April Kihlstrom (7 page)

If he didn’t quite manage to persuade himself, nonetheless it helped to remember that there was all the reason in the world for Miss Trowley to accept and very little for her to refuse. All the logic in the world, however, did not change the fact that he felt like the veriest schoolboy.

“Miss Trowley, this past week has assured me that my memories of you were not mistaken. You are still the generous, kindhearted person I knew then and you have grown into a beautiful woman, one whom I would very much like to make my wife. I know I have only given us one week to become reacquainted but time is short for me to fulfill the terms of my father’s will. That is not,” he said with a wry smile, “the most romantic of things to say to you, but I will never lie to you. My affections are attached and now I ask if yours are or if you believe they could, in time, be. Miss Trowley, will you marry me?”

That was, he thought, well said. And yet she hesitated!

“Miss Trowley?” he said, hating the quaver in his own voice.

Now she met his eyes. “You will think me a mooncalf,” she said. “I know that you told me you would ask. But I find my thoughts all a whirl.”

He took her hand in his and was pleased to see she did not try to pull it away. “What is causing you to hesitate?” he asked with a gentleness that surprised even himself.

She looked at him, her distress evident in her expression and in her voice. “It is all nonsense. Emotions I cannot even name.” She paused and took a deep breath, “I am worried about my family. How are they to manage without me?”

Surely it was a measure of her trust in him that she could speak so frankly? “You may be at ease, Miss Trowley,” he said gently. “I shall be generous with your family.”

He smiled, waiting for her cry of gratitude and some gesture, perhaps even a kiss, to thank him. His smile vanished when she replied, “Yes, but you don’t understand. My father is likely to gamble it all away.”

“Do you think I did not think of that?” he answered, with the same gentleness as before. “You are his child as well as a woman. You ought not to have to think of these things at all. But you may be sure I made provision that your father could not do as you fear.”

Now, surely, she would look at him adoringly. Now, surely she would smile at him the way she had before. But she didn’t. All she did was to nod and say, with evident relief, “Thank you. I ought to have guessed you would be sensible about this.”

Sensible? She was judging his behavior?

No, he must be mistaken. It was surely the emotion of the situation that was oversetting her. She did not fully grasp the magnanimity of his gesture in providing for her family as he was. Women did not understand matters of the world as men did. Mind you, in her own sphere, Beatrix was most capable, he would grant her that. But it was natural she did not realize just how unusually generous his behavior was. After all, what father discusses potential marriage settlements and what to expect or not expect with his daughter? It must be so for the alternative was unthinkable.

Having soothed his own feelings, Rothwood bent himself to pleasing her. “I am, will always be, happy to be of service to you and to your family,” he said.

She looked at him with frank eyes. “Why?”

Again he was taken aback. “B-because I hope you are going to be my wife. Because I wish to cherish you and make you happy.”

She nodded, then paused and smiled wryly. “I am sorry,” she said. “I am surely giving you a very bad impression of myself. You don’t deserve that. You have been all kindness to me and my family and I am grateful, truly I am. I have just been so worried, you see.”

He pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand. “You don’t need to worry anymore. I am here. Indeed, you needn’t worry about anything, ever again, for I shall do so for you.”

She blinked. She narrowed her eyes. For a moment he thought she was going to take offense, though he could not imagine why. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps she was just seeking the words to thank him properly. When she spoke he knew he was right even if nervousness caused her voice to take on the oddest tone.

“You are very kind. Very generous as well. Indeed, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say that you will marry me. Or, if you have doubts, tell me what they are. Give me a chance to answer them.”

She opened her mouth to answer and closed it again. She looked all at sea. He tried to help. He gentled his voice even more. He smiled the smile he had been told no woman could resist. “I know that my visit came as a surprise,” he said. “I hope it has been a happy one for you. I know this visit has been delightful for me. But now you must choose. If you will not marry me, I have very little time to find another bride and to be honest, I do not wish to do so. I felt a bond with you all those years ago and I feel it even stronger today. I had hoped you might feel the same.”

He paused and enlightenment struck. “You are feeling maidenly reserve. I quite understand. Marriage can seem daunting. It can do so even when two people rub along as well as you and I have this past week. But I assure you that I shall not press you unreasonably in, er, physical ways and I shall do my best to make it pleasurable for you. Let me show you just a taste of what lies ahead.”

Gently he stood and drew her to her feet. He put his arm around her back, tilting her head so that she looked up at him. She did not resist nor did she look as though she knew what he intended. Slowly, so that she would have time to draw back if she wished, he lowered his head and gently brushed his lips over hers.

He half expected her to take to her heels or cry out, but she did not. Instead her hands crept up his chest until they grasped the lapels of his coat, crushing them as she held on and parted her lips in a sigh he did not think she knew she expressed. He kissed her again, this time coaxing her to open wide and she did. Instantly he took advantage, drawing her closer still and dipping his tongue inside to taste the sweetness of her mouth. Even now she did not draw back but rather experimented, matching her tongue to his. Indeed, he was the one who finally drew back, breathing hard and feeling the gratification of knowing she did as well.

As he looked down at her, her eyes slightly dazed, she said, “Oh, my!”

Edmund couldn’t help smiling. It boded well that she was dazed by his kiss. If she enjoyed such things it would make the bond between them all the stronger and the breeding of heirs all that much more agreeable. Feeling quite pleased, he waited for her answer.

* * *

Beatrix stared up at Rothwood, stunned by how she felt, by all that was happening so rapidly. To be sure, none of this should have been a surprise. He had told her why he was here. Indeed, he must think her a total ninny that she did not know her own mind. But no matter what Mama said, it was not a simple matter to decide. What she chose would change her life forever. And his.

She had wanted to, had tried to be herself, these past seven days. But every time she found herself around him, she had become tongue-tied and deferred to his every opinion. How could she agree to marry him when he still didn’t know who she really was?

How could she not marry him when his kiss had the power to shake her to her very core and make her want to wrap herself around him and never let go? And when he offered so much to her family? If she married him, she need never worry about them again.

If she were honest with herself, Beatrix felt as much dazed by Rothwood’s kindness as by the kiss they had shared. She could easily come to depend upon the latter, but it was the way he spoke of taking care of her and thinking of her wishes that swayed her even more. She had never had anyone who put her wishes before his own. Certainly not in her own family!

Here was a man who would protect and cherish her. Here was a man who was the answer to her prayers and perhaps even to the prayers of her family. Here was someone who would never ask her to handle all the challenges of life while he did nothing. Even had she not been seduced by his embrace, she would have been seduced by all the rest of it.

Beatrix took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will gladly marry you.”

He gave a whoop of delight and kissed her again, this time briefly. Then he began to tug her toward the house.

She would make him the best of wives, she vowed to herself as she followed. She would look to his comfort as he looked to hers. She would never give him reason to regret choosing her as his bride. She even, though she blushed to think of it, was beginning to look forward to their wedding night and what else he might have to teach her about the pleasures that could be shared between a man and woman. After all, she never could have guessed that a kiss could all but curl one’s toes. His kiss had been nothing like the one stolen by the butcher’s son one day when he had been delivering mutton. Beatrix had the feeling she was about to discover more delights, both in and out of bed, than she had ever known were possible.

Inside the house, Rothwood informed her parents of their intention to wed. As he did so, he squeezed her hand and smiled so radiantly at Beatrix that it took her breath away.

“I should like us to be married as soon as possible,” Rothwood said to her father.

“The banns can be read starting this Sunday,” her mother said, quite happily.

Rothwood shook his head. “A special license. We can be wed by special license sooner than by having banns read for three weeks in a row.”

Beatrix listened as her future husband and her parents arranged matters between them. She did not question any of it. And why should she? What did she know of how difficult it was to procure a special license? What would it matter anyway if the wedding was in three weeks or one? She had just agreed to give her life over to this man and surely that dwarfed everything else?

She ought to have been panicking but that wasn’t the case. Was it terrible of her to feel such relief and joy rather than regret? It didn’t matter. She could no more change or hide her delight than she could have changed the color of her eyes.

Beatrix had no idea how radiant her own smile was as she looked up at Rothwood and agreed to everything he said.

Chapter 5

It was very convenient having connections all over England to all sorts of people, including in the church. It was merely a matter of one day’s ride on a horse borrowed from Mr. Trowley’s stable to reach the Archbishop of Canterbury, obtain the special license, sit down to a very fine meal and then return to the Trowley household the following day.

Mind you, the Archbishop had not signed the document until after quizzing Rothwood on the marriage. “Precisely why do you wish to marry Miss Trowley and would your father approve?” he asked Edmund.

“I believe my father would approve. But that is neither here nor there for I am the one who must live with whomever I marry,” Rothwood replied. “As for why Miss Trowley? It is a sensible match. My aunt and her mother are bosom bows. Furthermore, she has been raised with a suitable understanding of propriety and she looks up at me adoringly and agrees with all my opinions. In short, she will be precisely the sort of dutiful wife I require.”

The Archbishop quirked a skeptical eyebrow upward at Rothwood’s words, and Rothwood found himself adding, somewhat testily, “I may be young but I am not so foolish as to forget what is due my family name. This is a marriage of practicality, not of sentimentality. Miss Trowley’s circumstances may not be equal to mine, but I assure you her breeding is all that could be desired and meets every requirement my father would have set for any wife I might choose.”

“I see. Well, I wish you luck of it, then,” the Archbishop said. “I knew your father and sadly I must agree with you that he would indeed approve of how you are going about the matter.”

And what the devil did that mean?

Edmund tried to shrug off the Archbishop’s words. Would he have been more approving if he had been told it was a love match? If Edmund had confessed to being drawn to Miss Trowley because of a visit years earlier when he had been a mere boy? Perhaps, but he was dashed if he was going to make a cake of himself by saying so! Instead he turned the conversation to other matters and the Archbishop obliged him by not bringing up the subject again.

The journey back to the Trowley household seemed uneventful. Until, that is, Rothwood stopped to refresh himself at an inn along the way. There he was informed by the ostler that the cinch on his saddle had been cut almost all the way through.

“It’s a miracle, it is, it didn’t break, m’lord.”

“Can it be repaired?”

“No, but I can find another for you straightaway.”

“Please do so. I’ll pay handsomely if you can.”

Edmund gave the man enough to ensure he would find a replacement forthwith. Meanwhile, he retired to the inn to wait and kept a sharp eye out even as he seemed to be focused entirely on the pint of ale set before him.

Someone didn’t want him to marry, which meant the sooner the ceremony occurred, the better. Once he was back in London, he’d find someone to look into the matter of both the damage to his coach and to the cinch. If someone hated him enough to wish to do him harm, he wanted to know who it was. For now, however, his priority must be the wedding.

For the rest of the ride, Rothwood watched to see if anyone seemed to be following him but saw nothing. His thoughts began to stray to the Trowley household and he realized that he was actually anticipating with some relish the exuberant greeting of the Trowley siblings upon his return. Even more, he looked forward to seeing his bride to be. What was it about her company that seemed to make him feel like a boy again? He didn’t know, he only knew he liked it very much.

When he did finally reach the Trowley household, he took Mr. Trowley aside to persuade him that the wedding ought to take place at once. Mr. Trowley was perfectly agreeable to the notion, but the same could not be said for Mrs. Trowley.

“But my dear, you want to see our dear Beatrix wed, don’t you?” Mr. Trowley asked his wife.

Mrs. Trowley looked at Edmund and answered, “Of course I do. And very pleased I am, Lord Rothwood, that she is marrying you. But I will not have such unseemly haste about the matter that everyone begins to say there must be something havey-cavey about the match. We’ll wait at least a week.”

“Two days,” Edmund countered.

“Four.”

“Three.”

Three it was, and during those three days, Edmund snatched moments alone with Miss Trowley, whenever her siblings could be bribed to look the other way or make themselves scarce for a brief while so that he could embrace her again, gratified each time that she so willingly came into his arms and seemed to respond to him as much as he did to her. He forced himself not to take matters beyond kisses, for that would have been a betrayal of the hospitality which was being shown to him. Each time he forced himself to stop, he found himself even more impatient for the wedding to take place.

* * *

Beatrix was unaware of the difficulty Lord Rothwood had restraining himself, she only knew that she looked forward, more and more, to the times they could find sufficient privacy for him to hold and kiss her. She also listened with shining eyes to his talk of his homes, one in London and another in the countryside.

“Imagine,” she told her sister Callista. “To have more than one house seems an incredible luxury. And the staff he employs for each one. Never, as Mama said, to have to scrub a floor again. Never to have to dodge the butcher or tailor or any other tradesman because one does not have the funds to pay one’s bills.”

“And all the dresses you want,” Callista said dreamily. “Not a single one that was made over from Mama’s. Promise you will pass them on to me when you tire of each one!”

“Oh, Callista, am I foolish or vain to think of such things? To delight in imagining more than one good dress? Or to imagine dancing at a ball in something that truly becomes me rather than being fashioned out of cloth chosen solely because it is the cheapest to be had? Is it wanton to dream of never again going hungry to bed or having to forgo my own portion so our younger siblings might eat?”

“Indeed not,” her sister said firmly. “How can it be foolish to wish to be more comfortable than we are here? I assure you I shall think of it when I look for a husband.”

There was a tinge of bitterness to Callista’s voice and impulsively Beatrix clasped her sister’s hands in her own. “I promise,” she said fiercely, “that as soon as I can, I shall bring you to London and sponsor your curtsey to the
ton
. You
will
have the chance I never did to meet eligible gentlemen, lots of them, who can give you the things that
you
desire.”

“You are the best of sisters,” Callista vowed.

Beatrix hoped that she was. She also hoped that she would be able to keep the promise she had just made. Lord Rothwood would have to understand.

“You are so lucky that Lord Rothwood loves you,” Callista said. “I shall look for a husband just like him.”

Beatrix smiled but a part of her wondered that Callista should call it love. Rothwood certainly did not do so. Was she wrong to wish he would? To wish to be sure that was what she felt for him?

But what was love? How would she know it if it ever happened between them? Might it not be what she already felt for the Viscount? And even if it was not, hadn’t Mama and Papa started with less? No one, seeing them together now could ever doubt the depths of their affection for each other. And though he might not speak of
love
, surely Rothwood looked at her with a warmth in his eyes he did not spare for anyone else. Surely the kindness in his words and actions meant far more than any one word, didn’t it?

So it was that Beatrix calmed her fears and allowed herself to believe that all would be well and that her wedding, which was to take place so soon, would be all that she could wish for.

It was only the arrival of Lady Kenrick that gave Beatrix pause.

* * *

Lord Rothwood was not surprised to see his aunt arrive the day after his return from seeing the Archbishop. She was the force of the family, even though he was its nominal head and always seemed to know everything, often before he did. Besides, as Mrs. Trowley’s bosom bow and Miss Trowley’s godmother, she would want to be there for the wedding. Thank heavens none of the rest of his distant family would feel the need to show, even if there was time to alert them to the event. But this was his Aunt Violet and he was in rather good humor as he handed her down from her carriage. After all, had it not been for her bringing him to visit all those years ago, he might never have thought to consider Miss Trowley to be his bride.

“So you’ve done something right,” Lady Kenrick said, smoothing down her skirts. “Where is Beatrix?”

Dutifully he kissed his aunt’s cheek before he answered her. “Inside, with the rest of the family. I only saw your carriage coming down the drive because I was out walking.”

“Alone? You’ve not already been neglecting your bride to be, have you?”

“No, of course not!”

Was he? Or was it simply a natural need for some peace and quiet after the constant chaos of her large family? Once they were on their own, at his estate, there would be no need for such respite. On the other hand, he wouldn’t be expected to dance constant attendance upon her, would he? His father had never done so with his mother.

Something of this must have shown on his face for his aunt patted his arm. “A bit overwhelmed, are you, by the family? Well, no matter. Everyone is, even me, upon occasion. You and Beatrix will be fine once you are away from here.”

“That is what I hope,” Rothwood confided.

The front door opened even as they were walking toward it and the entire Trowley family spilled outside to greet Lady Kenrick. She seemed on a first-name basis with all the offspring and Rothwood found himself wondering just how often she actually came to visit. From the looks of things, far more than he had realized.

It was strange to think that his domineering aunt had all that much in common with this carelessly happy sprawling family, but apparently she did. Perhaps it was the very heedlessness of their nature that his aunt found soothing. Or perhaps she simply liked to boss them around because that was certainly what she was doing now.

“Adrian, bring in my luggage. That’s a good boy. Marianne, you’ll put me in my usual room.”

“Er, Violet, your nephew is staying in that room,” Mrs. Trowley replied.

“He can move in with the boys. Beatrix, see that his things are moved, that’s a good girl.”

“No, Edmund, not a word! I am here for your wedding and therefore you must accommodate me. I am certain I taught you to respect your elders! If you don’t want to share a room with the boys you may remove yourself to the local inn. I’m told it’s quite nice.”

Lady Kenrick went on with a number of other commands before she was finally settled in the most comfortable chair in the drawing room with the entire Trowley family surrounding her and looking as if her behavior was the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps it was to them. But Rothwood was not so amiable or happy to be ordered about. He stood with his back to the empty fireplace and ignored his aunt’s direction that he should sit next to his betrothed. He would do so, but in his own time.

Miss Trowley cast him a wry, apologetic smile and he responded in kind. At least they were in accord when it came to his aunt. He had not forgotten how, when they met after his carriage landed in the ditch, she had mentioned ringing a peal over his aunt’s head on her previous visit. He was rather going to enjoy seeing her put his aunt in her place the next time she visited his home once he was married. For now, he chose not to make a scene even though there was resistance in every line of his body as he watched the farce unfolding before him.

* * *

Heavens, why didn’t Lord Rothwood do something about his aunt, Beatrix wondered with pardonable frustration. After what had happened last time Lady Kenrick visited, she knew it would upset Mama if she tried. But really, what kind of woman walked into someone else’s home and immediately started giving orders with no care or thought for what the preferences might be of the people already living there?

Beatrix found herself imagining her reaction if Lady Kenrick tried to run roughshod over her once she was Lady Rothwood. She would very much enjoy giving her a setdown. If, that is, it would not distress Lord Rothwood. She risked a hasty glance at him and he looked as unhappy as she felt about his aunt’s behavior. Excellent! They could present a united front to the woman.

And then he sat beside her and took her hand. When she looked at him in surprise, he smiled down at her reassuringly, and she felt as if she would melt. It took every ounce of self-control not to lean against him and rest her head on his strong shoulder. She had no idea that she smiled back up at him or that everyone in the room sighed and smiled just watching them. All Beatrix knew was that she felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Harrumph!” Lady Kenrick said loudly. “Enough time for that after the ceremony. I presume it will be in the village church?”

“Yes, yes, day after tomorrow.”

“Not before ten a.m., I hope,” Lady Kenrick said sharply. “I am not so young that I can be up at dawn anymore.”

“No, er, eleven,” Mama said quickly. “And then back here for the wedding breakfast.”

Lady Kenrick turned to Beatrix and Lord Rothwood. “When will you leave and where will you go?”

Beatrix felt herself cringe and Lord Rothwood squeezed her hand in comfort. In his cool, well-bred voice he said lightly, “We shall leave directly after the wedding breakfast and after my bride has taken leave of her family. As to where we will go, I really don’t think you need to know.”

“Need to know? Of course I need to know! That will be the first question on everyone’s lips when I return to London!”

Lord Rothwood smiled. “And think of the fun of telling them you don’t know. It will cause such a sensation.”

That gave Lady Kenrick pause. There was no doubt from her expression that she was considering which would provide her the most satisfaction: to badger her nephew into telling her every detail of his plans or to be able to confound all her acquaintances and keep them guessing. Beatrix had no doubt she would prefer to have both.