by Golden Angel
With a little laugh, Christina leaned into him slightly, a small press of her shoulder against his for just a moment before she straightened again. “Yes, let’s. If we are going to avoid your family, we might as well be thorough about it.”
As he steered down towards the Serpentine, he finally saw the Baron, sitting beside his wife in a stately barouche, also headed towards the Serpentine. A small smile curved Benedict’s lips as he took in the picture the couple made. There was something indefinably more confident about the way Alvenley held himself, more self-assured. Beside him, the Baroness was looking decidedly more downcast than she had the previous evening, almost as though she’d shrunk into herself.
“Ah, good,” he said, nodding towards the barouche. “Just who I was hoping to see.”
Beside him, he felt Christina stiffen. “Benedict?”
“Yes, love?”
“I don’t want to talk to her again,” she hissed at him, unable to speak any louder as they drew nearer to the Alvenley carriage. The coachman looked straight ahead, as if his mind were entirely elsewhere as he slowed his horses, allowing Benedict to come alongside them.
The Baroness was staring at the floor of the carriage, her hands fidgeting on the lap of her demure blue skirts. Beside her, Alvenley smiled warmly.
“Good afternoon, Dearborn, my lady. Well met.”
“Hello again, Alvenley,” Benedict said cheerfully, drawing a sharp look from his wife.
“Good afternoon, Baron Alvenley,” Christina said, her voice strained. “Baroness.”
The Baroness Alvenley did not immediately respond, but kept staring at the floor. Beside her, her husband cleared his throat, one long finger tapping against the thigh closest to her. She squirmed and raised her head, and Benedict could see the puffiness of her eyes, as if she’d been crying before their outing. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her expression almost confused, anxious. In other words; she was the very image of a well-chastised woman who had received discipline she’d never expected.
“Good afternoon,” the Baroness said, averting her gaze slightly, as if she was uncomfortable actually looking at either Benedict or Christina.
Benedict gave Alvenley a rather congratulatory look, which the man returned with one of gratitude.
******
Confusion and a niggling suspicion filled Christina as she stared at the Baroness Alvenley. The woman’s attitude was nothing like she’d expected. When Benedict had first noticed the Alvenley barouche, Christina had thought he’d meant to confront the Baron and Baroness right here in Hyde Park, but Benedict had said ‘hello again‘ and he and the Baron kept exchanging looks as though there was some kind of understanding between them.
Not only that, but the way the Baroness kept fidgeting on her seat, the puffiness of her eyes and nose, the way she seemed subdued, the anxious manner in which she watched her husband from the corner of her eye, Christina could almost think…
“Don’t you have something else you’d like to say to Lord and Lady Windham, Mathilde?” Baron Alvenley asked, his voice mild but stern and very firm.
Clearing her throat, either anger or shame coloring her cheeks - or perhaps both - the Baroness lifted her head. She wasn’t quite able to look either Benedict or Christina in the eye, but fixed her gaze somewhere about their shoulders.
“I apologize for my behavior and remarks last evening,” she said, sounding almost defiant and yet there was a small ring of sincerity to her words. “It will not happen again.” That last was said more firmly, as if making a vow.
The Baron smiled and reached out to take his wife’s hand, patting it. “There, my dear, well done.”
Despite the confused and angry expression on the Baroness’ face as she turned away, dropping her gaze back to the carriage floor, Christina thought she saw a small flash of pleasure as well.
“Thank you,” Christina said, a bit belatedly. “I accept your apology.”
“As do I,” Benedict said congenially.
A few more minutes of polite social chatter - with no further conversation from the Baroness - and the two carriages parted again, leaving Christina feeling rather dazed.
She knew it was dreadful of her, but there was something so, so satisfying about knowing the Baroness had been spanked. At least, she was fairly certain that was what had motivated her change in attitude. While Christina didn’t like to think of herself as the kind of person who enjoyed another’s pain or misery, she felt so incredibly vindicated - as well as relieved. It looked as though she no longer had to worry about the Baroness’s vendetta against her.
Turning to her husband, who was looking quite cheerful as he steered the horses to the path along the Serpentine, Christina laid her hand on his thigh. “Did you… Were you…”
Smiling cheekily, Benedict winked at her. “I made an early morning call today. It didn’t go quite the way I foresaw or even intended, but I do think it made for the best possible outcome.”
Not caring who saw, not caring how indecent the high-sticklers would find such a display of public affection, Christina leaned over, grabbing Benedict’s face between her hands, and kissed him soundly on the lips.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” he said, chuckling and apparently not at all upset by her impulsive act. “But you do know I’m going to have to spank you for that when we return home.”
“I know,” she said, leaving her hand on his thigh. Might as well truly earn her punishment.
In love again, with her husband. It was everything she’d hadn’t wanted ever again, and yet she’d never been happier. A bubble of warmth filled her chest as Benedict placed his hand over hers, using only one to guide the reins of his - fortunately - well-behaved horses. The future looked brighter than ever.
Epilogue
Coming into the dining room, Thomas was surprised to see only his mother and her protégé Miss Mary Wilson at the table having breakfast. Normally his father was the earliest riser in the house, and he enjoyed lingering over his meal while reading the paper and pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation. There was a plate at the head of the table, the paper neatly folded beside it, but the seat was empty.
“Good morning. Has father gone out already?” he asked, giving Mary a nod of greeting. Blushing, she nodded back. He wondered if she would ever stop blushing when he or one of his brothers or any other gentleman within twenty years of her age addressed her. So far the only men who didn’t cause her to blush upon mere acknowledgement were his father and those old enough to be her grandfather.
His mother was looking over a small stack of invitations, holding a piece of toast which remained uneaten in one hand.
“Hmmm? Oh, he wasn’t feeling quite the thing this morning,” she said, unconcerned as Thomas dropped a kiss on her head as he headed towards the sideboard, intent on filling his plate with the delicious smelling bacon. “He’s having a bit of a lie in.”
Unusual but not unheard of.
“What are the plans for today?” he asked, knowing his mother would already have a full schedule laid out.
Under the guise of escorting Mary about and establishing her creditably this Season, Thomas had been looking over the herd for an acceptable bride. It was marginally easier to do so when it was not immediately obvious that was his goal. The matchmaking mamas were uncertain if his appearance at so many events was for his own benefit or if he was doing so at the behest of his mother in order to provide an escort to his cousin. Then too, there were those who wondered if perhaps his cousin would end up meeting him at the altar. The situation did not entirely deter the matchmakers, but neither were the young ladies pursuing him in earnest.
All in all, Thomas was rather glad of the excuse to meet so many young ladies and yet be able to take his time about choosing a bride. He did have rather exacting standards after all.
His brothers and friends might mock the list of qualities he’d made up in order to assist him with his decision, but marriage was a s
erious business.
It was for life.
He didn’t want to be stuck in a miserable union for the entirety of his existence, which meant his bride must be enjoyable company, intelligent, but not too demanding of his time and attention, and be able to - at the very least - appreciate his favorite activities. Since he would one day be the Viscount, she must also bear his heir, which meant she must be virtuous (he had no interest in raising a cuckoo in the nest) as well as attractive enough for him to do his duty. As a viscountess she would also need to be trained to run a household, responsible, fiscally conscientious, and command respect from the servants. As the mother of his children, she must also be warm, caring, and attentive. He didn’t want a wife who would neglect their children in favor of balls, shopping, or the social rounds.
His own parents had always been very involved in his and his brothers’ rearing, although of course they’d also had nannies and tutors as well.
Thomas had seen his friends secure such relationships with women who fulfilled nearly every item on his list, so he didn’t understand why they acted as though it would be impossible.
So far he’d met several candidates, in fact, whom all seemed as though they might meet the qualifications. Now he just needed to narrow them down, although he was by no means closing himself off to any other young ladies whom he had yet to meet, as long as they also fit his needs. This was not a decision to be made hastily.
“Mary and I are shopping this morning,” his mother said as he filled his plate and came to sit down. Mary, of course, had no comment. While she fit quite a few of the items on his list, she would never do for a wife. He liked how demure she was, and that she was perfectly able to entertain herself, not demanding much in the way of attention from anyone, but he needed to at least be able to carry on a conversation when he married. Besides, his appetites in the bedroom… well, it’s not as if he could test future brides for compatibility there, but Mary’s frequent blushes and delicate sensibilities were clearly no match for his vigorous and exotic appetites. “This afternoon there’s the tea at Lady Blakely’s, and then -”
A distant shout, upstairs but still loud enough to be heard, had his mother frowning and looking up without finishing her sentence. Thomas frowned as well, setting down his fork and knife.
“What do you think-”
“Help! Help!” The shouting grew louder, clearer. Scared. Panicked. Horrified. “It’s his lordship! Someone call for a doctor! Oh, help!”
Thomas and his mother were moving before he could think, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea how Mary reacted, all he could think about was getting to his father, nausea churning his stomach as he ran, his mother panting and hot on his heels.
******
Arabella rushed to Hood House practically as soon as she received the message.
Her hair was not quite done, strands already coming out of the simple, too-loose chignon she’d managed on the trip over. Her dress was askew, two of the buttons done incorrectly, making the skirt hang awkwardly and showing off the mismatched slippers she’d shoved onto her feet in her rush.
During her mad dash, neither she nor her eldest brother Isaac had noticed any of these details, but the moment she stepped into Hood House and came face to face with Lord Thomas Hood, he noticed immediately. His dark eyes swept up and down her person, a frown crinkling his brow as he gave her a slightly condemning look.
“You may want to look in a mirror,” he said, his tone faintly contemptuous. As if she couldn’t feel the strands of hair on her neck or look down and see her dress and slippers for herself. Arabella wanted to stomp on his foot and scream at him. His father might be dying and he was critiquing her appearance?!
Sometimes she wondered how she’d managed to fall in love with such a stuffy, patronizing prig.
“Where’s Gabrielle?” she asked (demanded really), giving his comment all the attention it deserved - none.
“The drawing room,” he said gesturing.
Arabella started to hurry past him when her brother spoke up.
“How is your father?” Isaac asked, his voice deep with concern. Her steps slowed, because she wanted to know the answer. Dread twisted through her as she waited for the answer. Her best friend Gabrielle was an orphan, like Arabella, but one without siblings; her parents-in-law had welcomed her with open arms, and she would be devastated by the loss of either of them.
“Still alive,” Thomas said grimly, his voice strained as if he were in pain. Arabella had to resist the urge to turn about on her heel and hug the poor man. She decided to forgive him his presumptuous comment. Obviously he wasn’t currently quite in his right mind. “The doctor said it’s his heart. He seems to have made it through the initial crisis, but he’s going to be weak and at risk for future problems, and this attack will necessitate some changes in his lifestyle.”
Isaac clapped Thomas on the shoulder, and Arabella picked up her pace again, heading for the drawing room.
Gabrielle was there, weeping on Felix’s shoulder. For his part, her husband was stoic faced, but, unlike his eldest brother, his eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
“Oh, sweetie…” Arabella rushed forward, hands outstretched.
With a wail, Gabrielle launched herself from her husband’s arms to her best friend’s, her sudden renewed sobs obviously shocking Felix. He even looked a little hurt at being abandoned so quickly, but mostly concerned at his wife’s distress. Standing, he looked like he wanted to move forward, but since his wife had just left his arms, he seemed unsure if his presence would be welcome.
Hugging her tightly, Arabella shot him a helpless and apologetic look. She didn’t know why Gabrielle had reacted this way either.
“Gabrielle, sweetie, it’s going to be okay,” she said, even though she knew there was no guarantee, but Gabrielle sounded very close to hysteria. “Thomas said the Viscount is alright now.” Which wasn’t exactly what Thomas had said, but it was close enough to the truth.
“I can’t stop crying!” Gabrielle wailed, hugging Arabella tighter, her words slightly muffled by the way her head was turned into Arabella’s shoulder. Fortunately, she was a bit shorter than Arabella, which made for a more comfortable position than it would have otherwise been. “And he’s Felix’s father not mine, but Felix has had to comfort me, and I can’t comfort him, because I can’t stop crying, and I’m a horrible wiiiiiiife!”
“Oh, Gabrielle, darling,” Felix said, coming forward to place his hands on Gabrielle’s shoulders as they shook with the force of her sobs. His dark eyes were warm with sympathy as he and Arabella exchanged a look over Gabrielle’s head. “I did not - do not - mind comforting you at all. I know you love my father, and comforting you has helped me.”
“Really?” Gabrielle asked, lifting her head to turn and look at her husband. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy and wet with tears, but Felix looked at her like he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Arabella would have sighed with envy if the current circumstances weren’t so awful. While she’d been unconvinced of Gabrielle’s happiness with Felix as a husband when the couple had first wed, it was now obvious how much they loved each other and how well suited they were. Who wouldn’t be envious?
“Yes, sweetheart,” Felix said tenderly, and he stepped forward to enclose her in a hug which involved Arabella as well. His arms were long enough to close around both of them, trapping Gabrielle between them and lending her both their support. It was odd to feel so included and yet so on the outside simultaneously, but Arabella was just glad she could be there for her friend.
Gabrielle was the best friend she’d ever made, and had led her to other good friends like Cynthia, Eleanor, Lydia, Irene, and Grace. All women who Arabella could be sure liked her for herself and not just because she was the sister of a duke. Such friendships were not to be taken for granted.
After they broke apart, Gabrielle much calmer now, they rang for tea and Felix filled Arabella in on everything they’d heard since they received the i
nitial message. The Viscountess was currently with the doctor in the bedroom. Walter was in the library getting drunk - Arabella imagined that’s where her brother and Thomas had probably gone to since they hadn’t followed her in here. Felix wasn’t sure where his cousin Mary was; quite likely hiding in her room, he supposed. They began speculating on whether or not the Viscountess would decide to finish out the Season in London with her husband ill and what would happen to Mary’s Season if the Viscountess decided to make the move back to the country.
They hadn’t even finished their first cup of tea when Arabella noticed Gabrielle was beginning to droop, her shoulders slumping and her hand constantly coming up to cover her lips and hide a yawn.
“Did you not sleep well last night?” Arabella asked, keeping her tone innocent since Felix was in the room. After all, he didn’t know his wife had been occasionally very indelicate in how much information she shared with Arabella.
He didn’t look suspicious at all, however, he actually beamed, wrapping his arm around Gabrielle and pressing a kiss to her temple as she blushed furiously.
“No, I did,” Gabrielle said, blushing - but not with embarrassment. She and Felix exchanged another one of those loving looks which made Arabella feel a bit on the outside. “We aren’t making the announcement yet, but…”
She placed her hand on her stomach and gave Arabella a significant look. The adoring, worshipful expression on Felix’s face made him look wonderfully sappy.
Arabella squealed as Gabrielle’s meaning became clear, clapping her hands with delight! “You’re increasing!!! Oh, how wonderful!”
Smiling ruefully, Gabrielle laughed. “It is! But I tire so quickly, I’ve found, and with all the emotions of today…” She sighed as she waved her hand in an encompassing gesture. “Please don’t say anything. As soon as Papa is well enough we’re going to tell the family, and then we’ll start letting our other friends know.” Gabrielle’s smile widened. “However, seeing as the topic had risen, and since we were going to ask you to be godmother anyway…”
