With one last motion, the earl forced the girl to drop her hands. “See. Not so bad.” Quimbly tilted her chin up and turned her face in Vincent’s direction with some satisfaction.
Vincent swallowed hard.
Her beauty stunned him. His soon-to-be wife.
Cobalt blue eyes glared at him.
The clergyman Lord Quimbly had summoned rose from where he’d planted himself earlier. “Are we ready to begin, then?”
Keenan had promised to make Quimbly’s daughter a duchess as an ante in a game of cards. And then he had lost. If Vincent didn’t make good on his brother’s promise, the Pemberth title would not only be penniless but without honor as well.
Vincent nodded.
A small cry came from the girl, who’d dropped her gaze once again.
“My lady.” The collared man gestured to the defiant young woman. “You stand here, beside His Grace. And Lord and Lady Quimbly shall act as witnesses.”
The girl’s mother nudged her forward until she was standing beside Vincent, her reluctance so strong he would swear he could feel it burning along his side.
Vincent dropped his gaze as well, ashamed to be a part of such a sordid affair. Damn you, Keenan.
He barely made out the words on the book the vicar clutched before the man opened it and began performing the ceremony. The Book of Common Prayer.
Not much godliness going into this marriage.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God…”
Vincent glanced sideways in time to see Lady Lila raise a handkerchief to her mouth.
She clenched her hands so tightly, her knuckles appeared white, and he was almost certain that she was crying. Should he put a halt to the proceedings? All of this was quite beyond his realm. He’d be far better at comforting his livestock than an unwilling bride.
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed....” The clergyman’s tone was even and steady. “For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their matrimony lawful.”
Would her mother stop the ceremony? If Lady Lila was so disinclined to marry him, why did she not speak up herself?
Quimbly was the only person in the room who appeared satisfied with the proceedings.
“Your Grace, Vincent Sebastian Lucifer Saint-Pierre, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Vincent swallowed around a huge lump that had appeared in his throat. “I will.” He’d never taken a vow he did not feel confident he could keep.
He glanced down at the woman standing beside him.
Until that moment.
“And my lady, Lila Catherine Breton, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
The room fell uncomfortably silent until his bride jumped. Vincent suspected a sharp elbow had landed on her ribcage at the same time her mother shot her a stern warning look. Lady Lila responded in a thin voice, “I will.”
Quimbly mumbled something in satisfaction. When asked about rings, it was her father who handed them over.
His bride’s icy cold hand trembled as she slid the cool metal circle upon Vincent’s finger. He noticed how small and delicate her hand was compared to his.
The remainder of the ceremony passed in a blur.
The next thing he knew, he’d signed his name on a license and Quimbly was showing the clergyman the door.
Vincent had planned on staying the night at Bryony Manor initially but having already spent more time than he’d prefer in Quimbly’s company, he decided he’d rather take to the road and stop at an inn along the way.
Along with his less than enthusiastic bride.
A servant chose that moment to enter. “The nuncheon is served, my lord.”
“Oh, yes. Indeed. You must be hungry, Your Grace? From your travels?” Lady Quimbly lacked the maniacal force of her husband and seemed to wish to bring some normalcy to the situation. She was petite like her daughter but rather than hold her shoulders proudly, she hunched over.
Vincent did not have the heart to refuse her. “I would be grateful for the meal but we’ve several miles to cover and cannot take long.” He turned to address his… wife. “I hope you have already packed. I’d like to get on the road shortly after, however, as I’m needed at Glenn Abby.”
“But—” she started to interrupt, showing more life than she had since she’d first presented herself.
“I’ve already been away longer than I ought,” Vincent added. Which was mostly true. His steward would require his assistance in the fields, what with three of his tenants having up and left for the Americas after Keenan’s death. Not to mention the accounting books he’d put off, a task he barely tolerated.
Vincent was not much of a numbers man.
Hell, truth be told, he wasn’t much of a books man either.
He was far more comfortable in the pastures, atop his horse.
The earl scowled at his daughter. “Lady Lila’s maid can have her belongings prepared immediately.” And then, waving at Vincent, he said, “This way, Your Grace.”
“Her Grace,” Vincent corrected the earl. “She is no longer Lady Lila.”
The earl turned back, eyes narrowed.
Vincent had not appreciated the manner in which Quimbly had treated his daughter, and as his wife now, she was entitled to Vincent’s protection. The earl would treat her with all due respect.
Vincent knew nothing of who she was; her thoughts, her likes and dislikes, nor her dreams. But she’d taken vows to live the rest of her life as his duchess and he would make certain she was afforded the deference that came as a result.
By God, he didn’t have much, but he had his honor.
And so would she.
Chapter 2
Husband
He was huge. Not just tall and certainly not fat. He was just… huge. Thick blond hair curled atop his head, hanging practically into his eyes and onto his neck. He looked as though he hadn’t been shaved in a week.
He looked like no duke Lila had ever known.
And yet, there was no mistaking his noble birth. It clung to him, despite his worn clothing and rough exterior. Something in the cool blue of his eyes and his chiseled features.
The top of her head did not even reach his shoulders, and she would guess he weighed over fifteen stones.
Dear God, this giant of a man was her husband. The thought both chilled and heated her blood at the same time.
“Fran will be coming as well.” This was not a question on her part. “My maid. I cannot be without my maid.” She lifted her chin and met his eyes for the first time as his wife. Lila would not be blindly submissive, as her mother had been. And it was important she begin as she intended to go forth. Gritting her teeth, she prepared herself to fight him on this point.
“But of course,” he agreed without batting an eyelash, taking the wind out of her sails in an instant. “In fact, she can ride in the luggage coach as soon as she’s packed all of your belongings. It won’t be necessary for her to rush.”
How dare he be so agreeable?
Nuncheon passed much as any other meal Lila had ever taken with her father. He did most of the talking, boasting to the duke of other noble acquaintances as well as travels he’d undertaken in his youth. Lila would have liked to learn something about her husband—her thoughts faltered at the word—but the man was not much of a talker.
He nodded and gave mostly monosyllabic answers. By the time
they’d finished eating, she knew little more of him than she had when she had presented herself for their wedding.
Except that he was a hearty eater and didn’t seem much impressed by anything her father had to say.
Which, she grudgingly admitted to herself, boded well for him.
She took no part in the conversation, nor did her mother.
At the conclusion of the meal, he placed his napkin on the plate in front of him and rose. “Your Grace.” It took a moment for Lila to realize he addressed her. “I’ll have my coach brought around for you. Clouds in the west.”
Lila glanced down at her gown. “Do you mind if I change… into more appropriate traveling clothes?” She’d fooled no one with her defiant choice of garment that morning. For the journey to her new home, she’d prefer to wear something less… weathered. She also needed to find Arianna. She could not leave without saying goodbye, without promising to send for her at her first opportunity.
She’d need to reassure her sister that everything was going to be fine.
“Be quick about it,” he responded.
And as much as she’d have liked to challenge him on the command, she was intimidated by his gruff manner and massive size. All the while, in the back of her mind was the knowledge that she would lie with him, perhaps as soon as tonight.
She nodded and made haste as she ascended the stairway to where the nursery had been reconfigured into a classroom.
Would he expect her to perform her wifely obligations in a hastily made up chamber at some inn along the road?
She could claim to be having her monthlies.
He was a giant of a man. If he so chose, she’d have no hope of stopping him.
But that was not part of her plan.
Her heart raced as she arrived at the landing, and she could not attribute it wholly to her exertions.
She knew something of what a man and a woman did to make a baby. She wasn’t a girl, after all. And yet… far too many gaps existed in her education.
She would not think of it now. Perhaps she could befriend him first. Now that she was stuck with him, she had no wish to give him cause to dislike her.
He was just… such a very large man!
Lila opened the door to where she knew she’d find her sister, and at the interruption, Arianna’s governess, Mrs. Betts, glanced up and closed her book.
Arianna sprang out of her desk, looking more like she was barely twelve than her actual age of six and ten. “Did he go ahead with it?”
Biting her lip, Lila nodded. She needed to change her gown, and she hadn’t much time to spare. “I’m leaving now. I’ve come to say goodbye but as soon as I am settled, I’m going to write to you.”
“You’re leaving already?” Arianna’s eyes filled up with tears. “But that isn’t fair at all! Please, Lila, take me with you!”
Lila grasped Arianna by the shoulders, insisting that her younger sister meet her gaze solemnly. “I do not know him, Ari. I need to make sure he’s… a better man than father.” She didn’t want to scare her, but it would be no good to bring her sister away from their father if her husband was no better.
Or worse.
She didn’t want Arianna to worry about her. She’d have enough to cope with here. “But I promise, as soon as I know, I will send for you.” The two sisters had always been there for one another. This could not be goodbye. She’d find a way to be with her sister again.
She’d make certain of it.
Tears fell from Arianna’s eyes, but she nodded. Unfortunately, they both comprehended, all too well, the weaknesses of men.
“If you have need of me, contact Fran’s sister. Fran will write to her so that she knows my location.” Lila took a piece of paper from Arianna’s desk and proceeded to write down the instruction. She could not trust her father to facilitate any sort of communications between them in the future.
With one last glance at her sister’s scowl, she added, “I need to go now. Stay out of trouble. Keep writing your stories, and we’ll see one another soon.”
In her sister’s eyes, she saw the same fear Lila felt deep inside.
With a father like Quimbly, nothing was ever certain.
Lila could only hope her husband was not the same.
When Lila was finally ready, she’d already taken at least ten minutes longer than he’d allotted, perhaps closer to twenty, she burst out the front door. Her husband glanced down at her from atop a giant mare and then tucked a pocket watch back into his jacket. He looked fit to be tied.
“I’m sorry!” she gushed as she made her way carefully down to the carriage. Warmth suffused her neck and cheeks, and she knew her eyes must be red. “I had to say goodbye to my sister.” She’d also had Fran pin her hair up again and wore one of her favorite straw bonnets and an indigo-colored wool coat. She’d donned a traveling gown made of a pale blue muslin while Fran packed her a small valise. With one last glance around her chamber, she’d scooped up a book she had been reading and tucked it under her arm.
But he was on a horse. “You are riding outside?”
Her husband gestured toward the coach, horses and driver waiting patiently. “You’ll have your privacy.”
So she would not be given an opportunity to know him better before nightfall.
“But I—” She bit her lip. “I’d hoped we could familiarize ourselves…” Her eyes dropped.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw ticked, as though he was grinding his teeth. “We’ll stop before dark.”
Sitting atop the horse, he had her imagining him as some sort of Nordic God, but then just as quickly dismissed such a foolish notion.
“But I—”
“I expect you’ll come to know me well enough.” And then he jerked his chin, indicating for her to climb into the carriage while he turned to ride ahead.
Not the beginning she had in mind. Although after her appearance earlier that day, what did she expect? He likely already regretted taking on such an unfashionable wife.
One more glance behind him and then he urged his horse into a run.
Married less than three hours and already he was running away from her.
Married…
As the driver steered them off of her father’s property, Lila might as well have been driving into another world. She was a wife now. She opened her book but for all the jostling could hardly focus on the pages.
The carriage hit one bump, and then another, and she nearly lurched off the bench onto the floor.
This ride already promised to be an unpleasant one.
Chapter 3
Wil You?
His new wife had a ladies’ maid, of course. What other luxuries would she expect upon reaching Glenn Abby? Vincent imagined how she might view his home when they finally arrived. A cold, forbidding castle, built in the late fifteenth century, it didn’t exactly present the most welcoming of sights. Keenan, nor Vincent’s father, nor his grandfather before him had done much of anything in the way of repairs.
The foundation listed, birds dwelt in some of the corridors, and bitter drafts managed to find their way into every room throughout the wintertime, regardless of how much coal one shoveled into the hearths.
Would she expect well-dressed servants lined up to greet her? Formal dining every evening? A ball, hosted in her honor?
Vincent laughed to himself at that thought.
Lila Catherine was her name. And now she was a Saint–Pierre. Would the title of duchess feel as foreign to her as duke felt to him?
Likely, she’d been born and raised for such an undertaking.
He shook his head.
Damn Keenan. The woman was going to be miserable. His gut clenched at the thought that his brother ought to have been the one to marry her.
But Keenan had forfeited the dubious privilege.
“Hiya!” He urged his mount forward. Tonight, he’d make her his wife in truth.
Hopefully, he could afford a decent chamber at the inn he had in mind.
Relief
flowed over Lila when the rolling sounds of the carriage slowed, indicating they were pulling into a coaching inn. She hoped so, anyhow. She rather felt as though every bone in her body had been jostled loose. If this hideously uncomfortable carriage had any springs at all, they’d obviously hardened and lost all flexibility long ago. Furthermore, the bench cushion, if one could call it that, was worn thinner than her coat.
She squashed down the miserable feelings surging up inside of her.
Lila was not one to complain. Long ago, she’d discovered it a useless endeavor. It didn’t really matter, anyhow. A husband and wedding night loomed all too close.
She rolled her shoulders and rubbed the muscles in her neck and then glanced out the window. A two-story inn, built out of brick and mortar, stood visible in the glow of evening twilight.
He ought to be happy, at least. She grimaced to herself. They’d arrived before nightfall. She sniffed and clutched tightly to the leather strap hanging on the sidewall.
Her physical discomfort was not the only reason for her distress. Unable to read, she’d had nothing to do but imagine innumerable scenarios of what her marriage was going to be like, and the cumulated effect of these scenarios had set her nerves decidedly on edge.
Although she’d not allowed herself to cry this morning, or at the ceremony, or even when she’d said goodbye to Arianna, the urge was becoming nearly too much to overcome.
The coach jarred to a halt and if she hadn’t been holding tightly to the strap, she likely would have fallen onto the floor.
Would they share a chamber?
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.
Sounds of horses and hostlers and all manner of gentlemen swarming about the yard reminded her that she’d gone months without seeing any crowds of people, or anyone at all other than her own family and her father’s servants.
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