Midnight Marriage: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Series) (16 page)

He caught her to him and held her until she stopped struggling and fell against his chest. “I want you, Deborah,” he murmured, lifting her chin so that he could gently kiss her mouth. “I’ve never wanted any female more than I want you. I want you as my wife in every sense. Do you understand me?
Do you
?”

She nodded, staring up into his handsome face with its fine nose, head of blue-black curls turning to gray at the temples, and at the deep green of his lovely eyes. He was the handsomest man she had ever set eyes on, so like the boy in her dream that it made her shiver, and she was in his arms and he wanted her.
Her
. And as his wife. She knew she loved him. She’d known that from the moment she’d set eyes on him in the Avon forest. It was love at first sight for her. Until she’d come across her injured duelist in the forest she wasn’t at all sure she believed it possible to fall in love with someone within a blink of an eye. Otto and Rosa had. Rosa had told her that when she and Otto had first met each knew instantly that they wanted to be with the other and no one else for the rest of their lives. But she had always presumed her brother and his wife to be a special case. She never dreamed it would happen to her.

So if she loved him and he wanted her to be his wife, why did she hesitate at the thought of giving herself to him body and soul? It was true that she knew not the first thing about him. He looked and spoke and had the air of a gentleman of means and position, yet he had avoided telling her anything more than his name. But did his wealth and social standing really matter to her? It certainly hadn’t mattered to Otto and he and Rosa had been blissfully happy. Why then did this feeling that he was withholding something fundamental to their future happiness niggle at her so? But surely, if she loved him and he loved her they could overcome any obstacles put in their path…?

She made a movement and he let her go and stepped back, awaiting her response. For want of something to do, because he felt awkward and clumsy standing in the middle of a blanket, his embraces rejected, Julian set to packing away the picnic things.

She knelt to help him, saying over the basket, “You are under no obligation to me because I saved your life in the forest.”

“I am eternally grateful for your assistance but that episode has nothing to do with us being husband and wife.”

Deb looked him in the face. “You want me even though I ran away from home, that I almost eloped with a musician myself, that I play a viola,
and
can handle a pistol as good as the next man?”

He smiled. “I am determined, Miss Cavendish.”

She sat forward on her knees. “And if I accept? Perhaps it is I who am entering into a bad bargain?”

He gave a bark of laughter. “That depends on whether you want the man or his consequence.”

At this she gave a tinkle of laughter and relaxed. “Oh, give me the man!”

He grinned self-consciously and together they folded the blanket.

Deb glanced at him. “You are determined to have me.”

“Quite determined.”

“And if Gerald objects?”

He took the folded blanket from her and dropped it across the basket, saying lightly, “If you marry the man and not his consequence then Gerry’s opposition should hardly weigh with you, should it?”

Deborah blinked. “It doesn’t.”

“I’ve given Jack’s situation some thought,” he stated, changing the subject, an eye on the boy who stood at the edge of the clearing playing at fetch with Nero. “Naturally he must live with us when he is not in school. And Evelyn should tutor him, if he can be induced to return to England. Then again, Jack may prefer to spend part of the year with Har—Come along before we are soaked to the skin!” he said, grabbing at her hand as large drops of rain began to fall. “Jack! The bat and ball, if you please!”

They ran back to the carriage, Thomas with the forethought to put up the top and secure the windows. It did not stop them receiving a soaking, or Nero putting muddy paws over his young master’s buckskin breeches. To Deb it seemed as if they had just settled themselves comfortably when the carriage swept through a set of iron gates and on up a gravel drive, and came to stand in front of a Queen Anne house: Martin Ellicott’s residence.

Before Deb could ask the question Julian apologized. “I must confess to a slight deception. Our picnic was not half a mile from here. I had Thomas drive about the countryside in circles.”

“I thought you would have discovered that, Aunt Deb!” Jack grinned, a knowing exchange with his lordship.

“Traitor,” Deb said lovingly. “As for you,” she said to Julian, who was peering out at the constant rain, “I’m not at all certain I should allow Jack to spend time with such a corruptive influence.”

“Aunt Deb!”

“I shouldn’t take your aunt’s words too seriously; her actions speak volumes,” Julian commented as he opened the carriage door. “The rain is easing,” he added and stepped down and offered Deb his hand. “Jack, be sure and change out of those wet clothes when you get home.” He handed the boy a sealed packet from his frock coat pocket. “Give this to Joseph. He’ll know what to do.”

Deb stood in the rain, not knowing what to do next. A footman came dashing out of the house and took delivery of two portmanteaux from the driver. She recognized them as belonging to her. She was speechless. Julian was issuing last minute instructions to Jack and had solicited his utmost secrecy, which the boy readily gave. With a last pat for Nero, he gave the word and Thomas sprung the horses. The carriage left without her.

Deb pointed to the portmanteaux as the footman disappeared with them into the house. “Those are my bags!”

Julian looked up from studying the face of his gold pocket watch. He slipped it back into his flowered waistcoat pocket. “Yes. How convenient they were packed and awaiting me in your hallway. And we are getting wet,” he said and unceremoniously pulled her toward the house. “No doubt they contain everything you’ll need.”

“Everything I need? For what?” she demanded, oblivious to the rain and the droop of her bonnet. “But they are packed for my trip to—”

“You can’t go on your honeymoon without luggage. Now come along!”

Deb ignored the butler’s bow of welcome. “
Honeymoon
?”

“You’ll be pleased Brigitte was in total agreement and wished me luck.”

Deb looked about her wildly. “Agreement to what?”

“We have already kept the vicar waiting twenty minutes.”

“Vicar?” Deb almost screeched.

She brought herself up short. Julian held wide the drawing room door. Deep in the room there was hushed conversation and the tinkle of glasses. Somebody laughed. Deb kept her feet firmly planted in the hallway. She looked inquiringly at the doorway, then at Julian but said nothing.

He smiled in understanding. “No one who bites,” he assured her. “The vicar, his good wife, her sister to stand as matron of honor, and Frew, of course. Sadly, no Martin, who always spends this time of year with my parents. I have a special license in my pocket and the vicar is willing to forgo a church service as a favor to my deep-seated need for absolute privacy. Shall we…?”

Deb shivered and pulled the damp shawl closer about her shoulders. She felt ill. “I—I—What about Gerry and Mary and your family and—”

Julian laughed. “My father had begun to despair of ever becoming a grandparent, and as I have your brother’s blessing to our marriage that’s all that matters really, isn’t it?”

“How did you get Gerry to—

“Let’s not spoil the moment by talking about your groveling brother.” He smiled reassuringly and kissed her hand. “Shall we go in? The ceremony must be performed before three of the clock; that is the law. The vicar—”

“But our clothes,” Deb argued, “are wet and—and—Oh! A hundred other objections I’m sure I could think of if I wasn’t in a state of utter nervous collapse! You can’t be serious!” When he did not answer, just stood there expectantly, fingers about the door handle, her shoulders slumped. “Must it be now?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“If it will make you feel better able to struggle through the ceremony, I am just as nervous.”

Deb wrung her gloved hands. “I’m not dressed! We’re wet through! My hair…”

“The sooner we set off on our honeymoon the sooner we can get on with our lives.”

Slowly, Deb stripped off her soaked gloves, removed her drenched bonnet and dropped these and the wet shawl onto a chair in the hallway. She did not bother to take a step back to glance at her reflection in the looking glass. She knew her hair was untidy, that her lips needed color; her boots were muddy, and her bodice damp, as were her pale blue silk petticoats, which had acquired a large grass stain about the knees.

Such petty details, and the vicar kept waiting…

S
EVEN

D
EB WOKE
to the muted sounds of dawn; of waterfowl in the tangle of tall reeds shrouded in mist at the river’s edge, and beyond that the breeze rustling the tops of the beech trees in the awakening forest. It was still dark enough for the light of a full moon to shine through the open curtains and across the heavy coverlet on the four-poster bed. She lay amongst the tumble of feather-filled pillows listening sleepily to the distant noises outside her window, reveling in the warmth under the covers and feeling supremely happy. Married three days and yet she felt so comfortable and unselfconscious in her new role as wife that it was almost as if she had been married to Julian for years and years.

The marriage ceremony seemed a lifetime away. The vicar and the attendants looked as nervous as she herself had been. Julian held her hand so tightly it was as if he feared she would flee. And in their nervousness neither bride or groom looked left or right, nor did they glance at each other until their vows had been exchanged. It was only with the ink dry in the Parish Register and the couple toasted with a glass of Martin Ellicott’s finest champagne that tension eased enough for there to be light conversation.

Deb had been too overwhelmed by the progress of events from picnic to wedding service to finding herself married that she had been oblivious to the finer details of that wet afternoon. She could not recall the inconsequential chatter over champagne and cake, only that there was an atmosphere of uncomfortable self-restraint. The vicar, his good wife and the attendants never once initiated conversation nor looked at their ease, and barely sipped the bubbles in their crystal glasses. Yet, when her husband spoke, they became animated and hung on his every word, answering him in monosyllables. It reminded Deb of a king surrounded by his courtiers who, acutely aware of their lowly station in life, knew they were not worthy of engaging their liege lord in proper conversation. If Julian was aware of this he did not show it. In fact, he went out of his way to put everyone at their ease, even her, for when the vicar announced it was time to leave the young couple to themselves, Deb knew she had blushed rosily. Julian had winked at her with a kind smile and quickly ushered everyone from the room to farewell them on the portico.

She wished Rosa and Otto had been there on her wedding day to share in her happiness, and Rosa had been right about the marriage bed. Deb had followed her advice, given long ago and not understood at the time. Love must be on equal terms, she had said: honesty, mutual respect, pleasure, all must be given and received in equal measure and from the first night alone together as man and wife. And so on her wedding night, in this very bed, Deb had followed Rosa’s advice.

Naturally, she had been a little afraid of the unknown and apprehensive that she would be clumsy and awkward. But she was no shrinking violet. And who had worried about her maidenly virtue when she had nursed Otto? She had done everything for Otto: fed him, administered his medicines and washed and clothed him. She knew what a naked man looked like. That is a sick man; a dying man. A healthy, well-muscled athletic man with whom she was in love was an entirely different proposition.

Alone together in the bedchamber that first night, she forgot her own embarrassment at being naked as soon as she saw her husband. She had stared at Julian, fascinated by his virility, and was momentarily taken aback when he appeared shy by her open look of admiration. It made her wonder if he had ever been so candidly scrutinized in all his glory before. His shy smile made her appreciate that for all his experience, at that moment, naked and alone with her, he was feeling just as nervous as she. It made her forget about her own inexperience and realize that if she was true to herself making love for the first time with her husband would be the beginning of a wonderfully joyous union. And so she had joined him in the big four-poster bed unafraid and on equal terms.

She turned her head on the pillow, smiling at the remembrance of that first time, wanting the touch and warmth of his body, only to discover she was alone. She immediately sat up, brushing the tangle of long hair from her face, and frowned at the light coming from under the door that led into the next room. She threw an embroidered silk dressing gown over her nakedness, buttoning it up carelessly, and in bare feet silently went through to the warmth and light of the small dressing room.

Julian sat at the gilt writing desk by the window adjacent to the blazing fire in the grate of the marble fireplace. He was dressed in an elaborately embroidered silk banyan that gaped at the throat, and wore a pair of silk breeches without stockings. He held back the mop of black curls from his forehead with one hand while his quill moved quickly across a sheet of parchment, totally absorbed in his writing. When the page was filled with his elegant sloping script it was put to one side to be dried with a wash of sand and another sheet of parchment was selected to continue the correspondence.

Standing to one side of the cluttered desk was his valet, Frew, sleepy eyed yet immaculately dressed for such an early morning, his features perfectly blank as he waited patiently to offer assistance with affixing the wax seals to the parchments. A small stack of answered correspondence had been placed on a silver salver by the valet’s left hand and only one letter remained unanswered.