Corey McFadden (34 page)

A London modiste had arrived in Weston-under-Lizard in the first week of Elspeth’s return, and had made it plain that she was a wedding gift from Elspeth’s soon-to-be mother-in-law, and was not to take ‘go away’ for an answer. Elspeth had submitted to fitting after fitting, as the most astonishing fabrics and laces were spread out before her eyes. Letters of protest to Julian as to the expense were ignored, and now she stood in a wedding dress of elegant perfection, a light and airy confection that seemed more Belgian lace than silk, although, to be sure, there were yards and yards of it all.

Well, at least she had the satisfaction of knowing that as a bride she did not disgrace her elegant, magnificent bridegroom. And the wedding itself had been wonderful, simple and lovely, in the small chapel that served most of the village’s population. The vicar, who had christened all of the Quinn babies, Elspeth included, had performed the ceremony, with tears in his eyes, and a very old prayer book in his hands.

“We can leave soon, I hope,” Julian whispered in her ear. He had placed his gloved hand on hers and now he gave it a squeeze. “I want to kiss you. I want to rip off your dress and kiss you all over. I’m tired of silks and cotton between us. I want to see you as Praxiteles would.”

“Oh, Julian,” she whispered back, her stomach doing Catherine wheels. The past month had been maddening. Julian had been able to come to Weston-under-Lizard only once, a day after she had arrived, to ask Mrs. Quinn for her daughter’s hand in marriage. A stolen kiss or two then was all they had managed. After that, they had had to content themselves with letters back and forth, letters that had to remain reasonably circumspect, since, with a houseful of younger siblings, most especially Harry, it would not do to pen anything that couldn’t be shared with prying nine-year-old eyes and adolescent sisters.

Her dreams this past month had only added to the frustration. Julian kissing her, Julian lying next to her, Julian...well, Julian doing things most brides did not know enough to contemplate. She, too, longed for this day, lovely as it was, to end. They would leave this afternoon, journeying to his estate in the country, where his father clung to life in hopes of meeting his son’s bride and the future mother of his grandchildren, and where his mother fussed about the house so that all should be welcoming for her wonderful, long-awaited daughter-in-law. But it would take several days to get there—two nights spent in what Julian assured her were among the finest inns in England. Alone with her beloved at last....

“Julian!” Edgar Randall’s excited tones pierced her reverie. “Splendid wedding, dear boy, just splendid. Brought a tear to my eye, I declare. I shall never wed, now that you’ve gone and married the most beautiful girl in all of England.”

“As you’ve never shown any inclination in that regard, Edgar, I do not feel at all guilty,” Julian replied. Edgar held out his hand, and Elspeth was relieved to see Julian accept it. She had been hard pressed convincing Julian to forgive Edgar, but time and his own better nature finally caused his anger to thaw, and if there was a slight strain to the friendship, Elspeth meant to have it all smoothed over eventually. Such happiness as they had been granted would not permit the canker of bitterness to lurk within it.

“I do have a secret to tell you both,” Edgar said, brightly, “but you must swear on your lives not to repeat it, or I shall be ruined, absolutely ruined, I swear it.”

“Oh, Mr. Randall, do not breach any confidences on my account,” Elspeth said, with a laugh. She’d long ago learned that secrets one wasn’t supposed to know had a way of tripping one up, eventually.

“Oh, this confidence is mine and mine alone to breach, my dear Mrs. Thorpe.” It gave her such a jolt of joy to hear herself addressed as such. She had so feared something would rise up and snatch her happiness away before this day could arrive.

Edgar leaned in and lowered his voice to what passed for a whisper. “I find myself, for the first time in my life, gainfully employed,” he announced, with a wicked smile.

“You’re working?” Julian replied, sounding shocked.

“I am, indeed. Tell no one, or I’ll be drummed out of the
ton
forever. I am—well, I’m still not sure what I am, but I take care of things for the Viscountess Alderson. She has, most miraculously, not to mention fraudulently, uncovered a connection between our families, distant, but creditable. As her ‘cousin,’ I have been invited to live with her. No one knows that I also act as her social secretary. It’s most entertaining, really. I now know everything there is to know about the upper, upper echelons, I’m included in all the very best entertainments, I have a stipend that would seem modest to most, but is a king’s ransom to me, and, in short, I am the best set up toff in all of the
ton
, and I did not have to marry to get myself there,” he finished with a flourish.

“Oh, Mr. Randall, I’m so happy for you,” Elspeth said, and she meant it.

“Keep you out of mischief, won’t it?” Julian said, a trifle pointedly, she thought.

Edgar had the grace to look a bit abashed. Julian put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I am happy for you, old man,” Julian said, keeping his voice low. “This is perfect for you, and perfect for the viscountess as well. She’s got a gem in you for what she needs. In a way, I suppose I owe you an apology—no, no.” He held up his hand as Edgar registered astonishment. “I should have recognized your financial woes. It was careless and negligent of me to ignore what should have been obvious. The viscountess, dragon that she may be, was more perspicacious than I, and set about helping you to resolve your difficulties. I should have been a better friend to you, Edgar,” he finished, simply.

Julian grunted as Edgar launched himself forward, and enveloped him in a bear hug. They patted each other on the back for an awkward moment, while Elspeth looked on, a wide grin splitting her face.
This breach is mended,
she thought to herself.

“Oh, I haven’t had a chance yet to tell you that
on dit
has it Rokeby hasn’t yet come up to scratch. Caroline does lead him a merry dance, at poor Mr. Ledbetter’s expense, but I suspect strongly she’d rather be Lady Rokeby than Mrs. Ledbetter. Bettina Quinn keeps quiet these days, but one can see she is all but holding her breath, hoping the Season does not end before a betrothal can be accomplished. I have a nasty feeling that Rokeby’s days as a bachelor are numbered. One does have to feel sorry for the man. I see,” he said, looking about, “that your aunt and cousin have not graced your wedding with their presence,” he said.

“No. Aunt Bettina wrote and said her health would not permit the journey,” Elspeth said. “There was not a damp eye in the house at the news.”

They broke off laughing as Wesley Ames and his wife strolled over to offer their felicitations. Elspeth had been delighted that some of Julian’s good friends had braved a trip to Weston-under-Lizard on Julian’s behalf. They had all enjoyed several lovely days of visiting and wedding preparation. Everyone would return to their respective homes tomorrow, and Weston-under-Lizard would go back to being its sleepy little self.

Behind her back, where no one could see, Julian gave her backside an expectant squeeze, then defiantly left his hand exactly where it was.

“Julian!” she giggled.

“Mr. Thorpe! Unhand my sister at once,” cried Harry from somewhere to the rear of them.

Julian rolled his eyes and smiled at Elspeth. “We can leave shortly, can’t we, my love?” he asked, his eyes dancing with love.

“Any minute, my heart,” she answered, simply, smiling back.

Chapter Seventeen

“We should be there within the half hour, Elspeth,” Julian murmured as he felt his sleeping bride stir against his chest. The well-sprung carriage had provided a smooth enough ride to permit them both a bit of a nap. It had been a tiring few days and he looked forward to spending the next few alone for hours on end with his dearly beloved.

“Mmmm,” she replied, and snuggled deeper against him. It was warm and comfortable under the thick woolen carriage wraps, and as he had never stinted on quality when ordering a new carriage, the seats were comfortable enough to sleep on. If, indeed, one were tired enough, as they both certainly were.

They had finally gotten away from Weston-under-Lizard, in a flurry of tears and well wishes, later than he had hoped, but earlier than he had expected. Now the twilight descended rapidly, and it seemed they would make Leicester before nightfall as he had planned. The small medieval town, like Bath, dated back to the Romans, and it boasted enough trade to have several well-appointed inns, safe, clean, and comfortable.

And private.

Julian had been firm that they should not spend their first night as husband and wife either under Elspeth’s mother’s roof, or that of his own parents. Family was all well and good, but there were times when one decidedly wished to be alone. And now was certainly one of those times. He bent his head and kissed the top of hers, inhaling the sweet scent of her clean hair. She stirred again, and stretched, opening her eyes and blinking sleepily.

“Are we nearly there?” she murmured, sitting up and looking around.

“Nearly, I think,” he replied. His hand lingered in her hair, and he played with her soft tresses. His fingers moved down her neck with the lightest touch. She sat against him, their hips and thighs touching. He could feel the burn of her through the silks and wools and infernal cottons that separated them.

She turned and looked at him, a tenuous smile touching her lips. But her eyes—her enormous, beautiful, green eyes looked a bit shadowed, a bit apprehensive.

“What is wrong, my heart?” he asked, gently, fingers still moving on her warm, soft skin.

“Oh, heavens, nothing, really, nothing at all,” she stammered, but her eyes gave the lie to her words, and she looked away quickly.

“I think you’d better tell me,” he said, solemnly. It was amazing how the smallest thought that she might be regretting her decision to marry him could bring his heart to a thudding stop.

“Well, I...” She stopped. Her fingers were twisting in the woolen carriage robe. Something was very wrong, indeed, when Elspeth was bereft of speech.

“Yes?” he prodded, growing more anxious.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. He waited. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she turned to him.

“I am worried about—well, I’m worried that I—that you—oh, dear....”

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said. He took her hands in his own, to stop them from twisting in the wool.

“Oh, Julian. I don’t know what to think about—about what will happen tonight. You know what they say—‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.’ I’m afraid....” She had begun in a rush and now trailed off. Her eyes were large and luminous, swimming in confusion. He was beginning to get a glimmering here.

“You’re afraid of our bedding, Elspeth?” he asked gently. It was like holding a bird in his hands. He was so afraid she would startle and fly away.

“No—I mean, yes! Oh, Julian, I don’t know what I mean. On the one hand, it’s all I’ve been able to think about these last few weeks. My heart pounds at the thought of your touch. I can hardly wait for your next kiss! It is most unmaidenly. I’m so afraid you’ll be disappointed, thoroughly disgusted, really, to think me a wanton. On the other hand—well, Julian...” she stopped again and took a deep breath. He wanted desperately to speak, but, aware that she had more to say, and that getting it out was so difficult for her, he held his silence, and waited for her to continue. “Julian, you’re so large!” she finally stammered out. “However will this work?”

“Well,” he said, gently, thinking furiously as to how best to approach this. “First of all, my darling, what passes between us in the bedroom is between us, alone. How we behave toward each other in that regard is our own business and no one else’s. Are you possibly not aware....” Now he had to pause and draw a deep breath.

While he had been willing, even enthusiastic about disgusting Caroline with gross and inaccurate details about the sexual act, he had no wish whatsoever to frighten his beloved, most particularly on the brink of their first bedding.

“...Has no one shared with you that lovemaking can and should be pleasurable for the lady, Elspeth?" he finished.

“Well, no, Julian,” she said, looking away again, out of the carriage window where the darkness gathered. “At our last dinner together in Bath, Aunt Bettina was telling Caroline that—well—that it was something to be gotten through—that a lady must simply close her eyes, and plan her next party, and wait for her husband to finish. She said no real lady should ever stoop so low as to express, or, worse, experience any enthusiasm for the—ah—for the act—and that any woman who did was nothing more than a—a trollop. And so I’ve felt, well, I’ve felt that I might disgust you in some way. I should hate that, Julian!” she cried, launching herself into his arms. “I should so hate for you to be disgusted with me. I don’t know what to do!”

He could feel his blood boiling, and for once, it was not with passion for his beloved. The evil of that household knew no bounds. “Elspeth, my own, my love, look at me!” he said. He pulled her back gently, keeping a tight hold on her shoulders. She trembled beneath his fingers. “You have been victimized enough by that malevolent family. That woman drips poison from her tongue. There is no truth, no truth, whatsoever, to what she said. Indeed, I’m certain that she held that little conversation in front of you on purpose—to spoil your wedding night and my own, possibly to spoil our marital relations for the rest of our lives.” He stopped and took another deep breath. “Did your mother not speak of these things to you, Elspeth?” he asked.

“Oh, she meant to, she really did. Kept saying we’d get to it. But the children were always underfoot, and there was so much to do, and then the houseguests came, and then, well, we just never managed to have the time to talk. As she helped me dress this afternoon, she whispered that I should trust you, and all would be well, and she just laughed, but there were so many ladies in the room that I couldn’t ask her anything else...” she trailed off and buried her face in the folds of his neckcloth again.