His grip on her arm softened. It had nothing to do with her plea; however, and everything to do with the fact that the viscount was now in view. He was standing at the end of a long aisle, shoulder-to-shoulder with an old vicar and another man, unfamiliar and handsome. The pews were empty. Completely empty.
“Is that it?” Leona whispered to her father. “He waits for me, I arrive, we get married… and that’s it? What a fine ceremony this will be!”
“Try to be pleasant,” Mr. Lennox admonished his daughter. “The man is dying, remember? Don’t make this a day he’ll regret for the rest of his short life.”
Leona continued to hiss at her father as he led her down the aisle. “I plan to be as pleasant as I can be, considering the circumstances.”
“The circumstances could be far worse, considering the state you’re in.”
“Thank you, Father, for repeatedly reminding me of my giant blunder on my wedding day.”
When they reached the aisle’s end, Mr. Lennox was more than happy to hand his daughter off to Lord Randall. And Leona, truth be told, was just as happy to be rid of her father. If it was the last time she saw him, she didn’t think she would mind. Her new life was laid out before her, and she had no choice but to live it.
As the vicar proceeded to join them in holy matrimony, Leona felt detached from her body. She felt like a disembodied soul, observing a person who looked like herself doing something beyond her control. She couldn’t even bring herself to look in Lord Randall’s direction. She wondered how he felt about having her as a wife. Did it make him happy, or was he hoping for something different?
If he knew the truth about her, he would definitely wish for something different. Leona felt a knot of guilt coiling in her abdomen, tugging her stomach like a tight-fitting corset. Lord Randall’s new wife wasn’t the sort of woman he thought she was. If he knew the truth, she knew he would never have her.
Leona would never have to worry about Lord Randall changing his mind. The vicar uttered the final words, Lord Randall kissed her hand, and it was done. She was suddenly a viscountess, the wife of a man she barely knew.
She prayed she wouldn’t retch on her husband’s fancy coat.
Chapter Ten
Leona didn’t retch, but she was always closer to retching than she wanted to be. She held her breath several times, hoping the sensation of nausea would dissipate. The rocking of the carriage and the midsummer heat did nothing to quell her upset stomach.
“My lord,” Leona shyly addressed the man sitting across from her. She looked up at him, briefly meeting his gaze. She only gave him quick glances, because the sight of him made her uneasy. Her thoughts made her uneasy. Every time Leona looked at him, she thought about sharing his bed. That sort of thought would make anyone uneasy, would it not? “How long ‘til we reach Randall Hall?”
“The longest part of the journey is over. We should be there within the hour,” he politely informed her. “Miss Lennox?”
“Yes?”
“Now that I am your husband, I would like it if you dispensed with formalities. I’d like it if you would call me Tristan.”
“Tristan,” she repeated softly. “Okay, I shall call you that from now on. And… you should call me Leona. After all, my name isn’t Miss Lennox anymore. I lost that name when I became your wife!”
Tristan chuckled. It was a fake chuckle, thick with apprehension. When realized he was apprehensive, Leona was a bit relieved. At least she wasn’t the only one who thought this was an awkward situation. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I forgot. How foolish of me. Yes. You’re no longer Miss Lennox, are you?”
Leona shook her head, secretly amused by the way he was babbling.
“I suppose you’re Lady Randall now.”
“Leona,” she corrected him. “I want you to call me Leona. It wouldn’t seem right if my husband addressed me any other way.”
When Tristan got quiet, so did Leona. It was the first time she had been in such close quarters with her husband, and it wouldn’t be the last time. When would the situation feel less unnatural? Would there ever be a time when conversing with him would feel… normal? At least she wasn’t alone with him—yet. Mary was sitting beside her, silent as a hibernating bear.
Leona stared out the window for what felt like an eon. The scenery wasn’t particularly interesting, but the rolling fields of green were somewhat soothing. A continuous wind blew into the carriage, tousling the curls that framed Leona’s face. By the time they arrived at their destination, she wondered if she’d look like a banshee.
Suddenly, a tremendous gust of wind pounded their carriage, nearly knocking the vehicle on its side. It broke the silence.
“Oh!” Leona gasped. “Such wind! And the air was so stagnant in London!”
“The further north you travel, the windier it seems to get. If you think this wind is bad, you should visit Yorkshire,” Tristan responded. “I suppose this could be a sign of bad weather.”
“Whatever it is, it’s wreaking havoc on my hair!” she exclaimed, lightly patting her blond curls. “I must look awful.”
“On the contrary, I think you look beautiful.”
For the first time, Leona gave her husband more than a quick glance. She wanted so badly to return a compliment, but nothing honest crossed her mind. He wasn’t wholly unappealing, but he wasn’t handsome. She didn’t feel like telling him any more lies. “Oh, but… this dress is so outmoded. It belonged to my mother. I would have liked to go to the dressmaker for a gown of my own, but… as you know, we had little time to prepare. If we had had a large wedding, I would have been embarrassed to be seen in such an unfashionable gown.”
“I think it looks very pretty on you.”
Leona sneered. She hoped her husband wasn’t the sort of man who would tell her what she wanted to hear, regardless of the truth. There wasn’t anything she hated more than an empty compliment. “My lord?”
“Tristan,” he corrected her.
“Tristan… yes… well… I was wondering… are we nearly there?”
“Anxious, are we?” he asked with a chuckle. “Actually, Randall Hall should come into view any moment now. As soon as we’re past those trees…” He pointed to a cluster of trees nestled beside a narrow brook.
“Really? We’re that close? But we haven’t passed anything for miles! It really is a secluded place, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is. When I was a child, I was something of a recluse. What other choice did I have? Randall Hall is so far removed from any trace of civilization.”
Realizing what a lonely life she was facing, Leona frowned. Her only companions would be her husband and her maid. What other choice did she have?
“Look,” Tristan directed her attention to the window. “You can see it now.”
Leona’s head swiveled. She was very eager to see her new home. In her mind, she’d dreamt up a dark, foreboding castle, like something that might have suited Vladimir the Impaler. A dreary castle would have been appropriate, for she felt like a glorified prisoner. However, as Randall Hall rolled into view, she was a bit disappointed to see it wasn’t nearly as imposing as she imagined it would be. It was a bright, impressive place, built from red stone. On one side of the house there was a small pond, where a pair of ducks was calmly drifting. On the other side, a handsome tangle of vines spread across the wall. The most impressive part of the house was the front, which was flanked by grand, giant columns that made Leona think of an ancient Greek temple.
Her initial reaction was speechlessness. As she stared at the house, Leona mustered a tiny, “Oh.”
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Very much. It’s breathtaking.”
When Tristan hopped from the carriage, he looked like a picture of health. Leona could almost forget he was a dying man. With a smile, he offered her a hand. “Come. Will you let me give you a tour?”
She took his hand and alighted from the carriage. “I’d like that very much.”
Tristan, Leona and
Mary headed toward the house, where they were greeted by a thin man with an extraordinarily long nose.
“Ah!” Tristan greeted the man with a smile. “Good afternoon, Dubois! Or is it evening yet?”
“It iz that awkward time between afternoon and eve-in-ing, my lord,” Dubois answered with a heavy French accent. With a crooked smile, he turned to Leona.“Is zis your bride?”
“Yes. This is the new Lady Randall,” answered Tristan. “And this, Leona, is my butler. Du--”
“Dubois. Yes, I heard you say his name,” Leona interrupted him. Immediately after she spoke, she wondered if she sounded rude. She didn’t particularly like Lord Randall, but she didn’t want to give him any reason to dislike her.
“The lady iz as pretty as you said, my lord.”
Lord Randall chose to ignore the butler’s assessment of his wife’s good looks. “Dubois, you have no idea how happy I am to see a familiar face. How have you been?”
“I should ask you that question, oui? I am sure your days have been much more eventful zan mine. By the way, sir, I hope you are pleased with the work we have done with Randall Hall. Everything iz as it should be. You might find some dust on zee walls here and there, but Nell iz taking care of that, I promise you.”
“Thank you, Dubois.” Tristan turned his gaze on his wife. “Would you like a tour of the house?”
“I’d like that very much, my lord,” Leona answered, trying to sound as polite as possible. “Do you mind if Mary accompanies me?”
“No, not at all.”
Dubois held the door for them, and Tristan led Leona into a lavish, well-lit foyer. Leona had to stare at the floor for several seconds. The way the light was shining on the ground, it looked like they were standing on solid gold.
“This is all very… pretty, my lord.”
“Thank you,” he answered softly. “Look, a bust of my father.” He directed her attention to a marble statue of a large, beady-eyed man—but Leona’s eyes were drawn to the statue behind it. She recognized the other statue at once.
“And you,” she noted. “There is also a statue of you.”
“If you had seen the statue beforehand, would you have begged your father to have mercy? Would you have said please don’t make me marry that awkward beast of a man?”
His comment took her by surprise, and Leona found herself biting back a giggle. “Well… of course not.”
“I don’t know what to make of your held laughter and hesitation. Should I be worried?” he teased her. “Come. Let us go up the stairs. We should start the tour up there.”
The staircase itself was a site to behold. The stairs were pearl-white, like something borrowed from Heaven. The walls were lined with huge, eye-popping paintings and portraits—masterpieces in their own right. As she ascended the steps, Leona was dizzied by the whirlwind of color. Three minutes after she arrived at Randall Hall, she decided it was one of the prettiest places she had ever seen.
Her new husband showed her many rooms, each one more extravagant than the next. They went from a library with endless walls of books, to a dining room with the most impressive crystal chandeliers, which made it look as if the ceiling was dripping with diamonds. There was a parlor decorated with furniture from the Tudor period, which turned out to be her favorite room in the house.
Finally, they ended the tour in what would become Leona’s new bedchamber. He specifically said it was her bedchamber, and she was relieved to know they wouldn’t be sharing a room. She didn’t think she would be able to fall asleep beside a stranger. It would be impossible.
“So…” Tristan spoke to her as she admired her four-poster bed, which was handsomely swathed in Egyptian silk. “I hope it suits you.”
Leona laughed. “Suits me? I think it’s lovely! It’s the loveliest room I’ve ever seen!”
“Good, I’m glad you feel that way.” Tristan started inching toward the door. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’m sure you’re longing for some rest after such a long journey.”
Leona nodded. She felt like she owed him a better response than a nod, but for some reason, she didn’t find it easy to converse with him.
He stood in the doorway, hovering. She could tell he had a question on his tongue.
“Do you want something, my lord?” Leona asked politely.
“I was just wondering if you’d like to join me for supper tonight,” he proposed. “I would certainly enjoy the company.”
“Supper?” When she repeated the word, she knew how dumb she sounded. She didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes. Or, if you’d rather, I could have someone bring your meals to your room.”
“I’d like that,” Leona blurted. “I mean…. if it’s alright with you, I’d like to have dinner in my room. You’re right. I am tired after the long journey.”
“Oh. Very well.”
With that, Tristan fled from the room, and Leona sat on the bed. The disappointment on his face made her feel guilty, but she wanted to be alone. She needed to summon a large amount of willpower before the end of the night. Leona would need all her wits about her if she was going to join him in his bed.
Chapter Eleven
But she wasn’t a virgin.
He would know she wasn’t a virgin.
Leona couldn’t get that thought out of her head. If she shared his bed tonight, he would know her secret. She wondered if there was some way to conceal it, or if there was another believable lie she could tell. Or maybe he had little experience with women, and wouldn’t know the difference?
Leona had been pacing around her new bedroom for a few hours. Her supper, cold and untouched, was sitting on a tray at the end of her bed. Every time she thought about taking a bite, she felt a familiar pang of nausea.
Leona wondered if, wherever he was, her new husband could hear her pacing the floor. She tried to walk on the rug, because it concealed the sound of her footsteps. Every now and then, she would venture to the far end of the room to check the looking glass. When she looked at herself, she wondered: does it look like I’ve been crying?
It did, of course. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her face was a mottled pink. She knew she shouldn’t be feeling so sorry for herself. After all, Leona knew it was her own foolishness that landed her in this situation. And, as she constantly tried to reassure herself, things could be worse. Her father could have thrown her out, or sent her to live with some wicked aunt. Even worse, her new husband could have turned about to be a complete monster. Fortunately, Tristan seemed amiable enough. She wasn’t comfortable around him yet, but he seemed as pleasant and polite as any man she’d ever met.
Leona flopped down on her bed, careful not to bump the plate of food, as she wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of boiled potatoes on her bedspread. She buried her face in one of the pillows and sighed deeply. “Is he supposed to come to me?” she murmured to herself, “or am I supposed to go to him?”
It was understood that they would have a wedding night, wasn’t it? He did want to consummate the marriage, didn’t he? Leona wondered if Tristan would keep away from her, because she did say some nonsense about not wanting to have supper with him on account of being too tired. Leona didn’t know if there was some sort of wedding night etiquette she needed to abide. Did wives with separate bedrooms hunt down their husbands, or did their husbands come to them?
Leona thought she would look too eager if she went to his bedchamber, so she decided to wait it out. She moved the tray of food, changed into a pretty nightgown, and lay on her bed. She waited for nearly an hour, watching the door, wondering if he would come.
And then another thought crossed her mind.
“What if I kill him?!” she squeaked.
After all, her new husband had some sort of heart condition. Her father told her so. What if the night’s activities would prove too much for him? There were no words to describe the remorse she would feel.
As she waited for her husband to come, Leona’s eyes started to flutter. It
had been a long day. Her heavy eyelids were an indication that she would be fighting off sleep if he didn’t come soon.
After two hours of pacing, and nearly two hours of waiting, Leona decided she had enough. She had to take matters into her own hands. If he didn’t come to her room, she’d have to go to his. She wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of sharing his bed, but it was something she needed to do in order to secure a future for herself. If she didn’t bed him soon, the birth of her baby would raise eyebrows. She had to make him believe the baby was his.
“I’m terrible, I know,” Leona said out loud. She didn’t know who she was talking to. God, maybe? She knew He was probably very disappointed in her, but what else could she do?
Leona checked the looking glass one more time. Relatively pleased by her appearance, she threw open the door to her bedroom, and—
Lord Randall was standing on the other side, looking just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
* * *
“Oh… hello…”
That was the only sentence he could manage: An oh and a hello. It seemed like a pretty pathetic thing to utter, considering the fact that he’d been pacing outside her room for nearly an hour. He held a candle in one hand, because the corridors of Randall Hall were pitch black at night. In his other hand he gripped his cane, in case he ever lost his balance.
He could see Leona’s eyes, wide with shock, in the flickering orange candlelight. “My lord… Tristan… you, uh… you’re here to see me?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I… I was just about to knock.” It was a lie, of course. He was probably going to pace around for another hour or so, wondering what he was supposed to do, before retreating to his bedroom. He never had a wife before. What was a man supposed to do on his wedding night when he didn’t know the girl? Was it within his rights to take liberties? Was it expected? Would she hate him for it? Even if he was dying, Tristan didn’t want to make a mess of things. At the very least, he wanted her to like him—just a little bit.
The Fallen Woman (A Regency Romance) Page 6
