Promise of Redemption

by Ellie St. Clair

  So here she stood on her father’s arm at the back of the church, wearing the elegant dress as she looked down the long aisle of St. George’s to where Lord Ravenhall stood waiting for her. The pews were nearly empty, save his rather large and growing family along with Lord Hudson, her father, Lady Aster, her brother and his wife, and Lady Beatrice and her family.

  Christina fixed a smile to her face and clutched the bouquet of peonies — her favorite — and other greenery. Christina wasn’t sure why she needed the flowers in hand, but Polly had insisted. In fact, Polly and her mother had planned nearly the whole thing, declaring that Christina was much too practical to understand how important it was for the wedding to be as romantic as possible. Polly had even sat at Christina’s side as she prepared herself that morning, instructing Christina’s maid on just how to thread the wreath of flowers through her hair.

  Christina set her jaw and began walking toward Daniel. She had hardly seen him in the past weeks, and when she had, there were always family members present so they had never been alone. She didn’t know why she cared, though she realized that a part of her still held out hope that her husband could come to feel something toward her or to want her at the very least.

  Her eyes met his, and she found she couldn’t turn her head away from his crystal blue stare. He looked … resigned, she thought, and her heart seemed to shrink a bit in disappointment while she felt the bitter smile come to her face. He was dressed in black as if attending a funeral. His jacket, so perfectly tailored to his figure, opened to show his equally dark waistcoat over his black knee breeches and stockings. The only brightness to be seen was the white silk cravat tied around his neck. She swallowed and broke her eyes away from his when they neared.

  “I’m proud of you, my girl,” her father whispered to her, to which she turned her head away. Finally, he was proud of her, and for something that required nothing on her part but obeying. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, and it was over so quickly she nearly didn’t realize when it was finished.

  Daniel took her arm without a word, and as he walked her out of the church to the carriage waiting to convey them to his father’s home for the wedding breakfast, all she could think was, what have I done?

  She was breathtaking.

  He could never have imagined it before, would never have thought that the plain but pretty, curvy woman could ever be described as beautiful, but when she had stepped into the church, the sun seemed to shine perfectly through the stained glass window reflecting upon the creamy white of her dress. When Daniel had looked back behind him at the painting of Jesus and his disciples staring down at him, somehow he was filled with a sense of peace that he was doing the right thing. When he returned his gaze to her, she seemed somewhat ethereal walking toward him, and he would have thought her an angel were it not for the glimmer of a hesitation in her gray eyes.

  He shook hands with her father, and then stood there, staring at her, but her eyes seemed far away, and he felt an ache within him to convince her to stay here, with him, to more truly agree to the words spoken between them. But alas, it was not to be. For to open himself up again could mean the end of him, and he could never feel that pain again.

  When he took her on his arm to leave the church, he spoke not a word, but led her out the doors, into his carriage, and traveled the short distance to his parents’ home.

  At Christina’s swift intake of breath, he turned to look at her. “Are you all right?” he asked, to which he nodded.

  “Of course,” she replied, never one to allow emotion to overcome her, something he appreciated about her. “I have seen the home of the duke and duchess many times, of course, but never did I think I would be entering — and entering as family.”

  As they exited the carriage, he looked up at the impressive manor and tried to see if from the eyes of someone else for the first time. It wasn’t altogether elaborately built, but it was certainly impressive, the tall brick building with its many well-ordered windows.

  “Come along, then,” he said, and helped her down and through the front doors. In his rush out of the church, they had arrived before many of his family members, although the servants were there to greet him, his own butler at the ready to help where he was needed.

  “My lord,” Woodward said, approaching him and taking his hat. “May I be one of the first to wish you congratulations on your nuptials. I am certain that you and Lady Ravenhall will have a long and splendid future together.”

  “Thank you, Woodward,” he said, turning away from the man and continuing down the hallway, rapidly making his way toward the dining room.

  “Lord Ravenhall,” he heard from behind him, and he turned to see with some surprise that Christina was rushing down the hallway to keep up with him. He slowed his strides slightly so she could catch up. “Lord Ravenhall, the butler seemed rather— my goodness!”

  It took entering the family’s home for Christina to finally realize the significance of marrying into the family of a duke.

  She stood, staring wide-eyed at the dining hall. Though it would primarily be their families in attendance, the side table was near to bursting with food — omelets, bacon, sliced ham, haddock, fruits, and bread and rolls with various jams and marmalade spread out before them. In the middle of the table stood one of the largest wedding cakes she had ever seen, though she had to admit she had hardly any occasion to see wedding cake in her past. How many people was it supposed to feed?

  “Who is attending this breakfast?” she asked, looking at Daniel, and he shrugged and laughed slightly. “My family and yours. My mother has … a propensity for the extreme.”

  Before she could respond, the woman in question came sailing into the room, dressed in a beautiful gown of violet, ostrich plumes extending out the back.

  “Welcome, welcome!” she said, coming over and kissing Christina on the cheek, startling her. “Ah, how lovely it will be to have nearly all of our families together. It has been so long, and now, finally, my children have all found someone with whom to share their life. Oh, I do not think I have ever been happier. I can hardly wait until your children arrive.”

  “My children?” Christina asked, confused. Whose children did the duchess mean would be attending?

  “Yes, your children, whenever the time should come for them — hopefully soon,” said the Duchess with a twinkle in her eye, those eyes that were so similar to Daniel’s, and Christina’s cheeks grew hot. Oh. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard a duchess speak of such things, but then, the Harrington family was proving to be somewhat unconventional.

  Soon the room was filled with all of them, and Christina did her very best to remember the names of them all as they were presented to her. They were introduced by title and by given name, and she tried to recall which ones were the couples. The next eldest, Thomas, had arrived with his wife Eleanor and their two daughters. Christina was startled by the darkness of their skin and the blonde of their hair, very clearly kissed by the sun. She was told they lived at sea much of the time, and she was rather confused, but before she could question them any further, she was introduced to Daniel’s elegant sister Violet, her hair a few shades darker than Daniel’s, so in contrast to Polly’s blonde locks. Polly’s husband, Lord Taylor, and Violet’s husband, Lord Greville, seemed to be particularly close friends, and she was briefly introduced to Violet’s infant before he was taken upstairs to a nursery. Finally, Daniel’s youngest brother, Benjamin, arrived with a small, shy woman on his arm who was introduced to her as Sophie. Christina shared a smile with her, sensing that they would forge a bond as newcomers to this large, abundant family.

  She felt overwhelmed when she finally sat down but found she merely had to sit quietly and listen, such was the merriment of the siblings upon seeing one another. They talked over one another, despite Marie’s admonishment to be polite and silent, and Christina smiled as she could see what they must have been like as children. Only Daniel sat stoically beside her, saying nothing as he sipped his
coffee, though she could see a warmth in his eyes that she hadn’t before.

  “Tell me, Christina, how long will you remain in London?” asked Polly from across the table, to which Christina looked to Daniel, though he simply shrugged.

  “I — I am not entirely sure,” she answered, “though I do love the countryside, so I will be equally happy wherever we go.”

  “I understand your sentiments,” Polly agreed. “I, too, have come to love life outside of London, though we often find ourselves here. Do you ride?”

  “I do,” she responded. “I spent much of my youth at my father’s country home.”

  “It is too bad, then, that Daniel is not much of a horseman,” Polly said with a wink, to which Daniel finally spoke up.

  “I think that is quite enough, Polly,” he said firmly.

  “I was only teasing, Daniel,” she said with a laugh. “Do you remember when I was young and learning to ride? You said you would teach me, but then we came to the fence and we met that young woman. You were so captivated, you completely abandoned me, and instead—”

  “I said enough, Polly!” Daniel exclaimed, bringing his fist down on the table, and the room went silent as all of the faces of their guests and family turned to stare at him.

  “Perhaps we should go,” Christina said quietly, her heart hammering despite the calm outer facade she tried to maintain. Daniel simply nodded, stood, and walked out of the room, practically leaving her behind.

  “Thank you so much, Your Graces,” she said, curtsying to the duke and duchess before hurrying out of the room after the surly, angry man, who she now called her husband.

  11

  “Lord Ravenhall!” Christina called from behind him, but Daniel ignored her as he picked up his hat from Woodward, who was waiting for him, ever faithfully, at the door and continued outside. For once he was thankful that his townhouse was but across the street from that of his parents, which meant that he wouldn’t have to walk far amongst the prying eyes of society.

  His foot hit the bottom step when he heard his name once more — only this time, it was not a shout, but rather said in a steady, calm, yet commanding tone that unnerved him.

  “Daniel Harrington, you will stop walking this instant and wait for your wife. I will not race after you like a dog on your heels.”

  He turned to look at her and nearly laughed, he was so shocked at her words. She stood with her fists at her hips, looking down at him over her pert nose held high in the air. She reminded him of a nursemaid chastising a child. He opened his mouth, but, realizing there was nothing he could say to her to properly explain why he was running, he turned back and took a step down the road.

  She sailed down the stairs behind him, however, and when he looked up he saw open-mouthed faces of passersby and realized he had to stop and wait for her, as it seemed she had no issue with causing a scene in the middle of Mayfair. His mother would never forgive him.

  “We can speak out here, or we can go inside and have our discussion in private,” she said low in his ear once she had reached him. “It’s your choice.”

  He looked at her with a glower that had served to keep most away from him over the years, but she simply arched an eyebrow and began striding down the street, until it was he that had to rush to keep up with her.

  “You do realize how you are speaking to the Marquess of Ravenhall, future Duke of Ware?” he asked her wryly as they neared his house, not nearly as impressive as the Ware manor, but striking nonetheless.

  “And you do realize that as of this morning, I am the Marchioness of Ravenhall, future Duchess of Ware?” she retorted, and he nearly smiled in spite of himself. “Do not try to scare me, Daniel. It will never work.”

  “Daniel, is it?”

  She nodded curtly. “We are married now, and it is a lovely name. Someone may as well use it.”

  He allowed her to enter his home — their home — before him, and somehow Woodward was there with them, apparently having followed them down the street.

  “Welcome home, my lord, my lady,” he said with a bow, and Christina wandered through the entrance, and down the corridor, looking into each room as she went, slowly peeling off her gloves.

  “It looks as though it has had a lady’s touch,” she said, looking at Daniel quizzically.

  “My mother,” he offered by way of explanation.

  “Did you not care to choose your own furnishings?” she asked when she walked into the drawing room, and he noted her eyeing the overstuffed upholstery and floral decor. She didn’t seem the flowery sort of woman.

  He shrugged again. “I did not expect to be in London long,” he said. “Only long enough to dissuade my father from whatever reason he had brought me here.”

  “Ah,” she said. “To avoid me, you mean.”

  “At the time, I did not know the full extent of his plans, though I had a feeling he was going to encourage me toward matrimony. As it happens, we will be leaving in due time, anyway.”

  “Once you find Lord Northcliffe.”

  “Once I find Lord Northcliffe.”

  They faced one another until he felt uncomfortable by her pointed stare, which seemed to reach into the depths of his soul and read all he felt there.

  “What is it you wish to say?” he finally asked, leading her to the sitting area of the room, where she chose the small settee.

  “I would like to know why, when your sister began to reminisce, you flew out of the house as if you were being hunted, with that look of despair in your eyes. I know it was not her teasing that bothered you, but the story she told. I am assuming the young woman she mentioned was your Miss Churston?”

  Daniel had no desire to sit here and discuss this with her, but she had a point — as his wife, if nothing else, he owed her an explanation.

  “It was.”

  “Daniel, I…” She paused and looked down at her hands, clenched tightly together in her lap, and he realized she perhaps wasn’t quite as composed as she outwardly presented herself. “What happened to Miss Churston — and to you — is unfathomable. Perhaps, however, instead of continuing this quest for vengeance, you would be better served to let go of your past, and remember her for who she was, not what happened to her. It’s the only way you will be able to move on with your life.”

  He heard her words — he did — and deep down inside of him, he realized the truth in them. But not finding justice for Laura? As he had held her in his arms, he had promised her that he would find whoever killed her and make him pay for what he did. He was so close now, to not follow through on his vow was incomprehensible. How could Christina even think of suggesting such a thing?

  The familiar fury that rose inside of him was almost a relief, for it was an emotion that he well recognized, that he knew what to do with. He said nothing for a moment as he stood, looking down at Christina, wearing what he knew to be a sneer on his face. She had said she wasn’t afraid of him, but now looking at her, at the way her eyes widened, he could tell that she was rethinking her words.

  “Who do you think you are?” he asked, hearing his words come out in a growl. “You think because we have been married for what, an hour, you can question everything I stand for, try to make me forget the woman I love? I will remind you, my lady, that I did not marry you because I felt anything for you. No, I married you so that I could hold onto my wealth, the wealth that allows me to continue to fight for what I believe in, for the people who have lost either those they love or any hope to find anything good in this world. Have you ever lost someone you love? Have you ever found yourself with nowhere to turn, no one to help you in your time of need? I gather not. You are the privileged daughter of a marquess, who has spent her life in a stately London manor or an extravagant country home, with her every necessity looked after. You need not concern yourself with my thoughts or activities any longer, Lady Christina. Keep to your own pastimes, and I will keep to mine.”

  Her eyes had widened as he spoke, and now he could hardly see her gray irises thro
ugh the sheen of tears that covered them. She had backbone, however, he would give her that. Most women would run cowering from him, but she did not. Instead, she stood and walked over to him until they were nearly toe-to-toe. She was of average height for a woman, and he still towered over her, but she had a silent power within her that kept him from dwarfing her.

  “Very well, Lord Ravenhall,” she said, her voice calm and serene, but for a slight crack that he nearly missed. “Do what you wish. Just know that I had no thought but for your own welfare. I take back that concern.”

  She began walking to the door, before turning around to make one last remark.

  “And Ravenhall? Assume what you want, but you know nothing about me. Nothing.”

  As soon as she was out of her husband’s sight, Christina turned and fled down the corridor. She had never been in the house before — her house now, she realized, but she ran up the stairs as fast as her voluminous skirts would allow her, and found herself in a hall of doors. The second on the left opened easily, and she stepped inside an elegantly decorated bedchamber. It was apparently a guest room, for no personal items could be seen, but she welcomed the anonymity of the room that should allow her some privacy.

  Christina shut the door behind her and leaned back against it, all of the strength that had sustained her to make it thus far without losing her composure suddenly drained. The tears that had threatened since Daniel had made his accusations against her began to fall down her cheeks, and as she sank down to the floor amidst the folds of her gown, she began to weep. She realized the utter foolishness of what she had done, and what she had hoped for without hardly realizing it herself.

  When she’d agreed to marry Daniel, she had known there would be no love between them, nothing beyond friendship and a partnership. They had married to avoid the alternatives threatened to them by their respective parents. And yet … deep down within her, she had hoped for more. While she knew his heart was still with his dead fiancée, she had hoped that perhaps he could, at the very least, come to care for her. She had thought that perhaps he desired her, but it seemed that, too, was fiction created by her imagination, something she had held out hope for but could simply never be.