Loving Lucy (35 page)

“You should not have interfered.”

“Indeed I should not. I’m most sorry for it.” Janet regained her normal colour and sat less stiffly in her chair. She looked earnestly at Lucy. “Please accept my apology. I meant no harm.”

Under the entreaty of those doe-like eyes, Lucy had no choice. She capitulated. “Very well. We shall cry friends again.” She stood up. “How is your gown?”

“Oh most beautiful.” cried Janet and then she went into ecstasies about the cut and the line, until Lucy thought she might find her vocation in a dress-shop. No, she thought then, that was unkind. Janet would make a good marriage, or might stay at home to keep her mother company. Either way she would be better off than Lucy, if the ploy had worked and Lucy was at this moment sitting in Sir Geoffrey’s lodgings waiting with dread for his loathsome attentions.

***

In contrast with the night before her supposed wedding to Sir Geoffrey, Lucy slept badly that Saturday night. She kept waking up, and tossing about in the bed, falling half asleep and when she did fall asleep, she woke up with a start, sweating in the grip of another nightmare. After that, she got up and found a book, reading it by the light of one candle lit from the embers of the fire. She went back to bed again about an hour later, and this time succeeded in falling asleep.

Curtis woke her with a cup of tea and bread and butter. She hadn’t been able to stomach chocolate again after the occurrences of the last week, couldn’t even stand the smell. Sitting up in bed, she watched Curtis make quiet preparations. She knew the maid would leave her tomorrow if she found a duchess in want of an abigail, but Lucy was grateful for her maid’s quiet loyalty while she was in her service. Potter had her reward. She would be a full-blown ladies’ maid one day, if she studied well now. Before, she would have had to wait her chance, perhaps never achieve it, but now she would learn the tasks required of a maid in the top echelon.

Lucy drank her tea and flung back the covers, smiling when she thought this was her last night in that bed. Curtis came forward with her wrapper. Thrusting her arms through the sleeves, Lucy said, “Do you need Potter today?”

“No, my lady. I have sent her to see to Miss Carmichael and Miss Janet. If they are to be your attendants, they must look the part.” Lucy smiled and nodded, then sat down at the dressing table and watched in the mirror as Curtis slowly transformed her tousled locks into glossy, fashionable beauty. Her very dark hair was a perfect contrast to her pale, fine skin. She knew she was lucky in that, and in her blue eyes, with long, black lashes, but wished she could be truly beautiful, with larger eyes and an oval face, instead of the pointed one she had. She thought it made her look like an elf. She wanted to be Cinderella, charming everyone at the ball, but she was too practical to suppose that her many admirers at Almack’s were anything but friends or fortune hunters. And the one man she was meant for had been kept away. What if he had married Lady Rosamund Kellow, as had been rumoured a couple of seasons back? She had been glad of it then, feeling that if he were safe with his own family he would leave her alone, so she could feel more comfortable. Thinking back, Lucy realised she’d never been neutral to Philip, never indifferent to him. He’d always evoked a response in her.

Lucy applied a faint wash of pink to her cheeks, and a darker shade to her mouth, but then rubbed the colour off her mouth again. She wanted to kiss Philip without any encumbrance. Her lashes, naturally dark, needed no dye, so she stood and let Curtis array her in her blue wedding gown.

This one she had chosen herself, and had great pleasure in doing it. That was something else which would change. She would never allow anyone to dictate her taste again. These past few weeks had taught her she didn’t need an abundance of furbelows and trimmings to appear to advantage. The simple gowns had lent her a convenience of dress she had never known before, and she determined to keep some simpler gowns in her wardrobe, gowns she needed no help to get in or out of.

This wasn’t one of them. The toilette, while not of Court standards, was quite charming, and the gown, she thought, suited her well. That shade of hyacinth blue went well with her colouring and brought out the colour of her eyes.

Curtis found her pearls and clasped them about her throat, and she fastened a bracelet of fine creamy pearls about her wrist. Her thick hair held two pearl ornaments, creamy and ethereal against the reddish black. Lucy smiled at herself in the mirror and in her heart knew she was doing this to honour someone, not to make a showy splash in society.

Leaving her room she went down to breakfast and smilingly received the compliments of the
Carmichaels
. She told Christina and Janet they looked attractive, and indeed, they did. Cerisot had done them proud. Their majestic bosoms were displayed but not flaunted, and Janet’s distinctly round figure partly concealed by the clever cut of the high waisted gown.

The wedding was at ten, and Lucy found herself looking forward to it eagerly. She had given Curtis leave to pack the remainder of her belongings up and take them to
Grosvenor Square
, where she would take her place later in the day as the Countess of Royston. Philip’s wife.

They travelled in carriages to the wedding. The
Carmichaels
had a town carriage, and Philip had sent round two of the Royston carriages. Lucy travelled in the
Carmichael
’s carriage, some vague superstition telling her not to presume too much.

Th church was a small one, and Lucy had eyes for little else than the altar as, leaning on Mr. Carmichael’s arm, she slowly made her way up the aisle. She couldn’t see him at first, but then she did, his head turned to watch her coming towards him, a warm, slight smile on his lips.

He lost the smile when they turned to face the bishop, and it seemed to Lucy that he concentrated hard on what he was saying. When he made his promises to her, he looked just at her, so she tried to do the same for him, making those promises the most solemn she had ever made, trying to think about what they meant. One of them nearly overset her, but she passed by it and carried on.

When the bishop allowed it, Philip looked down at his wife and kissed her, very tenderly, on the lips. Lucy was sure she heard a sigh, but she couldn’t tell from whence it came.

She came down the aisle leaning on her husband’s arm, and she was able to see who had come to see her married. There would be more people at the wedding breakfast, but as well as the
Carmichaels
there were one or two others. She was delighted to see the Pulteneys, and kissed the elder Miss Pulteney on the cheek. It was when she left the embrace of the overscented, overdressed, wholly likeable Miss Pulteney she saw her mother. Philip took her over, and bowed coldly to his mother in law. She bowed back, equally cold.

Lucy was delighted to see her Aunt Honoria and embraced her warmly. “You must come and see us,” she said.

“Are you happy my dear?” her aunt asked, in her customarily anxious tones.

“Supremely,” Lucy said, and she didn’t care if her mother could hear her. In fact, she rather hoped she would. She drew back and placed her hand on to Philip’s arm. “Good morning, mother,” she said steadily.

“Good morning, Lucy.”

“Will you come to the wedding breakfast and drink our health?”

“No, I think not.”

“As you wish.” She looked up at Philip’s face, and they passed out of the church.

The carriage waited right outside the door. There were a few people gathered outside, to see who was marrying today, but no one she knew, so she let Philip hand her in to the vehicle.

Once they were seated, the carriage moved off.

Immediately Philip drew down the blinds and put his arms around her. They looked at each other for a moment before he bent his head to kiss her, not at all gently this time. “I can hardly believe it,” he said then. “You have just married me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Philip, for better or worse.”

“Better then.” They said nothing for a while, only embracing with increasing fervour until he drew back and said, a little shakily, “This will never do. We have to get through the breakfast yet. We can’t leave it too early - “

“Why not?” she demanded. “That’s why we married, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Not entirely, my only love. I do want you to be my companion, partner and friend. You’re clever and brave, as well as beautiful.”

“Philip, I am not beautiful.”

“Yes you are.” He reached out to draw up the blind, and Lucy put a hand to her hat, which had been severely pushed out of place by his embraces.

So when they arrived at
Grosvenor Square
they were the picture of the fashionable aristocrat and his wife, only a glow about them betraying their newly wedded status.

Her hand carefully placed on his arm, she went inside the house to take possession of it as its new mistress.

***

To Lucy, who had no fears about the coming night, the wedding breakfast seemed to go on forever. Their healths were drunk, the meal was consumed, and gossip exchanged.
 
Finally, even the most recalcitrant guest had left.

It was only early evening, but when Philip turned to her brightly and said; “Come, my wife. Let’s go to bed,” she went upstairs willingly.

She suffered a shock when she realised she was to occupy the bed her father and her mother (briefly) had used. However, when she went through to the bedroom from her boudoir, clad in night gown, robe and becoming lace cap, she sighed with relief when she saw Philip had changed the whole room. The bed was in the new style, in light wood with curled ends and drapes meant for display rather than to draw, and the rest of the furniture was to match.

Lucy approved. Curtis took her robe and drew back the covers. Lucy climbed in and sat up against the banked up pillows. There was still no sign of Philip, so after her maid had left the room, Lucy looked about her at her new domain.

The carpet was new, and soft under her feet when she had removed her slippers to get into bed. The dressing table held the familiar array of bottles and jars, from which she assumed this was to be her room. She wondered what Philip’s room was like, and if he customarily used this one or the other.

When he entered the room, clad as she was in night gear, suddenly all the nervousness rose again, and she felt positively sick. She smiled a welcome, but perhaps he saw her eyes widen, for he didn’t immediately get into bed but sat on the side of it, and took possession of her hands, until then folded neatly on the covers. “No regrets?”

She shook her head. “No, I know I’m doing the right thing.”

“By many people’s reasoning, we’re doing the expected thing,” he said dryly. . “Reuniting the title and the fortune.” He looked down, played with her fingers, stroking them gently, then looked up again with an expression on his face which took her breath away. “But Lucy, I don’t care. I’ve loved you all my life and now I have the one thing I thought I could never have. That’s you, nothing else.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice quiet as a whisper. “I know that now.”

“What is it then?” his voice was gentle, patient, and he stilled his hands, just holding hers lightly.

She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know. I think it’s like when you do anything for the first time.”

“But we’re not - “ he paused. “ I think I see. Let’s just see what happens shall we? This is you and me, Lucy and Philip. Nobody else, nothing else matters.”

She nodded. Withdrawing his hands from hers, he got up and took off his blue robe, throwing over the back of the nearest chair. Then he drew his nightshirt over his head, and stood before her totally naked. Lucy looked at him frankly, the strong shoulders, the light sprinkling of dark hair around his pale nipples and chest, the dark pubic hair only emphasising what stood out below. He made no effort to hide it. “Your turn,” was all he said.

Lucy undid the strings of her night-cap, and shook out her hair from underneath. Trembling a little she drew back the sheets and pulled off her night-gown.

He looked at her as she had at him, but the rising flush of desire on her pale skin was too much. “My lovely Lucy.” he said, and at last got into bed to join her.

She remembered the smell of him when he took her into his arms, that scent of eau de cologne mixed with masculinity, strange enough to be exciting, familiar enough to remind her of that other time.

After his first kiss, he drew back to look at her again. “Better?”

She nodded and smiled, running the flat of her hand across his chest. “Much. I love you Philip.”

He kissed her, touched her, bent his head to taste her, kiss her soft skin. He took a breast in one hand, felt the nipple harden under his palm, and let his hand travel lower. Then he knew her desire for him hadn’t faded, was as strong as his for her.

Lucy touched him, elated when he caressed and kissed her, and was more than ready when for the first time in her married life, her husband entered her body.

Crying out with delight, Lucy felt the rightness of it, and when he began to move, felt the warmth deep inside. He lifted himself on his hands so he could look at her while he loved her, and she arched up, moving in time with him. That nearly undid him, but he held on to his rising passion and forced it down, so he could bring her the joy she deserved.