Karen Harbaugh (11 page)

Sophia turned melting eyes to Sir James. “How terribly sad that it should be so!” she said softly, a hint of sorrow in her voice. “How horrid such scheming cannot be shown for what it is! One would think that right-minded people should work to show how badly people can be hurt by such duplicity.”

Sir James’s smile grew wider. “Most definitely, dear lady! I, certainly, would try.” He raised her hand to his lips.

Sophia shivered with a certain joy. She smiled back at him. “I thought you might,” she murmured.

Chapter 7

Linnea smoothed her skirt, reveling in the muslin’s newness. The dress was a deep royal blue, giving a pearly sheen to her skin, and the design was one that she had not seen before in a morning dress: it wrapped across her bosom, and a gold clasp fastened the bodice to the side of and just under her left breast. Bows of a clear white (matching the fichu at her throat) tied the dress firmly together. She had thought it a more modest dress than the others Lydia had ordered for her, for it was at least high at the nape, so she had readily assented to its purchase. But now that she had it on, she was not so sure. When she saw how low the wrap came in the front, she had felt it necessary to put on the fichu underneath. The wrapping effect at its high waist had none of the gathers she was used to, and the bodice hugged her bosom and waist with revealing accuracy. After all of Linnea’s protests that had gone on before, Lydia had smiled mischievously when Linnea quickly agreed to buy it. Now she knew why.

The parlour door opened behind her and Linnea turned to see Lady Wrenton walk in.

“You knew!” accused Linnea, waving at the dress she wore.

“Knew what, my dear?” said Lydia, her eyes innocently wide. She reached up and pulled the bell to summon a servant for some refreshment.

“This dress! Why, it is almost as revealing as the others you insisted on!”

“Nonsense!” Lydia replied tartly. “I cannot see how you can say that. You can see yourself how it covers you from neck to heel—especially with that ridiculous fichu.”

“Yes, but only look at it! It’s so close!” cried Linnea.

Lydia surveyed her protégée from head to foot. “And a very nice figure you have, too, my dear,” she said, nodding her head approvingly. Linnea blushed.

Lady Wrenton sat next to her and patted her hand. “I see nothing in your appearance at which to blush. You are well proportioned; it sets you off to advantage. How else will you catch my brother’s interest?”

Linnea looked down and smoothed the dress again. “Is that necessary?”

Lydia was silent for a moment. “Yes... yes, I think so. I want him to be happy. He is wary of women, for all his popularity with them. You may imagine my dismay when he became betrothed to Sophia Amberley! A more insinuating little... Well, I shall not say more on that head! I wondered at him, indeed I did! How could he not see she was such a one? He is supposed to be a man of the Town, yet he could not even see—”

She sighed. “Well, I am happy that the betrothal was broken, and I am glad Will did not seem to mind—” She caught Linnea’s raised-brow gaze and amended, “That is to say, he did not mind as much as I thought he might. He was not in love with her, you see.”

Linnea did not see. She had seen Sophia’s beauty, and because it seemed Lord Rothwick could not see past it to Sophia’s nature made it clear to Linnea that he was more affected by the break than his sister thought.

She looked up at Lydia, saying gently: “That is all very well, ma’am, but even so, I am not in love with him.”

Lydia smiled a little. “We shall see,” she replied. “Besides, I am sure you want to make the best of this situation that you can—at the very least, I am sure you can go along in this marriage in a friendly fashion.”

“To be sure, I do!” returned Linnea. “But—”

“Well, then! It cannot hurt to look attractive, or make yourself look pleasant, can it?”

Linnea bit her lip for a second in thought. “No, of course not. But to take all these clothes—I cannot wish to be beholden to either you or Lord Rothwick!”

Lydia shook her head. “No, no, of course you do not wish to be beholden! And you will not. Listen to me: How can you do your duty as a countess, and entertain my brother’s guests, if you do not dress the part? To dress dowdily will not add to your credit, nor to my brother’s.”

The noise of coach wheels and horses stopped any further protests from Linnea. She sat calmly on her chair, but Lydia saw Linnea’s eyes rise swiftly to the window and her hand nervously smooth a stray curl. Lydia smiled to herself and said: “That must be Will. After all that traveling, he shall want some refreshment, I am sure.” She pulled the bell-rope again and requested the chambermaid bring additional pastries and tea.

They could hear footsteps coming up the hallway outside the parlor. A mischievous look crossed Lydia’s face.

“Oh, Linnea, my dear, do be still! There is an odd crease on the back collar of your dress. Let me flatten it—”

With a quick jerk Lydia pulled off the fichu from around Linnea’s neck. Linnea gasped, the door opened, and Rothwick walked in.

There was no time for Linnea to do much but compose herself as best she could. Lydia noted with satisfaction that Linnea’s cheeks wore a becoming blush and that Rothwick’s first glance at his betrothed lingered.

He walked up and kissed Linnea’s hand. “You look... well. And you, Lydia,” he said, turning to his sister briefly. He gazed down at Linnea again.

He was surprised. He had almost not recognized her when he’d first looked at her, for the shadows were gone from beneath her eyes and her clothes fit better than they had before—much better. Her face glowed pink and white instead of the dull paleness she’d had before he left.

“For shame!” cried Lydia. “After all this effort we put in getting Linnea up to the mode, all you can say is that she looks well!” But Lydia was quite satisfied. Most certainly her brother noticed the change, for he still had hold of Linnea’s hand and was apparently not aware of it.

“Ravishing, then,” Rothwick said, and smiled at Linnea.

Linnea felt her face flame even warmer, and she pulled her hand from his grasp. She was not used to the polite but admiring regard of men, and it unnerved her. At best she had been ignored at her cousin Boothe’s house, at worst leered at. And it had been a long time since she had been given the respect due her as a vicar’s daughter. “I—I am pleased to see you again, my lord.” She looked away and saw with relief that the chambermaid had brought in some more pastries and tea. “Some refreshment, my lord?” She glanced at him and saw his raised brows. “William, I mean.”

“Yes, only a cup of tea, as I shall have to change out of my travel dirt soon.” He smiled at her.

Lydia apparently saw she was not needed, for she moved quickly toward the door. “Oh, dear, you must excuse me! I have just remembered that Cook wanted me to approve this week’s menus. I simply must go—”

Linnea rose, as did Rothwick. “But, Lydia—” began Linnea, but Lady Wrenton cut her off.

“Oh, I am sure you can stand hostess to my brother just as well as I,” she said, and shut the door firmly behind her.

Lord Rothwick’s brows lifted at his sister’s departure, then he looked at Linnea. “You must excuse my sister; she is determined to throw us together.”

She sat on the sofa and indicated that Rothwick do so as well. “She needs little excuse; she has been so very kind to me,” replied Linnea. She shifted on her seat uncomfortably, for she saw him looking at her dress again. “You must be wondering at this dress. Your sister insisted on buying me a wardrobe of clothes, though I protested—at first. She said you would not mind....” She looked up to discover that Rothwick had moved his gaze to her lips.

“You look charming,” he said.

Linnea blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap, for she was not looking for compliments. “No, I, I, it is just that I do not want to be beholden to you in this way—”

“Beholden!”

Linnea looked up again and saw that his face was as astonished as his voice sounded. He took her hand and pressed it gently.

“I do not know what you are talking about. I abduct you, I treat you poorly, I ruin your reputation, and now you say you are beholden to me because my sister insists I supply you with some frippery dresses. It is the least I can do for you.”

Linnea sighed, and her shoulders lost their tenseness, but she said: “Yes, but you are marrying me. It does not seem fit that I take clothes from you before I am married to you.”

William raised his brows haughtily. “Nonsense. I will not have you wed to me in rags. It will not do for—”

“Your consequence?” she interjected.

“Exactly,” he replied, and they both laughed.

Linnea’s smile faded as she looked at Rothwick and saw he was gazing intently at her again, his look moving from her eyes to her lips.

“I have brought a special license,” he said. “I procured it four days ago. We may be married as soon as you are ready.”

“Oh,” was all Linnea could say, and looked down at her lap again. She had thought she was resigned to being married to him, but a surge of uncertainty clenched her stomach. She felt a finger under her chin and looked up into Rothwick’s eyes.

“Are you still not sure?” he asked. He moved closer, and she sat very still. “I promise I shall be a good husband....” He leaned forward, and his lips moved across hers.

They were soft and gentle, and she relaxed after an Initial stiffness. His hand at her waist pulled her closer, and she moved her own hand and grasped the lapel of his coat.

A sudden noise at the window made them part, startled, and she saw a bird looking quizzically into the parlour at them from the window ledge. The sun abruptly chose to shine through the clouds into the room, brightening the patterns on the carpet and casting a golden glow over the furniture.

“I think he is inviting us out,” said Rothwick. The bird chirped as if in agreement. He turned to Linnea. “Have you been about the gardens much?”

“Only the ones closest to the house,” she replied, glad of the interruption and grateful that Rothwick had changed the subject. Her experience in kissing was small, limited to her father’s salutes on her forehead, her brother’s affectionate smacks on her cheek, and the abortive assaults from the men who accosted her on her unfortunate errands. She tried hard not to flinch at Rothwick’s touch—and succeeded far better than she thought she would. Her reaction bewildered her, and she almost despaired she’d ever understand this man or herself. She was not used to this. For all her straitened circumstances, she had always had a certain measure of control, at least over herself. Now she was not sure of herself at all.

“You are missing a great deal. My sister is a mistress of gardening, and designed the larger part of the outlay at this estate.” Rothwick glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. “It wants three hours until dinner. Perhaps I can show you the gardens in an hour and a half?” He waved a hand at his still dusty boots and grimaced. “I still must change from these clothes.”

Linnea smiled. “Certainly, my lord. I would enjoy a walk, for I have been much too idle lately.”

* * * *

Lord Rothwick was surprised and pleased to see Linnea waiting for him upon his descent from his rooms. His experience of women—mostly his sisters—was that a man must wait at least half an hour past the appointed time.

In all, he was very pleased with her. She was certainly brave, practical, and more lovely than he had thought when he first saw her. She was wearing a deep cherry-colored walking dress that threw pink highlights into her cheeks. Very lovely indeed.

She had flinched when he kissed her, however, and he sighed mentally. He thought he repulsed her a little, and he wished he had not treated her with so much harshness when they had first met and when he had abducted her. He did not want an unwilling wife; he well knew he had made a mess of things, and that it was his fault.

But how else to remedy the situation? In London he had hit upon the idea of establishing her comfortably in the Americas, then rejected it as cowardly. Now that he saw her again, he was glad he had.

As they walked along the paths of Lady Wrenton’s garden, he looked at her assessingly. Linnea seemed, despite her misfortunes, a very self-possessed woman. She had an air of reserve that broke only when she talked on a subject that interested her or when she responded to his funning. Then she sparkled, for her eyes lit up from whatever emotion she was feeling. But the rest of the time she seemed almost watchful, as if to see what his response would be before she committed herself to any communication.

It was his fault, he was sure. His mistreatment of her still must lie heavy in her mind; she no doubt wondered when he would commit another unpredictable act. He gazed at her as she smiled at a small joke he made and resolved at that moment that she would come to trust him. He would make sure of it.

* * * *

They waited less than two weeks after the end of Rothwick’s betrothal to Sophia and then married by special license. It was a quiet affair, for which Linnea was thankful. She would not have known what to do if Rothwick had invited all his friends and acquaintances. As it was, she found it difficult to face the curious looks from some of the few wedding guests. At least Rothwick’s family seemed accepting of his marriage to her. For that, she was sure, she had Lydia to thank.

Lydia had spirited Linnea to one shop after another, choosing bride clothes and other, very fashionable dresses. She had also arranged the guest list as well as the wedding feast. By the wedding day Linnea was sure she would never wear all the clothes in the trunks she saw piled on top of the coach in preparation for their journey afterward.

When she finally put on the wedding dress, she looked in the mirror and scarcely recognized herself. She had chosen white satin silk for the bodice and skirt of the dress, having seen such a dress in a wedding her father had conducted when she was a girl. Tugging at the low décolletage, Linnea remembered Lydia’s dictum that the low cut of her dress was in the height of fashion. Linnea did not feel quite comfortable with the bodice, which seemed to display more flesh than she was used to. And that was another thing. She was no longer so painfully thin, for the lack of daily errand running and tasks and the availability of food had added a new sleekness to her figure that she was also not used to. New clothes, new figure—and, soon to be, new station in life—she did not feel as if she were quite herself anymore.