Fairchild Regency Romance

by Jaima Fixsen

  True enough. “Might I—?” Jasper began.

  “Beg help with the boots?” Laura asked, seeing that he wasn’t budging from his spot on the braided rug. “You may.” Laughing, she wrestled them off and dropped them in the corner.

  “What did they fill this with? Clay?” Jasper asked, trying to beat the lumps from his pillow.

  “I’m just glad I’m with you.”

  Yes, there was that. Jasper reached over and brought her into the crook of his shoulder, pulling his greatcoat over them both. Her hair tickled his nose, but even that couldn’t keep him from sleep.

  *****

  Laura woke alone, but there was a well in the mattress where Jasper had been and it was still warm. Rolling into it, she shut her eyes again, but he reappeared moments later and informed her he’d seen to their breakfast. It was hot and substantial; by eight o’clock they were settled in a hired post chaise on their way to London.

  “It’ll take a week before I attempt riding again,” Jasper told her. His joints did look stiff any time he had to stand up or sit down. In spite of his assurances, she dreaded breaking the news to his parents, but even these worries didn’t keep her awake. She slept the last half of the way until Jasper shook her awake at the outskirts of London.

  He was rumpled and even more travel-stained than she, but that was little comfort—she was still in breeches, having discovered this morning her dress was torn past mending.

  “Don’t fret yourself,” he told her as she rubbed the grit from her eyes. “There’s plenty of time to change before dinner. We can send a servant for some of your clothes.”

  Laura looked at him. “And you think I can hide until then? Or are you hoping my garb will send your mother into a spasm?”

  He grinned. “That would be something to see.”

  Laura groaned and hid her face in her hands.

  “You’ve just been abducted,” Jasper said, slipping an arm round her shoulders. “Even my mother will grant you some license in what you wear. I told you. They know everything. And they don’t seem to mind.”

  “I expect they’ve gone senile,” Laura said. Nothing else could explain it.

  “I don’t think so,” Jasper said. “Though they are probably too lovestruck to be fully rational—I never expected that, let me tell you. But you see, Mrs. Stoke isn’t the only one who expects me to make an honest woman of you,” Jasper said. “You should hear the Mater on the subject.”

  Laura tried not to squirm. “They must despise me for trapping you—and Henrietta, what will she say?”

  “Something polite if she knows what’s good for her. Leave the apology for our deception to me.”

  Laura pressed her damp hands to her knees and wished she didn’t feel so sick.

  “This can’t be as hard as what I had to say to your brother,” Jasper said.

  “You told him?” Laura twisted to look at him.

  “Course I did. First he thought I wanted a cure for pox.” Jasper kissed the top of her head. “I know it doesn’t come easy, but I insist you turn respectable.”

  “You—” Well, you couldn’t scowl at someone who was kissing you, not unless you wished to go cross-eyed. Laura didn’t.

  Laura would have liked to postpone the reckoning a little longer, but Jasper didn’t allow any lingering on the pavement and brought her promptly to the door. A butler ushered them inside. “Mr. Rushford. And…” The butler paused, unsure what to say. Laura burned scarlet. These breeches!

  “This is Miss Laura Edwards,” Jasper informed him. “But she’s also been known as Gemma Holyrood, of Covent Garden fame.”

  The butler bowed low. “Welcome, Miss Edwards. Lord and Lady Fairchild are expecting you.”

  No reprieve. Heavy-footed, Laura let Jasper lead her to the drawing room where they waited as crisp and upright as if they sat for a portrait.

  Jasper bowed. “Sir. Madam. You remember Miss Edwards.” Laura curtseyed.

  Lord Fairchild bowed. Lady Fairchild, who was seated, gave a tiny nod. “Sit down, Miss Edwards,” she said, beckoning to a nearby chair. “You’ve had quite an ordeal, but it looks as if my son has returned you intact?”

  “Perfectly,” Laura said. “Thank you for receiving me. I’m sorry about my appearance.”

  Lady Fairchild smiled thinly. “I’ve sent for your brother. He’ll be with us soon. You will want him to look over your bruises I expect.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Laura said, stopping midway across the room, the muscles tightening around her throat. Jasper was wrong. His parents were making the best of a bad situation—they couldn’t want this, no matter what they’d told him.

  “I should tell you that Miss Edwards has agreed to marry me,” Jasper said. He didn’t mention Mrs. Stoke.

  “Very sensible,” Lady Fairchild said. “I should like a moment alone with Miss Edwards if I may?”

  Laura stiffened, holding the Lady’s eye. Yes, it would be better this way—to hear her opinion unfiltered by Jasper.

  “That is up to Miss Edwards,” Jasper said.

  “Your mother has the right,” Lord Fairchild began.

  “I don’t object,” Laura said. She’d rather hear the truth, even if it flayed her.

  “We will leave you then.” Jasper bowed. “I won’t be far,” he whispered as he walked past her and followed his father from the room. The door shut. Laura felt marooned.

  “I do wish you’d sit down,” Lady Fairchild said. Obedient, Laura walked on legs as stiff as planks to the nearest chair.

  “Do you love him?” Lady Fairchild asked.

  “Painfully,” Laura said, stung into theatrics. “Such fevered workings of my heart—”

  “Don’t be flippant,” Lady Fairchild interrupted. “I’m in earnest. I want him to be happy.”

  “Why shouldn’t he be?” Laura snapped.

  “I know the quality of his affections. You must know by now that he will do anything for you.” Lady Fairchild’s eyes raked over her. “I’ve had no opportunity to judge the quality of yours. He will marry you whatever I say, but I hope very much you’ll be good to him.”

  “You may be sure I will, ma’am,” Laura said, wishing her throat weren’t so dry.

  “I should like your word,” Lady Fairchild said.

  “You have it,” Laura said. “But for his sake, not yours.”

  Lady Fairchild sighed. “That’s as it should be. Forgive me. I couldn’t be sure—but I think you do love him.”

  Laura understood in a rush and the frost spikes around her melted. “Too much,” she said. She offered a faltering smile. Lady Fairchild’s ogress act was well-intentioned. She, too, loved Jasper. “Our marriage will be something of a scandal, but—”

  “I’m quite aware of that,” his mother said. “But he made himself very clear and he doesn’t reveal his heart so easily. Why all the bristling on your part? Was it so hard to tell me your own?”

  “Do you like being interrogated?” Laura asked.

  Lady Fairchild frowned. “I shouldn’t think so. You see, I’m usually the one with the questions—”

  Laura laughed. “I see that. I am sorry if you are disappointed with the match. I did try to change his mind, but he thinks marrying me is worth ruining himself, no matter what I say.” Her voice fell to a mumble. “I don’t take that lightly.”

  Lady Fairchild tilted her head. “Ruining him? How so, my dear?”

  Laura snorted. “Please. Don’t pretend. I know what I’ve done to him. You don’t need to grind it in my face that I’ve annihilated him as far as society’s concerned. All London knows me as his mistress and—”

  “It is, of course, regrettable that you children were so convincing with your charade,” Lady Fairchild said. “But I think your time on the stage has confused you.” The blue eyes, so like Jasper’s, held her with intimidating strength. “You are Laure Seraphine Edouard Lecroy-Duplessis and you have never been anyone else.”

  At first Laura could think of nothing to say. “And if I was
n’t?” she asked.

  Lady Fairchild shrugged. “My son loves you. I dare say we’d have thought of something. But you must admit this makes it much easier. Your father’s rank was higher than Jasper’s ever will be.”

  Laura looked at her. She couldn’t mean it.

  “I’m only reminding you of some pertinent facts,” Lady Fairchild said.

  “There’s a few notable omissions,” Laura said. Her father may have been a count, but he was long dead, their lands lost to them.

  “You have no trouble embracing the identity you built for yourself as Gemma Holyrood—you clung to it in the face of some remarkable opposition. Why this reluctance to be who you really are?” Lady Fairchild asked.

  Laura hesitated, unsure she could explain even to herself. She’d followed her mother’s lead—keeping calm as their home torched and their dear ones snuffed quicker than candles. You worked through each day one at a time and when memory threatened to capsize you, you looked to the future. Even there you framed everything with realism: only things you could accomplish with what you held now in your hands.

  Distancing themselves from the world that was had freed her and Jack to test their abilities, to try and succeed—and yet, Maman had never buckled when it came to teaching Laura her own worth. It gave her confidence and courage and sometimes made her foolhardy, but it was a fine birthright nonetheless. By Lady Fairchild’s reasoning she was the same as she ever was, so why start feeling inadequate now? Maman wouldn’t have blinked at this. Her Laure would be a fine Mrs. Rushford—and a Lady Fairchild too, one day—not because of a pedigree, but because of her own worth.

  “I see,” Laura said.

  “Good. Naturally your marriage will be something of a wonder. I can’t say having my son labeled for life as an eccentric was my first wish, but—” She smiled and Laura understood the rigid posture didn’t mean Lady Fairchild was putting a brave face on things. It was her manner; she wasn’t making concessions from a castle of ice. “Now we’ve bettered our understanding of each other, I’m pleased. My son loves you and I believe you will make him happier than he deserves to be. Which is all to the good, since I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do if I’d found you couldn’t be trusted.”

  This last came with a calculating look. It was a skill worth learning, Laura decided, uttering threats with such gentle simplicity. She might practice it sometime, if it didn’t remind Jasper of his mother too much.

  “Then you truly don’t mind?” Laura asked. Even though women of worth didn’t depend on approval, within a family it certainly helped smooth things over.

  “Well, I think it ridiculous that this whole mess sprang out of a quarrel with Saltash. But justice will be served. Really, I can’t think of a better way to punish him.”

  “How do you mean?” Laura asked.

  “It’s possible, however ignoble, for a man of Saltash’s rank to punish actresses and neglect impoverished relatives. It’s much harder for you, as a social inferior, to teach him the lesson he needs. Consider, my dear. If you could snap your fingers at him as my son’s mistress, what will you be able to do as his wife? We will never be duchesses, you and I, but the Rushfords are a much older—and I would say better—family. Now you and Jasper are engaged, you are quite untouchable. Naturally it offends me that violence and threats should be visited on any female, but it is a sad truth that the lower orders suffer more in this regard. You will find, my dear, that assuming your true station affords great protection. And thank heavens for that. This business of your abduction—I haven’t passed such an anxious night since Sophy went missing. We shall put it from our minds. I was thinking of a town wedding. Six weeks? At St. George’s on Hanover Square?”

  Before Laura could shape complete astonishment into some sort of answer, she heard a scuffling and Jasper burst into the room. His father, caught at an incriminating angle, straightened and tried to pretend he hadn’t been listening through the door.

  “Six weeks! Absolutely not. I won’t have it!” Jasper said. “No more of your scheming, Mama. We’ll be married this week if I have to do it in the fleet!”

  His mother blanched.

  “Jasper, I was just explaining,” she began.

  “Don’t explain. Laura and I manage well enough on our own. And it won’t be St. George’s because Laura is Catholic.” Lady Fairchild winced. This was almost as bad, Laura knew, as being an actress.

  “Six weeks then, at St. James,” Lady Fairchild said, like it pained her, but Jasper didn’t notice.

  “I’m not kicking my heels for six weeks while you waste our time with nonsense about dress fittings and decorating a church.”

  “Is there some reason to hurry?” Lady Fairchild asked coolly. “You said you brought her back intact.”

  “I know what I said. But six weeks!? No. We may as well have fornicated in that ridiculous inn, and never mind the poor excuse for a mattress.”

  “Jasper!” Lady Fairchild turned white with mortification, but Laura—and Lord Fairchild—both got caught in a laugh.

  “Really!” Lady Fairchild huffed, glaring at them all. “I won’t excuse such crude language. A six-week delay will prove to the world that Jasper and Miss Edwards have no need to marry—”

  Jasper snorted. “Prove! Hah. I’m not waiting six weeks to play along with absurd social niceties that insist on pretending there’s no such thing as contraception!”

  “Jasper!” she said again. Afraid of her own stifled laughter, Laura buried her face in the cushion. She emerged wiping her eyes, but Jasper wasn’t finished.

  “Enough, Mother. If you haven’t informed yourself on the matter, I suggest that you do. The way you and Father carry on these days you might just need it. I don’t intend to endure the mortification of you presenting my father with a child younger than his own grandchildren.”

  Lady Fairchild, utterly immobile and completely scarlet, tried but failed to speak. Her husband stepped in. “That’s out of line, Jasper. Your mother and my concerns are no one’s business but our own.”

  “Yes, and so are mine and Laura’s,” Jasper retorted. “I’m glad of your help and your blessing, but I won’t have any meddling. Laura and I have decided to marry and as I’ve held off taking her to bed thus far, I think I’ve waited long enough.”

  “Your bride may have something to say on the matter,” Lady Fairchild said acidly. “My dear, wouldn’t you prefer to enter into marriage with your head held high?”

  Laura turned pink. “I can do that as well tomorrow as six weeks from now.”

  “Excellent,” Jasper said. “Mama, in the spirit of compromise I give you until Tuesday.”

  Lady Fairchild cast her eyes heavenward, but no vindication came. The only sound was her husband clearing his throat.

  “Georgy,” he said. “Everyone can be here by then. Tuesday will be fine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Tying the knot

  Thwarted in matters of calendar, Lady Fairchild fought for her own way with the rest. This might be a slapdash, hasty wedding, but she would go to her grave before she let it look like one. Laura was busy from dawn until long after dusk with fittings, confectioners, and florists. She might as well be tethered to Lady Fairchild’s side. Jasper complained bitterly, accusing his mother of taking advantage of his good nature.

  “I’m about ready to kidnap you. I haven’t seen you since yesterday,” Jasper grumbled to Laura when they drove out that evening. They were going, appropriately enough, to the theatre, now her bruises had faded enough to be hidden by powder.

  “Don’t whine. It’ll soon be over,” his sister Henrietta said in an uncanny likeness of their mother’s voice. Laura wasn’t sure it was intentional but was glad Henrietta was speaking to Jasper again. She’d been in high dudgeon ever since learning Laura hadn’t really been his mistress—and that Anna and Alistair had been in on the secret all along.

  “I hope so,” Jasper said. He patted his sister’s hand. “If you want to add your mite to t
he festivities, I could take your boy Lawrence to—”

  “He’d love to see the beasts at the Royal Exchange,” Henrietta put in. “Percy doesn’t care for it and in my condition I can’t tolerate the smell.”

  “How delightful,” Laura said, seeing that Jasper was too stunned to reply. “I’m sure Jasper would love to take him.”

  They jolted around a corner. “Turncoat,” Jasper whispered into her ear when the motion made her sway into him.

  Henrietta beamed at Laura. “Come over tomorrow afternoon. Anna is coming. We’ll visit over tea and I’ll tell you everything about my brother.”

  Her husband, who generally seemed to follow a policy of non-interference, went so far as to cough.

  “A little less temper all around, I think,” Lord Fairchild suggested. “Or Henrietta’s baby might come out with red hair.”

  “That wouldn’t be so terrible,” his wife said.

  Laura missed being on stage, of course, and couldn’t help mentally correcting a few of Alice’s poorly delivered lines. Jasper had gone round to the theatre earlier at Laura’s request to intercede for her with Rollins. In exchange, Laura demanded her lucky garters back. She wanted them for when she married and felt if there was any luck left in them, she deserved it, not Alice.

  It was perhaps a small consolation that her presence in the box overshadowed the initial action on stage. It got so bad that Sarah and Dan took to improvising a cheeky dialogue—at Laura’s expense. But it was only friendly jesting. She acknowledged it by blowing them a kiss. “I have been so fortunate in my friends,” she whispered to Jasper.

  She could scarcely breathe for the rush of visitors they had at the interval and she didn’t intercept a single leer—perhaps not unsurprising with Jasper, Lord Fairchild, Henrietta’s husband Lord Arundel, and Alistair Beaumaris watching, ready to retaliate.

  The first attack didn’t come from the men. “Miss Edwards,” tinkled one of the ladies, a slender matron of an age with Henrietta. “You aren’t by chance also the celebrated Miss Holyrood?” As one, the ladies turned their eyes on her expectantly.