An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts Book 2) (12 page)

“Thank you, Captain. If I can be of any help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

The man returned to his counter and almost immediately started accepting items from Audrey and Evelyn. His sisters wasted no time in collecting gifts for Matilda, and he hoped they chose well because she deserved the best money could buy. Matilda would need many things if she was to present herself anything like his sisters were accustomed to. He wanted her to feel part of his life for the little time they were known as a couple. Hopefully she might find some enjoyment in their ruse too.

He considered Matilda and what she might like to receive from him. The comforts of home was what she needed most, but perhaps he should give her something more personal, as thanks for her care. She had lost a great deal of sleep watching over him. Not to mention the inconvenience of their temporary marriage. She
had
come to his rescue and saved him from an awkward meeting with Miss Chudleigh. That deserved silk to go with the gold wedding band he would place on her finger in the next few days.

“Actually, there is something,” he called out to Cabot. “I am in need of silk undergarments.”

His voice carried, shockingly loud in the room. He cursed everyone that turned to stare at him. Cabot bit his lip, and several patrons snickered at his request.

“For a gift,” he clarified, rolling his eyes. Dear God, London hadn’t changed while he’d been gone to sea. “I am married.”

Cabot hurried over, full of congratulations for his happy news, and ushered William to a corner of the shop he’d yet to explore. Folded carefully on the table was an array of delicate garments. Cabot pointed to each pile. “Nightgown. Chemise.”

Stockings.
His hands itched to touch the delicate items. He yearned to glimpse them upon Matilda’s legs. To place them upon her limbs himself just before he disciplined her again. He swallowed the urge to reach out and snatch them up. “Two.”

“Of what, Captain?”

“Everything.”

“Of course.” Cabot made a small pile between them of frothy white silk. “Garter ribbons too?”

“Yes,” he whispered. He knew the perfect color. Something bold. Something unexpected, as a reminder of the past that drew them together. “Red.”

Eight

T
he marriage by special license was expediently arranged, and the rushed event occurred four days after Captain Ford proposed. Thirty minutes and a great deal of embarrassment after that, Matilda Winslow became the legal wife of Captain William Ford and a woman with responsibilities. A wife with a house to manage and vast wealth in her future.

Without ever being courted.

Never even receiving a single flower as proof of any affection.

She was married before the Duke of Rutherford, Captain Ford’s sisters, a close friend of William’s—Mr. Percy Cobb of Vere Street—and surprisingly, Mr. Dawson was asked to attend and give her away.

Congratulations were subdued, but Matilda tried her best to appear merry despite the unexpected nuptials. She had to convince everyone that she was happy for however long they remained a pair.

Captain Ford expected her to keep to their bargain and be in love with him, so she did her best to seem so. A baffling undertaking. She was utterly terrified of disappointing him and of ruining her new gown, a bronze sheath of silk and fine lace that fitted her curves so perfectly she’d not been able to hide her astonishment at how good she looked in it.

Yet for all the good will and gifts that had come her way, Matilda could not remember a time she had ever felt so uncomfortable. She had no one she could confide in that would not think she was strange to be having doubts about the marriage after the fact.

Captain Ford’s three sisters had been giddy with excitement all day, having delivered the dress at dawn and remaining to help her bathe with scented soaps and oil her skin, then assisted her to dress an hour too early in readiness for the ceremony. She had never felt so beautiful or cared for, but the idea of putting a foot wrong horrified her. Even her stockings and red ribbon garters on her legs made her feel elegant and strangely on edge.

“I am glad that is done and out of the way,” William murmured as he delayed by her chair. He slipped his hand over her collarbone, a light caress that almost tickled. Her new husband had been quiet all day, watching her closely for her reactions as he’d placed his ring upon her finger. She fiddled with the gold band as he lingered, teasing her skin with a surprisingly gentle caress from such a grim man. “Now it is not a pretense at all, Mrs. Ford, my dear and beloved wife.”

He’d called her beloved?
Matilda stared at him for half a beat. Surely he could not mean it. The last thing she’d ever expected was to marry a man so distinguished and for him to be happy about the circumstances. Becoming William Ford’s wife was utterly beyond her ambitions. They had nothing in common and never would. No one was ever going to believe them in love. Getting used to her new address and elevation would take a great deal of time. Becoming accustomed to his endearments, even pretend ones, might take the rest of her life.

“So it is final.”

A brief smile flickered over his lips. “Are you comfortable there?”

“Yes, Captain.” But it was a lie. Sitting in this room, at the captain’s side, didn’t feel proper. Any moment she expected Mrs. Young to drag her back to the servants’ quarters and give her greasy pans to scrub as penance for her presumption in returning his smiles.

His brow creased as he took a place beside her. “William would be preferred among family and friends.”

“Yes, William.” She almost choked saying his first name and blushed yet again. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d done that since his scandalous proposal.

Footmen came and set out course after course of an elegant dinner to celebrate their marriage. Each frowned at her a little before shaking their heads in consternation and moving on to the next guest as if they could not believe she was to be waited on. She shuddered to think of what was being said of her downstairs.

Lobster soup and quail eggs, syllabub followed by meringue tarts—it all looked so delicious her mouth watered with each course. So much had been prepared that she was embarrassed to be the cause of such effort in the kitchens. After two hours of eating and smiling, Matilda was exhausted. Mrs. Cowley would have been run off her feet to have done all this at such short notice. Matilda felt she must eat every morsel placed before her so she could thank her for the effort later.

From time to time, William glanced her way and smiled but was soon drawn back to the duke’s rather more important conversation about society goings-on and politics. The food was excellent, far better than she’d ever had in the servants’ hall, so she did not long for any attention.

Matilda was already so far out of her depth her heart fluttered in panic every time William looked her way. She glanced toward the three young women chattering as if such a marriage was commonplace, a wanted event. She knew each girl well in a strange fashion.

Victoria, the eldest sister, liked to breakfast in bed, Audrey, the middle girl, charged out of her room very early and jumped about in the stable block, exercising—she claimed—to maintain her figure. Evelyn was the tardiest riser, but could often be found with a book in her hand instead of eating from the tray she’d requested be brought to her room. She had been waiting on them for three years but had never presumed them friends.

Despite their knowledge of her background, they had accepted her with surprising kindness so far, seemingly unperturbed by the early lie, though she was often overwhelmed at times by their conversation and plans for the future. It seemed her husband’s family did a great many things together through the year. Picnics and holidays and grand balls. She was very glad the girls were not staying in William’s home at present but lodging with the Duke of Rutherford until the matter of her and William’s marriage was settled. It gave her time to grow accustomed to the idea of future travel and going out so much on William’s arm.

“We are so very pleased to have you as part of the family,” Evelyn gushed as William leaned away. “It was the coin over his heart that made my wish come true.”

“Your wish?”

Evelyn’s smile was very wide. “To have William fall madly in love before he died.”

His sisters all nodded enthusiastically.

“I see,” Matilda said slowly although she tried not to wince. Receiving William’s love was sure to be a memorable moment for some woman in the future. He wasn’t in love today, and neither was Matilda in love with him. Everyone knew that. But Matilda nursed a private heartbreak. She was distraught over Harry Lloyd’s death. However, she couldn’t let this girl continue her delusions because she might be hurt if she should try to capture a man’s attentions that way. She might become embarrassed when the plan failed to procure the fellow’s love. “I never actually placed those coins on his chest.”

“Oh, I know that.” Evelyn sipped her watered wine slowly. “However, since William mentioned the treatment as being blatantly false a few days ago, you must have found time to discuss it with him. I am glad to have been the impetus for your growing attachment.”

“That wasn’t the moment,” Matilda muttered under her breath. Thankfully none of the Ford sisters heard. Fear had been the cause of this marriage—William’s of Miss Chudleigh’s infatuation, Matilda’s of being destitute.

Evelyn leaned close. “My brother has always been particularly reserved and unromantic, which irks my sisters and I greatly. We once feared he would never marry. He hardly speaks to anyone we like. With him being away at war so long, hardly ever at home, it has been so difficult for him to form close connections beyond men.”

Matilda nodded slowly, seeing his sister’s point easily. William was not exactly the warmest man, and his callers had been few and far between in the past months.

“We did fear he’d never marry,” Evelyn whispered, “until you came along and turned his head.”

Matilda blushed with embarrassment. William’s youngest sister was an utterly baffling creature. She really believed they loved each other and that they had a future, despite knowing the truth of their financial arrangement. Evelyn alluded to that future often, but forever couldn’t be further from William’s plans. Matilda had spent the better part of the past three days weeping over Harry Lloyd’s death. What William had done during that time—she had learned he’d gone out at most nights—was his own business, and she had no right to ask where he’d gone and who he’d met with.

Matilda cast a discreet glance at her new husband. His scar was a stark reminder of the scope of their limited history. William was talking with his grandfather, but there was tenseness about his posture that concerned her. During his illness, when he couldn’t speak of his needs, she’d developed a sense of his moods by the way he’d held himself. He wasn’t happy. Whether that was with his grandfather, their marriage, or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure.

William glanced her way when the last course was cleared away. “Perhaps you and my sisters would like to take tea in the parlor.”

“Oh, of course.” She should not have needed the reminder, but she was grateful for the nudge. She had three books on etiquette on her bedside table, but memorizing all the social rules of proper society in four days was proving a challenging undertaking. “Ladies, shall we adjourn?”

“Actually, we feel we should be going,” the eldest sister said as she stood.

Victoria came around the table, caught up Matilda’s hands, and kissed her cheek. “The newly married do not need a trio of little sisters lurking around and spoiling a perfectly romantic evening, do they? Good night, dear sister.”

Matilda’s breath caught at the remark, caught her off guard by a truth she’d not considered. She had not only a husband, but had received sisters too through this marriage. A week ago she’d been hoping simply to keep her position. It was disconcerting how quickly her life had changed. “Good evening, Miss Ford.”

“Victoria, please,” she insisted. “We are family now.”

The other pair hugged her tightly with a few whispered words of congratulations and promises to visit and then hurried the duke out of the town house. He might have grumbled a little at their haste to depart, but they made a happy group as they left.

Matilda experienced a moment of longing that her father could have witnessed her wedding today. He would not have cared for the terms of her marriage, certainly not their intention to separate later, but she thought he would be happy she was no longer in service.

“I will be on my way too,” Mr. Cobb said. “You definitely do not want a bachelor like me underfoot on this most important of evenings.”

Matilda blushed furiously but still managed to meet his gaze. “I look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Cobb.”

“Thank you for coming.” William clapped his friend on the shoulder and walked him to the door, talking quietly. When William returned, he was smiling. “Wife.”

Matilda dipped a curtsy. “Husband.”

He drew closer, eyes lingering on her bustline. It was lower than she’d worn before, but not indecent enough to account for his interest. Still, she struggled with a blush. This man had the right to look all he wanted.

For that matter so did she.

Captain Ford looked very handsome. He had dispensed with his naval uniform today in favor of a new chocolate-brown coat, cream waistcoat, and fawn trousers, reflecting his usual reserve. But there was an air of prosperity about him that had been absent before—a signet ring he’d not worn before today graced his left hand, a heavy silver chain attached to a pocket watch hung across his waistcoat, and an amber pin that matched the lightest part of his eyes was threaded through his cravat. The color matched her gown perfectly too.