A Priceless Gift: A Regency Romance (2 page)

The wedding took place in the village church the subsequent day. Mrs. Prendergast and her two younger daughters had not yet returned from their visit to Ellen’s sister Mary, and Mark’s young sons were at school, ignorant of the family drama. Only the bride’s father and a number of retainers from their two households were present. Lucian had drafted his secretary, John Tennant, as witness.

As he slipped his ring onto Amanda’s finger, he had a last, useless qualm. Amanda was so damnably
young
. What had he done? But if she was too young to wed and bed, she was also far too young to be cast off or given to some mercenary brute who would only abuse her and never let her forget that he had saved her from ignominy. Better his amoral family than that—or was it?

Amanda was pretty enough, with translucent, very fair skin and a sprinkling of freckles on her slightly snub nose. He wondered idly how far they extended on the rest of her body. The new Lady Rackington was of middling height and had soft curves in all the right places. Not that he planned to take advantage of them any time soon. No matter how meek and obedient she acted, those fine grey eyes and her stiff neck shouted defiance. He was glad of it, that her spirit was not irretrievably broken.

If Amanda missed her mother and sisters, she did not say so. After the short ceremony, Lucian handed his new wife up into his barouche while Tennant took her maid and luggage up in the travelling berline. Two valises and a bag—she brought little enough.

“How am I to address you now we are married?” Amanda asked.

“You may use my given name if you like. It is Lucian.” It would take some getting used to, to hear his name from such young lips, but making her free of it might help to overcome the inevitable distance between them.

“Lucian,” she tried the name out like some new food or beverage. “You will call me Amanda, I suppose?”

“Unless you have some objection? I hope we shall become friends when we know each other better. But whatever happens, we are now tied for as long as both of us live.”

“You never said why you did it.” There was suspicion and speculation in her gaze. “You are rich and titled, and handsome for your age.” He managed not to wince at the last sentence. “Why did you not marry earlier?”

“It was not my intention to marry at all. I was going to let the name die out with me. But your father’s description of your plight moved me to intervene, on a whim, you might say.”

Her brows contracted. “You had no idea what I looked like, what kind of person I was when you offered? You did it only for my father’s sake?”

“I have liked and esteemed your father since we played together in our early boyhood, before I was sent off to Eton. But that was not the main reason. When I was younger, I once failed to save a girl in a similarly desperate situation. Her unnecessary death has haunted me ever since.”

“You had forced or seduced her?” Her eyes were big, accusing.

“No, it was someone else—but the details do not matter at this late date.” Since learning what had happened to Amaryllis, he had steered clear of seducing innocents, and he had never forced a woman in his life; there had been no need. So that was what his young bride thought of him, did she?

“I am sorry if my question offended you, but you see, I have little idea of your nature. And gossip is not kind to you.”

More indication that she had spirit. He nodded. “Gossip tends to exaggerate, though there is usually a kernel of truth. I hope we’ll rub along when we know each other better. If not, I have several estates beside the London house. Aristocratic couples often live apart.”

“
Live apart?”

“Not while you are so young and in a delicate condition. I would prefer that it not come to that, but it is not an unusual arrangement.”

“Just what do you want and expect from me, my l-, I mean, Lucian? Do you not want to lie with me?”

“Not particularly.” It was only half true—she was fresh and attractive, like a tart apple plucked straight from the bough, but Amanda would need time to come to terms with her unpleasant introduction to sex. And she was practically an infant still.

“But then,” she sounded nonplussed, “what . . . why . . . don’t men have needs that need to be assuaged? That is what I have always understood.”

“We do, but I have managed to assuage them perfectly well without a wife in the past and can go on doing so. Unless you volunteer?”

She was silent as the carriage turned into his long drive.

“Think what you want to do with your life, now you are a countess. We can discuss it further over dinner.”

“Yes, I need to think—I was not expecting to have any choice over my life, after the vows I took today. I did mean them, though obedience was a hard one to swallow. If I understand you, you feel less strictly bound yourself.” There was a tinge of accusation again.

He shrugged. “We are arriving. All that can wait, Amanda.”

The carriage drew to a stop. As she descended and took his arm, Amanda’s eyes widened at the three dozen servants standing in rows to receive their new mistress. Lucian had to admire how quickly she dealt with the situation, however, and with what aplomb she acknowledged the introductions and good wishes. With a minimum of training, she would make an excellent countess. Never mind that he had never wanted to be saddled with one.

He showed her to the blue suite, hurriedly prepared by his staff since the previous day, and left her to her own maid until dinner at six. In the country he liked to keep early hours, and she would be used to them already.

When Lucian fetched his bride two hours later, she had changed into a modest fawn-coloured evening dress. He could not bring himself to compliment her on it. If that gown was at all typical of her possessions, she would need a new wardrobe right away. He must also get the Rackington jewels from the bank vault once they were in town. They were no good to anyone, mouldering there since his mother’s death twenty-seven years ago. They were rather old-fashioned, of course. Would Amanda like them? No matter; a Countess needed suitable jewels. He would add a few more modern pieces that flattered Amanda’s colouring.

“Your household is very well run,” Amanda said as they tasted the asparagus soup. She swallowed and added, “And your cook is excellent. I look forward to tasting all his creations.”

“I am glad that the unpleasant experiences of the recent past have not affected your appetite. You must keep your strength up.”

A shadow crossed her face at the reminder. “I thought that maybe you wanted the child because you could not get your own.” She looked at him. “From your reaction, I gather that I was wrong? I do not want to offend you, ah, Lucian; I am just trying to get my bearings, to understand you.”

“I have never wanted children, either my own or another man’s.” He took a sip of the light white wine served with the first course. “My plan was to be the last earl of my name, and if your child is a daughter, it may yet turn out to be so.”

“That presupposes we’ll not have any others.”

“Didn’t you tell me yourself that you did not want any child?”

She shook her head impatiently. “Not now, but how am I to know how I’ll feel when I am twenty-five or thirty or forty?”

He contemplated her perfectly reasonable objection. “Let’s jump that hurdle when it arises. What are your emotions right now? You are angry at the world, I imagine, at your mother, at your uncle, and likely also at me.”

Amanda stirred the remaining soup with her spoon, staring down at its yellowish surface. “I am trying to get over that. But it was a lot to cope with so quickly. This time last week I still thought I merely had some passing stomach ailment, and none of this seems quite real. Being here with you, a countess, expecting, having my mother reject me so cruelly.
That
was the worst.”

That she could talk to him of her feelings was encouraging. “I always thought your mother a kind and sensible woman, if a little rigid in her notions of propriety. Was her attitude completely unexpected?”

“It hurt, that she would not believe me, that she would rather consider me a liar than her brother a, a—”

“Rapist,” he supplied harshly. “Villain. Monster. There are more of those about than virtuous, sheltered women like your mother suspect. They even prey on children of both sexes.”

“Children? Boys, too? I don’t see how that would even be possible.”

“It is not a suitable subject for your first dinner in your new home. Forgive me,” he said. “I had been planning to return to London after the weekend. You will need different clothes, suitable to your new position.”

“Not many,” she said ruefully, “if my figure is going to change soon.”

“As many as you want. We are rich, you need not stint. I shall put a notice about the marriage in the
Morning Post
, but I’ll leave the exact wedding date vague. We want people to think it was some weeks ago, if possible.”

“Does it really matter?”

Her lips were rosy in the candlelight. He had to remember that she was forbidden fruit for the time being, and too young. Much too young, even if she sat there with pathetic dignity and clearly had a will and desires of her own. He liked her despite the prickliness. The straight way she looked at him reminded him of Mark, though her colouring and features mostly came from Ellen.

“It will matter to your child if society considers him or her a bastard. Do you really want that? It may affect my friends’ attitude towards
you
as well.”

“I see. You are the expert in what society does and expects. I shall follow your advice.”

“I also need to see my solicitor, to settle a dower on you for when you are a widow. It is likely that you’ll outlive me for quite a few years.”

“Will you be annoyed if I say that I hope so? Childbirth can be dangerous.
You
may become a widower instead.”

The thought was disturbing. Especially that Amanda, so young and bright, might die as a result of her own uncle’s crime. “I shall do all I can to prevent that, but as you say, life is always uncertain.” With proper care, surely odds were better than even that, a year from now, both she and the babe would be alive and well.

“As for the other thing you asked earlier,” from her blush he saw she instantly understood what he meant, “there is no hurry to decide now. We can wait until after the birth of your child before we come to any decision.
Your
decision, rather, for I shall never force you to submit against your will.”

“Yet it is your right, as I understand it.”

“A right I have no interest in exercising if you are going to hate me afterwards. The truth is that, right now, you are too young for me, and I am too old for you.”

“Right now? You think that will change?”

“I shall not get any younger, but you will mature and may look at things differently.”

“I suppose that is possible.” She gnawed her pink lips in deep thought. “But I am not sure I like what you said earlier, about assuaging your needs elsewhere in the meantime. What exactly does that mean? In practice?”

No, Amanda was not the typical mealy-mouthed young girl. A young lady brought up in fashionable society would never put him on the spot like that. At least the servants were outside, fetching the next dishes. This was not a conversation he wanted to share with his staff.

“There are always women who don’t mind sharing their bodies for the pleasure of the act, or sometimes for money and jewels.”

“Whores,” she said derisively.

“Not always—ladies of the highest station, who are tired of their own husbands’ philandering or simply adventurous, as well as expensive courtesans.”

“As I said, whores.” She stared at him as though disappointed.

“You seem shocked. Yet I am, myself, descended from a whore. The first Earl Rackington was a bastard of Charles II, on a woman of decidedly loose morals.”

She blinked. “A whore and a king?”

“It is hardly an unusual combination. Mind, we cannot be entirely sure the first earl was the king’s progeny, given his mother’s many lovers, but she convinced Charles, which is all that matters.”

“And your wealth, where does
that
come from?”

“As you might guess, the king’s favour did not extend much beyond the title and one modest estate. My predecessors have all married money, beginning with the first earl, who wed a wool merchant’s heiress. My mother was the granddaughter of a rich banker.”

“All except you,” Amanda said thoughtfully, her fork suspended in the air for a moment.

“You forget the five thousand pounds your father promised. But I have found investments can be even more lucrative than marrying money.”

She cut her meat, her brow furrowed. “I cannot like the idea of you consorting with some other lady or a who-, um, courtesan, now that we are married.”

He was startled. “My good girl,
everybody
does so, man or woman, married or not.”

She flushed, more with anger than embarrassment, judging by the sparkle in her eyes. “That is not the kind of life I want to lead. Unlike you, I meant the vows I spoke today.”

“Are you saying,” he found it difficult to imagine, “that you are offering to share my bed if I do not have intimate relations with anyone else? And you won’t have affairs?” She was barely eighteen, for heaven’s sake. How could she know what she wanted, what she would be like after a few years in his dissolute set?

“I thought that was what marriage meant, my lord.” Was it significant that she no longer used his given name? “It would seem that I was naïve.”

Lucian stared at her in consternation. Given her upbringing and background, he really should have expected something like that. Had he managed to make her despise him before they had been married for a day?

More importantly, she would be like a babe in the woods when exposed to the kind of society he kept. He should have realised that even if her body had been violated, her mind and spirit still retained an innocence nobody in his family had ever displayed.

This was a lot more complicated than Lucian had expected when he made his impulsive offer for the girl.