‘Strike it from your mind,’ Evander replied under his breath. ‘I’ll never hurt her again.’
‘It pleases me to hear it.’ Charles patted Evander on the back and slipped away.
The vicar asked everyone to take their seats as Lord Rawley and the Marquess of Kentworth slipped inside, and then invited Evander to the front of the altar. Eleanor entered through the side door and took her seat beside their mother, who was already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
The doors opened once more and Lottie entered, wearing a pale blue gown. Silver tissue formed small flowers down the front of her skirt and along the hem. Her hair was bound back and secured by a silver-trimmed wedding bonnet, with several loose curls around her face.
She had always taken his breath away, but she did so especially now, on their wedding day, when she would finally be his wife. Her face lit up when she saw him, and her eyes locked on his as she made her way to him on Charles’s arm.
Finally, she stopped before him, and extracted her hand from Charles, who gave Evander a nod. After all, their conversation had already been concluded.
The vicar opened the Book of Common Prayer and began reading.
It was a short, fast service—a perfect end to an interminable wait. Evander and Lottie spoke their vows and exchanged rings. Both were made of gold and engraved with their initials and the date, to commemorate their love for all time.
After a quick cheer from their guests, Charles and Lottie were led to the vestry towards the parish register book, to enter their marriage lines. With that, they were finally, finally wed.
He looked down at her and smiled. ‘My wife.’
‘Oh, Evander.’ She threw her arms around him.
He caught her and lifted her against him, spinning her as he’d done when she had accepted his proposal. As they slowed he set her down and kissed her. His wife. His Countess.
His heart now finally made whole.
‘I’m so blissfully happy,’ she whispered. ‘I never thought... I never expected to be able to allow myself to do this. For so long I believed I had sacrificed any chance...’ She swallowed. ‘Thank you for never giving up on me, for loving me so much.’
‘I do love you,’ he declared. ‘Far too much to ever conceive of letting you go.’
The wedding breakfast that followed was a grand affair, with every sort of food one could imagine. There were shirred eggs along with rolls, toast and thick, briny ham slices, as well as the most exquisite pastries, glittering with coarse-grain sugar and glossy with brushed honey. All of it had been laid atop a white lace tablecloth edged in silver beads, amid half a dozen bouquets of pristine lilies entwined with ivy.
Their guests celebrated with joyous wishes and embraces, until finally Lottie and Evander were left alone. Even Lady Westix had planned to spend the evening at Somersville Place with Eleanor, to afford them privacy.
Evander took Lottie’s hand in his, marvelling at how the rings on their fingers glinted in unison, and led her up to his large bedchamber. Though their chambers were connected, he fully intended that they should share the larger of the two rooms together. He wanted the closeness of her company, and most especially the intimacy of the same bed. Night after night.
‘I have a present for you.’ His pulse raced with the anticipation of giving her the gift he’d purchased so long ago.
‘Marrying you has been gift enough.’
She smiled up at him with a joy he would always savour. He meant to make her just as happy for the duration of their lives together.
‘You say that only because you haven’t seen what I have for you.’ He winked at her.
She laughed. ‘Well, now I confess I am curious.’
He led her into his room, where an envelope lay on the table beside the door. But once the door clicked closed behind Lottie she reached for him before he could even think of the envelope again. The tender kiss she gave him led to a deeper kiss, which led to him slowly undoing the small pearl buttons along the back of her gown.
As it fell from her, revealing her lovely body to him, all thoughts of Huntly Manor faded completely from his mind.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The first time Lottie and Evander were intimate, they had given in to youthful passion and infatuation. The second time they had been in need of comfort, to fill the chasm of loss.
This time, however, as man and wife, was so much different from the previous two. Each took care to undress the other slowly, exploring with hands and lips and tongue. There was nothing rushing them and nothing to pull them apart when it was finished.
They consummated their marriage with love, their eyes locked and their hands clasped as their bodies came together. Afterwards, they lay in one another’s arms, their hearts beating in tandem as they leisurely traced invisible patterns over each other’s damp skin.
Evander sat up on his elbow, as though he’d suddenly thought of something.
‘What is it?’ Lottie asked.
‘I dare say I was distracted from my original purpose.’ He glanced to the door.
‘I dare say your original purpose was acted out quite well.’ She smiled up at her husband and swept her hand through his mussed auburn hair. ‘I certainly have no complaints.’
He gazed at her with so much love in his eyes that it made her heart feel as though it would burst in the close confines of her chest.
‘I do love you so,’ Lottie said tenderly.
He leaned over her, hovering over her. ‘I could spend a lifetime hearing those words.’
‘You will spend a lifetime hearing them.’ She studied his face, from the lovely green of his eyes down to his sharp jaw. ‘I spent far too long holding them back.’
‘None of that matters.’
He kissed her forehead with a sweetness that made her ache in the most wonderful way.
‘All that matters is the beautiful things we’ve shared and what we have to look forward to together.’
Lottie gave a wistful sigh. ‘I like that.’
He pushed up from her. ‘You’ll like this even better.’
He strode across the room, entirely devoid of clothing. Lottie sat up and ran her gaze over his strong body, marvelling at the lovely movement of muscles beneath his skin. Long legs, narrow hips, broad shoulders and the fine, tight bum she’d enjoyed digging her heels into as they’d come together earlier.
‘You’re correct, my love.’ She lifted her brows coquettishly. ‘I do like that even better.’
He withdrew a large envelope from the table beside the door. ‘You minx.’ With a grin, he returned to the bed and handed it to her.
She sat up in the soft bedsheets, careful to avoid crinkling it. ‘What is this?’
‘A promise kept.’ He lifted his shoulders as though it were nothing of import. ‘Something I purchased for you as soon as I returned to London. I meant to give it to you earlier, but there was never a perfect time. I’m actually glad to have waited, as now is when I believe it will matter most.’
Lottie tilted her head in coy curiosity before sliding her finger under the lip of the envelope to open it. Inside was a large sheet of paper, which she withdrew.
Her gaze skimmed the handwritten official document and she sucked in a gasp.
‘This is the deed to Huntly Manor.’ She turned her attention to Evander. ‘In my name.’
‘I told you we would buy it.’ He settled onto the wall of soft pillows beside her, his naked leg resting against hers. ‘I wish it could have been six years ago.’
She stared at the document, incredulous. Evander had made good on his promise. And even though she had shoved his affection aside, time and again, he hadn’t sold it or had it transferred to his name. No, he had continued to hold it, as determined that it would some day be hers as he had been that they would be married.
‘You were right,’ Lo
ttie said. ‘It matters most now. Thank you for this generous, thoughtful gift.’
Suddenly she was thinking of Oxfordshire, of the small village of Binsey and the home she had shared with her father. While she was grateful that Charles had been at the ceremony to give her away, it did not mean she had not felt her father’s absence.
She had missed him over the years, but never so greatly as the day of her wedding.
Evander ran a hand down her face. ‘I know it won’t be the same,’ he said gently, as though hearing her thoughts. ‘If you’d prefer never to go—’
She shook her head. ‘No, I want to. Before my father’s death there were so many happy memories there. Not only with him, but with you.’ She replaced the deed in the envelope and folded her hand into his.
‘I know we haven’t had time to plan a wedding trip.’ Evander tucked his free arm behind his head and leaned back into the plushness of the many pillows. ‘God knows if anyone deserves a respite from their lives to celebrate their affection for one another, it’s us.’
Lottie laid her head on his chest. ‘Indeed.’
His heart thumped in a steady rhythm beneath her cheek. ‘I wanted to ask where you wished to go. We could travel to India, as Charles and Eleanor did, or perhaps see the floating city of Italy, or...’
‘Or go to Oxfordshire and stay at Huntly Manor?’ she suggested, lifting her head to gaze up at him.
‘That was exactly what I was going to say.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And exactly where I was hoping you would want to go.’
‘Yes,’ she breathed, returning her head to his warm, strong chest. ‘That is exactly where I should like to go. There is a path near the vicarage that I am especially fond of.’
‘I believe I know the one to which you refer.’ Evander ran his fingers over her naked shoulder, leaving her skin tingling with pleasure. ‘I’ll see to the arrangements and I imagine we can be there within a week or so.’
Lottie gave a dreamy sigh as Evander removed his hand from hers to curl one strong arm around her, securing her to him in a tender embrace.
Never had she thought such happiness was possible. And indeed it was, when they were together. But despite Evander’s assurances of his love, and the joy she felt at that moment, dread for the future pooled in the bottom of her stomach. Not for her marriage, but for how others would react.
Members of the ton were cruel, and she had married her way into society. She knew it would be a long time, if ever, before she would be accepted.
Even as she tried to force away such thoughts as she lay there in blissful contentment, they hovered in the back of her mind like a vulture. No matter the love of her friends and her husband, the ton’s scorn was coming.
* * *
Evander spent the remainder of Saturday and Sunday enjoying life as a happy newlywed. Countless hours were spent learning Lottie’s body—what made her breath catch, what made her moan, what made her grab him and pull him towards her. But at last Monday arrived and business had to be tended to. His lovely new Countess would oversee the blending of her small staff with his and co-ordinate the moving of her belongings into Westix Place while he set off to meet with the other investors in the mine.
Last week had brought reports that the largest deposits of silver yet had been uncovered, with the promise of more to come. True, Evander was beyond wealthy, but he never forgot the power of a fortune.
Nor how easily one could be lost.
Especially now that he had a wife, and hopefully a family soon to follow. He would ensure his line remained secure in their good name and wealth. And this was just the way to do it.
He entered the smoky library at Huffsby House, where the other investors in the silver mine sat around the large table. Glasses of scotch and brandy sat before the men, while several held cigarillos with tendrils of grey smoke coiling up from the glowing tips.
As one, the men stopped talking and turned to face him.
Evander continued towards them, a stack of leather-bound papers pinched between his elbow and torso. They held his ideas for how best to capitalise on selling the silver.
Lord Huffsby, the Earl who headed the investment, got to his feet and held up a hand.
As no one else was moving, it was clear the gesture was for Evander, who stopped in his tracks.
Huffsby narrowed his small grey eyes at Evander across the large table. ‘Lord Westix, we’ve heard some disturbing rumours.’
‘Maybe you should keep away from gossip circles and leave them to your wives,’ Evander jested.
No one laughed.
Lord Huffsby cleared his throat. ‘Is it true that you have soiled the sanctity of marriage and your own good name?’
It was Evander’s turn to narrow his eyes as his stomach clenched with suspicion. ‘I cannot say I know what you mean,’ he said slowly. ‘Perhaps you ought to be blunt in what you ask to ensure nothing can be misconstrued.’
Lord Huffsby’s jowls quivered. ‘Have you married a whore, Lord Westix?’
Evander was in front of the shorter man in only two short strides, one hand reaching out to grasp his lapel and his other cocked back as the leather folder of papers plopped unceremoniously to the ground.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll ask you to repeat yourself while reminding you to be respectful.’
‘That woman earns no respect from any man here,’ Lord Huffsby spat. ‘And nor does any man who would deign to marry her.’ He curled his lips around those last words, his disgust clear.
‘“That woman”, as you so crassly refer to her, is more worthy of her new title than any of you who were born to yours,’ Evander said. ‘I believe it would be best for this partnership to come to an end.’
‘That is precisely what we meant to tell you, once you’d confirmed you’d tied yourself to that lightskirt.’ Lord Huffsby gave an arrogant sniff.
Without bothering to think of the consequences, or caring for anything other than Lottie’s defence, Evander released his cocked fist and let it slam into Lord Huffsby’s piggish face.
The man reeled back, his arms spinning wildly for control, before falling to the floor and rolling back like a flailing tortoise in its shell.
Immediately several arms gripped Evander, pulling him back and away. Someone shoved his leather folder into his hands—a wealthy merchant named Mr Weatherby, who blinked at Evander with owlish eyes behind his round spectacles.
‘Please just go, Lord Westix. Your staying here will do no good.’
Evander jerked his folder into the crook of his arm and regarded the men he had once referred to as his associates. Many of whom he had called friend. Their regard was cold and unwelcome.
‘I see,’ Evander said, with as much pride as he could muster. ‘If you run out of funds do not seek my aid, for I will not be there to offer any.’
With that, he turned from the room and departed, with the blades of a thousand stares stabbing into his back.
He climbed into his carriage moments later, his heart thumping with rage and horror. While he had understood there would be retaliation against his union with Lottie, he had not been prepared for it to be so swift or so harsh.
Not that it mattered—truly. Evander had funds enough. He would ensure he received what was owed from the hefty sum he had invested in the silver mine venture. And there would be other ways to gain profit, with partners who didn’t care what Lottie’s past was.
Shipping would be an ideal place to start...
Yes, shipping would be a lucrative alternative. After all, he’d had his own experience of sailing foreign seas, not to mention his own ships. And there would be more friends to be had. Ones who were true.
When he returned home, he found his mother sitting in the library by the fire, with her head bent over a book of poetry.
‘Mother, I thought you had plans to call
upon Lady Stetton. Is she ill?’
‘She is a woman of poor judgement.’ The Dowager turned the page and focused her attention on her book.
‘I beg your pardon?’ He approached her and took the seat opposite her.
The Dowager Countess sighed and lifted her head from the book. ‘Lady Stetton is an ignorant woman whose judgments are loftier than I realised.’
Evander’s heart squeezed into his stomach. ‘What do you mean?’
His mother cocked her head at an arrogant angle, appearing every bit the austere Dowager Countess she was. ‘Lady Stetton has refused to see me and has cast aside years of friendship on the basis of prejudice.’
Evander exhaled a pained breath. ‘Because of Lottie.’
His mother narrowed her green eyes. ‘Had I known Lady Stetton to be such a viper, I would have broken our association years ago.’
‘Mother—’
She shook her head. ‘Seeing you happy after all these years matters more to me than a false friend.’ She reached for him and squeezed his hand.
It was a curious thing, how his mother could often appear so frail, with her slender frame and delicate, papery thin skin. Yet at other times, such as now, she could possess such a fire within her.
‘And besides,’ she said. ‘I’ve found other friends—such as the Dowager Countess of Dalton—who are far more entertaining and enjoy my company.’
He got to his feet and kissed the top of his mother’s head.
She looked up at him. ‘What was that for?’
‘For being the best mother any earl could ever ask for.’
‘Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not a duke, or I might have fallen short.’ Her eyes twinkled.
He chuckled and gently touched her hand before leaving her to her book.
Though his mother had played down her broken friendship, he was certain it had indeed hurt her. She and Lady Stetton had been friends for as far back as Evander could remember.
They had both known there would be trials to be faced after his marriage to Lottie, and they were seeing them realised now. While they had braced themselves for exactly this kind of retaliation, he knew well how Lottie would take news of their difficulties.
How to Wed a Courtesan--An entertaining Regency romance Page 20
