The Marriage Truce

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. The bruises on his cheekbone were still visible and he was dreadfully pale. She only prayed he would not faint before the end of the ceremony.

  Mr Tuttle cleared his throat. ‘Shall we begin?’

  ‘Yes,’ Huntington said. His eyes were still on her face, his expression unreadable.

  Sarah scarcely heard the words of the brief ceremony. She must have made the correct responses, although she had no idea what she said. She barely registered Huntington’s cool, brief replies. Not even the plain gold band he slipped on her finger seemed quite real.

  She blinked when Mr Tuttle pronounced them man and wife.

  ‘Sarah,’ Huntington said.

  She looked up into his face. His gaze drifted to her lips and he started to bend his head towards her. And then he swayed. Pennington rushed forward and caught him just as he fell.

  Sarah stood outside the door to Huntington’s bedchamber and forced herself to lightly knock. When she heard his curt ‘Come in’, she stepped into the room. He was in the tester bed, propped up by pillows, gazing out the window. He turned his head and looked at her, his expression unreadable. ‘You may come further into the room, Sarah. I promise I won’t eat you.’

  ‘Of course not.’ She moved to the side of the bed, her heart thudding again. She had not seen him since the brief ceremony a few hours ago when he had swooned. Pennington and her grandfather’s valet had helped him to bed and then Sarah had been occupied with the wedding breakfast. The last of guests had left a few minutes ago and Lady Jessica had come down from Huntington’s chamber and whispered to Sarah that he wanted to see her.

  She looked down at the man who was now her husband. He was dressed only in a loose-fitting white shirt and dark breeches. She could see the outline of the bandages under his thin shirt. His ribs must still hurt him terribly. She moistened her lips. ‘How…how are you?’

  A smile touched at his mouth. ‘I’ve been better.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘There’s no need. You’re not at fault.’

  His words did not keep her from feeling that she was. ‘Do…do you wish to see me about something, my lord?’

  His eyes flickered over her face. ‘First of all, you are to cease addressing me as “my lord”. My name is Devin, although I prefer Dev.’

  ‘Very well, D…Dev.’ Her tongue tripped in an embarrassing manner over his name. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘I want to leave tomorrow for Ravensheed.’

  She stared at him. ‘Tomorrow? That is impossible!’

  ‘Why?’ His mouth curved in a cynical smile. ‘I suppose you dread going away with me. Do not worry. As soon as we have spent a reasonable amount of time residing together you may go where you please.’

  ‘No, that is hardly what I meant.’ She felt angry and hurt that he wanted to be rid of her so soon. She tried to shove her hurt aside. ‘You are not well at all. How can you think of travelling?’

  ‘I’ll manage well enough. I’ve travelled in worse shape.’ His eyes strayed over her face. ‘So, will you come with me?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Although the thought of leaving her home so soon filled her with something akin to dread.

  ‘Of course,’ he repeated softly. ‘You’ve taken vows to obey me, so I suppose you feel you have no choice.’

  ‘No, I do not,’ she said coolly. He seemed to be baiting her and she had no idea why. ‘Although I think it would be extremely foolish of you to think of travelling. You have been very badly injured and bouncing over rough roads will hardly do you any good. Doctor Hampton said you should remain in bed another few days.’

  ‘I prefer my own bed. And it will hardly do me good to remain here.’

  She bit her lip. He undoubtedly wanted to escape from a place that held nothing but bitter memories. She could not blame him at all. ‘I…I can quite understand. If you wish to leave tomorrow, I will, of course, go with you.’ She clasped her hands in front of her. The pallor in his face was increasing. ‘I should leave you to rest, then. Is there anything else you would like?’

  ‘There is, actually.’ His gaze had drifted down to her mouth. ‘A kiss.’

  She nearly leaped back. ‘A…a what?’

  ‘A kiss. It is not a very unusual occurrence when one has just married.’

  ‘No, but you said…’ The heat rushed to her cheeks.

  ‘I am not demanding we consummate our union. Merely that you kiss me.’

  Perhaps he was delirious. His eyes held a peculiar glint that could be termed feverish. She briefly closed her eyes. Surely she could manage a simple kiss. ‘Very well.’

  She bent forward and brushed his cheek with her lips. His cheek was rough and warm and she heard his quick intake of breath. She straightened, the brief contact making her light-headed. ‘Perhaps I…I should leave you.’ She had no intention of asking if he wanted anything else.

  ‘I think that would be wise.’ His voice sounded rather thick. She backed out of the room and closed the door, her knees shaking. She leaned against the wall, trying to calm herself before she met anyone.

  Perhaps it would be best after all if they lived apart. Particularly if he had such a devastating effect on her. Or maybe once she grew used to him she would no longer feel so shaky and peculiar in his presence.

  Somehow, she rather doubted it.

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah carefully wrapped the small portrait of her mother in a clean handkerchief and placed it on top of the ribbon-wrapped packet of letters in the small valise. She had packed them last and intended to take them with her today along with one trunk of her clothing. The rest of her belongings would be sent in one of her grandfather’s carriages.

  Sarah sat down on her bed and looked around. All her personal belongings were gone. Her fans and gloves, the small blue and white vase given to her by her mother, her favourite quilt, and the small watercolour of the garden she had painted ages ago had been packed away. Her room now looked rather sad. Sarah felt as if she had no courage at all to leave her home. In fact, she was seized with the cowardly desire to run and hide and hope Huntington would simply leave without her.

  In less than an hour, she would step into the carriage that would take her from her home.

  ‘Sarah?’ Jessica stood in the doorway. She looked rather hesitant. ‘May I call you Sarah? I would feel rather odd to call you Lady Huntington. But perhaps you would prefer that.’

  Sarah stood and smiled. ‘Of course you may call me Sarah. Please come in.’

  Jessica moved into the room and looked around. ‘It must be so difficult for you to leave your home. I know I shall feel such pangs when I must go from Ravensheed. As much as I want to be with Adam.’ She gave Sarah a tentative smile. ‘Is it not odd? I shall be moving near your home and you shall be moving into my home.’

  ‘I know.’ Sarah already felt homesick. ‘Will you soon be returning to Ravensheed?’ Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult if Lady Jessica was there. Considering everything, she had been exceedingly kind to Sarah.

  ‘I hope to. Aunt has demanded I spend at least a fortnight with her, but I will attempt to escape as soon as possible.’ She looked at Sarah and her expression was suddenly sympathetic. ‘Really, you need not be afraid of my brother. He is not nearly as black as he is painted. Or as black as he wants everyone to think him. He is actually rather nice.’

  ‘Is he? That is, I am certain…’ Sarah felt heat course through her cheeks. She hardly sounded like an adoring bride. She tried again. ‘Certainly his behaviour has been most…most honourable since he has been here.’

  Jessica suddenly giggled. ‘Well, there are a few points with which I might disagree.’ Her face sobered. ‘Please don’t let him keep you at arm’s length. He will try, you know.’

  Sarah knotted her hands together. ‘I think he already has.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t let him. He needs you,’ Jessica said. Her eyes begged Sarah to agree.

  He needed her?
Sarah stared at Jessica in astonishment. She could hardly think of anything more unlikely. ‘I don’t think…’ Sarah bit her lip, unable to hold out against Jessica’s plea. ‘I will try my best.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jessica’s smile was tremulous. And then she stepped forward and gave Sarah a hug. ‘I will see you very soon.’ She released Sarah and quietly left the room.

  Sarah stood in the middle of her room. There was nothing left to do. She picked up her kid gloves and stepped into the corridor. She slowly closed the door.

  ‘Sarah.’

  She spun around. Nicholas stood behind her. ‘It is time to leave,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be proper of me to escort you to your carriage.’

  Tears pricked her eyes. ‘I would like that.’ She tried to smile at him. ‘I will miss you, you know.’

  A wry smile touched his lips. ‘Will you? I’ve been devilishly difficult. It is only that I want you to be happy. And marriage to Huntington hardly seems the way.’ His face sobered. ‘Despite everything, I don’t think he’ll treat you badly.’ He looked away for a moment and then back at her. ‘Mary told me he bore none of the fault for her leaving.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly. It could not have been easy for him to tell her that.

  She hugged him then. His arms came around her and he patted her awkwardly. And then it was time for her to leave.

  The carriage rumbled to a halt in the yard of the posting inn where they were stopping for dinner. Sarah glanced over at Dev. He was sprawled in the opposite corner of the carriage, eyes closed as they had been most of the journey. His face was pale and a lock of dark hair hung over his brow, giving him a rather rakish look. Although he’d said little, she had no doubt that, despite his well-sprung carriage and padded seats, the trip was exceedingly uncomfortable.

  They had been travelling for nearly five hours with only one stop. The weather had been pleasant and they had encountered only one minor delay behind a herd of sheep.

  She should probably wake him. As if sensing her regard, he opened his eyes. For a moment he looked startled, as if he hadn’t expected to see her, and then he sat more upright, grimacing a little. ‘We have stopped.’ He appeared rather dazed.

  ‘Yes. At an inn.’

  ‘The White Pigeon, to be exact.’ He rubbed his shoulder. ‘The food is tolerable. I trust you are hungry?’

  ‘Very much so.’ Which was surprising, but somehow on the journey, watching the passing scenery, she had begun to feel calmer. Her maid, Liza, like Dev, had slept most of the way. Sarah had spent the time thinking about nothing in particular.

  Dev climbed down from the carriage, his movements stiff, and then helped her down. They crossed the busy inn yard, the early evening air cool on her cheeks.

  They entered the inn and the proprietor, a heavy-jowled man, hustled forward, pleased recognition lighting his features. ‘My lord, a pleasure. You will want your private parlour, of course. We have a fine cut of mutton…’ Then his eyes fell on Sarah. He stopped, the curiosity only thinly veiled.

  ‘Mr Henwick, may I present my wife,’ Dev said.

  This time he looked startled and then a smile broke across his face. ‘My felicitations, my lord. I wish you all happiness, my lady.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sarah said. She cast a worried glance at Dev, who had that white look around his mouth again. ‘If the parlour is available, perhaps we should sit. Lord Huntington is not very well.’

  Dev levelled a scowl at her, which she ignored. Mr Henwick’s expression immediately changed to one of sympathy. ‘Of course, of course. I trust nothing serious? You must come this way.’

  He led them to a small cosy room and, after promising to send their dinner straight away, quit the room. Sarah looked at Dev. If possible, his face had paled another degree. ‘You should sit,’ she said gently.

  The scowl returned. ‘There was no need to inform Henwick of the condition of my health. Nor am I “not very well”.’

  ‘You look as if you are about to collapse and I feared Mr Henwick meant to keep offering his felicitations. I suggest you sit.’

  He continued to stand and folded his arms. ‘I had no idea you were so managing.’

  ‘Probably not,’ she said calmly. ‘The wing chair looks not uncomfortable.’

  ‘You are still standing.’

  ‘Yes.’ She resisted the urge to heave an exasperated sigh. Certainly he was much less trouble asleep. She plopped down on the small settee. ‘Now I am sitting, so you may do the same.’

  To her consternation, he strode over and took the seat beside her, his leg brushing hers as he sat. ‘I believe this looks more comfortable.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the peculiar sensations his nearness wrought. She had no idea whether she wanted to leap up or press closer to him.

  ‘So, tell me, Sarah, are you really concerned about me?’ he asked softly.

  She turned her head and found his dark eyes locked on her face in a way that made her blush. ‘Of course,’ she said, as calmly as possible. ‘I should hate to have you taken seriously ill, particularly since I have no idea where we’re going. That is, I’ve never been to Ravensheed and would poosibly become horribly confused.’ Just as she probably sounded now.

  ‘Even in the unlikely event I should collapse on you, my coachman is quite capable of getting you there,’ he said drily. He rose. ‘I believe you are right, the armchair is probably more suitable.’ He stalked over and sat rather heavily. They said nothing more until a buxom woman, followed by a slender pink-cheeked girl, entered with the dinner. Unlike the loquacious Mr Henwick, his wife seemed disinclined to say more than a few words and, after laying the covers with efficiency, departed.

  They took their places at the table. The food smelled and looked appetising. Sarah tasted the mutton, which was quite delicious. As were the peas. In fact, she was really very hungry. She had eaten a good quarter of her meal when she looked up. Dev was not only staring at her, but had hardly touched his food. ‘Are you not hungry?’ she finally asked. After watching most males in her life eat, it seemed peculiar to have one in front of her who seemed to have little appetite.

  ‘No, not particularly.’ The bruises on his cheek were even more pronounced under his pallor and he’d begun to look rather sickly.

  ‘What is wrong?’ she asked, concerned.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then you should eat something. The food is quite good.’

  A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. ‘I can see that. Or else I have badly starved you most of the trip.’

  She flushed a little. ‘Oh, no. Grandfather’s cook sent a very well-stocked basket. I ate very well.’

  ‘And you still have an appetite?’

  ‘I always am very hungry when I travel.’ Sarah felt rather defensive, although she suspected he was teasing her.

  ‘I must remember that for future journeys.’

  She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, a stab of homesickness darting through her. She was not on a mere holiday, but a journey to a new home. She forced herself to look back at him. ‘How far is Ravensheed?’

  ‘Less than two hours. When you are finished, we can continue on.’

  ‘Are you certain you are well enough?’ She did not like his pallor or the weariness in his face. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. By the time they reached Ravensheed it would be dark.

  He scowled. ‘Yes. Nor am I an elderly invalid whose health you must continually inquire about.’

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ She pushed her chair back and rose. ‘I am finished, if you wish to go.’

  ‘I did not mean we must leave at this very moment,’ he said stiffly. He stood and then swayed, his face going quite white.

  ‘Dev?’ She rushed to his side. ‘What is it?’

  He had a peculiar look around his mouth. ‘I fear I am about to be quite ill. I suggest you move.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ She looked around and grabbed the nearest useful item at hand
, which happened to be a half-full pitcher. She thrust it at him just as he started to retch. She turned away, not wanting to make it worse for him by staring. When he was through, she held out his handkerchief.

  He took it without looking at her. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said stiffly. ‘I fear I have not played the role of attentive husband.’

  ‘I hardly expected you to.’ He still looked quite unwell, although not as white. She took a breath, knowing he was certain to dislike her next suggestion. ‘I think we should stay here for the night.’

  He cast her a swift frown. ‘We are going to Ravensheed.’

  ‘Then you may go without me. I’ve no intention of travelling with a man who is likely to become sick in the coach.’ She plopped down on the sofa.

  His brows snapped together. ‘I am not planning another such episode.’

  ‘No one ever does.’ She folded her hands and looked at him. She had no doubt he intended to attempt to ride roughshod over her. ‘And you look quite dreadful. I imagine you must feel even worse.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Thank you. I am highly complimented. Do you have any more arguments to put forth?’

  ‘Yes. It is growing dark and I dislike travelling when it is dark.’

  ‘Is that all?’ To her surprise he suddenly sat down in the nearest chair. ‘Very well, we will stay if it pleases you.’

  ‘Then I will speak to Mr Henwick.’ She rose and quickly left the room before he could change his mind.

  Dev fell back on the pillows with a groan. He’d managed to remove one boot and his coat but his other boot, waistcoat and cravat seemed too much effort. His ribs ached and his stomach still felt uneasy. As much as he was loathe to admit it, Sarah had been right to demand they stay the night. If he hadn’t been so determined to get Sarah away from Monteville House and Blanton, he would have stayed there for another day or two. The only consoling thought was that he’d soon be in his own bed. If he survived the trip.

  He roused himself when he heard the light knock on the door. ‘What is it?’

  He did not look up right away when the door opened, but when he did he first thought he was dreaming. Sarah stood in the doorway, dressed in a white gown with a large paisley shawl around her shoulders, her hair hanging in a braid down her back. He sat up, his eyes on her face, half-fearing she would disappear. He caught his breath and this time it had nothing to do with the pain in his rib. ‘Sarah?’