His voice was soft and laced with concern. He was all tenderness, which helped soothe her frayed nerves.
“Come, let us go inside out of this cold damp weather.” He guided her into the front parlor. “We will leave the door open, but there are a few things I feel a need to say to you.”
A footman followed behind with their bags.
Charlotte felt herself begin to thaw. “My lord, I appreciate all that you have done. And I apologize for my bullheadedness in charging to your townhouse the other day. Had I known this would result, I might have handled things differently.” Her voice sounded quiet and tense, even to her ears. She caught the insult she had just delivered and struggled to correct her faux pas. “My lord, that was not the way I meant it. I did not mean that there was something wrong with marrying you. I meant marrying you in this . . . rush.”
He gave her a smile that melted her heart and took her hand in his. “Nonsense, my dear. While we find ourselves forced into a marriage of convenience, it is not one of your making.” He laughed sardonically. “I must admit to misdeeds of my own while under the heady influence of drink, a habit of late that I am taking pains to correct. It appears that I made a silly wager and played into the Widow’s hand. It dabbles in making matches. I was well aware of that, but thought myself immune to her tricks. It seems I was not.”
What is he trying to say? Charlotte sensed profound regret on his part, forcing a knot to form in her throat as a wave of heat worked its way up her neck.
“However,” he continued, “I will admit to looking forward to our nuptials.”
“You are?” she asked in a low shaky voice.
“I am,” he soothed. “I am no poet but attempted to tell you this with a note and my gift. Was it to your liking?”
“Oh yes, my lord. It is beautiful.” She moved her sleeve up and displayed the bracelet hanging from her wrist. “I have never owned anything so elegant.”
“I am pleased,” he said, touching her neck slowly and pulling the chain into view. “May I?”
Unsure of what he meant, she merely nodded.
He opened the clasp, removed the ring, and secured the necklace around her neck again. Taking the ring, he removed the light gray kid glove from her left hand and placed the ring on her fourth finger. “There. The fit is perfect.” Removing a package from his waistcoat, he opened a small box. “These diamond earrings once belonged to my grandmother. She would want you to have them as a wedding gift.”
“My lord, you overwhelm me.”
“Please, call me Evan. I want to remove any unnatural barriers to our relationship.”
Was she dreaming? He seemed to want their marriage to be more than just an arrangement. Could it be?
“I know you are aware that I have a son. I should confess that I have not been much of a father to him. It has been just over a year since my . . . since Amelia, his mother, died. But with your help, I would like to be a better father to him.”
“My . . . Evan. I had heard of your son, and I look forward to meeting him.” She swallowed. She hoped she would not disappoint him as a mother to his boy. “I hope you are all right if we learn the parenting together.” Her voice cracked.
“Of course, dear Charlotte.” He kissed her hand. “Would you like to go to your room and freshen up? We still have time before we leave.”
Fingering the ring on her left hand, she looked up at him with moisture in her eyes. “Thank you, I would.”
She started to leave the room, but he held her back gently. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over hers. Then, with a little more urgency, he kissed her. She felt his tongue gently toy with her lips before she opened her mouth to him, giving him entry. Getting carried away with his kiss, she lifted her arms and placed them around his neck, absorbed in the passion.
A moment later, he broke the kiss and stepped back, breathing heavily. “I will admit to having wanted that kiss since the day you faced me in my study with your stormy green eyes demanding my apology.”
“Please do not apologize for the kiss, my lord,” she responded breathily. “So far, that has been the highlight of my morning.”
Chapter Nine
It was time to go. It pleased Evan that no setbacks had occurred—not so much because the wager he had made with Mrs. Dove-Lyon bound him to marriage; rather, he sensed a kinship with Charlotte, a bond that had formed. Perhaps it was that they were both on the brink of ruin and they were saving each other. He could not decide. However, he felt that Amelia would approve. He knew she would want him to go on and not get stuck in time. Being away from the vast amounts of alcohol and endless card games for these past two days had allowed him an opportunity to think about things.
In a little more than an hour, he would stand in front of the bishop, say wedding vows for the second time in his life, and pray this marriage would not end the same way. He would do everything in his power to make sure it did not. Edward needed a mother. Evan needed his son, and he saw that he needed a partner. He opened his bag and checked for the small wooden box of French letters he had purchased the day before. Feeling around the bottom of the bag, he felt the edge of the box. Good, I packed them. I made a promise to myself and I would keep it.
Banbury walked into his study. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Almost.” He latched his bag, then focused on his lace cuffs, pulling them from within his overcoat sleeves. “It would disgust Charles if he saw my efforts. I imagine he is quite put out with me, wondering where I was when he would have arrived to wake me.”
“Knowing Charles, he had his ear to the keyhole and already knew what was happening. I am sure the joke is on you. He is probably sleeping late this morning.” Banbury howled, clapping Evan on his back. “Come. I saw Mrs. Plume heading upstairs before I came to get you. The ladies will be down in a few minutes.”
“I will wake up Jason and put him in the carriage to wait.” Evan pointed to his future brother-in-law, who had fallen asleep on his bed. “He should learn early that men will always have to wait on the ladies.” He sniggered, carefully pulling the boy to a standing position. “It is time to go,” he coaxed gently.
“Yes, my lord,” Jason stood and walked with his new brother to meet his sister.
Charlotte stepped back and examined herself in the full-length mirror, admiring the dark burgundy organza dress with Belgian lace overlay that Mama had just given her. Her mother had been very busy the past two days, sneaking to the seamstress and getting her to create this confection for her wedding. As much as she liked her lavender dress, this made her feel more like a woman ready to marry. Mama had gone to great lengths to both protect her and make her feel special. A small tear edged itself over the rim of her eyes and she swiped at it.
“Stand still, daughter. I would like this not to look like you tied it yourself, as did the gown this morning,” her mother said with a smile in her voice. “Your father would want you to wear something that does not say mourning on your wedding day. Your uncle will get the bill in a few days.” She laughed.
“Mama, he may be angry.” Charlotte worried.
“I am ashamed to say that he is my brother. I am not sure what happened to him these past years. I do not recall him being so . . . so mercenary in his dealings with his family. I do not care if it bothers him to pay for a beautiful wedding dress for my daughter.” She tightened the strings. “There! I think that looks respectable. I did not have time to get a pelisse made, however I got this beautiful muff created, and it matches the brown fur trim on the pelisse you have.”
“It is almost time to go. How do I look?” Charlotte spun around slowly.
“The jewelry is lovely, darling,” her mother said, kissing her head. “I have hope for you both that this will be a good union. It is Christmastide and miracles are possible with the season.”
“I have heard that, Mama,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip. “I barely know him, yet I feel comfortable when he is with me.” Charlotte heard the hopefulness in her own voice. “He
seems kind.”
“His father and mother were a love match, if I recall,” she mused.
“I confess, I am nervous, Mama.” Charlotte had been too nervous to eat and could feel her stomach snarling in its most fervent voice.
A knock sounded on the door. “The carriage is here, my ladies,” urged Mrs. Plume.
“We will be right there,” Mama called out, placing the combs and her silver hand mirror back into the bag. “I think I will leave these items here and send someone for them later.”
“I will ask Evan to have them brought to our townhouse.” Charlotte felt the awkwardness of calling Evan’s townhouse her own.
Lord Banbury rode his horse alongside their carriage to the chapel. Charlotte felt the vehicle stop and looked out the window. “There are two other carriages, Mama.”
“Let me see.” Her mother stretched over her and looked. “I believe that is Lord Clarendon’s carriage. The other one . . .” She bit her lip. “That looks like his sister’s coach. Lord and Lady Rivers.” She closed the window and took a deep breath.
“I have never met them.” Charlotte responded.
The door opened and Lord Banbury stood with his arm outstretched. “Clarendon is waiting in the chapel. He is already worrying over jinxing your union by seeing his bride in her finery before it is time.” He shot a grin at her. “Are we ready?”
“Yes, my lord,” she gave him her hand as he helped her down from the carriage. “In truth, he did not see my dress. Mama had this one made especially for today.” She smiled and opened her pelisse enough for him to see the different color.
“Your mother has outdone herself. That is going to bring a smile to his lips.” Banbury grinned.
I hope so. I do not think I could be more nervous. “Thank you,” she answered politely.
Jason hopped out the coach. “Allow me, Mama,” he said with an outstretched hand.
“Thank you, son,” her mother answered, with pride in her voice and a grin stretching across her face. The two walked ahead of Charlotte and Lord Banbury.
Jason opened the door for them. Soft candlelight bathed the chapel, helped by the many intricately carved sconces that lined the walls. A candelabra with a trio of thick white candles stood in the front of the altar, which had a red velvet kneeling cushion. The cleric stood at the front, smiling and waiting for her. Lord Clarendon turned around. Seeing her, he smiled.
As Charlotte approached the front, a woman she recognized as his sister stepped into the aisle and handed her a small nosegay of greenery, white camelias and baby’s breath. “Evan sent word of his nuptials and an invitation to witness. I did not think you would think of flowers but wanted to welcome you into the family,” Lady Rivers smiled and squeezed her hand gently before sliding back into her seat.
“Thank you, my lady,” Charlotte said, touched by her kindness.
The ceremony itself felt almost ethereal. It meant a lot that both of their families had joined them to witness their vows. As soon as the bishop pronounced them man and wife, Evan turned her face to his and kissed her lips chastely. Softly kissing her ear, he whispered, “You look very beautiful. I will delight in learning what makes you smile, my lovely countess,” before turning her to face their families. “Our carriage awaits.”
Mama had taken her aside to prepare her for their first night. “When he comes to you, relax and allow your body to react as it feels. Do not be ashamed of lovemaking. It is a perfectly natural act, Charlotte. Give yourself to your husband and stay true to your marriage. Be considerate and trust. Love will follow.”
Wanting to know more, she had asked, “Do you truly believe I will know when and if I ever fall in love, Mama?”
Mama had squeezed her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “It is my fondest prayer for you. Trust in your heart, my daughter. You will know when it happens.”
Now the time was here. As they walked past her mother and brother, Jason jumped up from the pew and hugged his sister tightly. He gazed up at her and squeezed her hand. “I shall miss you, Charlotte,” he said in a small voice. The young boy glanced up at Evan with his face full of hope. “Take care of my sister, my lord.”
Evan squatted down and gave the lad a hug. “I promise I will care for your sister, Jason. In fact, I hope that you and your mother to come and live with us in Epsom.”
Charlotte smiled at him and leaned over to place a kiss on Jason’s head. She released his hand and clasped Evan’s, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, her other hand tucked safely within his. As Evan reached for the door, the doors flew open in front of them.
“Uncle!” Charlotte gasped. “What are you doing here?” Her voice betrayed her panic.
“I should ask you that, my dear niece. What are you doing here? This”—he waved his hand toward Evan—“is not your betrothed.” His face became mottled in anger. “How could that be? I am your guardian and I never agreed to this arrangement,” he raged.
“I am not betrothed, Uncle. I am married.” Charlotte squared her shoulders. “And at one and twenty years, the decision is not yours.”
“And now she belongs to me,” Evan spoke up. Charlotte’s age had never entered his mind. He had not expected the baron to show up at their wedding. How did Langdale find them? Everyone had been so careful. Unwilling to believe anyone in his household would have sabotaged the day, he wondered if someone had tipped him off in the court system. Yesterday, he sent for the paperwork from the Court of Chancery necessary to move Jason’s guardianship from Langdale to him once their marriage had taken place. While it probably had not been necessary, perhaps someone had asked for the details.
It mattered not. Banbury promised to ensure his barrister, Franklin, delivered it today along with proof that showed the baron was stealing the young lord’s funds for his own use. The barrister had the proof and a vested interest in this family and would not let him down.
Seeing the baron edge forward, Evan stepped in front of his wife. “She is my wife, and you have no legal right to betroth her to anyone.”
Seizing the opportunity, the baron grabbed his nephew’s hand and began pulling him from the church. “You are leaving with me, Jason.” The boy resisted, and Langdale slapped him and pulled harder.
Jason screamed and dug in his heels. “No! Charlotte! Mummy!” he cried. “I will not go with you, Uncle.”
“You will not take this child,” Evan seethed. He lent his considerable muscle and pulled the boy away from his uncle. “You, sir, are no gentleman,” he spoke in a low tone, grabbing Langdale’s arm and twisting it high behind his back.
“Ow! Let me go!” the baron screamed.
“When I do, you will have one chance to crawl back into your hole before you do something you will live to regret,” he said with a dangerous edge.
“Wait!” Lady Romney pushed her way in front of the newly married couple. “This is for you, dear brother.” She drew back and punched the baron in the face. Satisfied, she held her son to her side, hugging him. “Leave my son alone. What have you done to instill fear in him, Aaron? What kind of monster have you become?” Lady Romney glared at her brother.
“You punched me. You bitch!” he growled, pulling back his fist, preparing to hit Lady Romney.
Evan stepped in front of her and grabbed his arm before the baron could land a punch.
“You are not here for his welfare. You are here for his birthright,” she snapped.
The baron lunged once more for the boy, and her new husband grasped his hand. “Leave here at once,” Evan seethed. “I am petitioning the court for immediate guardianship of my new little brother. I suggest you leave, now!”
“You have not heard the end of this! I am his guardian. You had better deliver Lord Romney to my residence by three o’clock tomorrow,” he shouted.
“Charlotte, take Jason to Banbury’s carriage. I will meet you out there.” Evan regretted the frustration in his voice. It had nothing to do with his new wife.
Banbury stepped from behind him w
ith Lord Rivers. “We will take care of this. You and your new bride should be off.” The two men secured the baron.
“We have the baron and will hold him until you and your party are safely away from here.” Lord Rivers nodded toward the baron’s carriage. “We will not let him go until your party is safely away.”
“This will not be the last you see of me,” Langdale screamed after them.
Chapter Ten
This day had been full of surprises. Her mother had punched her uncle in a church.
The silence after that blow had stunned everyone, especially her uncle. Her uncle, who thought her mother had been losing her mind, had been educated by a woman mourning the loss of her husband—definitely not a muddled woman. He vowed they had not seen the last of him. Charlotte believed him.
She was married. It had happened so quickly that she lightly pinched her arm to make sure she was not asleep. No, she could definitely feel the pinch. It might even bruise, she mused, moving her hand down and touching the wedding ring she now wore, rolling it around on her finger. Evan had surprised her with his generosity and his thoughtfulness, the note, and the intimate service he had created. It was all more than she had expected, as was her husband . . . much more than she had expected. She glanced out the corner of her eye and caught him watching, smiling with a hint of amusement. Caught.
“Evan, thank you,” she managed softly. “I could not have imagined such contentment.” She wished she could say love. Perhaps that would come with time. She wanted the love match of her parents; for now, she felt contentment for the happiness on her wedding day. Without even planning it, Charlotte had had a seasonal wedding. It would have been wonderful, had her uncle not crashed the entire affair. She feared that others in attendance would recall only the last fifteen minutes.
“I consider it my duty and my pleasure to see to the happiness of my wife. It has been a while since I have said the word ‘wife,’ yet I find there is an easiness about it that I had not expected,” he said, his eyes fixed on her.
Lyon's Prey: The Lyon's Den Page 8
