Stand and Deliver Your Love

by Sheffield, Killarney

  She shook her head again. “What about the orphans? Who will take care of them? Who will provide for them?”

  There it was: the orphans, her only reason for living. The king promised to find a solution to the problem, and Byron would leave it at that rather than risk pricking his ire. It would be better not to tell her he had spoken to the king in case his majesty forgot about his promise. There was no sense getting her hopes up. He shrugged. “What would you have me do? I am up to my teeth in debt thanks to my father. I cannot feed, house and clothe all your wayward pets. They will manage for a while with the blunt you already extorted from me.”

  Anger flushed her cheeks. “You cold-hearted bastard!”

  “Enough!” Byron ground out between clenched teeth. “I will hear no more talk of breeches and orphans. You are not to engage in any of your old pursuits. I will not give the king cause to regret trusting me. He has stood by me, and believed in my innocence when everyone else shunned me.”

  Defiance flared in her eyes and she pounded her small fist against the table to emphasize her displeasure. “You cannot tell me what to do. I will not marry you.”

  Byron pushed back his chair, placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “I can, and I will. You, my dear, do not have a choice but to marry me unless you want to find yourself back in Newgate without the comforts I so kindly paid for the last time.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and began to run unchecked down her cheeks. “I wish I had listened to Bert, and left you lying in the middle of the road.” She leaped from her chair and ran from the room, her sobs echoing through the hall.

  Byron shoved his plate away. It seemed every time they were together, they ended up arguing. She made him so angry. Hadn't he done everything short of giving his own life to save hers? Couldn't she see that? All she cared about was her precious orphans. A bunch of lice-ridden castoffs. He dropped his head into his hands disgusted he was jealous of a bunch of small children. I am a horrible wretch, like the bastard she claims me to be.

  She hated him and clearly regretted helping him but still he wanted her. Even in his angriest moments all he could think of was silencing her lips with his. Shoving back his chair he stood, grabbed the fullest wine bottle from the table, and headed for his study. Tomorrow was his wedding day. He would drink alone in his study to celebrate a day that should be joyful.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, well flustered from wine and blue ruin, he climbed the stairs to his room. He paused in the hallway outside Sarah’s room. Seeing a sliver of light underneath her door he started to knock, but the sound of quiet sobbing stilled his hand. He lowered it and stood with his head against the coolness of the wooden door.

  Was she crying because he had insulted her? Or was she crying because she was being forced to marry someone she hated? When he could no longer bear to hear her heart-rending sobs he turned away and continued to his room. Anger surfaced at the guilt that always seemed to nag him when he was around her. The woman was probably crying over her loss of freedom more than anything, he tried to tell himself. Her tears were for the children she provided for. The little voice in his head tried to reason with him; she was crying because he was a brute, it said. Not wanting to hear the truth the voice professed, he shook his head, entered his room and proceeded to drink himself into a drunken slumber.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sarah paced back and forth in her room waiting for the knock at the door she both dreaded and expected for the last two hours. The apple green silk morning dress she had put on earlier was already wrinkled from her restlessness. Today was the day she became Lady Sarah Cobbett, the Marchioness of Hampton. Her hands shook as she took another look in the mirror then tucked a stray curl back into the knot of hair she pinned, so carefully, under her matching green and white conversation bonnet. Her eyes were still a little red from crying and gray-rimmed from her lack of sleep the night before.

  When someone knocked on the door she flinched and dropped her fan. “Enter,” she called, dismayed her voice sounded so pinched.

  The door opened. Byron stood on the threshold in what looked like his finest suit. His deep blue waistcoat matched his somber eyes perfectly. Her heart lurched. He was so handsome and refined looking. He contemplated her silently for a moment then took a large flat box from behind his back. Holding it out, he cleared his throat and gave her what she supposed passed for a smile under the circumstances. “I brought you something.”

  Sarah tried to smile at him, but all she managed was a tight lipped nod. She took the box and turned to placed it on the dressing table to open, when he stayed her with his hand. Her gaze fell to where it rested, warm and steady on hers.

  He slid his hand from hers. “Wait until we get to Duke Amberton’s before you open it.”

  Sarah nodded, handing the box to her maid who was accompanying them and pulled on her gloves. Byron held out his arm for her and she hesitated. When he looked at her pointedly, she sighed and placed her hand on his arm. She tried to keep her hand from shaking, afraid he would feel it under his soft black kerseymere coat. Dutifully she allowed him to lead her down the hall to the stairs. She paused on the top step when she spied what looked like every servant in the house staring up at them with beaming faces. Her stomach fluttered and she clenched Byron’s arm. He reached over and patted her hand. When she looked up at him he gave her a small crooked smile.

  When they reached the bottom of the steps the servants gathered around to wish them a joyous wedding day. Sarah was relieved when they finally disengaged themselves from the well-wishers and climbed into the coach-and-four awaiting them outside. They tarried but a moment more before her maid and Byron’s valet joined them. The coachman snapped his whip and they sped down the drive out onto the crowded London streets.

  Sarah stared out her window absentmindedly as her maid chattered on and on about the upcoming nuptials. The sky was clear and the sun was shining with cheer she didn't feel. Men and women of all classes waved when the carriage passed by. Did all of London know of their marriage, she wondered. Too soon they arrived at the Ambertons’ townhouse. Crowds of people had gathered at the gates and a number of carriages already lined the drive. Sarah darted an anxious glance at Byron. I cannot do this. How can I pretend to be the happy blushing bride in front of a crowd of people?

  Byron grasped her hand and helped her out of the carriage. He leaned close, his brandy-scented breath tickling her cheek. “Smile,” he whispered, “you are not being led to the guillotine you know.”

  Sarah raised her head, plastering a smile on her face as they strolled up the steps into the grand entrance way of the town house. Duke and Duchess Amberton met them at the double doors. They were an older couple, who Byron explained upon introductions were long-time friends of his mother’s family. Sarah gazed in wonder at the large amount of servants and guards milling in the hall. Why were there so many people? Hadn’t Byron mentioned this was to be a small affair? Then to her shock and surprise, the king himself entered the room. Sarah was in awe. She had never met the king before. How was she supposed to behave? Should she speak to him? She watched Byron to see what he did.

  He bowed to the king and Sarah curtsied hoping it was the correct response. When the king favored her with an approving look, she exhaled in relief.

  The king’s booming voice echoed. “Ah, Lord Cobbett. It is good to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. It was most kind of you to join us, as well as the Duke and Duchess to offer to have our nuptials here.”

  The king tipped his head in acknowledgement and turned to Sarah. “Lady Sarah, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I knew your family well.” He bowed and took her hand in his, kissing the air above her fingers. Was this the man who had so carelessly arranged the rest of her life for her? How could one who seemed so kind be so thoughtless? Slipping her fingers from his grasp she focused on the shiny marble floor at her feet.

  The king chuckled. “Lord Cobbett, I fear your lovel
y bride has a case of nerves.”

  “You may be right, Your Excellence.”

  “Come, we shall await your bride in the large parlor.” Byron gave her hand a quick squeeze and followed the king without a word, leaving Sarah to follow a maid. She and Mavis were taken to a small sitting room off the entrance way and left to freshen up before the ceremony.

  Mavis fussed as she removed Sarah’s bonnet and smoothed her styled hair. “I almost forgot about the present his lordship gave you, my lady.” She held out the box.

  Sarah took it and set it on the richly upholstered sofa. She lifted the lid and peeled back the thin tissue paper underneath then caught her breath. An emerald green silk gown lay inside. Grasping the delicate dress by its shoulders, she lifted it from the tissue and shook it out. The entire dress was covered in tiny glittering glass stones sewn at regular intervals from the puffed shoulders to the tip of the shimmering train. The neckline was a daring emerald studded V that looked like it would bear slightly more than a modest glimpse of her chest. The bodice tapered into a matching V at the waist which bloomed into a full bustled skirt decorated with more stones.

  “Oh, it is lovely! I have never seen anything like it,” the maid whispered.

  Sarah didn't know what to say. The gown was exquisite. Where had the marquis found such an item? He could not have had it made for her; it would have taken too much time. The dress must have cost a fortune. How could he? He claimed to be too poor to help the children, yet he must have spent an outrageous amount of money on a gown she would only wear for a few hours.

  “I cannot wear this.”

  The maid gasped. “Oh, but you must, my lady. You would not want his lordship to be offended or think you didn't like his wedding gift.”

  Sarah put the dress back in the box. “No. I cannot wear this. The cost is too much.”

  “Nonsense,” the maid chirped. She turned Sarah around and reached to undo the buttons down the back of her morning dress. “You will be the most beautiful bride ever.”

  Sarah pulled away from her. “I cannot, Mavis. Return the dress to the marquis.”

  The girl stared at her wide-eyed with shock. “Surely you jest, my lady! The dress is lovely and to be sure his lordship would not have purchased it if he could not afford it.”

  “That is just the problem, Mavis, the marquis can afford it, as I am sure he can afford many other things.”

  Before the maid could protest any further there was a tap at the door. Mavis hurried to open it. The butler stood in the hall waiting. He handed Sarah a fresh bouquet of white lilies and led the way to the large parlor.

  Sarah clutched the flowers so hard she feared she would crush their fragrant stems. The butler opened the double doors to the parlor and stepped aside for her to enter. The marquis stood in the center of the room beside the king and a minister. When he looked up expectantly she dropped her gaze to the floor, afraid if she were to look into his face she would turn tail and run away. Counting under her breath, she watched her feet peek out from beneath the hemline of the dress as she shuffled forward. The only sound in the room was the rustle of her gown. When Byron’s shiny black shoes appeared in her line of vision she stopped.

  The minister began the ceremony, though Sarah hardly heard any of the words. She repeated the vows when she was told to without really comprehending. At the end of the ceremony her bouquet was taken from her by Mavis and her pale white hand was placed in Byron’s larger tanned one. He slipped a glittering sapphire ring onto her finger. The minister’s voice seemed to come from far away as he told the marquis he could now kiss the bride. Sarah stiffened as Byron cupped her chin in his hand and raised her lips to his. She closed her eyes and caught her breath. His warm lips touched hers. When his tongue brushed her bottom lip she almost swooned. The air crackled between them. Her body began to sing even though she tried to detach herself from the reality of her feelings for him. Suddenly the promise of his kiss was gone, and she was left standing there blinking. The king slapped the marquis on the back. “Come, let us eat.”

  The duchess gave her a gentle hug and smiled. “You make a lovely bride. Come, first we eat and then I have planned a lavish wedding ball for you.”

  Sarah let out her pent-up breath and followed the men and the woman to a cozy

  dining room. She took her seat beside the duchess, who had given up her place at the end of the table to the king. Byron sat in the seat across from her. As it turned out she didn't have to worry about conversation as the duchess was quite bubbly and gracious. The meal passed quickly, partly due to the wine that flowed freely with the elaborate meal. When the last course was cleared away the men excused themselves to take their port and cigars in the library.

  The duchess stood as the men left. “Come I will show you where you can rest and

  freshen up before our guests arrive.”

  * * * *

  An hour later, Mavis removed the cool cloth from Sarah’s head and patted each wayward strand of hair back into place. Sarah permitted the maid’s fussing for a moment then brushed her away and crossed the room to the window overlooking the driveway. Carriages were lined up down the block as far as she could see. It appeared the nuptial ball was going to be a great crush, more due to the presence of royalty than anything else, she suspected.

  A knock on the door made Sarah turned away from the window. Byron strolled into the room. Sarah looked down and fidgeted with her painted silk fan, turning the ivory handle around and around in her fingers. Footsteps padded across the carpet. When she looked up Byron was standing before her.

  He stilled her twitching hands with his and looked deep into her eyes. “Why did you not wear the dress I gave you?”

  She stared at him mutely for a moment, the warmth of his fingers removing her resolve to take him to task. “The cost was too much.”

  His eyes darkened either in amusement or anger she could not he sure until she glanced at his lips. They were pressed into a thin line.

  When he spoke his voice was low and cool. “The cost of the gown is of no concern to you.”

  Sarah pulled away. “I beg to differ, my lord. The cost of a dress is of great concern to me. I am unused to tossing money around when others have so little.”

  The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Why must everything be about the children? Why can you not take something for yourself? If it makes you feel better the dress did not cost all that much. Madame La Rue was commissioned to make the dress for another lady who decided to cry off her betrothal at the last moment. She gave me the dress for a fraction of the cost.”

  Sarah looked down, embarrassed that she had judged him wrong. “I am sorry. I did not know.”

  He lifted her chin to meet her gaze his look softening. “I only meant to gift you with something as beautiful as you.”

  “I … I do not believe you,” Sarah whispered. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Why?”

  Sarah swallowed and looked down at the carpet. “One does not admire something he does not want.”

  His voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear him. “You think I do not desire you?”

  “Desire to share one’s bed is not the same as wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone,” she said flatly, “Desire is not love, it is only lust and nothing more.”

  Again he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes darkened as he lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was hungry and urgent. His tongue passed over her lips begging for entry into the recesses beyond. Sarah’s knees began to shake and she leaned against his chest for support. A storm was brewing inside she could not quell. With a sigh she opened her mouth for his persistent tongue, shivering as it touched hers. Suddenly her arms were around his neck and he was clutching her to him as if she were a buoy in a storm. Her heart beat wildly with a passionate tempo. When he groaned and slid his hand up underneath her breast to caress her sensitive nipple through the thin fabric of her gown sh
e thought it would be her undoing. “I hate to interrupt, but all the guests have arrived and are awaiting us downstairs.”

  Byron pulled away and turned to the door. The duke and duchess stood on the threshold, amused smiles on their faces.

  “Do you remember when it was that way with us, dearest?” the duchess asked with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Is it not still that way, my love?” the duke returned. He chuckled when his wife blushed.

  Sarah’s face heated. “Could you give me a few moments?” She peeked at Byron. “I would like to change.” The corners of his lips twitched into a grin.

  The duchess smiled. “Of course, my dear. We will await you outside the ballroom.”

  When they left, Sarah scrambled to change with the help of Mavis and hurried to rejoin the duke and duchess.

  Sarah took Byron’s offered arm and he gave her an admiring look making her blush, before leaning down and whispering in her ear, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  As Sarah struggled to find her voice to deny his claim, bugles blew and two royal footmen opened the double doors to the ballroom. When the king was announced, every person in the crowded ballroom turned to the doors and bowed. The monarch stopped just inside and waited while their hosts where announced. Then it was Byron and Sarah’s turn.

  “Presenting Lord Byron Cobbett, the Marquis of Hampton and his new bride, Lady Sarah Cobbett.” Sarah tried to smile as they walked into the room and stood beside their hosts. She stared at the sea of faces watching. There was a lot of murmuring in the crowd as everyone got their first look at the mysterious new marchioness. Panic rose unbidden in her chest and made her knees knock. As if sensing her distress Byron squeezed her hand. Sarah looked into his eyes for a moment before he looked away. Why couldn’t things be different? If only he loved her as she loved him. Could she win his love? Would he learn to love her? She was soon distracted from her thoughts as couples gathered around to offer their congratulations. Sarah clung to Byron’s arm, afraid she might have to answer any number of difficult questions. Thankfully he did not seem to mind and stayed by her side except to obtain refreshments for her. A waltz began to play which was apparently a signal for all the married couples to converge on the dance floor in honor of the newlyweds.