“A distraction? Is that how you view my kisses?” A roguish smile surfaced. “I must be losing my touch.”
She laughed. “I don’t believe that is possible.”
He gave her a sheepish grin, then raised her ungloved hand and brushed her knuckles with warm lips. Griffin heard Faith suck in her breath. The air was once again taut with tension and awareness of each other.
It was clear that something had altered between them. Exactly what, Griffin was not certain. He heaved a slight sigh. What strange, maddening spell had she woven around him?
He focused on her face, studying her intently in the glimmering moonlight. With the blush of color in her cheeks, she almost looked pretty. The dress she wore had a plunging round neckline that bared her shoulders. The excellent cut and fit of the garment did much to showcase her limited female assets.
It made her appear taller, more buxom, more womanly. The simple lines and lack of lace, bows, and other fripperies allowed the deep green of the fabric to offset what Griffin decreed as her best asset. Her lovely, soft, pale, creamy complexion.
Her expression was open, her gaze steady. She lacked experience in artifice or teasing, and her flirtatious inclinations seemed natural and genuine. Griffin appreciated knowing she was a woman he could trust and around whom he could relax. It would be unbearably exhausting to have to keep one’s guard up around a spouse.
She had followed his dictates by coming to the ball this evening, even though she had not fully appreciated the need. Griffin was more pleased than he could say that she had bowed to his demands.
Bowed, but not crushed, which gave him even greater delight. Her face was in the shadows, but Griffin imagined he could see the firm set of her chin. She was spirited and opinionated and not adverse to showing either trait. He had been amused to observe her earlier nervousness and admiring of how quickly she managed to conquer it.
Griffin acknowledged that he was anticipating their marriage bed with more enthusiasm than he believed possible. This little garden escape had merely hinted at the depths of her sensuality. She had come into his arms with an eagerness many women would have feared showing.
There would be no messy virginity to bother about on their wedding night, no ignorant fears and maidenly modesty. That thought pleased him, too.
The odious Lord Dunstand was far more correct than he realized. They were a matched pair.
Griffin had always considered himself a practical man. As a second son he knew his future had to be earned, and he had taken the task of establishing himself with single-minded determination. Now that he had inherited the title, he would apply that same determination toward all of his newly acquired responsibilities—and that included his marriage.
He might not know her all that well, but what he did know of Faith pleased him. The possibility for a solid union and a happy future loomed like a lighted beacon flashing through the darkness.
They walked quickly along the moonlit garden path with only the sound of their footsteps and the faint strains of music and conversation coming from the house to break the silence. There was still a lingering trace of tension and awareness between them that seemed to heighten the excitement.
“How shall we enter the ballroom without being seen?” Faith whispered as they reached the terraced patio.
“Very carefully,” Griffin replied with a ready grin.
Faith giggled and squeezed his arm. She retained her tight grip as he slowly opened a narrow French door. With an economically lithe movement, he slipped inside Lady Dillard’s ballroom, pulling Faith along with him.
Once successfully inside, Griffin shut the door firmly and assumed a casual, bored air. His eyes wandered lazily over the many guests filling the room, none of whom were paying them any attention.
The viscount turned and exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Faith. She held her finger to her lips, to silence his gloating. The moment the next dance began, Griffin pulled her into his arms and once again twirled her about the dance floor, feeling strangely pleased with himself.
The dawn brought gray skies and showers, but by late morning the sun had managed to peek through the clouds. Faith fidgeted and fussed for most of the morning, trying desperately to focus her mind and calm her emotions. When that failed, she set herself to doing small, inconsequential tasks, but they did not hold her attention.
Her wedding was scheduled for 3:00 P.M. and it was barely noon. Faith wondered how she was going to pass the next few hours without losing her mind when a loud knock sounded on her bedchamber door.
“Come in,” she called out in an almost desperate tone.
The door opened slowly and Meredith appeared on the threshold. “Am I intruding?”
“Heavens, no.” Faith reached out and practically pulled her friend into the room. “I’m going batty in here all by myself. I’ve supervised all the packing, taken my bath, had my hair arranged and rearranged three times. ’Tis too early to start dressing, and I cannot concentrate on either my book or my needlework.”
“All brides are nervous on their wedding day,” Meredith said. “Grooms, too, I suspect.”
Faith laughed, trying to imagine Griffin nervous about anything. “Perhaps some grooms. Not mine.”
Meredith smiled briefly. “Actually, I came here for another purpose. I was wondering if there was anything you wished to discuss. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask?”
“Questions? About the wedding ceremony?”
“No, about the wedding night.”
Faith looked at her friend in disbelief. Then, with a quick motion she pulled out a chair. “Sit,” she commanded.
Meredith sat, and Faith took the chair opposite hers. She said nothing further, just looked at Merry with open curiosity.
Meredith took a deep breath. “Since you don’t have a mother who can tell you these things, I thought I might be able to help. Aunt Agatha volunteered to speak with you, but she looked so nervous I doubted she would be able to string two coherent thoughts together.”
Faith’s eyes grew large and round. “Are you saying that you have personal experience to convey to me? Exactly when did this happen? And with whom? Oh, why have you never told me this before, Merry?”
A delicate brow arched up. “Don’t be a goose, Faith. I do not have any real experience in these intimate matters. I do, however, have knowledge.” Meredith picked up Faith’s hairbrush by its silver handle and twirled it anxiously between her fingers. “You know that my mother is very committed to progressive thinking and has always seized every opportunity to display that attitude.”
Faith bobbed her head up and down eagerly in response.
“Well, on the night of my eighteenth birthday she came to my bedchamber, much the same as I have now done with you, and initiated a rather frank conversation about marital relations. She told me that her own mother had come to her on the eve of her wedding and told her half truths in such a vague manner that she was totally confused. And extremely terrified, even though she held my father in great affection.
“Determined that such a fate would not befall me, my mother explained, in most graphic detail, the intimacies of the marriage bed.”
“Meredith, you’re blushing,” Faith declared in an astonished voice.
“I’m embarrassed,” Meredith admitted. She fumbled with the hairbrush in her hands, then dropped it to the carpet.
“We have been friends forever,” Faith insisted, bending down to pick up her brush and return it to its rightful place on the dresser. “We have discussed everything under the sun with each other.”
“This is quite a bit different from our usual conversations.”
“Does this mean we are finally growing up?”
“It means we are getting old.” Meredith chuckled softly. “And this conversation is aging me faster by the minute.”
Faith smiled. “Your mother only had your best interests uppermost in her mind. I think you should feel grateful for her openness.”
“Why? I dou
bt I shall ever marry. In my case, this is useless information.”
“Knowledge is never useless,” Faith insisted.
Meredith made a noncommittal grunt. “I shall gladly share mine with you, where it will have an opportunity to be tested.”
Faith glanced down and rubbed the tip of her slipper into the carpet. She wanted to feel terribly sophisticated discussing these matters, but in truth she was having difficulty refraining from bursting into nervous giggles. Still, it seemed foolish to waste this golden opportunity to ask just one question.
“I’ve grown up in the country, around animals my entire life,” Faith said. “I certainly understand the . . . ahem . . . basic mechanics involved. But I was wondering, is it usually done in darkness? And what about nightclothes? Are they worn or removed?”
“I’m sure there are no specific rules or protocol about clothing,” Meredith said after a few very long seconds. “Mother did mention that as much as a husband will admire you in a lovely gown, he much prefers a wife to be out of it. Apparently it increases the enjoyment. As does having sufficient light. And a variety of locations. And positions.”
“Positions? Egad!”
Meredith’s stoic expression crumbled slightly. “All right. I admit I didn’t understand what she meant about the positions, either. At the time, I was thinking too much about being naked in a well-lit room to ask.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “The location comment I believe refers to making love in a place other than a bedchamber. Or on a bed.”
“Like in a moonlit garden?”
Meredith looked a little surprised. “Yes, I suppose that is quite possible.”
“Oh, I feel certain it is,” Faith said with a sly smile, remembering the previous night.
Once she had feared that Griffin might find her unappealing and unattractive, but last night in Lady Dillard’s garden he had proven his desire for her.
She remembered with pleasure the spiral of heat that had slid through her entire being at the touch of his lips, the way she had trembled at his gentle touch, pushing herself boldly forward to experience each marvelous new sensation. It had been heavenly.
The sound of his deep silken voice, telling her that he would wait until they were wed before claiming her as his own. He would show more respect than his brother and wait until they were wed. Unlike his brother. Not until they were wed.
“Oh, my dear Lord,” Faith whispered in horror, as the true meaning of his words sank into her brain. He would wait! Because his brother had not waited. His brother had compromised her, ruined her.
It cannot be true! Yet as she repeated Griffin’s words of last evening over and over in her head, Faith knew she was not mistaking his meaning. Overwhelmed by passion, excited by his kisses and sensuous caresses, she had not been coherent enough last night for the words to have effect. Here in the cold, stark reality of daytime, the meaning became horribly clear.
The only reason Viscount Dewhurst agreed to marry her was because he thought she had been ruined by his brother and it was now his duty to set this wrong to rights.
“Oh, my dear Lord,” Faith repeated. How utterly depressing.
Meredith reached out and patted Faith’s fingers awkwardly. “I really don’t think there is any reason to become distressed over these intimate aspects of marriage. Mother assured me that physical relations between a man and woman can be extremely pleasurable and improve greatly over time.”
“Improve?” Faith squeaked.
“Oh, yes.” Meredith blushed. “Lord Dewhurst does look at you with such smoldering passion at times. He is certainly intrigued by you. If you pardon my saying so, he strikes me as a man who knows his way around a boudoir. Whatever you don’t know, I’m sure he would be pleased to teach you.”
He thinks I am a fallen woman!
Faith nearly shouted her thoughts aloud, but they were simply too embarrassing to voice. Just imagining that Neville, who had been sparing in his attention, let alone in his affections toward her, attempting a seduction was ludicrous. That he would have succeeded was pure fiction.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“What?” Faith rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. Questions? “No, no more questions, Merry. I thank you for your candor this day. I know it wasn’t easy.”
Meredith stood up. Her face revealed deep relief. “I shall have Cook prepare a light respite for you. I heard you barely ate any breakfast this morning. Ignore your nerves and eat a hearty meal. You must keep up your strength. We certainly can’t have the bride fainting at the altar.”
Faith managed a wobbly smile. “A fainting bride. That would be a most disastrous turn of events, would it not?”
The elegant carriage carrying the bride, Meredith, and Aunt Agatha arrived a few minutes early at the stone steps of the old church.
“I’m glad the rain has held off,” Meredith commented.
“Yes, that is a stroke of good luck,” Aunt Agatha agreed.
Faith made no effort at even a polite comment. She had spent the entire carriage ride trying to establish a firm grip on her nerves. Her mind was in turmoil. For the past hour she had paced the floor of her room, the train of her lovely gown sweeping the carpet clean, as she tried to convince herself that there was a simple, easy solution to this dilemma.
If only she could think of the appropriate words, the precise phrasing that would reveal this newly discovered truth to Griffin in such a manner that it would make no difference in his decision to become her husband.
Yet she feared greatly that once he knew it was not necessary to marry her for honor’s sake, he would wish her well and walk out the church doors. Without her.
The notion brought on anxiety of almost hysterical proportions. She was so close, so close to achieving her dream of marriage and motherhood. ’Twas almost too cruel to have been given this glimpse of paradise before it was so unceremoniously snatched away.
You could wait, a nagging voice inside her head whispered. You could wait until after the ceremony.
“Oh, shut up,” Faith muttered under her breath, mortified at this shameful aspect of her character that had been dominating her thoughts.
“Is something wrong, Faith?” Meredith inquired.
“I’m just a bit nervous,” she answered.
“It’s to be expected,” Aunt Agatha said. “Most brides—Oh, gracious!”
With a decidedly lackluster display of interest, Faith turned to see what had caused Aunt Agatha’s midsentence outburst. She cast only a cursory glance out the window and was treated to the sight of a large coffin, carried by several stout pallbearers descending the church steps.
Absently, Faith noted the presence of the hearse, solemnly awaiting its burden, and the horses, wearing long black plumes upon their heads, prancing impatiently. They seemed rather high-spirited and unsuitable for the task ahead.
As the church bells began the somber peal for each year of the deceased’s life, Meredith tapped urgently on the roof of the carriage. Her coachman instantly understood her meaning, and the carriage lurched forward. Faith caught only a fleeting glimpse as they drove away of the black-clothed mourners, some no doubt professionals hired to lend dignity and importance to the event.
“What a horribly bad omen.” Aunt Agatha huffed with agitation and reached for her reticule, no doubt in search of her smelling salts.
“It means nothing except that we arrived early at the church,” Meredith insisted impatiently. “We shall circle the block, slowly. I’m certain by the time we return there will be no other carriages.”
Meredith’s prediction proved correct. When they returned, the hearse and all signs of the funeral had gone. And a light drizzle had begun.
“ ’Tis raining!” Aunt Agatha exclaimed. “Now that truly is a bad—”
“Nonsense.” Meredith gave her aunt a frigid stare. “This is a joyous day. Hurry inside before you get wet, Aunt Agatha. I’ll assist the bride.”
Faith kept a fixed smile on her face as she
descended from the carriage. A few drops of rain sprinkled on her face, but she barely noticed them. The heavy weight that had settled on her chest had blocked out all feeling.
She knew the moment she stepped into the church she would have to summon Griffin so she could inform him that she was aware of the true reason for the marriage. And she must then tell him that he was completely mistaken in his assumptions.
She had not been compromised by his brother, or any other man. The misery ran so deep in her spirit, Faith was even unable to summon any indignation over Griffin’s poor opinion of her morals and character.
She tried again to formulate the words in her mind, wondering fearfully how she was ever going to find the courage to speak to him. She was barely aware of Meredith fussing with the skirt of her gown, placing her mother’s prayer book in her trembling fingers, and giving her a sisterly hug of affection.
“Merry, you must ask Lord Dewhurst to come out to the vestibule. I have a most urgent matter to discuss with him.”
Utter silence greeted her request. With a start, Faith realized she was talking to herself. Fear of losing Griffin had made her hesitate, and that hesitation had cost her the chance to get him alone without causing a major fuss.
Cautiously, Faith peered down the long aisle. She could see that Meredith and Aunt Agatha had already taken up a position at the front of the church. Her eyes searched among the three male figures also there, and she easily distinguished Griffin from Meredith’s twin brothers, though they all stood together.
Her face hot, Faith stepped out of the vestibule. The urge to turn and run was strong, but she conquered it. She could see the beads of rainwater outside sliding down the lovely stained-glass windows. Candles had been lit on the altar, and their gentle flickering cast an inviting, intimate glow.
All eyes had turned toward her. Everyone was waiting. Faith curled her hands into fists around her mother’s prayer book, and with a pounding heart and a head filled with doubts and misgivings, she began the endless walk down the aisle. By the time she reached the altar, her heart was thundering so loudly she was certain that everyone, including the kindly vicar, could hear it.
To Wed A Viscount Page 11
