Romancing the Earl

by Heather Boyd

  If she didn’t change her mind.

  The thought came out of the blue. Lenore could yet cry off, and that hadn’t occurred to Price until this very moment. He glanced at the front door in worry that she might not appear. He really should have sent a carriage to fetch her for the wedding but had been denied the privilege. Lenore had promised his assistance in getting here was not required. He hoped he would not live to regret that decision, or be about to be made a fool of.

  Another knock at the door brought Mr. Scarsdale and the Marquess of Wharton together. Wharton had been eager to attend, once Price had confessed the marriage that was about to take place. Price had deliberately neglected to give the pair all of the particulars of his arrangement with Lenore though.

  They shook hands and exchanged greetings. “So here we are, about to watch another rogue lose his independence,” Wharton joked, and then he brushed his hand across his own shaved jaw. “And freshly shaved, too, thank heaven. I really thought you’d have waited a bit longer than a few weeks from our discussion before deciding to take a bride.”

  Price stared steadily at Wharton, having endured this same conversation two days earlier. Wharton had a low opinion of rushed marriages despite what he’d said the last time they’d spoken together. He couldn’t understand why Price was in such a rush to get it over with. “You should start thinking about marriage, too, before your looks are gone,” Price replied dryly.

  “Heaven protect me.” Wharton laughed, patting his own smooth cheeks. He was a bit of a larrikin. Protective of his looks, too. “My pretty face is all I have to recommend me.”

  “That and the title.” Scarsdale drew closer to Price. “Although for all we know, Wharton will probably find a man selling his wife in the marketplace and make them an offer rather than putting in the effort to woo a proper lady,” he murmured.

  “If I should ever choose to marry, you can rest assured she’ll not be another man’s wife or a rushed affair,” Wharton declared, indignant. “She will be carefully chosen with a beauty to match my own. I couldn’t marry another man’s wife anyway. A charge of bigamy would negate the marriage and call into question the legality of my son inheriting my title.”

  There was a commotion behind Wharton, and when Price looked around his friend, he spotted Lenore and three women standing uncertainly in the entrance hall. Hero was being led away by a footman, no doubt headed for the kitchen.

  Lenore looked very pretty today.

  Price felt his stomach swoop and relief filled him at the sight of her. She had not forgotten her promise to him, and had made an effort in her appearance, too.

  She looked quite fetching, really.

  He dug a finger under his cravat and pulled at it as his discomfort returned. Lenore’s dark hair was neatly styled with a few soft curls trailing down her neck. She wore a summery yellow gown that showed off her shapely figure and a hint of creamy white bosom.

  This was his bride, the woman he would live out the rest of his day’s side by side with. Looking at her now, knowing his heart belonged to Angela still, he wondered at what kind of life they could have together. Would they fight, or would they just politely ignore each other most of the time?

  “Bloody hell,” Scarsdale cursed and spun about, putting his back to the doorway.

  Price glanced at him in confusion. “What’s the matter with you?”

  Scarsdale was blushing. “I know them.”

  “You know Miss Griffin?”

  “Not her. The other three. Damn it all.” Scarsdale drew in a deep breath, and then turned back around, a false smile fixed in place. “It really is too small a world we live in, isn’t it,” he complained.

  “It can be,” Price sympathized, but he’d no time to inquire further about how Scarsdale knew those women. He quickly skirted around his friends to greet his future wife.

  He bowed deeply to her. “Welcome, Miss Griffin.”

  She curtsied. “My lord.”

  Price reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. He’d not planned to do that, kiss any part of her, but reaching for her hand just seemed to come naturally.

  He kissed the air above her gloved fingers and then let them fall. He looked at her, saw her friends watching closely, and knew he was expected to say something profound to mark the occasion. A comment memorable enough to be repeated over the years to their children perhaps, and friends. “You take my breath away.”

  The women around Lenore beamed, and she quickly made introductions. Their names sounded oddly familiar, but he doubted he’d been introduced to the Hillcrest cousins before today. He bowed to each one politely. “I hope to see you often.”

  “We hope so, too.” One of them looked around, peering into nearby rooms. “Is there a private chamber somewhere we ladies can use before the wedding?”

  “Of course. This way. I’ll make introductions after the wedding if you like,” Price promised, feeling his anxiety return just saying that much.

  After the wedding…when there was no escape for either one of them.

  His cravat was still too tight as he showed the women to the morning room, where refreshments had been laid out for just such a situation and a large mirror brought down if needed.

  He quickly excused himself and closed the door on them, turned, and strode back to his guests—trying not to run.

  He found Scarsdale in the entrance hall, peeking into the dining room. “Scarsdale, what are you doing? There’s nothing to eat in there yet.”

  He smiled quickly. “I was actually hoping for the first introduction to the future Lady Carmichael. Can’t let Wharton have the honor of charming her first.”

  Price shivered. “After the wedding. Be a friend and help me shepherd everyone into position for the ceremony.”

  “Of course. How do you want us arranged?”

  Price explained and then returned to his guests. He started on one side of the room, directing guests where he wanted them to stand. Scarsdale did his part. Price had decided to be married before the tall front windows. It was a beautiful day, and the room was light and bright. He wanted no shadows on this day, but the clarity of perfect vision as he spoke his vows to Lenore Griffin.

  He would never love her, but he would respect Lenore, be faithful to her for all of his life. He would do his best to never let her down.

  The vicar took his place between the windows. He patted the top of the bible and smiled at Price. “All we need now is the bride to appear.”

  Price dug his finger under his cravat one more time and turned toward the door, ready to have Lenore fetched. But then he saw her, standing in the doorway, surrounded by her three friends…and his breath caught.

  They’d added a coronet of flowers and veil over Lenore’s hair while they’d been apart, and the effect was breathtaking.

  Two of the Hillcrest cousins led the way into the room while the third steered Lenore forward by the hand, standing in the place of a loved one for Lenore’s sake.

  The leading two ladies peeled off to take a position on the right side of the room. The other, Eugenia, he finally remembered, handed Lenore Griffin to him with a secretive smile. She moved to stand with her cousins, leaving Lenore in his care. He felt Lenore’s hand tremble in his, and he squeezed her fingers tightly, hoping to show her that he understood. He was nervous too. Marriage was a huge step for both of them.

  She offered him a tentative smile in return, and then turned her attention exclusively to the vicar.

  But the vicar’s words passed over Price in a blur.

  He couldn’t look away from Lenore Griffin, a near stranger who would be part of his life forever at any moment. Yet he felt connected to the vicar’s words through the woman he held so lightly. It didn’t feel wrong at all, just strange.

  He and Lenore gave their consent in clear, strong voices. Price’s hand was steady as he slid a simple gold band onto her finger, and then the vicar concluded their vows.

  “…pledged their troth either to other and have declared th
e same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen,” the vicar finished before bestowing a serene smile upon them both.

  He was married. A husband. His life inexplicably bound to Lenore’s.

  “Amen,” he said softly, catching Lenore’s eye as she uttered the same word.

  There was loud applause behind them, and Price looked over his shoulder briefly and grinned, thankful for the distraction. He and Lenore had made a brave choice, but she had given him responsibility over her life, and he would never let her regret it. He would protect her from anyone or anything that meant her harm.

  He returned to studying his bride’s face. Learning her. It was then he noticed a tiny tear sliding down her pale cheek from glassy-bright eyes. Many women cried at weddings. Was Lenore happy or sad? He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he hated to see that tear.

  He lifted his hand and swept his thumb gently across her cheek to wipe it away. She startled and stared at him. Her blue eyes were huge with emotion, but then she chuckled softly, and any sadness she might have felt seemed an aberration of his own mind.

  “Thank you for marrying me,” he whispered, keeping his hand in place against her cheek.

  Standing this close to her, he noticed several things. His bride was beautiful in her own way. Long lashes and straight dark brows highlighted her expressive blue eyes. And the scent of Lenore, a soft perfume that teased his senses, reminding him of the country and home, was intoxicating and caused him to lean into her before he realized what he was doing.

  He straightened quickly, lest she believe he meant to kiss her there and then before their guests. He would not. His bride had asked for time before they became intimate, and he intended to grant her that boon for as long as she needed. Kisses were for later.

  The cheek under his fingers warmed with a blush, and her long lashes fluttered and lowered over her eyes demurely. “Thank you, too.”

  He let his hand drop slowly and exhaled. They’d be all right in the end, he supposed. Marriage was an adjustment they both had to make.

  He thanked the vicar, Lenore did too, and they turned to face their guests at last.

  “Take my arm, Lady Carmichael,” he murmured, offering her his escort and his arm with a flourish. Her hand slid around his arm and tightened, comfortably rather than clinging, he found. He smiled. “My friends are very keen to meet you.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, smiling. “I’m looking forward to meeting them, too.”

  He led her toward Lord Wharton first as the highest-ranking gentleman in the room and performed the necessary introductions. Wharton was charming and kind and flattered Lenore outrageously while teasing Price.

  Lenore was soon standing with her hand pressed to her side as she laughed at everything Wharton teased Price about.

  “I can see now why he took his time introducing us to you,” Wharton grumbled. “I do love a lady who enjoys lively banter. One of us might have tried to steal you away from him if we’d met in different circumstances. We still might, if he neglects you.”

  Lenore’s grip on him tightened ever so slightly. “I don’t believe I’d allow that to happen.”

  “Ah, a woman who knows her own mind,” Wharton said, then barked out a laugh. “I’d be very persuasive.”

  Scarsdale shoved Wharton aside. “Pay him no mind, Lady Carmichael. Wharton here has no luck with the ladies and likes to exaggerate his appeal. His only appeal is his title and his choice of acquaintances. I am Lord Carmichael’s true best friend.” Scarsdale bowed excessively. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet the lady that has rescued my poor friend’s heart at last.”

  Price gave the tiniest shake of his head and moved Lenore to meet with Lord and Lady Wade. Price didn’t plan to tell his wife about Angela Berry being the one true love of his life but that was what Scarsdale had alluded to. That was a secret love he planned to take to the grave, and never let Lenore know she hadn’t been his first choice for marriage.

  They enjoyed the wedding breakfast in good company, sitting side by side, and Lenore seemed amply entertained by the conversation around the table. His friends spilled stories from Price’s past until he was blushing, though he told Lenore all the stories were wild exaggerations. He stored up their antics for future use, however, planning to embarrass them when they finally tied the knot with similar tales of missteps.

  One by one, their friends bid them goodbye until only they were left standing in the entrance hall. The silence was quite deafening after so much laughter and companionship. More than a few had suggested he should be eager to be alone with his bride.

  Price stuck a finger under his cravat and tugged hard again.

  Lenore sighed. “I should let the housekeeper know that the dining room can be cleared and returned to order now.”

  He nodded. “I’ll speak with Humphries and have the drawing room tidied as well.”

  “Yes,” Lenore said softly.

  “Yes, indeed. Much to do,” Price said without looking at Lenore.

  “Well then, I’ll go this way,” she suggested, taking a step toward the dining room.

  “And I’ll go this way,” he agreed, taking a similar step toward the drawing room.

  “Lord Carmichael?”

  “Yes?” He snapped his eyes to Lenore’s.

  “That was an extraordinary feast. I don’t think I could eat another bite today.”

  He grinned. “The wedding breakfast was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Very good,” she agreed.

  They stood facing each other across the entrance hall for a moment. They were married, husband and wife. One day they’d be lovers, too. His cravat tightened, and he longed to be rid of it. “Well, if you’re not hungry, I will bid you good night now, my lady,” he said.

  “I really couldn’t eat another bite. Good night, my lord,” she murmured before rushing toward the dining room and disappearing.

  Price did the same, going in the opposite direction as fast as he possibly could without running. He ripped off his cravat the minute he got the doors closed…and found the nearest bottle to drink from, too.

  Chapter 7

  “London in Autumn is a quieter time than during the spring. A great many of my closest friends are absent from the capital,” Lenore’s new husband informed her as they traveled through London’s fashionable districts three weeks after their marriage. “You’ll meet many new faces next year.”

  Lenore glanced out the window at the dreary rain that had begun to fall as soon as they’d climbed into the carriage. According to her husband, there were a lot of things she would do next year. “I had assumed that to be the case.”

  “They’ll all come teaming back in the New Year and we’ll be inundated with invitations.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.”

  Lenore’s husband seemed to be popular, so she wasn’t surprised that he expected an abundance of invitations. One had only to walk with him upon the street to see how many acknowledged him as they passed by. Lenore had received her fair share of curious glances, too—some friendly, some not quite so. People preferred to speak only with her husband for now. It was a tad rude of them but those moments were only brief lows in her new life.

  Today, their time together as husband and wife would be as brief. Lenore had been on her way to call upon her friends in Albemarle Street, and her husband had been venturing out at the same moment. Both needed the town carriage. Carmichael had decided they would travel together, and then he would go on alone without her.

  He gripped his upper right arm as he spoke to her, a frequent habit of his she’d noticed. It might be nothing more than a habit, but she sometimes wondered if he had an injury he wouldn’t admit to under his hand.

  “Will you be staying with the Misses Hillcrests all day?” he asked.

  She gave him her full attention. Did he ask that question because he hoped to spe
nd time with her? “That was my intention, but if you need me, I’m sure they won’t mind if I leave early.”

  “No, don’t change your plans for me. I was just curious if the carriage should be sent back to you immediately or not,” Lord Carmichael explained, and Lenore was disappointed. “I will likely be out for dinner tonight and will not need it again, I imagine.”

  Carmichael had taken his every evening meal out of the house since their marriage had begun. Lenore felt a pinch of disquiet about that. Her husband must have an appointment book full of invitations he’d accepted before their marriage, and he’d informed Lenore that she couldn’t be included. She knew of no event that included her in the future, either, but she would like to attend a dinner with her husband one day, if only to go somewhere with him.

  “Of course.”

  He was silent for a few minutes but then frowned. “Were you staying with the Hillcrests for dinner, too?”

  Lenore turned her gaze away from her handsome husband. “I had not decided.”

  She had no invitation to dine with them, but dining with them was what usually happened. They’d talk, and the dinner hour would miraculously arrive, and having no other plans herself, Lenore would be pressed to stay and accept graciously. However, she did not want to assume a welcome with the Hillcrest women always.

  To be honest, her days were busy but also starting to feel a little directionless. She probably would stay with them for dinner if invited, as there was only her dog to consider tonight. Her husband had a full life away from home, and her, and until today, had never changed his plans to remain in her company.

  They turned into Albemarle Street, and she picked up her dog’s leash in readiness to get out. Sometimes Hero sprang out first instead of staying by her side, and she couldn’t bear to lose him under the wheels of the carriage.

  They finally drew to a halt, and a groom jumped down quickly, put down the step, and snapped open the door for her. Carmichael climbed out, looked up at the cloudy sky, and then thrust his hand back through the door. “The rain has stopped.”