Maggie reached out impulsively and clasped her hand. “You are very kind, and there’s nothing I would more treasure than your friendship and your guidance. Have I thanked you for all you've done already? I must seem a woefully ungrateful child.”
“Pooh. You thank me every time I turn around. Now, shall we have your friends back in to finish dressing you?”
Aware that Maggie’s courage was fast deserting her, Emma and Anne were relieved to find on re-entering that she smiled at them with a degree of composure that saw her through the dressing, the drive to church, and even up the church stairs. But her nerves were so strung by that point that she began to shiver and feel a little faint. As though it were the most natural thing in the world for a bride to be in such a state, Cynthia cheerfully produced a vinaigrette from her purse and waved it slowly under Maggie’s pinched nose.
The effect was almost instantaneous, a clearing of her head and the stiffening of her body, but what put the proud tilt to her bead was the sight of her father advancing on her. His idea of dressing properly for the occasion was more somber perhaps than a wedding warranted, and she met with a smile the gleam of amusement in Emma's eyes. Still, she was determined not to disgrace him and she laid her hand on his arm to be escorted to Lord Greenwood, waiting at the altar in a coat of blue velvet and looking more distinguished than she had thought possible.
As they walked down the aisle Sir Robert observed, in a voice not suitably lowered, “Possibly the gown was not too dear after all. You look well enough in it.”
From the corner of her eye Maggie saw Anne bite her lip, but she squeezed her father’s arm and murmured, “Thank you, Papa.”
The gauche remark froze Adam for a moment but he relaxed at his bride’s calm handling of the situation. She did look rather attractive—young and fresh with no attempt made to appear more sophisticated or mature than her tender years. Adam was accustomed to experienced women and ladies of the highest polish, but when his bride's hand brushed his and he could feel how cold it was, a burst of protectiveness came over him and he smiled at her, a real smile, not the polite contortion of his features with which he was used to honor her.
No spoken vows could have moved Maggie as the kindly light in his eyes did. If you will just give me a chance, she promised silently, I will try to make you an acceptable wife, one you need not be ashamed of in front of your friends. Somehow it seemed a more appropriate vow than the one she repeated after the clergyman in a soft but steady voice.
Adam spoke his vows with a negligent confidence that caused Viscount Dunn to sigh, and Emma to lift an amused brow at Anne, who wasn't watching. In Adam's own opinion he had taken the whole catastrophe in very good grace. Who else would have held to such a wager, would actually have gone through with the ceremony as he was? He could name any number of fellows who would have shirked off—disappeared abroad or disputed the terms of the wager? After all, everyone had been drunk—with the possible exception of Sir Robert—and a small conspiracy might have been worked out with his friends to agree that a monetary figure had been set for the loss, and not marriage to Margaret.
Well, he could certainly be congratulated on his forbearance and honorable conduct. Dunn could not possibly find anything amiss with his behavior. Adam, recalled to the service, placed a stunning ring on her finger, a sapphire set round with diamonds, and found to his dismay that it was by far too large for her long, thin fingers. His chagrin was so great that his bride could not keep her lips from twitching, and he responded with a lopsided, self mocking grin. “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Emma sighed as she watched Maggie return down the aisle with her husband, her eyes dropped before the curious gazes of her husband’s friends. To Anne she said, “One down; two to go. Imagine having your life settled even before your first season. In some ways it seems a pity, but in others an advantage. Maggie will have a freedom denied to you and me.”
“Oh, Emma, how can you think about such a thing when you know how miserable she is?” Anne protested in a whisper. “It’s not as though she had any choice in the matter. Thank heaven she had Mrs. Morton to talk to this morning, or I think she wouldn’t have had the strength to go through with this wedding. Have you no sensibility?”
Not willing to show that she was stung by this rejoinder, Emma shrugged as she watched Maggie sign the register with a shaking hand. “I am simply being practical, Anne. Lord Greenwood is a handsome man, and charming when he wishes. I haven't the slightest doubt he will learn to value Maggie, and she him. There, see how avidly he is watching her sign the book.”
“Humph. He’s probably checking to make sure he remembers her name.”
“My, how cynical you are today,” Emma retorted, her eyes dancing. “Come, Mrs. Morton wants us to join her in the carriage.”
The gathering in Portland Place was small, consisting only of Captain Midford and his brother, Viscount Dunn, and Adam's friends Stutton, Norwood, and Thresham. To Emma it was a joyous social occasion, to Anne an unnerving ritual. Emma blossomed under the attentions of the elegant gentlemen. Anne seemed oblivious to Captain Midford's gallantry on her behalf, so concerned was she for Maggie. The bride and groom sat at the head of the table, recipients of various toasts that Adam willingly drank, becoming more affable as the meal progressed. If his high spirits came more from the fact that the occasion had turned into a party than that he was satisfied with his bride, the end result was much the same. All the stiffness and formality of the past week were gone, and his merry blue eyes and laughing countenance settled often on his bride. His voice, it was true, grew louder as he drank, but Maggie herself was becoming a little light-headed and tended to giggle rather than quake at his boisterousness.
Emma watched, intrigued, as Greenwood reached over and laid his hand on Maggie's, a disturbing smile on his lips. His words, however, were mundane. "I’ve arranged for a closed carriage to take us to Combe Lodge from Half Moon Street, so you mustn't be alarmed if I'm not perfectly steady.” Maggie’s wide gray eyes regarded him owlishly. "No, I . . . I won’t be alarmed. I’m not completely in possession of my own faculties, actually.”
“I know.” He laughed and raised his hand to touch her cheek. “You have a most becoming flush from your indulgence.”
Across the table Emma’s eyes met Anne’s with decided amusement. They had both witnessed the interchange, but it struck them differently. Anne had watched his lordship come and go all week, unsmiling and unbending in his wounded dignity, acting, to her mind, a martyr in marrying her friend. She was indignant what he had waited until this point to turn a little of his celebrated charm on his bride. Emma, on the other hand, considered it eminently practical for Lord Greenwood to do some overdue courting. After all, they were going to find themselves in bed in a short while, and lovemaking held a distinct fascination for Emma (on account of her aunt's lengthy career). Even Anne's exasperated grimace could not detract from her delight in seeing dear timid Maggie responding to his advances.
“Are you to leave school this year, Miss Berryman?" a well-modulated voice to her left asked politely.
Startled from her preoccupation, Emma turned to Viscount Dunn, who had previously been engaged by Sir Robert's enthusiastic tales of the previous winter's hunting. “Yes, I’m to come and live with my aunt, Lady Bradwell, in two weeks’ time.”
The faint raising of one dark brow was the only sign of his surprise. “I wasn’t aware she had a niece, though come to think of it, I did once meet her brother, Gerald Berryman.”
“He was my father. Do you know my aunt well, Lord Dunn?”
There was a stress to the “well” that Lord Dunn found as impertinent as her quizzing eyes. He was not accustomed to being the object of an impudent schoolgirl's curiosity, and he determined to set her firmly in her place. “I have known her for years and she's never so much as mentioned your existence.”
"Ah, well, you could not expect her to put her friends to sleep with tales of her brother's child, now could you?” Emma
replied, not in the least daunted by his haughty expression. "She’s never mentioned you to me, either."
Her dancing eyes assured him that she believed she'd given as well as she'd gotten, and he was in no frame of mind to be upstaged by a precocious beauty, after patiently listening to Sir Robert’s rambling and often boring stories of the chase. “When next I see Lady Bradwell I shall have her fill me in on the progress of your deportment lessons.”
If he had meant to depress her forwardness, he had not expected to raise her ire. Bristling as can only a young lady whose inexperience has been used to taunt her, Emma set down her champagne glass very carefully (so as not to be tempted to dash its contents in his face) and said sweetly, “You are all graciousness, my lord. Fancy your taking so marked an interest in my welfare on such short acquaintance. Aunt Amelia will be duly appreciative, I’m sure, of your condescension.”
With a mocking flutter of her eyelashes she simulated a blush of pure maidenly modesty. “I am wholly unworthy of your notice, sir, and can only hope you will not take it amiss if I beg that you desist in your very flattering attentions." And she turned her back on him to find Mr. Thresham watching her with something akin to awe. In a voice loud enough for his lordship to hear, she said archly, "You would never presume on a young lady’s acquaintance, would you, Mr. Thresham?”
The poor fellow’s eyes skidded past her to take in Lord Dunn's black scowl, and he cleared his throat. "Uh . . . no, ma'am, but I don't think . . . That is to say, I'm sure he never meant . . .”
Emma raised an imperious hand. "Please, the least said, the soonest mended. Or so I have been instructed. Mrs. Childswick once had me embroider it and made me promise hang it in my room as an object lesson. Which I did, of course, but my skill with a needle is not remarkable and it was more pleasing to the eye upside down.”
Slightly in his cups, Mr. Thresham could not contain what he thought to be a most appropriate sally at the time. “I think your skill in needling is quite stunning, Miss Berryman.” Even the grunt of annoyance from Lord Dunn did not serve to erase the wide grin from his face, and Emma beamed on him.
“Thank you, sir. You have no idea how pleasant it is to be addressed by a true gentleman. Even in the very best homes a lady cannot always escape someone whose ideas of gallantry are not right up to the mark, you know. I have myself experienced the occasional qualm at the hands of even a titled gentleman. You would hardly credit it.”
“No,” he agreed, studiously avoiding the viscount's steely gaze, “there is no understanding the ways of the aristocracy.”
Adam would have enjoyed the interlude immeasurably, to see the Great Dunn handled so cavalierly by a miss from the schoolroom, but he was not privileged to overhear the conversation. Thinking it high time the newlyweds took themselves off, Cynthia had signaled to Maggie her intention of rising. The bride was aware that her husband was enjoying himself, and she rather shyly placed a hand on his arm to recall his attention. His hand immediately went to cover it and he turned to her with a smile. "Yes, my dear?”
"Mrs. Morton thinks it time we left.”
“So soon? Well, she would know what's proper. Are you ready?”
As ready as she would ever be, Maggie nodded. Shortly they were surrounded by the entire party wishing them well, all totally eclipsed by Sir Robert’s booming voice uttering his benediction. “Take care of the child, Greenwood. She’s a good girl.”
While Adam made the proper responses to her father, Maggie allowed Anne to hug her and assure her that they would meet again very soon. But it was Emma who put a sparkle in her eye by whispering, “I do believe he is a hando savant, my dear, and quite taken with you.”
If Lord Dunn was looking for an opportunity to repay Emma’s pertness, he did not find it in this kindly intentioned remark, on which be shamelessly eavesdropped. Though he could hardly have understood the significance of “hando savant,” he was aware that the rest of the whispered confidence brought a warm glow to the bride, and he grudgingly admitted to himself that Miss Berryman had done her friend a good turn. He did not go so far as to believe she had done so other than thoughtlessly, but under circumstances the words of encouragement were a much-needed boon for the poor bartered bride. Calculating his own tone to a nicety, he lifted Maggie's hand to kiss it, saying, “Lord Greenwood is a very lucky man, my dear. I wish you both every happiness.”
* * * *
In the carriage on the return to school Emma and Anne eyed one another rather warily. Their disagreement over Maggie’s marriage put a rare strain on their friendship, and seemed senseless to them both, considering the concern they each felt for the new bride.
“How did you like Captain Midford?" Emma asked at length.
“I don’t know. He was all right, I suppose.”
“He seemed to like you very well.”
“Mr. Thresham couldn't take his eyes off you.” Anne toyed with her reticule in her lap, opening and closing the clasp. "Were you rude to Lord Dunn? He did nothing but scowl at you after you spoke with him.”
"Hmm. I may have been the least bit pert to him.”
“How could you, Emma?” Anne was genuinely concerned. "Don't you know who he is?”
“Oh, Aunt Amelia has mentioned him," Emma replied offhandedly, “but he was intent on treating me like a wayward schoolgirl, and you know how that sets up my back.”
“Lord Dunn is a friend of my family's, and an acknowledged leader in society. Everyone knows him and all the men ape his style. Will talks as though he’s a minor god; Jack goes into alt whenever he receives an invitation from him. If you wish to make an impression in society, my dear, it will not do to be rude to him.”
“I didn’t say I was rude, just pert. In fact, he was rather rude to me.”
“Rude? Dunn? You must have misunderstood him, Emma. 0r, oh Lord, you weren’t impertinent, were you?”
Emma gave the matter a moment’s consideration. “He must have thought I was, though I merely asked him if he knew Aunt Amelia well.”
All along Anne had feared that Emma's connection with Lady Bradwell would do her more harm than good. Not that Anne had the least objection to her ladyship, personally, but . . . well, one could not deny there were rampant rumors and speculation about the lady’s private life. Asking a Corinthian if he knew Lady Bradwell well was tantamount to asking if he was a lover of hers! And knowing Emma, Anne wasn’t at all sure her friend hadn’t meant exactly that! Coupled with Emma’s perpetually mischievous curiosity, Lord Dunn could not have failed to believe she was being impertinent.
“You don’t ask a gentleman something like that,” she groaned.
Emma was instantly defensive on her aunt’s account. "Why not? I could ask him if he knew your mother well and be wouldn't think the least thing of it.”
“Yes, of course, but... Your aunt’s situation is different from . . . I beg you won’t think I’m saying a thing against Lady Bradwell. It is just that . . .” Anne faltered to a halt, thankful for the darkness to hide her embarrassment.
“I know what you mean,” Emma said gently. "And perhaps I was a bit out of line. I was only teasing, you know, what with the champagne and the excitement... and the way Lord Greenwood was looking at Maggie. But Lord Dunn was awfully quick to be critical. Mr. Thresham thought I answered him very neatly.”
“I daresay, but Mr. Thresham is a rackety sort of fellow, isn’t he? And he was foxed as well. Never mind, dear. I’m sure it’s not important.”
“I should think not."
Chapter Six
Long after Emma and Anne had fallen asleep in their room at Windrush House, Maggie lay awake in her husband’s half-tester bed in Half Moon Street, alone. They had not gone to Combe Lodge after all because the coachman had liberally partaken of the brandy Adam had allowed his household in celebration of the wedding. Everything else had gone a little wrong, too. Maggie had refused, in a gentle way, to allow Greenwood to drive them in his curricle, which had been his rash suggestion on learning of the coachm
an’s indisposition, and when she had joined him in his library after changing, his setter had barked, causing him to spill on his new coat a fair quantity of the brandy he had been sipping.
It was then that she had tried to offer him his wedding present, and he had stared at the silver-papered package as though it might bite him. Maggie had gone to a great deal of trouble to secure the fine leather driving gloves, since the only shop in Kensington that stocked such supplies carried a mediocre stock. She had been forced to talk the proprietor into having some merchandise of superior quality sent out to him for her inspection. With infinite patience she had gone through stacks of gloves to choose a pair that were well-tanned, of consistent coloration, and flawless.
And they fit him. Not that she hadn’t wanted them to, but considering her ring, which hung loosely about her knuckle, it might have been better if they hadn’t. Greenwood had been appalled that he’d forgotten a gift for her and blurted that hers hadn’t been delivered as yet. She knew it wasn’t the truth, and protested, “But you have given me my ring.” It was too late; he had already intimated that a gift was coming, and he would have to see that one did. Despite his secrecy in sending a note off to Captain Midford, Maggie was aware that he had done so, since almost every member of the household was a trifle bosky except Mrs. Phipps the housekeeper. It was difficult to avoid hearing Greenwood's wavering valet try to find a footman sober enough to deliver the message.
As Greenwood's embarrassment had eclipsed his pleasure in the gift, he had been too talkative at the hastily organized dinner. Throughout the evening, during a game of chess and her performance on the pianoforte, Maggie knew his ear was tuned to an arrival. Sipping absently at his brandy, his fingers tapping impatiently on the arm of his chair, he had watched her at first almost unconsciously, but after a while with more interest. Her gown was cut to emphasize the swell of her youthful breasts, and she almost knew the moment it had occurred to him that he could take her to bed. He had looked stunned.
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