A Bachelor Still

by Rebecca Hagan Lee

  “Oh.” Accepting his explanation without question, Liana gazed up at the strong line of his jaw and noticed a jagged scar about three inches long on the underside of it. Lifting her hand, she reached up and traced the uneven contour of the old scar with the tip of her index finger. “What happened?”

  “He slipped while trying to climb over the garden wall when he was three and sliced his chin on the stone. There was blood everywhere. He gave me a terrible fright, then Nanny scolded me quite soundly and threatened not to leave him alone with me again unless I promised to pay closer attention to him in the future. But his Papa was proud as punch, declaring that Alex was ‘all boy’ and that ‘boys will be boys’.”

  Liana turned toward the sound of the voice, surprised to find Lady Courtland sitting on the opposite seat. Liana’s mother and her sister, Caroline, were also there, sharing the seat with the marchioness. But Liana’s father was noticeably absent.

  “Not what happened to me, Mother,” Alex said. “To her.”

  With her ear pressed against his chest, Liana heard the rumble of his deep voice as it vibrated around her. She liked the sound of his voice, the gentle, soothing timbre of it, but Liana frowned when he answered for her. The rush of memories came flooding back and she suddenly recalled that she had had quite enough of gentlemen speaking for her for one day—beginning with her father, followed by Lord Rothermere, and now, Lord Courtland. She could jolly well speak for herself and she wanted answers. More answers than what happened to him to cause that jagged scar. She wanted to know why he was holding her on his lap and against his chest in so intimate a manner and why no one in the coach objected to it.

  “You fainted,” her mother said.

  “I fainted?” Liana repeated the word with something akin to horror. She didn’t faint. While other girls swooned from the excitement of being presented to Queen Charlotte at the drawing rooms at St. James or of attending one of the grandest balls of the season or at the thought of dancing with the man of their dreams, Liana remained unaffected by nerves or the excitement of the moment. She was, her family noted, a most sensible girl, not given to vapors or giggles or impractical views or inappropriate behavior. Until today, she had always been biddable and the very essence of proper ladylike behavior.

  With her slim build, blond hair, pale, almost translucent, complexion and green eyes, Liana appeared delicate and fragile, but those who knew her best knew she was much stronger than she looked and had the constitution of an ox. The idea that she, of all people, had succumbed to an attack of the vapors was incomprehensible to her, but her head was muzzy and she had no recollection of how she came to be in this coach. “That’s impossible! I never faint.” She looked from her mother to Lord Courtland for confirmation.

  Alex met her questioning gaze. “I hate to contradict you, my lady, and I’m delighted to hear you don’t make a habit of it, but I’m afraid that today, you fainted.”

  “Not just fainted. You swooned dead away!” Unable to contain her youthful enthusiasm for the drama of her sister’s aborted wedding any longer, Caroline gave up all pretense of maturity to practically bounce on the carriage seat like the schoolgirl she was. “Oh, Liana, you should have seen it! You closed your eyes and slipped ever so gracefully toward the floor.”

  “I couldn’t have,” Liana insisted. “I’m not the swooning sort.”

  “Oh, but you are! And it was glorious! Mrs. Siddons could not have done it any better! And Lord Courtland was lightning fast! If he hadn’t caught you when he did you would have planted a facer right into the…”

  “Planted a facer?” Lady McElreath demanded.

  “A boxing term, ma’am,” Alex offered.

  “A boxing term?” Lady McElreath was shocked. “Young lady, where did you hear such thing?”

  “From the boys,” Caroline replied. “I heard Malcolm and Gregory talking about the time Papa lost a whole month’s allowance wagering on Haji the Turk at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Salon.” She turned to Alex. “Did you wager on the match? How much did you lose?”

  Liana blanched, slumped against Lord Courtland, and buried her face in the fine fabric of his morning coat. Automatically tightening his arms around her, Alex offered the heat of his body and refuge from her embarrassment in one protective gesture.

  “I did wager,” Alex told the younger girl. “But I wagered upon O’Malley.”

  “The Irish Fist?” Her eyes grew wide.

  “Indeed.”

  “How did you know he could beat the Turk?”

  “I’ve seen him box against better opponents.”

  “Better than the Turk?”

  Alex nodded. “Much better.”

  “Then why would Papa wager a whole month’s allowance on the Turk?”

  Alex was diplomatic. “I can only surmise that your father had never seen O’Malley in the ring.”

  Caroline was not. “Or that Papa is an extraordinarily bad gambler.” She bit her lip in concentration, then looked up at Alex. “How much did you win?”

  “Caroline, that’s quite enough,” Lady McElreath interrupted Caroline’s exuberant curiosity. “No one wants to hear you repeating tales about Liana swooning or your father’s gaming excesses.”

  “But, Maman, this has been the most exciting thing to happen to us in ages… Liana was supposed to marry Lord Rothermere. But Lord Courtland made Lord Rothermere squeal like a pig, then Liana swooned dead away, and now, we’re on our way to St. Michael’s with Lord Courtland, who must be very rich because he wins when Papa loses, to meet the Archbishop of Canterbury!”

  “Caroline.” Lady McElreath gave her younger daughter another quelling glance. “You’re upsetting your sister.”

  Caroline’s response was an uncharacteristic protest and pout. “How can I be upsetting her? She wanted to know what happened.”

  “And now, she does,” Lady McElreath concluded, putting an end to Caroline’s colorful recitation.

  The youngest McElreath daughter heaved a dramatic sigh and settled back against the carriage seat.

  Alex bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling at Caroline’s youthful antics.

  “What are you going to do about Lord Rothermere?” Regaining her composure, Liana lifted her face from Courtland’s shirtfront and looked him in the eye as she asked the question.

  “Don’t waste your concern on him,” Lady Courtland advised.

  Remembering the sickening sound of the snap of the bone in Lord Rothermere’s little finger, Liana frowned. “Did you really break his finger?”

  Alex winced. He didn’t regret the deed. His remorse came from the fact that she had witnessed it. “I’m afraid so.”

  Liana furrowed her brow. “He won’t allow that affront to pass.”

  “He has no choice,” Alex said. “What’s done is done. It cannot be changed. Once we leave St. Michael’s, he won’t be in any position to make trouble for us—no matter his condition. I’ll make sure of that.”

  Liana glanced down at the Courtland betrothal ring on her finger and wondered how she could have forgotten. Even for a second. Her heart had leapt at the sound of his deep voice objecting to the wedding. She had trembled at the sound, thinking for a moment, that God had spoken. But then Lord Courtland had said his name and for the first time in her life, Liana had known without a doubt that God existed.

  He had heard and answered her most fervent prayer. He had sent an avenging angel to save her from a life of misery. He had sent the one man she had prayed would rescue her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned her gaze on her mother. “And Papa? What will happen to him if we cannot repay his debt to Lord Rothermere? Will he have to go to Old Bailey? He must be furious with me after everything that’s happened…”

  Using his thumb, Alex gently soothed the frown lines on Liana’s brow. “There’s no need for you to worry. I’ll take care of your father’s debts.”

  “But, Lord Courtland…”

  “Alex,” he corrected.

  “Alex,” Liana amend
ed. “You can’t. You’ve already done so much.”

  Alex shook his head. “It’s the least I can do to make up for the greater loss your father will suffer.”

  Loss. Liana bit her lip to keep from succumbing to a second fit of vapors. What loss? How many more losses could her family endure before her father gambled everything away? How much more could her mother endure? And what of Caroline? She was only fourteen. Liana might have escaped Lord Rothermere’s clutches, but what about Caroline? Would she soon find herself offered to the highest bidder in exchange for payment of more of Papa’s gaming debts?

  “Easy,” Alex drawled, feeling her racing pulse and the rapid rise and fall of her breathing. “I didn’t mean to alarm you with my poor choice of words. When I spoke of your father’s greater loss, I meant you, Liana.” He smiled down at her. “I have gained what your father has lost and I’ve no doubt that I have gotten the far better end of the deal. He shall have his debts paid in full—once again—but I shall have you as my marchioness.”

  “Your papa should be thanking his lucky stars for Lord Courtland’s timely intervention,” her mother added. “For it has prevented a serious disruption in his comfortable home life. Your papa appreciates his family, his creature comforts, and his entertainments above all else and he was in danger of losing the lot of them.” Lady McElreath sighed. “As it is, he is traveling with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex in the coach behind us and he’s more than happy to see you become the Marchioness of Courtland instead of the Marchioness of Rothermere.”

  “As am I,” Lady Courtland announced as the coach turned off the street and into St. Michael’s Square. “For I am every bit as fortunate as Alexander. My son is gaining a wife and I am gaining the daughter I’ve always longed to have.” She beamed at Alex and at Liana. “My joy in my family is almost complete.”

  “Almost?” Alex looked at his mother. What more could his mother want? In the space of a day, he’d gone from determined bachelor to equally determined bridegroom. From single marquess to marquess and marchioness. From Lord Alex to Lord and Lady Alex. What was left?

  Looking as if she’d read his mind, Lady Courtland gave her son a knowing smile. “Well, there is the little matter of the ceremony and the wedding breakfast before we can attend to the truly important details.”

  Alex knew better than to ask, but his mother had piqued his curiosity. “What’s more important than the ceremony?”

  “Adding an heir to our family, Alexander,” His mother answered smugly. “A son to carry on the Courtland name.” She looked up at her son, pleased to note the stunned expression on his face. “I’ve dispatched the usurper and taken care of the wedding ceremony and the breakfast.” She smiled at her son. “I’ll leave the details of the honeymoon and marriage bed to you.”

  Liana blushed to the roots of her hair and Alex felt a foreign heat creeping into his own rigid jaw.

  Before either one of them could think to formulate a reply, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of St. Michael’s Church. The door opened and the bishop of St. Michael’s, and Lady Manwaring along with the Archbishop of Canterbury, stood waiting to greet them. “Welcome to St. Michael’s…”

  Chapter Nine

  “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

  —Lao Tzu, 6th century BC

  “I, Alexander Michael David James Courtland, second Marquess of Courtland, eighth Earl of Courtland, twelfth Viscount Kenton, take thee…” Alex marveled at the strength of his voice as he stood before the altar at St. Michael’s and repeated his vows. He sounded strong and confident, completely certain of himself and the future, but his heart was beating an erratic tattoo against his chest, his legs were quaking, his knees barely managed to support his weight, and his insides felt as if he’d swallowed a roomful of butterflies.

  All his courage and conviction seemed to have deserted him, leaving Alex more unsettled now than he had been when he’d burst into St. Bartholomew’s Chapel. What the devil had he done? How had he, the last bachelor Free Fellow, gotten himself caught in the parson’s mousetrap?

  “Steady, Courtland.”

  Alex heard the whispered command and felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing to his right, he was startled to find Daniel Sussex standing shoulder to shoulder beside him.

  “Too late to run, my friend,” Daniel reminded him sotto voice. “Finish rescuing your damsel in distress. Complete your vows and collect your just rewards for being the hero you are. Join the rest of us in wedded bliss.”

  He wasn’t going to run. He couldn’t. Even if he tried. His legs were barely supporting him now. Running was out of the question.

  “Liana Claire Jeanette Marie.”

  Alex looked down as Liana whispered her full name to him. He was dismayed to find he’d stopped speaking mid-vow in order to tamp down his rising panic and that Liana thought he’d forgotten her name. He was equally troubled to discover that the young woman who had sounded so confident standing before the altar at St. Bartholomew’s an hour ago sounded far less confident now. Alex tried to reassure her, his voice clear and resolute as he said her name. “Liana Claire Jeanette Marie McElreath.”

  “To my wedded wife,” Canterbury prompted.

  “To my wedded wife,” Alex replied, faithfully repeating his vows as stated by Uncle Charles, the Archbishop of Canterbury, then waiting patiently as Liana repeated hers.

  “And thereto I give thee my troth.”

  “May I have the ring?” Canterbury asked.

  Sussex nodded, then carefully removed a ring from his smallest finger and handed it to the archbishop.

  Canterbury placed the simple gold band on the prayer book before handing it to Alex. “Slip her betrothal ring off, then hold this one at the end of her finger.”

  Alex did as instructed. Taking her hand in his, he slid the priceless betrothal ring over her finger, giving it to Sussex to hold while he placed the wedding band at the start of her finger.

  “Now, repeat after me,” the archbishop said, as he began reciting the remainder of the wedding vows. “With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  Alex repeated the vows, slipped the gold band on Liana’s finger, then knelt with her before the priest. He listened as his uncle offered a prayer for them and complied when Canterbury raised them from their knees, joined their hands together, and presented them to the wedding guests. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Lord and Lady Alexander, Marquess and Marchioness of Courtland.”

  After exiting the church down the main aisle, the wedding party walked around to the side entrance, away from the crush of family and friends waiting to congratulate them, and re-entered the church in order to make their way to the registry.

  Alex scrawled his name on the parish register, then stood watching as Liana carefully penned her new name and title beside his: Liana Claire Jeanette Marie McElreath Courtland, Marchioness of Courtland.

  It was done. He was married. He had a wife. The last Free Fellow was a bachelor no more.

  Liana placed the pen in the holder and looked up at him as if seeking approval. Alex nodded, then waited patiently as Canterbury and the official witnesses—the members of the wedding party—signed the register as well.

  He’d thanked Uncle Charles and Bishop and Lady Manwaring. He’d embraced his mother and his new mother-in-law, and his new young sister-in-law, who had served as the first of Liana’s bridesmaids.

  Miranda Sussex had served as the other. Daniel Sussex had been his best man, while Bishop Manwaring had served as his second.

  Alex gave Caroline a little wink and a wave as she finished signing the register, hugged Liana, curtseyed to Miranda, and hurried toward the door that led to the garden and the dozens of wedding guests milling about waiting for them to appear.

  “Where are you going in such a rush?” he called.

&nb
sp; “To the garden,” Caroline called back. “Where the wedding breakfast is being held.”

  “The garden?” He pulled a face. “It’s raining in the garden.”

  Caroline giggled. “They put up enormous tents. And banquet tables. There’s punch and cake and sweet meats and strawberries and oranges and everything!”

  “Save some for me,” Alex told her.

  Caroline giggled. “They won’t serve it until you and Liana get there.”

  “Then, there’s no hurry.”

  “There is if you want to be first in line!” She answered as she skipped out the door and disappeared.

  He had never cared overmuch for weddings or paid them any heed beyond raising a glass to another fallen bachelor, but Alex had to admit that this one was head and shoulders above the other one he had almost attended on this day.

  There was nothing havey-cavey or furtive about this wedding. It had taken place in his parish church—a church that had been decorated for the occasion with yards of satin ribbon and masses of hothouse roses. The ceremony had been performed by the highest ranking churchman in England in front of genuine friends and family instead of Rothermere’s retinue of unsavory lords and social climbers.

  Liana had walked down the aisle on her father’s arm to the music of the church organ. She’d carried a bouquet of roses and had been accompanied by her sister and the duchess. His mother and Liana’s mother had sat directly behind them on the first pew and had wept happy tears throughout the ceremony.

  It was the sort of wedding Liana McElreath deserved. And Alex had his mother and Daniel and Miranda Sussex to thank for all it.

  “May I offer my sincerest felicitations?” Daniel clasped him on the shoulder and gave him a brief brotherly embrace, then pulled him off to the side to an alcove in sight of the bride but far enough away from her and the rest of the party for private conversation. “Mission accomplished. You saved Colin’s little sister.”

  Alex nodded. “Yes, I did. But at what cost?”

  Sussex frowned.