fingers to her temple and rubbed gently. "If I said I do not want to go, could we not?"

  "Do you not want to go?"

  "I wish you had discussed this with me. I suppose I assumed we were going to Hampton Cross."

  "Lord and Lady Battenburn suggested this invitation was better presented as a fait accompli."

  "Did you never wonder why?"

  He had, but he also wanted to visit Rosemont, so he had not asked any questions that would persuade him to think better of it. "I believe their intention was to surprise you. They confided that you were disappointed when your father could not be in attendance today, which was already as I suspected. When the invitation arrived separately, they spoke to me. Battenburn made the arrangements for our stay at the Weybourne inn and sent a rider ahead to make certain your father knows we have accepted."

  "They are very... thoughtful." Elizabeth turned her head toward the window. The carriage's interior light made the etched glass a dark mirror, reflecting her pale image. "I suppose it was meant as a kindness." Somehow she managed to keep from choking on the words.

  "You have not answered my question," said Northam. "Do you not want to go?"

  "Would it make a difference?"

  As much as he wanted to meet the earl, North knew his conscience would not allow him to force this trip on Elizabeth. "Yes," he said. "It would make a difference."

  Elizabeth eyes lifted to his reflection in the glass. Before she thought better of it, she said, "I believe you."

  "You should."

  She made a faint nod, distracted by her own admission. It made her feel somehow vulnerable, as though he could use it against her. She realized that in an odd way, it was already happening. Drawn by a force outside her good judgment, Elizabeth heard herself say, "I want to go home."

  Northam was struck by her description of Rosemont as home and the hint of longing in her voice. He commented on neither, suspecting that attention
to these details would only persuade her to change her mind. "Then that is what we shall do," he said quietly. He held out his hand to her.

  She caught the movement in the glass and turned to him. "Come." North moved his legs and made room for her beside him. "It would not be at all amiss for you to rest your head here." He indicated his shoulder. "It is more comfortable than even the squabs."

  It looked as if it might be. He was so very handsome in his black tails and dark gray trousers. His hair shone almost as brightly as it had this morning when he waited at the altar. She remembered with singular clarity that a sunbeam had glanced off the crown of his head and for a moment hovered like a halo. She had almost stumbled badly on Battenburn's arm then, but he had steadied her and she kept going, unsettled by this vision of Northam as her guardian angel but unable to dismiss it as mere fancy.

  Elizabeth carefully removed her bonnet and placed it beside North's polished beaver hat. The white ostrich feather swayed hypnotically as the carriage rolled on. North raised his arm and beckoned her to the shelter he provided in the crook of his shoulder. He found her hesitation touching because it was clearly borne of shyness. She presented a surfeit of contradictions that he sometimes wondered if even she understood. For the time being he was content to let them rest.

  "It was so very kind of the colonel to come today," Elizabeth said. "I confess I wanted him to be there, but I thought the journey too arduous for him to make. Thank you for writing to him."

  "Your gratitude is misplaced. I didn't write him for the same reason as you."

  She frowned. "Then who—"

  Northam considered the suspects. "Most likely it was South."

  "Lord Southerton? But why would—"

  "You will have to ask him. I'm sure he extended the invitation with Battenburn's pemission."

  "I didn't mean—"

  "You may have noticed that South is well acquainted with Blackwood."

  "I did, but I—"

  "As are East and West."

  Elizabeth sat up, turned, and pressed her index finger sharply into North's chest. "Am I never to be allowed to finish a sentence again?"

  Both his brows lifted. He looked from her to the finger, then back to her. "I apologize."

  "It lacks sincerity when you smile so."

  He made an effort to appear more contrite. "Is this more the expression of remorse you were looking for?"

  She sighed."It will have to do, though I believe the gleam in your eye is what is widely known as unholy."

  "Really?" North bent his head quickly and kissed her. "And now?"

  Elizabeth was forced to revise her earlier assessment. What she was looking at now in those dark cobalt eyes was certainly unholy. She removed her finger from his chest. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

  "I thought you might have been. You must allow there is a fine distinction between merely wicked and unholy."

  "I am learning it is so." She found herself held rapt by that distinction now. "I... umm... I should..."

  North waited patiently for Elizabeth to finish her sentence, then he made certain she couldn't by adding that smile. It did indeed seem to induce a frisson. Infinitely pleased with himself, he bent his head again to kiss her and collided with her forehead instead when the carriage hit a deep rut its springs could not manage.

  He grunted and touched one hand to his mouth to inspect for blood or a broken tooth. Elizabeth had a palm across her brow. "Are you injured?" he asked.

  She lowered her hand so he could see for himself. "Am I?"

  There was a small red mark that would fade quickly."No. The skin is not broken. And me?" He flashed her a boyish grin.

  She pretended to be unimpressed."Every tooth accounted for." She settled back in the crook of his shoulder again. "You must have had some success with that gleam and that smile." Elizabeth felt laughter rumble pleasantly in his chest.

  "A modest amount."

  "Hmm."

  "I gather the mood is broken."

  "We are fortunate that is all. I might have smashed your nose." She tried to stifle her own smile with one hand and ended up yawning widely. Embarrassed, she ducked her head.

  Northam gave her slender shoulders a light squeeze. "Rest, Elizabeth. You have certainly earned it."

  She resisted closing her eyes for a few minutes. In time she could not help herself. She remembered nothing of the remainder of the journey to Weybourne, not the passing of the villages and pastures, not the moment when Northam covered her with his own coat and let her head rest in his lap.

  When they reached the inn Elizabeth stirred only long enough for North to help her from the carriage. He carried her across the courtyard and up the stairs of the inn. Brill ran ahead to open the door to their room but was glad to be immediately dismissed after pronouncing the lodgings adequate. The valet did not fancy himself performing the functions of a lady's maid, though he could not imagine his employer providing those same services.

  Northam did so quite competently, helping Elizabeth out of her spencer and gown without the smallest protest from her. She lay back on the bed that Brill had turned down and allowed him to raise first one leg, then the other, and remove her kid slippers and white stockings. She actually sighed when he unhooked her corset.

  He undressed himself with similar efficiency, washed his face at the basin, and finally snuffed the candles before he slipped into bed beside Elizabeth. She was curled on her side facing him. Without the slightest compunction, he turned her over and fit himself comfortably against her. The full roundness of her bottom settling against his groin stirred his blood. His smile was somewhere between sleepy and rueful.

  "It is not the wedding night I imagined," he whispered against her hair. He thought his bride's breathy little response sounded very much like a snore.

  * * *

  Elizabeth stood at the window of the small bedchamber and looked out on the fog-shrouded courtyard. The mist was so thick that the stable was barely visible at only forty yards away. A figure left the inn from the door below her and all but disappeared into the fog on his way to the stable. She blinked as the first raindrops fell and left their etchings on the windowpanes.

  A knock at the door tore her away from the window. She hurried to answer it before North was awakened.

  "Your breakfast, m'lady," the serving girl announced. She bobbled the heavy tray as she made her curtsy. "His lordship's valet says I was to bring it up directly."

  "Thank you." Elizabeth opened the door wide enough to take the tray but not to admit the bearer. The girl was much too interested in the sprawled figure on the bed for Elizabeth's tastes. "There is nothing else." She turned, closed the door smartly with her heel, and placed the tray at the foot of the bed. A chill had crept into the room and Elizabeth set about laying a small fire with the kindling and logs available. Satisfied with her efforts when she had the flames crackling, she stood back to appreciate the warmth.

  Northam appreciated the view. Elizabeth's thin chemise was like a sheer curtain, permitting firelight to suffuse it with color and silhouetting the entire length of her slender legs, gently curving hips, and the lines that tapered from her shoulders to her waist.

  She turned and caught him out. He did not even attempt to look repentant. He held out his hand and she came immediately to his side, haste making her limp barely noticeable. Elizabeth placed her fingers in his and sat on the edge of the bed.

  "You're awake." She blushed a little at the insipidness of this remark. "Breakfast has arrived." That was hardly any better. She could not seem to keep from stating the obvious. "Shall I serve you?"

  "Mm." He released her hand and reached behind her neck, cupping it in his palm. Applying but the slightest pressure, he pulled her toward him. "What are you serving?"

  Her mouth was sweet. He kissed her at his leisure, nibbling on her bottom lip, taking his fill of her lips before making the first foray past them. He sucked on her tongue, wresting a small cry from her as he pulled her down on the bed. The covered dishes
at the foot of the bed rattled, but neither North nor Elizabeth heard them. He opened her mouth wider, sweeping the ridge of her teeth with his tongue, then teasing her, advancing, retreating, drawing on the same air as she so that when they broke apart they were both breathless.

  He recovered first, leaning over her, kissing her just below her ear, touching the tip of his tongue to the hollow. He imprinted the heat of his mouth on her temple, her cheeks, and the corner of her mouth. When she raised her chin, he kissed the exposed line of her throat from her jaw to the hollow at its base.

  Elizabeth wondered that she could feel such pleasure. It was not so much that he stripped away her defenses but that she had none where he was concerned. Was there anything he could conceive of doing to her that she would not allow? Elizabeth did not think so.

  She closed her eyes as his fingers lightly traced the rounded neckline of her chemise. A vague memory teased her. North undressing her. North taking such care with her gown, easing it over her shoulders, kissing her softly on the cheek when she murmured how very tired she was. North's hands slipping over her breasts, her waist, letting the gown spill to the floor before he plucked her out of the center and sat her on the bed.

  Elizabeth turned her head toward the fireplace and saw her gown lying neatly over the room's only chair, just where she had imagined he'd placed it. She smiled, slipping her fingers into his silken hair, feathering it at the nape of his neck.

  "You undressed me last night," she whispered. Her smile deepened as North hummed his assent against her collarbone. It was as if his voice were coming from inside her. "Do you intend to finish what you began?" His low growl raised a flush across her skin. Elizabeth was glad for the gray skies and the cloak of fog pressing against the windows. It was enough that he could feel her heat; she had no wish for him to see it clearly.