He laughed low in his throat and his eyes were merciless. ‘Have no fear, Delphine. I have no desire to leave you too soon.’
‘There is the matter of Delphine’s dowry to discuss before you go. I am prepared to make a generous settlement.’
‘Keep it. I want nothing from you.’
His reply drew a surprised gasp from Delphine. Her father stared at the colonel for a moment, bewildered.
‘Did I hear you correctly, sir?’
‘You did,’ Stephen replied coldly. ‘I have no intention of taking payment for marrying my wife.’
‘But—it is normal practice.’
‘It is not a practice I approve of. I am capable of financing Delphine’s needs, Lord Cameron.’
‘I will not be a burden to you, Colonel,’ Delphine told him, ‘socially or financially. At least that way I can manage to retain some shred of self-esteem.’
Stephen looked at her with hard eyes. ‘As my wife, you will hardly be in a position to maintain yourself without me. You will find that out soon enough.’
With that he inclined his head to them both and walked to the door. Delphine caught a glimpse of his angry, aristocratic profile as he paused for a moment, then he was gone with only a pledge that he would not be late for the ceremony.
* * *
It was over. Delphine was now the wife of Lord Fitzwaring and on the point of leaving London. When they had left the church her face had been ashen. Impatient to dispose of the daughter who had fallen from grace, Lord and Lady Cameron had made it a rushed affair.
There had been no beautiful wedding dress, no bridesmaids, only a husband who despised her for forcing him into marriage against his will. When they had spoken their vows he had placed the ring on her finger and the traditional kiss on her cold, unresponsive lips. As Stephen raised his head, his taunting smile had seared her and brought a rush of angry colour to her cheeks. He was laughing cruelly at her and her pride was stung. She jutted her chin defiantly and glared at him.
‘Were I a man you would not sneer so easily.’
She saw his cheeks crease with a maddeningly slow and mischievous smile, and when he spoke it was for her ears only, low and unmerciful. ‘Were you a man you would not be in the situation you are now in, my love.’
Her temper flared and she tried to wrest her arm free from what to everyone present appeared to be a husband’s tender hand placed on his wife’s arm. To Delphine his grip was like a vice, which tightened as she tried to pull it free.
Lowering his head to hers, his warm breath fanning her cheek, seeming to enjoy her distress, Stephen murmured, ‘You cannot escape me, Delphine. I have a very possessive nature. You are mine, now and for ever, so smile and let everyone see how happy you are.’
Her face burned. She had little left to be proud of. Even her independence had been stripped from her and it goaded her that she must now rely upon this man for her support. ‘You must be the vilest of toads that I have ever had the misfortune to meet,’ she hissed.
He did not seem surprised or insulted. Undaunted, he lifted his brows quizzically, a twist of humour about his beautifully moulded lips. ‘This is a crushing moment, my love. I have been called some unflattering things in my life, but I have never been called a toad,’ he murmured, chuckling deep as he walked her back down the aisle.
* * *
The wedding feast had been a strained affair and passed quickly. The bride and groom were now about to depart on their journey to Cornwall. Standing in the hall Delphine was indeed living as in a nightmare. Only two of her sisters, Rose and Fern, had been present at the ceremony—although she had seen little of them since the morning of her return following her night with Lord Fitzwaring. She suspected that her mother had purposely kept them away from her lest she contaminate her precious darlings with her loose morals.
Her two older sisters were married and lived too far away to attend the wedding at such short notice. The twins had looked on in bewilderment, with no knowledge of what had transpired between their younger sister and the handsome soldier. They were so perfect, so fragile and dainty, with pale silk hair and rose- tinted skin, both dressed in identical gowns of the palest cream. Their eyes were an incredible bright blue, their mouths soft and tremulous. They were innocent and had perfect manners—in fact, they were everything Delphine was not and they were to marry into the aristocracy a few months hence.
Lord and Lady Cameron doted on their beautiful identical twins. All her life Delphine had longed for her parents to look at her the way they looked at Rose and Fern. Their haste to see her gone from the house was almost too painful to bear.
Now she bade farewell to the servants and family retainers who had gathered to say goodbye and offer their salutations and, unexpectedly, a few tears. She was particularly sad to bid goodbye to her Aunt Celia, who would miss both her and her help at the orphanage terribly. A level-headed woman who was usually in control of herself and any situation, she had been made privy to the circumstances that had brought about this hasty marriage. Aunt Celia’s usually stern face broke into a kindly smile and her eyes filled with tears.
‘God bless you, my dear,’ she said, embracing her tenderly. ‘I’m going to miss you for more reasons than you know. I am so proud of you.’
‘Proud of me?’ Delphine said sadly. ‘How can that be when I have disgraced you all?’
Celia smiled at her gently. ‘Nonsense. Sometimes a girl cannot help the things that happen to her. She is just a victim of circumstance.’
‘Or of a particular soldier,’ Delphine murmured sadly.
Celia laughed softly. ‘Yes, or of a soldier. But at least your Colonel Fitzwaring is a handsome soldier. When my dear brother told me of your predicament and said a colonel in Wellington’s army was to blame, I had cause to worry. I had visions of him being old and ugly and lecherous. I am relieved to find he is none of those things. I think he is quite magnificent. The donation he made to the orphanage was generous indeed.’
Delphine was genuinely surprised to hear this. When he had offered her payment for her services and she had suggested he make a donation to the orphanage, she had truly thought he would ignore her request. ‘I had no idea—although I’m ashamed when I think of the way it came about.’
‘Don’t be. It is done and life goes on.’ Celia gave her a final embrace. ‘Now you must go. You have a long journey ahead of you. Promise to write to me as soon as you get to Cornwall. I want to know all about your new home.’
‘I will, I promise—and please send me all the news about the children. You will keep a watch over Maisie, won’t you, Aunt Celia?’
‘I shall.’
‘And if anything should happen—if you have cause to feel concern for her safety—you will let me know.’
‘Yes. Now go along with you. I’m sure there are some poor souls in Cornwall in need of your care, Delphine.’
Delphine was hard put to restrain herself. Her throat was sore and her chest tight. She said goodbye to her sisters and her stony-faced parents. There was no appeal she could make. They did not touch her or tell her that they loved her. She turned aside hastily and strode away, for her husband awaited her in front of the house.
Inside the confines of the coach she felt miserable and alone. Her eyes stung as they left London behind. So much was bottled up inside her; now it seemed too much. It was choking her. She was a tight bubble of misery being squeezed and ready to burst at any time, but she would remain intact. She would weep no more.
* * *
The coach made good speed. Appearing to loathe the prospect of being alone with Delphine in the coach, Stephen, preferring to accompany Mr Oakley on horseback, was mounted on a huge black beast, its glossy black coat gleaming with every ripple of its muscles.
The coach rattled into the cobbled yard of a coach
ing inn where they were to spend the night. Stephen dismounted and, with an imperious edge to his voice, instructed the driver to be ready to travel at half past eight the next morning before handing the reins of his horse to a groom.
‘Dear me,’ Delphine remarked to Mr Oakley, who had come to hand her down from the coach, ‘my husband does seem most put out. No doubt he blames me for delaying his journey to Portsmouth. What a nuisance I must seem, although,’ she uttered drily, casting Mr Oakley a reproachful look, ‘if either of us needs somebody to blame for what has transpired, we need look no further than you. Do you not agree, Mr Oakley?’
A man of admirable self-control and discretion and not easily annoyed, Mr Oakley nodded, falling into step beside her as they walked across the inn yard. ‘I fear that is so, my lady. Call it a case of mistaken identity, if you like. I misjudged the situation completely and hold myself entirely responsible for the outcome. I can only apologise most sincerely for any distress you may have suffered because of my actions and ask your pardon.’
She smiled at him, finding it impossible to be angry with this good-natured, amiable man. ‘You may have it, Mr Oakley. Whether or not I can pardon my husband is a different matter entirely. He does not suffer women gladly, does he?’
‘He means you no harm, my lady. Over the years I have learned that women play a small part in his life, even though half of the women he meets fancy themselves in love with so handsome and dashing a commander.’
‘A fancy that is not reciprocated,’ Delphine guessed coolly, her eyes fixed on her husband’s straight back as he disappeared inside the inn.
‘I fear not. My master is a soldier first and foremost, and as a soldier he is too short of patience to be a practised gallant. His emotions are difficult to read—he has learned to guard them well. He thrives most when the country is on a war footing—as it is now with Bonaparte. After long hours in the saddle, he will often inspect his regiment, supervising any improvements he considers necessary. Then he spends long hours writing orders to his commanders, or planning new strategies. Often, he works into the early hours until finally surrendering to an exhausted sleep.’
‘Your loyalty to him does you credit, Mr Oakley, although I am not prepared to be lenient quite yet. His exhaustion may explain why he is constantly out of sorts and as ill tempered as a bear with a sore head.’ Having reached the inn, she paused and studied her companion. There was an extraordinary warmth and intelligence in his eyes that was reflected in his smile. ‘You are very fond of my husband, Mr Oakley. I see that.’
‘As I said, my lady, we have been together for many years—through the thick and the thin of it. No matter what is said of him, he is first a man of honour. He has a heart that is all fire and he is possessed of an energy and passion for life—the kind of life he could only find with the army as a soldier. He knew what he wanted from an early age and pursued it single-mindedly.’
‘To the exclusion of all else, it would seem, Mr Oakley—including his wife, since he cannot wait to discard her and return to Spain,’ Delphine remarked, tempted to add, and to be reunited with his Spanish señorita. She was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice, which was not lost on her companion.
‘I’m afraid that is so, my lady, but—’ now there was a twinkle in his eyes ‘—I very much suspect that you will be his undoing.’
Delphine was unable to respond to his statement, for at that moment Stephen appeared at her side. When she realised she was to share a room with him, her heart began to pound and heat warmed her cheeks. She had given little thought to the fact that she would be ensconced with him for the entire night. But, she reminded herself, it was her wedding night, a night a bride should expect to share with her husband.
She was suddenly nervous, yet she also felt a sense of excitement. A woman was supposed to be terrified of the experience that lay ahead of her, terrified because she was ignorant of what it entailed. But Delphine had already had her first night of passion with Stephen Fitzwaring and knew exactly what to expect. Her traitorous body was already throbbing to experience again what he had done to her. Unable to trust herself when she was around him, she must learn to fight these wanton urges, bring them under control, for she could not, must not, risk her heart.
* * *
After sharing a meal with him in the crowded dining room, their conversation limited and stilted, they went up the stairs to their room. Halting before the door, Stephen opened it and ushered her inside.
Feeling less sure of herself by the minute, Delphine glanced at the bed, which was certainly not the biggest bed she had ever seen. Was it really less than a week ago she had spent the entire night with him at the Blue Boar?
Stephen observed the soft flush that sprang to her cheeks as her gaze lingered on the bed and caught the covert glance she then cast his way, which brought a smile to his lips.
‘What is the matter, Delphine? Are you remembering the last time you and I shared a bed?’
Delphine held her tongue, not with acquiescence, but with determination not to let her emotions get entangled with being his wife. As he seemed to expect some response from her, she shrugged and said, ‘I simply did not expect to be snuggled in so cosily with you, that’s all.’
‘There were moments at the Blue Boar when you didn’t seem to mind being snuggled in so cosily with me. As I recall, you didn’t exactly shrink from my attentions.’ He stepped close, gently touching her cheek with the tip of his finger, making her quiver with a pleasure so intense it was almost like pain. His eyes held hers in a challenging stare. ‘You look pale, my love. Does the idea of sharing a bed with me strike you as distasteful? It is customary, you know, for a bride and groom to spend their wedding night in the same bed.’
Delphine almost retreated from those suddenly fierce eyes, but she steeled herself and held her ground. ‘I am quite aware of that, sir,’ she replied stiffly. ‘But I am not yet ready for a repeat performance,’ she lied, for her body was telling her that she was, but her pride and her diffidence would not allow her to admit it. ‘At the present moment I do not feel like your wife. The wedding ceremony was a miserable affair, one I shall not look back on with affection. I have never given any thought to getting married, since I have not met anyone I wanted to marry. But one thing I have always known is that when I did marry, my wedding would be a happy occasion—to begin favourably, in a blaze of joy, instead of darkness.’
Stephen’s face was inscrutable as he moved past her, languidly loosening the collar of his jacket. Her words pricked at his conscience, since it was what every woman dreamed of—a wedding day to remember. And yet it seemed that she would play the reluctant virgin to the hilt, when they both knew she had no cause.
‘I was aware of your reluctance to be married and I assure you that I shall behave with more dignity than you seem concerned about.’
‘I objected to the groom,’ Delphine told him coldly. ‘Had I been given any other choice, my behaviour would be different. By your actions and my parents’ eagerness to rid themselves of me, I was left with no other alternative.’
‘Worry not, my love. I have no intention of making love to you tonight or any other night in the near future—unless, of course, I find I cannot resist you and am unable to help myself,’ he retorted sarcastically. ‘When I take my pleasure of you it will be at my convenience. Your father has got what he wanted, so be content with that.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, bewildered.
‘Don’t play the innocent. I’m not proud of myself for what I did to you that night, Delphine. I ravaged and ruined an innocent young woman. Had I known who you were, that you were the daughter of a highly respected nobleman, I would have sought you out and apologised to your family—even though your father would have been within his rights to call me out. But for you to tell them what had transpired between us, to have your father hunt me out and threat
en me, was a very unwise thing for you to do. I cannot believe you didn’t know what he planned to do if I refused to marry you.’
Slowly shaking her head, she stared at him in confusion. ‘No. I really do not know what you’re talking about.’
He laughed bitterly. ‘No—I don’t believe you do.’ His eyes settled on her face and he ran his finger down the tantalising curve of her cheek. He was certain she was ignorant of his frustration and rage engendered by the threats Lord Cameron had used to force him into marrying his daughter.
She had dressed with care for the journey, in a gown of mulberry silk. The décolletage was quite daring, revealing the swell of her breasts, yet it would be considered modest compare to the fashions of the women who followed the regiment. Her hair was parted down the middle with clusters of ringlets falling over her ears. Two curls had escaped their pins during the journey and rested tantalisingly against her neck.
‘You truly are innocent, are you not, Delphine?’ he asked softly. ‘You are also a beautiful and fascinating woman. You really are as lovely as I remember.’ He bent his head and his lips touched where his finger had preceded them.
Delphine allowed his mouth to caress her face. It was gentle, and as long as nothing would follow, she would not take the chance to stir his anger by refusing him this much. ‘Tell me what my father did to make you marry me,’ she asked softly, feeling foolish at the quiver in her voice.
His lips trailed from her cheek to her ear and, like tinder to a paper, his touch set her blood afire, his mouth a living flame as it nuzzled the hollow of her neck. She shivered involuntarily at its burning intensity. Nervously she drew back, fearing he would not keep his word.
‘Please tell me.’
His mood when he drew back was once more cool and harsh. ‘If it matters so much to you, then I shall tell you. Your father was going to expose me for a rapist if I did not agree to wed you. Such an accusation from a man of your father’s standing would have caused the biggest scandal—not only in London but among the English contingent in Spain. It would have brought disrepute to my family name, ruined my career and your reputation. I would have been drummed out of the army and sent to prison.’
Miss Cameron's Fall from Grace Page 6
