Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1)

by Audrey Harrison

  Lord Stannage did not need a wife with a large dowry; he had come to the conclusion that he would never marry. He accepted his fate but, when he met young women who were as beautiful and entertaining as Miss Annabelle Johnson, he could not help be a little bitter about his affliction.

  He had sought escape in the study of the Duke of Sudworth, leaving the noise of the ball behind while he tried to put into perspective the reaction he always received. He could accept that new people he met very often showed surprise or even alarm upon noticing his eyes, but he did wish the ones who had known him for years could sometimes just accept that his eyes were a part of him instead of something to laugh at and point out.

  He was seated in the same study in which Annabelle sought refuge after overhearing comments made by the local dames. She had not set out to be found in a compromising situation but had stumbled on Lord Stannage in the study and, after a brief conversation, they had kissed. It had been almost a sympathetic kiss between two lost souls. Unfortunately for them both, the biggest gossip in the area had walked in on them.

  The route to the wedding had not been smooth: Annabelle’s sister had not taken kindly to her new husband’s attempts to force a wedding and had absconded with Annabelle to the seashore, but eventually Annabelle had accepted marriage as by far the better option than returning to the home of her father. Forcing someone into a marriage with her seemed unfair in Annabelle’s eyes, but the thought of Mr Wadeson awaiting her made her act selfishly and agree to the handsome peer. So, here she was starting off on a journey to Lord Stannage’s home town of Carlisle. She was with a man she hardly knew; even so, he was the person who from now on would have the most impact on her life.

  Lord Stannage watched his new wife as she mulled over her thoughts. She was beautiful. Her hair seemed to cascade from whichever attempt at securing it on her head her maid had tried. It looked rich and thick, something any young virile man would want to run his fingers through. She had chocolate coloured eyes that were usually full of smiles. Her sister, the Duchess of Sudworth, had hinted that she was the mischievous one of the family. Her lips were very kissable rosebud lips that he could confirm tasted as sweet as they looked.

  He would always thank the stars for leading her to the study that night. He had been drawn to her from the moment he had seen her at the Assembly in the town of Preston. He did not expect her to feel the same way in return; he was a realist when it came to knowing how people thought of him, but he would never regret the kisses they had shared because they had led her to be his wife.

  In the few weeks that had passed since they had spoken in the study at the ball at the Duke of Sudworth’s home, he had wondered what she thought of him. He inwardly cursed himself; she would think exactly what everyone else thought: that he was a freak. He knew he was, but it did not prevent him longing for normality.

  He resolved that he would treat her gently; she was with him not because she wanted to be but because of an unfortunate mistake on both their parts. He had no regrets, but he wanted to make sure she would not regret their marriage.

  “How many days will it take us to travel to Carlisle?” Annabelle asked as the carriage picked up speed. Lord Stannage’s family originated from Carlisle, and he had asked if Annabelle would mind a long visit as part of their wedding trip. Annabelle had been happy to agree; the further she was from her parents’ home, the better.

  “Three days will see us there, without having to be aboard the carriage from morning until night,” Lord Stannage said.

  “What made you move so far away from your family?” Annabelle asked. She knew their main home was to be just South of Preston in Lancashire. It was only six miles from her sister, Rosalind, who was the Duchess of Sudworth, something that Annabelle was very happy with.

  “It was a combination of the title I inherited and the desire to start afresh,” Lord Stannage said honestly.

  “Oh?” Annabelle responded.

  “You can imagine how my fellow school friends entertained themselves when we were younger can’t you?” he started. “When my uncle died and I inherited the title, I decided that I would move to his principal home and see if I could make my way in that society.”

  “Did it work?” Annabelle asked, but in reality she already knew the answer. She had seen how people openly stared and commented on his eyes and had heard the words that had been used so unfairly against him.

  “As you found me hiding in a study at a ball, you can guess the answer to that,” Lord Stannage said drily.

  “You don’t sound bitter,” Annabelle said in surprise.

  “When you can’t change something, why be bitter about it? It will only ruin your life; I’ve learned to accept what I have been dealt and live with it as best I can.”

  “I’m inclined to think that I would be bitter,” Annabelle said, referring to her own problems and her own wrangles with the choices that she had faced.

  Lord Stannage shrugged, the wool of his frock coat whispering with the movement. “I have my moments but, in the main, I just accept things the way they are. I have a good life, you know: I don’t wish you to think I stay locked away in a tower; nothing so romantic I’m afraid.”

  Annabelle laughed, “I’m a little disappointed,” she teased. “Tell me of your family.”

  “I have two older sisters. I have to admit they spoil me, and I enjoy it too much to encourage them to stop. My mother is still alive, although she ails sometimes, usually when she sees me,” Lord Stannage said with a rueful smile.

  “Are you very trying for your mother?” Annabelle asked, puzzled.

  “No, I’m afraid she is wracked with guilt,” Lord Stannage explained. “Every time she looks at me she is reminded that she failed as a mother, her words not mine,” he finished hurriedly.

  “Oh, dear, that must be difficult to listen to during every visit,” Annabelle said sympathetically.

  “It is; we go over and over the same things time and again. It was part of the reason my uncle’s property was so appealing.”

  Annabelle smiled in response and settled back into the thick cushion of the carriage. She was relaxing a little more. She had not thought her confidence would see her through the ceremony, but it had. There were many hurdles they both had to overcome, but she was more relaxed than she had been for quite a few days.

  They travelled throughout the day, making good progress. Annabelle was quite happy to chatter to her companion, finding out about his family history. Like all the Johnson girls, she was sociable and, when relaxed, was content to make conversation. Eventually the light began to fade, and the carriage drew into an inn yard.

  “Our home for the night,” Lord Stannage said, moving out of the carriage. He turned and offered his hand to his new wife. Her hand felt small in his large paw, but he did not hold on to it longer than was necessary; he had detected a hint of reticence in Annabelle’s demeanour, and he could guess what the problem was.

  They were led into a private parlour and served with a large, hot meal. Both ate quietly, knowing that at the end of the meal they would be shown to their room. There had been only one bedchamber booked at each stopover. Lord Stannage knew that it was not ideal: starting off his married life in a bedchamber in an inn, but he wanted to be with his new wife.

  Annabelle followed the Innkeeper up to the bedchamber, fully aware that her husband was but a step behind her. If she had worried that her courage would fail to get her through the ceremony, she knew this was the bigger test. She tried to keep calm, but it was a struggle.

  The innkeeper soon left them alone. Their trunks had been placed in the room, and the maid waited for Annabelle while Lord Stannage’s valet was busying himself with his master’s toilette. Annabelle allowed herself to be undressed and sat in front of the dressing table while her hair was prepared for bed. She tried not to look at the figures moving around behind her. There was little talk, and the tension was almost palpable.

  Satisfied their work was done, the valet and maid left the r
oom and closed behind them. Annabelle glanced at Lord Stannage; her normally rosy complexion, paled.

  “Come here,” Lord Stannage said gently, holding out his hand to his new wife. He was standing in his breeches and shirt. His braces hung at his sides, and his cravat had been removed, leaving the top of his shirt open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

  Annabelle took a breath and stood. She walked to Lord Stannage, her body stiff.

  “There is no need to worry,” Lord Stannage said gently. He touched his wife’s hair, smiling to find that it was as soft as it looked. He took his time, marvelling at the beautiful creature who was now his wife. He touched her face and bent to kiss her, his lips just brushing hers.

  Annabelle closed her eyes at the touch. His kiss was gentle, not like…no, she could not think of that, she cursed to herself. She had been determined that thoughts of him would not haunt her; he could no longer affect her. She tried to concentrate on Lord Stannage, but her stomach roiled.

  The gentle kisses continued, Lord Stannage trying to determine when it would be acceptable to deepen the kiss. He moved his arm around to the small of Annabelle’s back and pulled her towards him, his kisses deepening. With his other arm, he held the back of her head, enjoying the feel of her hair between his fingers.

  Annabelle strained against the movement, but once again tried to force herself to relax. Lord Stannage was being gentle; she knew that and was grateful for it. Rosalind had tried to explain how wonderful it could be with one’s husband, but Rosalind did not have the memories that Annabelle was struggling to contain.

  Lord Stannage let his hand start to wander. He was desperate to carry Annabelle over to the bed, but she still felt rigid, and he was prepared to take as long as was necessary to make this a pleasurable experience for them both. His hand skimmed along Annabelle’s bottom and then moved to her front. He brushed the edge of her breast, kissing her the whole time.

  Annabelle jumped back at the touch. “No!” she exclaimed. “I can’t do this! I’m sorry!”

  Lord Stannage reached out his hand, but Annabelle stepped away from him. “Come Annabelle, there is nothing to be frightened of,” he said gently.

  “I can’t do it!” Annabelle said, wrapping her arms around her midriff. “I’m sorry I can’t.”

  She was beginning to look tearful, so Lord Stannage stepped back. “I don’t understand,” he said trying to be patient, but not really understanding such an extreme reaction.

  “When you started to touch me, I just felt as if I were going to be ill,” Annabelle said, obviously distressed.

  Lord Stannage wondered if she truly understood what impact her words had on him. He felt as if he had been slapped across the face. He was under no illusion that she loved him, but he did think she liked him. She had kissed him before, for goodness sake!

  “I see,” he said coolly.

  Annabelle’s heart sank at the tone of voice Lord Stannage used. “No, you don’t,” she tried to explain. “It’s not you: it’s me; I can’t stand the thought of….”

  “You have made your position quite clear, my dear,” Lord Stannage said coolly. “I did not realise how things were going to be. I foolishly thought we would be a good match. I see I was mistaken. Goodnight.”

  The words had been delivered harshly caused by the sting of rejection. Lord Stannage climbed in bed and faced the wall. He had been a fool to think she liked him, but he was not about to leave their bed. If she did not wish to share a bed with him, she could find her own alternative sleeping arrangements.

  Lord Stannage knew he was reacting badly, but he had been hurt. Being rejected by peers paled into insignificance when being told that the thought of being intimate made his new wife feel ill. He had thought his defences could stand anything but obviously not. Anger and hurt seemed to radiate off him as he lay with his back to the room.

  Annabelle remained stationary, her hands wrapped around her middle, her fists gripping on to the material of her nightdress. She had said everything wrong. The thought of being touched did repulse her but not for the reasons Lord Stannage thought. She stared at the still form; it was clear her husband was not asleep, but the thought of trying to speak to him, to explain, made her shiver with fear.

  She stood until she shook, not with fear, but with cold. The nightdress was but one layer of cotton and held no protection from the chill of the night. Annabelle walked quietly around to the empty side of the bed and lifted back the covers. There was no other place she could sleep, but it did not prevent her trying to climb in bed without disturbing her husband.

  Lord Stannage felt every move and hurt even more. A tiny part of him had hoped she would climb in bed and snuggle up to him; but no, she stayed as far away as possible. It was going to be a long night.