by Heather Boyd
“No, thank you,” she promised. She was eager to be alone with her thoughts. She’d made a monumental decision today. All on her own.
She did not believe she’d made a mistake in accepting Lord Carmichael. It was a generous offer from a good man. Yet there was much she did not know about him other than he was kind and wrote an excellent letter very faithfully each year. And he had given her Hero as a gift one year because, she suspected, she’d been sad to be going so far away. Before that, her knowledge of him was as a child, with an innocent and sometimes confused view of the world coloring her memories. She had liked the boy he’d once been because he’d let her play with his toys when she should have been sweeping the floor instead. He’d had so very many of them, too, but had always been happy to share.
But still, marriage and the “bedding,” as he called it, were the great unknowns of her future.
She grew warm with embarrassment just thinking about it.
She fanned herself with the nearest ladies’ magazine but something caught her eye in it, and she fell to reading. She was perusing the last page when the cousins suddenly arrived. Sylvia, Aurora, and Eugenia had similar brown hair and green eyes, but their personalities were wildly different.
Sylvia was shy, Aurora bold, and Eugenia decisive. Their ages ranged from five and twenty to seven and twenty. Considered old spinsters just like Lenore when they were two and twenty, the Hillcrest cousins had never expected to marry. When their money had come in, the unexpected inheritances had saved them from the desperate poverty that afflicted many older spinsters. It had been Eugenia’s inspired suggestion that they open this business instead of buckling to the pressure to marry anyone who’d have them at their advanced ages.
Lenore had felt that pressure when she was younger, too, but her employment had taken her far from home, and that path, until now.
After greetings were exchanged, she stood back. “I have some news. I’m to be married,” she told them immediately, unable to keep it to herself a moment longer.
The Hillcrest cousins shrieked en masse, jumping up to surround her. “My dear, this is everything we ever wanted for you,” Aurora declared at the top of her voice. “Finally, a man has seen your potential. Who is it? Please tell me it’s not Mr. Green from the village.”
“Of course, it wouldn’t be Mr. Green. Our friend has better taste in men. Is he rich?” Aurora asked bluntly. “Connected?”
“Is he handsome?” Sylvia asked, blushing.
“Is he good enough for our dear friend?” Eugenia asked.
“He is Price Wagstaff, Lord Carmichael. An earl. He has a fine house and country estate, too.”
Aurora’s face clouded. “Isn’t he…”
“He was the boy my late grandmother worked for,” she confirmed.
Eugenia stretched forward, placing a restraining hand on Aurora’s. “When did this happen? The proposal, I mean.”
“Today.” Lenore had already practiced an answer that wouldn’t include details of their secret correspondence over the years, which would be considered scandalous under any circumstances. “He came to the point quite quickly.”
“I’ll say,” Aurora grumbled. “We’d not heard a whisper. You should have told us sooner.”
She couldn’t have told them what she’d never expected. She lowered her eyes, pretending shyness in the hope they’d leave their questions at that.
“The best marriages start with a bang,” Sylvia said dreamily. “If he’s titled, he must be handsome.”
“How does that follow?” Aurora complained to her cousin. “A title does not bestow any improvement upon a man’s looks.”
Sylvia caught Lenore’s eye. “But he is handsome, yes?”
Lenore felt her cheeks heating a little. Lord Carmichael should be very handsome when that terrible beard was scraped off his face and his clothing wasn’t rumpled. Neglect didn’t suit him. It made him seem old and unloved. “Yes, I think so.”
The cousins cheered and hugged her again.
Eugenia Hillcrest clapped her hands together to bring order to their reunion. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Oh no, you mustn’t go to any fuss on my account,” Lenore protested.
“No. No. We celebrate every marriage with a little party, don’t we girls?”
Sylvia nodded emphatically. “Whether we arrange them or not. We do want to play a little part in your celebrations,” she said. “Not many of our clients think to invite us to their weddings. I think they’re embarrassed that they needed us to get them going in the right direction.”
Lenore shook her head. “You’ll be at my wedding, of course.”
The cousins exchanged glances, and then Lenore was smothered in hugs again. “This is marvelous news,” Aurora cried. “At last, we’ll have a chance to attend a proper society wedding and meet important people when she becomes a countess!”
The Hillcrest women survived on the good word of their customers circulated to other gentlemen facing similar difficulties. She wasn’t sure it would be the entree into the upper society that the trio would want, however. “I must warn you it will most likely only be a small gathering for the wedding.”
“But they will be new faces to us,” Eugenia noted. “Members of the ton will certainly be in attendance.”
“Which gives us even more reason to celebrate. There’s been a rather chronic shortage of eligible men lining up at our door of late. It always happens at this time of year. Nearly everyone flees the capital for the comforts of the country if they have any choice in the matter.”
The trio presented a unique learning opportunity for the uncertain gentlemen. If their client could charm one of them, or all three, after instruction, they claimed he should have no problem finding a wife in society. They were practice—for introductions, making calls, dance partners, dinner companions. A little flirting, too, Lenore suspected. All conducted within the privacy of this little house with absolutely no danger that the gentleman might find himself expected to wed any of them.
Lenore was in awe of their scheme. It took courage to stand firm in the face of disapproval from everyone you knew the way they had done.
Eugenia rang for a servant and, in asking for refreshments, shared the news of Lenore’s upcoming marriage. The maid twirled away grinning, and promised to be very quick.
“Will you forgive us if we seek new clients among the bachelors at your wedding?” Eugenia asked with an apologetic smile.
“Of course. I have no notion yet if there will be any bachelors at the wedding breakfast, though. If there are any in attendance, I will most definitely introduce you to them and leave the rest to you.”
“We would appreciate your help with introductions very much,” Sylvia said quietly. “Where are you staying?”
“I hadn’t yet found a hotel.”
“A hotel? No. You’ll stay with us until you marry,” Eugenia insisted. “A hotel is not suitable accommodations for the future Countess of Carmichael. Where’s your baggage?
Lenore hated to impose but she’d rather stay with friends than alone. “Still in his lordship’s carriage outside.”
“I’ll have it brought in and taken up to our guest bedroom,” Eugenia decided, rushing from the room with Hero at her heels.
“Thank you,” Lenore called.
Aurora ushered them into the adjacent dining room. “The table is already set for the arrival of one of our clients tonight, but we should soon have it to rights again after we celebrate your good fortune.”
“Who is it today?”
“Lord Jeremy Scarsdale will be joining us at eight. He’s the third son, and has the most unfortunate habit of stuttering around women he admires. He’s been visiting us for the past month in the hope of curing his habit. It’s terribly hard to woo when tongue-tied.”
“Indeed,” Eugenia said dryly. “Doesn’t stop him eating well, though.”
Lenore laughed. “He’s probably happy to have the three lovely ladies to himself.”
/> “Don’t think we haven’t considered that might be why men come here, but we quickly find out the truth and send them packing.”
“I’m hoping to learn how he’s fared in society this past week,” Sylvia murmured as she moved to a sideboard where a row of decanters were set out. “The last time he was here, he mentioned he’d be attending a few society engagements. He’s a good man and deserves to be happy.”
Sylvia poured for them all—a small sherry to toast with—and Lenore grinned when Aurora returned with Hero licking his lips. Aurora had tended to spoil Hero when she wasn’t looking. But it was like she had a family with her again at this critical time in her life.
“When will your marriage take place?”
“I’m not sure. Soon though. Lord Carmichael has promised we’ll be married by special license.”
“A special license? Well, well. A man of decisive temperament. I like that,” Aurora declared with a sage nod. “He’ll be no slouch then when it comes to other matters, too.”
Sylvia blushed. “Hush, Aurora. Don’t frighten her.”
“Frighten me?”
Eugenia rolled her eyes. “What our dear cousin is hinting at is her undocumented suspicion that a brisk proposal heralds a brisk bedding upon marriage.”
Lenore was about to prove Aurora’s theory very wrong. Carmichael was happy to wait to consummate their marriage. Having just escaped from a scoundrel’s pursuit, Lenore was very glad about that, too.
“What did your employer have to say about giving you up to a marriage? I hope she was not put out that you’ve caught yourself an earl.”
Lenore winced. “I haven’t told her. To be honest, my situation there was causing me concern.”
“Oh, what happened?”
“She had a suitor who expressed interest in me, too.”
The ladies gaped and shook their heads. “Men can be such contrary creatures,” Sylvia noted. “I’m glad you managed to escape before any awkwardness of an unwanted proposal.”
“There wouldn’t have been any proposal,” she said, wincing. “He had other plans for me.”
There was silence at her statement, and eventually, she had to look up.
Eugenia gulped. “You did escape unharmed, didn’t you?”
Lenore nodded quickly. “Lord Carmichael arranged a carriage to bring me London, and I could think of no reason to delay going with such a scoundrel prowling around.”
“A lady’s reputation must remain entirely without reproach,” Eugenia agreed. “She must protect herself from all unwanted advances.”
“You made the only decision you could, my dear,” Eugenia assured her. “Never allow anyone to make you doubt that. The earl made the right choice, too. You will succeed in anything you put your mind to. You’ll be mistress of your own home and of him.”
Lenore blushed. She imagined she and Carmichael would only become close when she was ready to share a bed with him. But those would be brief encounters, and then they would live separate lives, like many in the ton were said to do. “True,” she said and took a sip quickly.
“And you’ll make new friends now as well.”
“But I won’t forget the old,” she swore to them. “I’ll need you all very much in the coming weeks as I become accustomed to my new role.”
“Of course, you must have a thousand things to do and not much time to complete it all. Do come, let us repair upstairs, and we can set your mind at ease about marriage and what you might need to purchase. We absolutely must talk about what you’ll wear on your wedding day, too. You’ll of course order a swathe of new gowns to wear as you start your new life.”
Lenore sighed. Advice was exactly what she’d hoped for. She’d been a companion to three older ladies, but never in all her life had she imagined to hold a rank above theirs. She would need more help than a few pretty dresses.
But for today, practicalities would stop her thinking about sharing a bed with her future husband.
How long should she wait before inviting him to join her? What should she expect after he’d taken her innocence? These were questions she’d never dared ask before. There had been no need. But her friends would understand her fears and give her strength to face her wedding day to a near stranger, even if they didn’t realize he was.
Hero was suddenly at her side, head lapping at her clenched fingers. She gave him a good rub and smiled down at him. Hero liked Lord Carmichael. There was no mistaking his instincts about men. Lenore wouldn’t have agreed to any marriage with Lord Carmichael if her dog had shown the smallest distrust of the earl. She’d made the right decision. Their marriage would be a good one.
Chapter 6
Price hooked his finger under his cravat and pulled hard. He seemed unable to pull enough air into his lungs to meet his needs today.
“Is it still too tight, my lord,” his valet Norris asked, hurrying to join him at the mirror. “Let me loosen it again.”
Norris, a fussy fellow he’d recently employed, loosened the knot again and stood back. “There, perfect.”
Even with that third adjustment, Price still felt he was being strangled. Had he made a mistake in hiring this new man? Norris was perfect in every other respect. Polite, discreet, and until today, Price had had no complaints at all.
He sighed deeply and looked at his reflection in the mirrored glass.
It wasn’t really the cravat, or the valet, that was the problem.
It was Price himself.
He was to be married today to a woman he could not love. Lenore Griffin. A new woman to stand at his side where the love of his life ought to have been. He felt uneasy now, but at the time he’d settled and signed marriage contracts with her, it had still seemed a sensible solution. He would need a son, and Lenore was kind and smart and appeared healthy and in need of a home. She’d make a suitable spouse and companion for him in the years to come.
Only Price was having cold feet about it all now. Was he rushing into a mistake of his own making? How could he have thought marrying the first woman he could think of was the right thing to do the other day?
“Your waistcoat next, my lord.”
He allowed himself to be helped into the garment and stared at himself in the mirror again. He stroked his fingers over the sleeve covering his upper right arm. He felt strange without the band of mourning that he’d worn since his godmother’s bloody rampage through society’s innocent debutants.
He closed his eyes as the memory of Angela’s pale, lifeless face swam before him, and then all the others, too. There was blood on his hands. Angela was gone, and so were the other innocent women. His godmother was responsible but hadn’t lived long enough to pay the price for her actions. He couldn’t do anything but mourn and rage in private and do his best to put the past behind him.
He opened his eyes again and asked for his coat next. Once dressed, he spent a moment contemplating his appearance one more time. He looked like a stranger even to himself now without the whiskers on his face. He’d removed them to please his future bride only yesterday, and he wasn’t quite used to seeing his own face yet. His skin felt as raw as his nerves.
He tried a smile and managed a pale imitation of one.
“You look very well today, my lord. If I may be so bold. Congratulations on the happy occasion.”
“Thank you,” he intoned, feeling the complete absence of happiness. He was doing his duty to the family and his title. Many men made marriages without knowing their bride well, and he would be no different. Lenore would do for him, and if he ever had regrets, he would keep them to himself rather than lay any blame for disappointment at her feet.
He strode from the room, headed downstairs to await his bride’s arrival. He would not pretend to be deliriously happy, but he would not diminish the importance of this day.
This was it. He was embracing the future without Angela.
He’d written to Lenore several times in the past few days, explaining the arrangements he’d made, and received a polite response
indicating her agreement with everything he wanted.
She should be here promptly at ten o’clock to speak their vows. Price had arranged witnesses and a vicar, of course, and when Lenore had informed him three of her friends would be attending, too, he’d made adjustments. The wedding breakfast seating plan, the food offered, proved no difficulty for him.
He strolled into the dining room, nodding in approval at how the table had been set for the wedding breakfast. His housekeeper had done an exemplary job preparing the house at short notice for the happy occasion.
Even without Monsieur Laffitte’s extraordinary culinary skills in the kitchen, there was nothing lacking that he could see and nothing he would change about today. He hoped the man was happy in the employ of the esteemed Duke of Exeter once more, since he’d been lured back to prepare for His Grace’s end-of-year and birthday celebrations. It was probably for the best. He did not imagine he and Lenore would entertain often together at home.
Yet very soon, he’d be a husband with a duty to care for a woman, and later, their children. Any happiness would be hard-won and treasured. There was no turning back now.
A loud knock startled him and heralded the arrival of his first guest. The vicar, Mr. Jackson Fielding, was early and very exuberant as they shook hands. “How are you feeling on this happy occasion?” Fielding asked.
“Very well.” He offered the vicar a drink, which he declined in favor of consulting his bible.
Lord Wade and Lady Wade arrived next. Seeing them arm in arm and clearly happy in love made his heart pinch. They had both known his lost love well, Lady Wade more so of the pair. “Welcome,” he managed.
Lady Wade drew closer, searching his expression, and her smile was tentative. “We are so happy to be with you today,” she promised him in gentle tones.
Price had been avoiding most of his acquaintances since Angela had died, including Lord and Lady Wade. Since he and Angela had not been married, or publically acknowledged as engaged to marry, few had understood his anguish over her death. He’d learned it was better to hide his pain than explain it to friends and acquaintances over and over. “Miss Griffin has yet to arrive, but I expect her very soon.”
