“No, no. Just to go to Italy. I should like to get married as soon as it can be arranged, actually. I think we have waited quite long enough.”
“Far too long,” he agreed, lifting her hand to kiss it again. A loud cough nearby recalled him to their situation and the distinct lack of privacy, and he lowered her hand with a grimace.
“This is a poor time and place for this conversation, but I hope you will allow me to say that you have made me the happiest man in England.”
“Perhaps you might call for me tomorrow and you can tell me then,” Marianne teased him.
“A drive in Hyde Park?” Alexander suggested, and she inclined her head in acceptance.
“So long as you remember to bring the bread.”
“Oh, I will not forget, I promise. I cannot ever recall seeing you so happy as when you fed the ducks the other day!” Her laughter had been a balm to his wounded soul; he had sent his driver to get more bread so they might stay longer. If Marianne wanted to hand-feed every duck on London on a daily basis, he would buy a bakery to provide her with an endless supply of bread.
Marianne giggled, her eyes bright with mischief. “I can only think of one other time I have ever been so happy, Alexander… and that is right at this very moment.”
“You have truly made me the happiest man in the world,” he said through a thick lump of emotion in his throat. “I can only strive in every way I can conceive of to give you equal joy in return.”
They returned to the ballroom in time for the third dance. Alexander felt lighter than he had in many years as they moved together through the patterns of the dance, Marianne’s happy countenance buoying his spirits. Spotting his mother standing near the edge of the dance floor, he sent her a joyous grin. This was not the appropriate venue to announce their engagement, but tomorrow he would send a notice to the newspapers and perhaps his mother would host a dinner party in the next week or so.
Since Marianne was a widow, there was nobody Alex need apply to for her hand, though he supposed he should do her nephew the courtesy of advising him privately of their engagement. Perhaps he’d stop by the Creighton townhouse after he returned Marianne home tomorrow.
“September would be a good time to leave for Italy,” he remarked to Marianne as the dance brought them together. “The seas will not be too rough then, and winter is much milder in the southern climes. We could spend much of the summer at Glenkellie if you like, before going to Havers Hall in August, and then taking ship once you are happy to leave Lady Havers.”
“I think that sounds a wonderful plan,” Marianne agreed. “Shall we see Rome as well as Florence?”
“Indeed, and Venice too, and anywhere else you might wish. Do you wish to see only Italy, or have you a hankering to visit other places in the Mediterranean?”
“You truly will take me anywhere I wish to go, won’t you?” Marianne said in wondering tones as the dance ended.
Alexander offered his arm to lead her from the floor. “Of course I will. Anything you wish for, you need only name it. The throne of England might be slightly beyond my resources, but any lesser goal, I will do anything within my power to attain for you.”
“Now just a minute,” a loud voice interrupted, and Alex looked around to see Lord Ferry scowling pugnaciously at him. “Are you trying to cut me out, Glenkellie? Damn it, I knew you overheard in Brooks’. Lady Creighton,” he turned to Marianne, “I can assure you, my resources are beyond anything Glenkellie can muster from his Scottish hillsides. You may name your price.”
Gasps of shock rippled around them, and Alex tensed. What the hell was Ferry thinking? He’d just propositioned Marianne in public!
“Lord Ferry,” Marianne said in a very clear, cold voice, “I am not for sale at any price.”
“Come now…” Ferry blustered.
But Alex had heard more than enough. “Ferry,” he said, in a low, dangerous voice, “you are speaking to the future Marchioness of Glenkellie. You may apologise now, or you’ll meet me at dawn.”
Ferry froze, mouth wide open as he took in Alexander’s murderous expression, before he gulped audibly. “I, ah,” he said, “Ah, ah, do beg your pardon, Glenkellie.”
“Not apologise to me,” Alexander said in disgust, “to the lady.” God, the man was a complete craven. It would have been satisfying as hell to run him through for the insult. Instead, he had to stand and watch Ferry’s panicked, fawning apology to a tight-lipped Marianne.
“Go away, you repulsive little man,” Marianne said at last, and everyone with earshot, all of whom had been hanging on every word of the confrontation, burst out laughing.
Crimson-faced, Lord Ferry fled.
“His poor wife,” Marianne said with a sigh, turning back to Alex. He was fighting down his own laughter and couldn’t speak.
“Well done, dearest,” another voice said, and Alex turned to see his mother approaching. She drew Marianne into a fond embrace. “What a marchioness you will be! You must let me introduce you to my very dear friend, the Duchess of Balford. Alexander? Do get us some champagne, there’s a dear.” She pressed an empty glass into his hand and drew Marianne away into a crowd of elegantly dressed ladies.
Alexander could hardly get near Marianne for the rest of the ball. Ladies who had twitched their skirts aside earlier in the evening fawned over her now, and word spread fast of her magnificent set-down of Lord Ferry… faster than news of their engagement, as they were soon to discover.
)
“A high-perch phaeton!” Marianne clapped her hands with glee as she descended the steps of the Havers townhouse on Alexander’s arm the following morning. “I have always wanted to ride in one of these!”
“I know. You mentioned it once to me, long ago. I said one day I would have one and take you driving in it, do you remember?”
“I do, though I had not thought on it until this moment. I’m surprised you remember!” She turned luminous eyes up to him as he handed her carefully up into the seat and accepted the reins from his tiger.
“The dream of riding with you proudly sitting at my side kept me going through some of the darkest times during the war,” he said quietly, drawing a thick blanket placed on the seat over her lap and tucking it in to keep her warm.
Laying one hand on his arm, Marianne tilted her head deliberately to show off her pretty hat and said, “Then let us to Hyde Park, my lord. You shall have your fill of riding with me today. We might even need to stop for fresh horses!”
Alex’s laugh lingered behind them as the horses set off at a brisk trot.
Talking and laughing and having to stop every few minutes to greet someone who wished to congratulate them, they had been parading through Hyde Park for over an hour when Marianne spied her family. “Look, in that open landau there! We must stop, Alexander.”
Lavinia was smiling, Diana beside her waving excitedly until her mother placed a gentle restraining hand on her arm. Marianne smiled back. She and Lavinia would never be close, but at least she was reasonably confident Lavinia wouldn’t try to force any of her daughters into marriages they did not want. Hopefully she would check the worst of Arthur’s ambitions and be an advocate for her daughters if they needed it.
Arthur did not look pleased to see them. “A word, Glenkellie?” he said crisply once polite greetings had been exchanged.
“Since I suspect this concerns you, would you care to accompany me?” Alexander asked Marianne. “I will gladly deal with it if you would rather not.”
“I think I would prefer to be involved in discussions about my own future,” Marianne decided. “Pray excuse me.”
“Go home,” Arthur instructed Lavinia. “I will walk back; it’s not far.”
Lavinia looked at Marianne, her expression concerned, but Marianne gestured she should go. After all, what could Arthur do to her with Alexander present? She was quite safe.
They left Alexander’s tiger holding the horses and followed Arthur across the grass towards the Serpentine, a glassy, reflective si
lver under the winter-grey sky. A pair of mute swans floated serenely by, a stark contrast to the churning in Marianne’s stomach. Even though she tried to tell herself Arthur had no power over her, the prospect of a confrontation brought back old terrors.
Alexander’s arm under her hand was strong and rock-steady; she drew strength from his calm assurance. This was her choice, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to let Alexander handle all her problems, though she was confident he could do so. She was taking control of her own life and doing what she wanted, with his support.
Finally Arthur seemed to judge they were far enough from others to speak privately, and he whirled to face them. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” he half-shouted. “A confrontation in the middle of a Society ball over her?”
Marianne blinked.
Alexander looked startled. “I beg your pardon?” he snapped, not sounding apologetic in the least. “Would you have me allow Lady Marianne’s good name to be publicly sullied by a disrespectful arse of a man? Not while I breathe.”
Arthur didn’t even seem to hear him, puffed up with his own rage. “And you!” Turning on Marianne, he jabbed a finger at her. “Two paramours almost coming to blows over you, in public! You whore!” Spittle flew as he shouted, and she instinctively took several steps back. Arthur looked only too much like his uncle, her dead husband, in one of his rages.
Alexander moved in front of her at once, letting out a sound a great deal like a snarl, but salvation came suddenly from a far less likely source.
One of the swans which a moment earlier was floating so peacefully on the water obviously took exception to Arthur’s threatening gestures and shouts. In a swirling storm of white wings and enraged hissing, the swan attacked, thrashing at Arthur’s face with beak and wings.
Cursing as he tried to beat the swan back, Arthur stumbled backwards, toppling into the shallow water behind him with a gigantic splash and a high-pitched shriek.
“Well,” Alexander said with a deep chuckle as the swan continued to harass Arthur, “that saves me from planting him a facer, I suppose. Do you think your friends the ducks set that swan on him on purpose?”
Marianne could not hold it in; she burst out laughing, a release of tension like a spring uncoiling inside her bubbling up and out of her mouth in throaty giggles. She could only lean on Alexander and watch as her nephew received a thorough thrashing, quite at the mercy of the furious bird.
The swan finally backed off, retreating to guard its mate, still hissing in Arthur’s direction occasionally as the Earl of Creighton climbed out of the water, sobbing with rage and cradling one hand close to his chest in obvious pain.
“If you ever again speak to, or about, my future wife in any kind of derogatory way, I will kill you,” Alexander said, his tone cold and dispassionate. “It is only for the sake of your wife and children that I allow the punishment God’s creature has meted out to be satisfactory. Let this divine retribution be your final warning!”
They walked away with Marianne still laughing, hoping she would never forget the image of the dripping, spluttering Earl of Creighton casting fearful glances in equal measure at Alexander and the swan.
“Divine retribution indeed,” she managed to splutter at last, as they returned to the phaeton and Alexander lifted her carefully up to the seat. “That was wonderful!”
“Perhaps we should foster a rumour that God will wreak vengeance on any who offend you.” Alexander cast her a teasing grin as he took up the reins. “I daresay it would save both of us a great deal of trouble!”
In the distance, Arthur Creighton began the slow, soggy trudge across the grass away from the Serpentine, moaning at the pain in his injured hand and still keeping a wary eye on the swan.
The sun broke through the clouds just then, thin rays of bright yellow sunshine streaming down on the phaeton as the horses set off once again in a prancing trot. Marianne turned her face upwards, smiling as she thought that not so long ago, she would not have dared for fear of a freckle appearing on her nose. Alexander would likely tell her any emerging freckles were his favourite thing about her, because they were gained while she was enjoying herself. Snuggling closer to him under the thick blanket he tucked over both their laps, she rested her head against his shoulder and sighed with utter contentment.
Epilogue
)
Four weeks later
St. George’s Church, Hanover Square
Alexander’s heart was full as he watched Marianne walk towards him, wearing a stunning new gown of pale gold silk trimmed with white Brussels lace. While Arthur had issued a suitably grovelling apology the day after the swan incident in Hyde Park, Marianne had declined his offer to walk her down the aisle. Instead, she walked alone, preceded by her youngest niece Penelope, strewing freshly picked snowdrops in her path.
He’d offered to denude every hothouse in London for more expensive flowers for her, of course, but Marianne had told him she’d far rather have snowdrops, that earliest of spring blooms, easily gathered in February.
“The are the first flowers of spring, the season of new beginnings,” she’d told him, and Alexander at once had agreed there could be no flower more appropriate.
While he had hoped to obtain a special licence and wed Marianne within a week of her acceptance, his mother and Marianne had persuaded him that waiting for the banns to be called and throwing a grand wedding with the cream of the Ton on the guest list would forever silence any gossip.
Since he was entirely at Marianne’s mercy, he’d agreed to whatever they wanted, though he’d privately bemoaned to her his reluctance to wait even a day more than he had to for her.
“We’ve waited this long,” she’d told him tenderly, placing her soft hand against his cheek. “I want - no, I need - this wedding to be as different from my first as it is possible to be, Alexander.”
Understanding, he’d kicked himself for his insensitivity. “Only tell me what I need do to make it so, beloved.”
“Be patient with me - and be yourself,” she’d told him, reaching up to kiss him lovingly.
)
Marianne’s hand trembled a little in her white silk glove as she placed it in Alexander’s, and he looked a query at her, brow furrowing with concern. She smiled back at him determinedly. The ghosts of her past were not going to cloud this, the wedding day she’d always wanted.
Instead of her father and two bored servants as witnesses in a dusty parlour, there was a church filled with her and Alexander’s friends and family. The vicar was a kindly, serious gentleman who had insisted on speaking to them both privately before the ceremony, intent on being certain they were both happy before proceeding. And last but certainly not least, instead of a leering old man, there was her beloved Alexander, tall and handsome, his eyes filled with love for her as he spoke his vows.
“Yes,” she said it loud and clear as the vicar asked if she accepted Alexander as her husband. “I do.”
His smile was filled with both joy and relief as he squeezed her hands, and Marianne gazed lovingly back at him as the ceremony concluded and they emerged from the church to the rousing cheers of their friends.
Thomas and Ellen Havers had insisted on throwing a wedding party for them after the ceremony, and afterwards they planned to return to Alexander’s townhouse and remain in London for another month before travelling to Hampshire to visit with the Pembrokes -- the only friends who were unable to attend their wedding. Too close to her confinement, Amelia had instead sent many excited letters and a promise of a gentle mare from their famous stables as a wedding gift for Marianne.
Once Amelia’s child was born, they would go to Portsmouth and take ship there for Scotland, cutting several days off the journey to Glenkellie. Marianne was looking forward very much to seeing Alexander’s childhood home, which he described as ‘an ancient pile’ but his mother had told her was one of the most beautiful castles in Scotland.
Lady Helena was sailing for Italy in late March, and they would
join her in September after Marianne saw Ellen through her confinement as well. She had already cornered Lavinia, who as the mother of five children was the most experienced source on childbirth she knew, and quizzed her for so much detail Lavinia turned quite pale.
Their conversations had taught Marianne about a great deal more than just childbirth, however. Despite a great deal of blushing, Lavinia had imparted quite a lot of knowledge about what happened in the marriage bed when the wife wasn’t unwilling.
Knowing happy couples like the Havers and the Pembrokes, Marianne had slowly become aware there could be true and genuine affection between husband and wife. More than once while staying with Thomas and Ellen she had accidentally come across them in a passionate embrace, and the thought of sharing such embraces with Alexander made her feel quite warm and flushed.
Far from fearing her second wedding night, she was rather looking forward to it.
“Do you think anyone would notice if we sneaked away?” she whispered to Alexander after they had dined and danced and talked for what felt like hours.
“To go where? Are you feeling quite well?” He looked at her with concern.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Sliding her hand into his, she squeezed. “I would like to be alone with my husband, that’s all.”
“Really?” A wide grin broke across his face. “Then let us not waste another minute, my darling marchioness!”
They slipped out and ran down the stairs, jumping into the waiting Glenkellie coach, where Alexander lost no time pulling Marianne into his arms.
“I love you,” he whispered, raining kisses across her face. “I have always, always loved you.”
“I love you, too,” Marianne said, nestling close against him and resting her head against his strong shoulder, safe in his arms and secure in the knowledge that she was finally right where she had always longed to be.
~ THE END ~
)
A Marquis For Marianne (Blushing Brides Book 2) Page 15
