by Amy Field
“I believe it be as such. I do not wish to search for a wife. However, my title demands it of me,” he told her.
“But you are young yet. Can it not wait?”
“There is much pressure for me to produce an heir. James does not wish to be the earl. He hasn’t been groomed for it, and he tells me on many occasions how very much he enjoys his life. Besides, I do wish to pass down the title to my own offspring.”
“Well, I am sure finding a wife will not be the worst of ordeals.”
Wes sniffed. “I tried once and we both know how that turned out.”
That night, Arielle slipped between her sheets, her feet stretching toward the warming brick her maid had placed at the foot of her bed. Sometime between the walk back to Pelham House and a later than usual dinner, a plan had formed in her mind. A rather outrageous plan, but one that would solve many problems. If she only had the fortitude and bravery to initiate it.
Chapter Four
Wes stared at the note from Arielle, confused. Why was she asking him to meet her in such a clandestine way? Though the girl could easily worm her way beneath his skin until he saw red, she was, for the most part, an agreeable sort. He could even go as far as saying he enjoyed her company on occasion.
He rose from his chair and strode out of his study, intent on finding Arielle and discovering what matter was behind her urgent need for his presence. Only a few minutes passed before he reached the library, peering about as he called her name.
“Miss Seabourn?” he called out. “I received your note. Are you alright?”
She suddenly appeared around the corner, fidgeting with her dress, not meeting his eyes. “My lord,” she curtseyed, “Thank you for arriving on such short notice. I am in a bit of a predicament and I need your sage advice. Might we sit before the fire and have tea?” She asked, gesturing toward the cozy scene. The fire was roaring and a small table beside the settee held a silver tea service, a plate of seedcakes, and two china cups.
He raised an eyebrow. “Very well,” he agreed, though her strange behavior did not put him at ease. She stepped toward the settee and he followed her, taking a seat beside her on the settee, though little space was afforded between them.
Arielle poured the tea, but her hand was shaking and she spilled more than a few drops on the fine linen cloth. As Wes took a cup from her, she still would not meet his eyes. “Miss Seabourn, something seems amiss. Please, tell me what has you so unsettled.”
She took a long sip of her tea before answering him. “I have realized that I must take it upon myself to complete a most unsavory task,” she admitted.
“And why do you feel whatever it is is something you must do?”
“Because it is best for all parties involved.”
“Well, take courage then. Though I know not of which you speak in such cryptic terms, I trust you have somewhat sound judgment. You must be brave, Miss Seabourn.”
She nodded as if resolving within herself to the task she needed to undertake. “Thank you, sir. I only hope you will not think less of me when I have done what I need to do.”
Confused, he watched as she sipped her tea, all the while staring intently at her lap or her cup. “I pray I have not given encouragement for you to perform an unseemly or unladylike task,” he replied carefully.
The sound of footsteps coming from the library’s entrance caught his attention, and he didn’t notice the small figure in the smartly cut, yellow gown gently place her teacup on the table and throw herself onto his lap until it was too late. Her arms were about his neck and when he turned, utterly disoriented, to discover what was the matter, she pressed her lips tightly against his and his eyes went wide with surprise.
“WES!” He heard his brother call out as a sharp, feminine gasp was elicited amid murmurs of shock in the distance. Still off guard, he gathered enough wits to reach up and untangle the tightly clasped hands about his neck. He tried to turn his head from her incessant kisses, but she was strong for being such a small lady and he did not want to hurt her.
At last, after what felt like ages, she leaned back, staring at him with wide green eyes, her cheeks flushed as she tried to catch her breath. He stared back at her, dumbfounded.
“What is the meaning of this?” He asked when he finally found his voice.
“I’m sorry, but it is for your own good,” she replied, still sitting upon his lap, despite the audience that had gathered in the library. He slowly turned in his seat to see his brother and his wife, and several members of the household staff staring at him and the beautiful, though infuriating, creature taking up residence on top of him. This was not good.
“What are you doing, Wes?” His brother asked, eyes wide as Arielle finally stood and stepped away from him. He quickly rose himself, though never in his life had he felt so out of sorts and at a loss for an answer.
“Arielle! How dare you act in such an unscrupulous way for all and sundry to witness!” Her sister, Lady Pendleton, admonished. Arielle stood with her hands clasped in front of her, blushing, saying nothing. However, the meaning behind her actions suddenly became quite clear to him. He had been hoodwinked right and good. He tried to keep the anger threatening to boil over in check.
“I-I apologize. Our passion simply escaped us,” the small voice at his side proclaimed demurely. He turned and stared at her incredulously.
“Wes, might I speak with you privately?” James asked.
Wes nodded and followed his brother into the hall.
“What is the meaning of this?” James asked expectantly.
“James, I have no idea. She attacked me.”
James snorted. “That tiny waif of a girl attacked you? I can hardly believe that, Wes.”
“It is the truth. Her advances were a complete surprise.”
“You’re telling me that she threw herself at you? That’s rather accusatory. Her reputation shall be in shreds, especially since so many of the servants witnessed the impropriety.”
“I tell you the truth, though you know good and well I have no choice as to what I shall have to do. I cannot allow your wife’s sister to become a compromised woman at my expense,” Wes grumbled.
James crossed his arms. “Yes, though according to you it would be her own fault, I know you are too much of a gentleman to allow her reputation to be ruined. Besides,” he sighed, “this does resolve your need for a wife.”
Wes’ brow furrowed. “I have a feeling she very much knew what she was doing.”
“How could you doubt anything less?” James replied, trying to hide his smile.
Chapter Five
Arielle fidgeted nervously in the library beneath the watchful, disapproving eye of her elder sister as Wes and James spoke in the hall. She glanced toward the door, wondering what discussion was taking place on the other side. Had she been wrong to take matters into her own hands the way that she had? It had seemed like a fool-proof plan, one that would benefit them both. Now, she wondered if it had all been for naught, and she would soon be booted from the estate, her reputation in tatters.
“Arielle, how could you do such a thing?” Melanie asked, looking prim and perfect as always.
“The earl needs a wife, and I need to marry, too. I like being close to you, and I know the earl is too blind to see that perhaps, beneath our quarrels, we would make a rather nice match.”
“But you shouldn’t have taken matters into your own hands. Did the idea occur to you that perhaps a bit of coquettish behavior, a gentle hand on his arm, a walk in the garden, and he would have asked to court you? You are quite a lovely girl, and he would have surely caught on.”
“I’m not at all sure that he would have, Melanie. He is rather single-minded. He had the notion of going to London for the Season to find a bride. He did not see me as an option,” Arielle shrugged.
“Well, we must pray that he does now, or you are ruined, Arielle. Ruined!” Melanie fretted, wringing her hands as her own eyes wandered to the closed door.
Moments la
ter, the door opened and James and Wes reappeared. Wes cleared his throat. “Might I have a private word with Miss Seabourn?” He requested. James and Melanie quickly retreated, but left the library door open.
Wes sighed. “I am not sure what you were thinking behaving so inappropriately.”
“That isn’t true, is it? I believe you know exactly why I did what I did.” She stepped toward him.
“You know that we must marry,” he told her.
She nodded. “Yes, I know, but truly, is that so very awful?”
Wes ran a hand through his hair. “No, I suppose it is not, but I do not appreciate my decisions being taken from me. You have tied my hands. I do not love you, and now we are forced to marry.”
Arielle winced at his harsh truth. “You did not even know my sister when you had made a decision to wed her. Why now does love matter to you?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t, but I believe it shall matter to you. I’m afraid you shall be sorely disappointed and there is nothing either of us can do about it.”
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “I shall be nothing of the sort,” she meekly defended.
“Seeing as there is no reason to delay our wedding as word spreads fast throughout the realm of servants, I am riding to procure a special license this afternoon. We shall be married in the morning. I shall write immediately to your father, explaining my ardent desire and inability to wait. He shall probably be so pleased his daughter landed such a fine match with an earl, he will care little for the circumstances regarding the reasons for our marriage,” he said coolly.
Arielle merely nodded. What choice did she have?
“If you will excuse me, my dear, I shall be on my way to attend to the matters necessary for our wedding,” he said with a curt bow before exiting the library. He did not wait for her reply.
* * * *
The next morning dawned dreary and gray. Arielle rose from a fitful sleep to dress in the silk gown of sky blue she’d chosen for her wedding. The color was cheerful and the fine silk was embroidered along the bodice and hem with gold. Beneath her heavy fur cloak, she would be warm enough for the carriage ride to the parish church with Wes, James and Melanie.
The minister would perform the ceremony and they would promptly return for the wedding breakfast. On such short notice, there would be little fanfare. Arielle watched her reflection in the looking glass as her lady’s maid plaited her hair and swept it romantically into a loose chignon.
She glanced around the bedchamber appointed with lovely furnishings and decorated in green and gold. Every room at Pelham House was beautiful and sumptuous. She had yet to venture down the hall to the bedchamber connected to the earl’s, however. The countess’ room would be hers that very night, but she’d been too uncertain to visit the spacious place just yet.
A light knock at her door called her attention away from her overwhelming thoughts. Her sister, adorned in a lavender gown, a jaunty hat with a feather plume accentuating her beautiful, porcelain-like features, peeked around the door. “Ready to go, dearie?”
Arielle rose from the velvet chair, adjusting the silk ties of her bonnet. “As ready as I shall ever be,” she said, squaring her shoulders. She exited the room, hooking her arm through Melanie’s as they ascended the wide staircase. Wes and James waited at the foot of the steps to escort them to the carriage.
Wes offered his arm and Arielle slipped her arm from Melanie’s and looped it around his. “I trust you slept well,” he said formally as he walked with her to the waiting carriage.
“As could be expected,” she said quietly as he helped her into the enclosed carriage. She sat pensively on the tufted, cream velvet as he entered behind her and took a seat next to her. Once they were all settled, the coachman took off at a fast clip. They’d barely settled when he pulled to a stop a couple of miles down the road in front of the stone church. Situated at the edge of the village, few townspeople were milling about as the members of the gentry alighted from the polished carriage. They only evoked a few stares.
The wedding was swift. As Melanie and James sat in the front pew of the little stone church, Wes and Arielle exchanged vows and Wes slipped an emerald and diamond ring set in gold on her finger. “It was my mother’s,” he murmured as she stared at the hefty gem resting on her left hand.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered back as the rector finished the ceremony.
“I lawfully pronounce you husband and wife. My lord, you may now kiss your bride,” the rector instructed. Arielle closed her eyes and lifted her lips to receive Wes’ rather chaste, brief kiss.
“It is done then?” Wes asked the rector.
“You are married to the lovely lady by your side,” the rector replied.
Wes nodded gruffly, paid the man and offered his arm to escort Arielle from the sanctuary after every member of their party signed the wedding certificate.
She scurried to keep up with Wes’ swift pace back to the carriage, feeling rather unsettled in the pit of her stomach. He had hardly looked at her since they’d left Pelham House earlier.
“Is everything alright?” she asked tentatively.
Wes harrumphed. “I suppose everything is alright besides my being manipulated into marriage this morning for the sake of your reputation.”
She frowned. She’d tried to be patient, but it wasn’t her strong suit. The quivering maid in distress was not a part she played well. “Please, for the sake of all that is right and good, stop pouting.”
His eyebrows rose as he turned to stare at her in shock. “I am not pouting,” he said shortly.
“Yes, you are, and it is rather ridiculous. If anything, you should be thanking me,” she said hotly, as she lost what little hold she had left on her temper.
He helped her into the carriage and quickly sat down beside her as James and Melanie rushed down the walk to catch up with the bride and groom.
“How dare you act as though you were doing me a favor by taking away my right to choose my own bride,” he said beneath his breath.
“How dare you act as though I am hardly worth cleaning the mud from your boots!” She retorted. They stared each other down, breathing heavily, the anger emanating between them.
James cleared his throat as he helped Melanie onto the seat and slid in beside her. “I believe congratulations are in order!” He exclaimed as he took in the couple staring angrily at one another. They both turned to look at him as if horns grew from his well-combed dark hair.
“Perhaps, differences could be set aside for your wedding day?” Melanie ventured sweetly, patting Arielle’s knee from across the carriage. The gesture calmed her down, and Arielle took a deep breath. She turned to Wes.
“I apologize for getting so angry,” she sighed.
“Apology accepted,” he clipped before turning to speak to James. She closed her eyes and breathed in another rush of air. She could not believe him! Who had she married? Would he not apologize? Or see himself as ever being wrong?
Chapter Six
Arielle paced back and forth in front of the hearth in the Countess’ bedchamber, her white cotton nightgown floating in her wake. She’d chosen her best nightgown—the one with lace-trimmed sleeves and embroidered edges. Her hair hung in long, loose curls down her back as she continued her nervous pacing. Occasionally, she glanced toward the large, ornate bed, its intricate bed coverings already turned down for the night by her maid, who’d left her alone with a wink and a knowing smile well over an hour ago.
As the grandfather clock in the hall struck the hour of eleven, Wes had not came to her room yet. Perhaps, he was not going to visit her at all that night. Maybe he was still stewing from their myriad of tiffs throughout their first day as husband and wife. Arielle bit her lip. She assumed most couples were happy on their wedding day. When she and the other ladies had retired for the evening, he’d stiffly kissed her cheek and told her goodnight, not even meeting her eyes. There was also no promise of a visit to her room, no indication that she woul
d see him again before morning.
Just as she finally gave up and slipped between the bed linens, she heard a light knock at the door connecting her bedchamber with his.
“Come in,” she called out, her voice quivering. She clutched at the covers to keep her hands from shaking. He opened the door and stepped inside wearing his dressing gown, his face revealing nothing as he caught sight of her already in bed.
“I believed it best that we . . . make our marriage official, but if you are too tired . . .” He trailed off, gesturing toward where she sat propped against the pillows.
“No, I am alright,” she replied slowly, “I have only just now retired to my bed.” She started to rise, but he lifted a hand to stop her, and walked around to the other side of the massive bed, shrugging from his dressing gown and slipping beneath the covers. She averted her eyes nervously as much of his bare chest was still exposed. Her cheeks flushed and she grew lightheaded as he reached across her and blew out the single taper on her bedside table.
Only the light from the smoldering embers in the fireplace barely lit the bedchamber. She could hardly make out his features as he sat against the pillows beside her. His arm slightly pressed against hers.
“Though we have had our differences, Arielle, I want to assure you that I will do my duty by you as your husband,” he said rather formally.
She cleared her throat. “What do you mean, sir?”
“Call me, Wes, please. Especially in circumstances such as this. I mean that I shall do all within my power to ensure you give birth to my heir. I shall also be faithful and true to you.”
“But you do not love me,” she said bluntly.
“No, I do not, but I shall be gentle and kind. Always,” he promised, gently lifting her chin with his fingertips.
When he pulled her to him and kissed her softly, running his hands through her hair, she told herself that what he promised could be enough. It had to be enough.
