She should get up, but she felt too drugged to move. Her head hurt, but more than that was the unfamiliar soreness between her thighs.
A reminder that she had indeed given herself to Brandt. She had allowed a passion she did not know she possessed to overcome her judgement, her morals and her resolution. She was stunned at how swiftly it had happened—had she made a deliberate decision from the moment he had taken her arm and begged her to stay to let matters proceed so far? Or had she allowed herself to be carried away without regard to the costs?
That would be the worse thing of all. A deliberate decision would be one thing, but possessing so little control that she would do something with such grave consequences was much more serious.
She felt as if she did not know herself at all and she had no idea what she would say or do when she saw Brandt.
—
Brandt shoved aside the thin gruel that his aunt and Mrs Keith had deemed appropriate. It was hardly his choice for his first meal in nearly a week but at least he could keep it down. He had his wits about him enough to refuse the vile potion that he was certain contained laudanum and kept him in a perpetually drugged state.
“Only a few more spoonfuls, my lord,” Mrs Keith said, picking up the spoon. She had taken on the role of nurse with a vengeance and was determined to strong-arm him whenever possible.
“Although it was delicious I do not want to overtax my system.” He gave her his most charming smile. “I would like you to send for Lady Chloe.”
“Doctor Crowley was quite insistent that you not have too many visitors.”
“Lady Chloe is hardly a visitor. She is my fiancée.”
“Yes, of course, but perhaps I should consult with the Duchess first.”
“Either you inform Lady Chloe I would like to see her or I will inform her myself even if I am forced to crawl down the hall.” He started to throw back the covers.
Alarm crossed her face. “Of course, my lord.”
“One more question.”
She paused. “My lord?”
“Did Lady Chloe ever sit with me at night?”
She hesitated and then stiffened. “The Duchess did not deem it proper for Lady Chloe to sit with you at night.”
He fell back against the pillows after she left. The sun had set nearly an hour ago. He knew Chloe was up because Mrs Keith had informed him she had come downstairs to dine which had not improved his mood. It would seem she was in no great hurry to see him despite the concern everyone declared she had shown when he was racked with fever.
His mood only darkened when the door opened and Belle entered. “Where is Chloe?” he demanded.
“Behind me, if you would exercise a bit of patience.”
He saw the figure behind her then. Chloe followed Belle into the room, her hands folded in front of her as if she did not know quite what to do next.
She glanced at Belle, then moved towards the bed and looked down at him with no trembling, no revulsion, no shirking, nothing at all in her quiet countenance to indicate he had done something as vile as taking her virginity while he was half out of his mind. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly.
“Better.” He saw there were shadows under her eyes and her face was pale. He scowled. “You look as if you need Dr Crowley’s attentions more than I do.”
“It is probably because I slept most of the day. Dr Crowley gave me a draught and I always feel horrid when I wake up.”
She spoke matter-of-factly and Brandt began to relax a little. Surely if he had seduced her there would be something in her manner, some sort of fear or accusation in her face, but he still needed to talk to her alone. He looked at Belle. “I would like to talk to Chloe a few minutes in private, if you please.”
“I suspect it matters little whether I please or not, so I will not waste my breath. However, I trust you will not scold her for the past few days.”
“No, because I intend to scold you as well as my cousin for allowing her to become this fatigued.”
Belle smiled. “I will warn Justin,” she said as she left the room.
He fixed his gaze on Chloe’s face. “Sit down. I do not like having you hover.”
She took the chair near the bed. Again, he had the odd sense of having woken up and found her in that exact position. “Was it true that you insisted on sitting with me?”
“Yes, but we all did. You were so very ill that we did not want to leave you alone for an instant in case you…in case you needed something. Even Justin. He sat up with you one night. Belle is very nearly worn out because Julian is teething and has been fussing most terribly, which is why you should not scold her. I could not sit idly by while they made themselves ill.”
“I am beginning to think that they should ring a peal over my head for running the household ragged.”
“That is not what I meant at all. I only meant that we were so very worried about you that none of us wished to leave you for an instant.”
“Us? Does that mean you worried about me as well?”
“Yes.”
He kept his eyes on her face. “Then perhaps you no longer hold me in such dislike.”
She flushed a little, but did not look away. “I do not hold you in dislike.”
“I am glad to hear that.” Then it had been a dream, obviously a vivid one brought on by a combination of fever and drugs and desire, for surely if he had used her so badly she would hate him.
“I should let you rest.” She started to rise and he found his hand clamping around hers. She jumped, her eyes startled, and he had that bizarre sense he had done this before. Except then he had pulled her down on top of him. He could almost feel the weight of her light, delicate body on top of his. Desire shot through him, hot and immediate.
He released her abruptly. “I beg your pardon. I had something else to say to you.”
She had frozen at his touch. Now she looked apprehensive. “What is it?”
He had no idea why she suddenly looked so fearful. “I want us to marry as soon as possible. Tomorrow, in fact.”
“Tomorrow?” She looked completely uncomprehending as if she had no idea what he referred to.
“Surely you recall I had just returned from London with the special licence when I collapsed at your feet.”
“Oh. Yes.” She flushed. “But surely you wish to wait until you are well.”
“No. And risk some other damnable thing happening before we are wed?”
“What else would happen?”
“I’ve no idea.” He only knew that he wanted her safely under the protection of his name and that he did not intend to let her go.
“I do not think…”
“Chloe.” He suddenly felt weary. “Don’t argue with me. I do not have the strength.”
Something changed in her expression. “I will not argue with you,” she said quietly. “I will wed you tomorrow if that is what you wish.”
“It is.” He wanted to tell her they would marry only if that was what she wished as well, but it was too late for that. They had no choice. He was not sure if fate had ever given them one.
—
Chloe sat in the chair by her window, feeling numb. He had not remembered after all. Perhaps last night had seemed part of the restless dreams that had plagued him. For a moment, when he had taken her arm, she had thought he was going to say something about the previous night, but instead he had spoken of the marriage. There had been nothing in his manner to indicate he recalled her even being there.
Perhaps it was for the best to go on as if nothing at all had happened.
But she had agreed to marry him tomorrow. She was hardly aware of what he said at first, and then when it dawned upon her that he wanted to marry tomorrow, she had panicked.
Until she had seen the vulnerability beneath his cool arrogance. The tiredness…the need. And she had responded to it, wanting to erase the weariness from his face.
She knew now why she had gone to him last night.
She loved him.
Belle sat down on the bed next to Chloe and took her hand. “It is only natural to be a little afraid before one’s wedding. My knees were shaking quite horribly and I scarcely remembered saying the vows.”
“When you married Lucien?”
“Yes, and when I married Justin as well. But particularly with Lucien, I did not know what to expect. I did not know how a wife was supposed to be, and I knew nothing of the intimacies between a man and a woman. Lucien had only kissed me once before we married.” She hesitated. “Has Maria talked to you at all of this?”
Chloe felt her face grow warm. “No.” She had no idea what to say.
“I do not want you to go into your marriage as unprepared as I was. The first time a woman is with her husband, she finds the intimacy a little bewildering and perhaps not so pleasurable. But when one is with a man who cares for one and whom one cares for in return, it will soon become one of the most wonderful pleasures of marriage.” Her hand tightened around Chloe’s. “Brandt cares for you. I know he will be patient and kind. He will not hurt you.”
“I…I know.” She wanted to sink through the floor, but there was nothing she could say. Her unhappiness and self-reproach deepened as Belle gently described the marriage bed. She could only sit, frozen, until Belle finished and then enveloped her in a tight embrace.
Belle released her. “You must dress. I will send Ellen to you but please, if you need anything, I am here.”
“Yes.” She wanted to cling to Belle, but she could not. “I know.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I think I would like to be alone for a little while.”
“Of course.” Belle left the room.
Chloe rose from the bed and went to the window, not really seeing the blue sky or the high fleecy clouds. She felt more and more as if she was about to enter into the worst sort of deception. She was presenting herself as a virginal bride, but she was not.
What would Brandt do when he discovered the truth? If and when he decided to exercise his rights as a husband. She must think of some way of telling him.
She had no idea how.
—
The short journey to the chapel passed in a sort of dream and then she was stepping down from the carriage into the cool, misty morning. Arthur took her arm and escorted her up the stone steps of the old chapel with her mother trailing behind her. Inside, Caroline and Will waited for her, their faces solemn. Will stepped forward and handed her a bouquet of flowers with a formality so unlike his usual self that she had no idea whether she wanted to smile or weep. Instead, she bent down and hugged him and was rewarded by a fierce hug in return. “Now, you’ll be here for ever with us,” he told her.
“Yes.” She embraced Caroline and then stepped from the vestibule and into the chapel. With some amazement, she saw there were a number of people present. She looked towards the front and her heart leapt to her throat when she saw that Brandt already stood there, elegant in a dark coat and pantaloons, his starched cravat tied in an intricate knot at his neck. His eyes met hers, his gaze dark and intense, and she caught her breath.
Justin came to her side. “Chloe, are you ready?”
“Y…yes.” To her chagrin, her voice shook.
“Then come. Brandt is waiting for you.”
The ceremony passed in a haze. She hardly heard the vicar’s words and barely recalled repeating her vows. She was aware only of Brandt, of his cool but increasingly husky replies, of his body next to hers. Then he was taking her hand and slipping a ring over her third finger and finally tilting her chin towards him. “Chloe,” he whispered and then his lips brushed over hers in a kiss that made her legs weak. He released her and promptly began to cough.
“You must sit down,” Chloe said, alarmed. His face was white and she feared he would swoon. Justin caught his arm and guided him to a front pew. He sat abruptly, still coughing. Lady Farrows and Marguerite rushed to his side and then the vicar appeared with a glass of water.
Brandt took a few sips and then his coughing subsided. He looked over at Chloe, who had come to stand a little to the side. Chagrin crossed his face. “I beg your pardon.”
She wanted to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, but she doubted he would welcome it. “Please do not. One always has such dreadful coughs with influenza.”
“You are too kind,” he said softly.
Giles spoke. “Perhaps we should congratulate the bride and groom and then see them to Falconcliff before the groom collapses.”
“I’ve no intention of doing that.” Brandt rose and held out his arm to Chloe. “Shall we?”
She took it, hoping he would make it to the carriage without another bout of coughing. The others followed them, speaking in quiet voices. The carriage already waited in the small drive in front of the chapel.
“I had better ride with you,” Lady Farrows said. “Shouldn’t want you to collapse on Lady Salcombe.”
Lady Salcombe? Chloe started before she realised Lady Farrows referred to her. But Justin was helping Brandt into the carriage and then Chloe, and finally Lady Farrows who took the place next to Brandt.
Brandt began to cough as soon as the carriage was in motion. Lady Farrows handed him a handkerchief and when he finally stopped, told him to lean back and close his eyes. Chloe watched, feeling useless, for Lady Farrows seemed to have everything well in hand.
She could scarcely fathom she was married and watching Brandt resting against the pillows only increased her sense of unreality. She looked away, fighting the most absurd desire to burst into tears and when she glanced back at him and saw how vulnerable he looked with his eyes closed, she wanted nothing more than to gather him into her arms and comfort him. She could hardly do so with Lady Farrows in the carriage, and even if they were alone, she doubted she would have the courage to do so.
They finally reached Falconcliff. Brandt roused himself when the carriage halted and insisted on stepping down without help. He assisted his aunt down and then held out his hand to Chloe. To her dismay, she stumbled so he was forced to catch her against him. She pulled away. “I beg your pardon.”
For the first time that day, the familiar smile touched his mouth. “There is no need to. In fact, I look forward to many such moments in the future.”
“But I might have hurt you.”
“Never.” His arm tightened around her and she caught her breath. His expression changed. “Chloe.”
For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was about to kiss her. Lady Farrows voice broke in. “My dear boy, I suggest you go inside before you catch another chill. I doubt Chloe wishes to nurse you through another illness.”
Brandt’s hands fell from her arm. “Of course.” He escorted Chloe into the hall where Belle, Justin and Marguerite waited. Belle took one look at Brandt’s pale face and insisted he go upstairs immediately. “We can have the wedding breakfast brought upstairs.”
“And crowd into your bedchamber,” Justin added. He grinned at his cousin. “You may be served in bed if you like.”
“I think not.” Brandt looked at Chloe. “Unless Chloe wishes to join me.”
She flushed. “No, I…”
“Really, Brandt,” Marguerite said. “You can put her to the blush later. After your guests have gone.”
Chloe looked away, her stomach lurching. In the presence of family and friends, she could easily think nothing had changed, but everything had. Her life was now irrevocably intertwined with his and he had every right to ask anything of her he wished.
She managed to force a few bites of the delicious breakfast down her throat and smile and join in the conversation, all the while aware of Brandt who sat in the wing chair near the fireplace. He ate very little, his pallor only increasing as time went on, his gaze frequently resting on her with a brooding expression she could not interpret.
And finally Belle and Marguerite announced it was time to leave, and that Brandt needed to rest. Marguerite took Chloe’s arm. “The bride needs to res
t as well. She is nearly as pale as the groom.”
Brandt rose from his chair. “I wish to speak to Chloe for a few minutes first.”
Marguerite gave him an arch look. “Very well, but I hope you remember that you are far from well.”
“I am quite aware of it,” he said drily.
He leaned heavily against the bedpost while the others left. His breathing was more laboured and he was starting to cough again.
The room was quiet at last. Brandt still leaned against the bedpost. He opened his mouth to speak and then coughed.
Chloe poured a glass of water and gave it to him. “You should be in bed.”
He took a sip. “I need to talk to you.”
“You can do so in bed.” She took his arm. “Please.”
He looked down at her, a peculiar light in his eye. “Will you join me?”
She dropped his arm and froze. “I…”
His expression changed. “Chloe, I swear there is no need to look like that. I promised I would not touch you unless you were willing.” His voice was thick. “Sit down, Marguerite is right, you need a bed as much as I do.”
“I am fine.” But he had already seated her gently on the bed.
He sat down a careful distance from her. “I beg your pardon for my damnable tongue. I did not mean to frighten you. It was just…” He frowned. “It will not happen again. This is what I wished to speak to you about. I told you before I would not expect you to share my bed, at least until we are better acquainted. Until you are ready, I will not force myself on you. We will keep our relationship on the businesslike basis we both want.”
She felt as if she were in a waking nightmare. “Brandt…”
“There is one other thing.” His gaze locked with hers. “As soon as I am able, I wish to remove to Waverly. Will you come with me?”
The Viscount's Bride Page 22
