The Bridegroom (14 page)

Reggie scooted to the edge of the bed and set her bare feet on the cold wooden deck. She tucked the sheet around her as she rose and moved to the trunk at the foot of the bed to retrieve the underclothes Carlisle had promised would be there. She supposed he must have made arrangements to obtain them, and to have the wedding gown moved onto his ship, while she was under the effects of the laudanum.

Reggie gasped as she lifted two handfuls of frail silk underthings from the trunk. Why, she could see her hand right through them! She searched through the trunk for something more substantial, but to her dismay, found nothing.

Reggie made good use of the pitcher of warm water and washcloth that had also apparently been left for her, patting gently around the bruise on her chin, before she put on the delicately stitched silk chemise and lace-trimmed pantalets. She caught a glimpse of herself in the looking glass and blushed. She was appalled to think that Carlisle would know how little she had on beneath her wedding gown.

Reggie opened the wardrobe and found herself staring at the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. She quickly forgave Carlisle for the flimsy undergarments. She reached out to touch the delicate bodice of the ivory silk gown. The skirt was decorated in lace and pearls in a design that intertwined Scottish thistles and English roses. A note pinned to the dress informed her that she
would find a pair of ivory slippers at the base of the wardrobe and that the contents of the blue velvet box on the dressing table was a wedding gift to her.

As she drew the long-sleeved wedding gown up over her shoulders, adjusted it around her bodice, then struggled to button it, Reggie realized with a sinking feeling that the gown did not fit. Whatever modiste Carlisle had hired to create the marvelous gown had made a terrible mistake. Her breasts fit into the bodice, but a great deal of flesh—everything down to the edge of her nipples—could be seen above the square-cut neck. The gown was simply cut too low for decency.

Reggie groaned in disappointment. She did not want to take off the gown, but she did not see how she could wear it. She crossed to the trunk to see if there might be something else more appropriate. To her surprise, she actually found several more silk dresses. But when she held them up to her frame, she saw that—although each had a different neckline—every single one was cut as low as the one she had on. Reggie wondered, for the first time, whether the gown had actually been made for her. Perhaps it had been made for another woman. Perhaps it had been worn by Carlisle’s first wife.

Or perhaps the London modiste he had hired had merely gotten the wrong measurements from her own modiste. Reggie stared at herself in the mirror. It was such a lovely gown. Except for the neckline. She looked for something to cover up the exposed flesh, but could not even find a scarf to serve as a substitute fichu.

Then she spied the net wedding veil hanging from the corner of the wardrobe. Reggie grabbed the veil and
carefully separated the net from the rose-trimmed band. She then wrapped the net around her shoulders, crisscrossed it over her bosom and tucked it snugly into the bodice. She hurried to the looking glass to judge her efforts and gazed at herself in delight.

Barring the faint bruise on her chin, she looked lovely. Or would, as soon as she repaired her hairdo, which looked as though it had been through a storm at sea. Reggie used what pins she found in the tangles to gather her long black hair up onto her crown. A few curls dangled at her brow and temples and at her nape, but that could not be helped.

When Reggie finally opened the blue velvet box, she found a string of matched pearls and a pair of pendant pearl earrings. She put one of the earrings on but was startled into dropping the other by a knock on the door and Carlisle’s, “Reggie? The reverend has arrived. Are you ready?”

“Come in, Clay,” she called as she stooped to pick up the second earring and attached it to her ear.

When the earl stepped inside, her jaw dropped in surprise. Carlisle had changed his clothes for the wedding. He was dressed in a black tailcoat, tight-fitting black breeches with white stockings, and black patent leather shoes. He had made an attempt to tame his unruly hair, but a lock of it fell stubbornly onto his forehead.

Reggie had never seen a more strikingly handsome man, and she wished that she was being married in a church with all of her friends present, so that they might see him. She held out the pearl necklace, and he crossed and took it from her. She turned to observe the pair of
them in the looking glass as he clasped it around her neck.

“I’m afraid my hair is still a wild tangle—”

He brushed aside a dark curl at her nape and pressed his lips against her flesh. “It’s beautiful and untamed, like you.” He met her gaze in the looking glass and said, “You look beautiful to me, Reggie. And very desirable.”

“I am barely a match for you, my lord,” she said, letting him see her admiration.

He turned her in his arms and ran a finger along the edge of the bodice, where the net had been tucked in as a substitute fichu. “What is this?”

“The gown did not … I mean … It is lovely, but—”

“No matter,” he said, giving her a quick kiss.

But their lips clung, and Reggie found herself leaning into Carlisle’s body as his arms closed around her, pressing their hips together, revealing the hard evidence of his arousal. Reggie’s heart was thundering in her breast with fear and excitement. She moaned deep in her throat as Carlisle tugged on her lower lip with his teeth and sucked it gently into his mouth.

“Clay,” a gruff voice called through the door. “The reverend is waiting.”

Carlisle reached up and eased her hands from around his neck—how had they gotten there?—and held them in his own. “Come, my dear. It is time to become husband and wife.”

She allowed him to lead her from the cabin, but
stopped abruptly in the companionway when she saw the giant waiting there.

“This is my friend, Pegg,” Carlisle said. “He’s first mate on the
Sea Witch
.”

Pegg nodded his head. “Pleased to meet ye, lass.”

Reggie made herself smile at the intimidatingly large man, whose black eye-patch and peg leg and golden earring made him seem quite foreign. “Hello, Pegg. I hope you will be my friend, too.”

Pegg eyed the earl askance before he said, “Maybe. Could be. We’ll see.”

She had no time to puzzle out the meaning of his words because Carlisle was urging her up the steps to the upper deck.

“Come, my dear. The reverend is waiting.”

When Reggie saw the reverend waiting all alone on the quarterdeck, she was more aware than ever of the lack of any friendly faces to support her. “I wish Mick and Becky were here,” she murmured.

“I have had a message delivered to Penrith’s town house informing your sister that we have been married by special license, and that we will be honeymooning at Castle Carlisle, my estate in Scotland.”

“Maybe we could tell them ourselves tomorrow,” Reggie suggested.

Carlisle shook his head. “The
Sea Witch
sails on the morning tide.”

She looked around forlornly. The only witnesses to their marriage would be the giant with the peg leg, a few sailors who lingered on deck, and the reverend who married them.

Carlisle lifted her chin. “It will be better this way, my dear. It will give everyone time to accustom themselves to the fact that you are my wife.”

The voice of reason inside Reggie’s head was shouting, “Stop! Wait!” But sometime in the past half hour she had laid her heart in Carlisle’s hands. If she fled now, she would be leaving without it.

“Very well, my lord,” she said, turning to face the reverend. “Let us be wed.”

Reggie had never before realized how short the actual ceremony of marriage was without the other public rituals that went along with it. It had taken an hour to seat all the guests for Becky’s wedding at St. Paul’s, and stirring musical themes by Bach and Beethoven had been played on the organ to entertain them during the wait.

Becky’s walk down the aisle on Papa’s arm had taken only a matter of minutes, but she had been preceded by the Duke of Braddock’s two youngest daughters, Constance and Penelope. The three- and four-year-olds had the duty of scattering flower petals before the bride, a tradition apparently established at Uncle Marcus’s wedding. It had taken far longer than a few minutes and brought indulgent and delighted smiles to the faces of all in the congregation.

Instead of beautiful music and the scent of flower petals, she had only the eerie creak of the ship and the smell of rotting refuse near the docks.

“Do you, Clayton Giles Bannister, take this woman, Regina Allison Wharton, to be your lawful wedded wife,
forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” the reverend intoned.

“I do.”

“Do you, Regina Allison Wharton, take Clayton Giles Bannister to be your lawful wedded husband, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live.”

“I do.”

“Have you any rings?” the reverend asked.

Reggie shook her head, realizing it would be one more thing that was missing at her wedding besides her family and her friends and scattered flowers.

“I have them,” Carlisle said.

To Reggie’s surprise, he handed the reverend two rings. One was a plain gold band. The other was inset with a large stone.

“Is that a diamond?” Reggie asked.

“The stone has been in my family for generations,” Carlisle said. “The ring is worn by all Carlisle brides.”

Which meant it had been worn by the wife who had died, Reggie realized. She wondered what memories it conjured of his previous marriage. Judging by his grim expression, none of them was pleasant.

The reverend handed Carlisle the ring with the stone and instructed him to put it on the fourth finger of her left hand. Carlisle’s eyes looked fierce and frightening as he repeated the words spoken by the reverend.

“With this ring I thee wed. With my body I thee worship. And with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.”

“Amen,” Reggie croaked. Sometime during the words, her throat had swollen closed. But she was given
no respite. The reverend handed her the plain band and instructed her to put it on Carlisle’s finger. She had no recollection whatsoever of what she said, only of Carlisle’s fierce dark eyes and his mouth as he said “Amen.”

“Inasmuch as this man and this woman have pledged themselves to each other with the giving and receiving of rings, before God and these witnesses—” The reverend paused and said, “My lord, there is only one witness.”

“There are sailors on deck,” Carlisle said.

“Yes, my lord, but ordinarily—”

“Continue,” Carlisle ordered.

“Very well, my lord. Where was I?”

“Before God and these witnesses,” Carlisle provided.

“Before God and these witnesses,” the reverend repeated, “I hereby declare you to be man and wife. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.”

“Amen,” Reggie and Carlisle said together.

Carlisle was leaning down to kiss her when the reverend added, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”

She felt Carlisle’s hands tighten briefly on her shoulders before she felt his lips on her own. When he lifted his head, she searched his face, wondering if he had been as moved by the simple ceremony as she had been.

What she saw on his face alarmed her. Not joy. Not peace or pleasure. Only grim satisfaction.

“It is done,” he said. “You are mine.”

Reggie shivered as a chill ran down her spine. That stark statement of possession should have made her feel loved. Instead, she felt like a piece of chattel. She
touched the cold metal ring that bound them together for life.

Dear God. What had she done?

Reggie lifted her chin and stared into her husband’s eyes. “Yes, my lord, it is done. But there is no longer a
yours
or
mine
, there is only what is
ours
. Now and forever, we are one.”

Carlisle looked shocked at her outburst. But Pegg threw back his head and roared with laughter.

The bridegroom intended to stay on deck with his bride no longer than it took to be congratulated by the reverend. “Give every man a ration of rum,” Clay said to Pegg. “And make sure we’re not disturbed.”

He laid his fingertips on Reggie’s back to urge her toward the steps that led belowdecks. She looked up at him with a smile that made his breath catch in his chest.

“I would have liked to dance with you,” she said wistfully.

“Ye can have your wish, lassie,” Pegg said. “If ye dinna mind me playin’ the tune.”

Clay shot Pegg an aggrieved look, but the older man retrieved a hand organ from one of the other sailors, took a seat on an upturned barrel, and began to play a waltz.

Reggie laughed delightedly and turned to face Clay. “I had no idea a shipboard wedding could be so romantic. We have the stars and the moon above us and music as beautiful as anything I have ever heard in church.”

Romancing his wife had not been Clay’s intention, but he saw no reason to rob Reggie of whatever joy she might take in these few moments before he broached her. There would be little enough joy in her life from now on, if he had his way.