Emily Hendrickson (23 page)

Hours,
she had said.
Today,
he knew, after a glance at the longcase clock in the entry hall. He slowly made his way down the stairs from the drawing room to the front door after nudging his father into making his adieus. Candles were being snuffed, oil lamps put out, and servants preparing for the night.

“It will not be long now, my boy. I cannot deny it pleases me to see you settled with such a modest girl, who comes not only from a fine family but with a fine fortune as well. I must confess, you surprised me,” the elder St. Aubyn declared. “I had heard of your attention to Mrs. Hadlow and feared she might dig her claws into you. Instead you produce a wonder.”

“Who also happens to be Mrs. Hadlow’s niece,” Julian added quietly with a look at his father.

“Oh, ho!” St. Aubyn senior said in bemusement.

And, Julian added to himself, I will have a wife who cannot wait to be rid of me.

Chapter 13

Lord Twisdale thought he might be forgiven if his smile was a trifle smug. Oh, what exquisite retribution for the young woman who had rejected him to be forced to wed a man who must detest her in every way. Although, Twisdale admitted, she looked rather well today. Couldn’t put his finger on it, but she seemed to have acquired a sort of glow about her. Most likely the light in the church. He shifted about to see a trifle better and noted the bored expression on St. Aubyn’s face. The man appeared ready to bolt.

Well, she deserved a fellow like St. Aubyn, one who’d go haring off after another woman as soon as the ink was dry on the church register. Little to detain the scoundrel at the side of that dab of a girl who had the nerve to draw a man of his own stature as a serpent.

A twinge of unease flickered through him at the notion that some protective parent might snoop around his past. Then he dismissed the thought as stupid.

Oh, no. Lady Chloe would receive precisely what she deserved. But, Twisdale admitted ruefully, he would have liked the taming of the girl. He would have relished subduing that spirit that had dared to ridicule Society with those wicked sketches.

However, and his gaze shifted to the sparkling girl dressed in pale pink who stood attendant to Lady Chloe, the little friend showed possibilities. Lucky for him that his title, wealth, and those convenient country homes could most likely win him what he wanted. Anne, that worthless girl he had married, had been weak and foolish. Laura Spayne looked to be a spirited survivor, and that seemed most promising. He found a woman of spirit intriguing.

Elinor Hadlow glanced at the man on the other side of the church and shivered at the evil smile that had settled on his face. Twisdale, the old bore, must be giving rein to some particularly nasty thoughts at the moment.

Well, she had a few of her own. Her hands clenched as she considered how her carefully laid plans had gone awry. Who would have thought that St. Aubyn would have been caught in the trap she set for Lady Chloe and that idiot Sir Augustus! Fury swept through Elinor when she considered that Chloe would be wearing the St. Aubyn jewels, gracing the St. Aubyn tables, and worst of all, sharing St. Aubyn’s bed.

He looked far too handsome in those biscuit breeches, white hose that clung to well-formed legs, and the deep gray coat that needed no padding to appear impressive. His only touch of color was a rich gold waistcoat from which hung a single fob of discreet dull gold. He would be utterly wasted on her niece, poor innocent.

Well, Elinor soothed herself, it would not be long before Julian would deposit that young thing at one of his estates in the country and return to more mature pleasures in the city. Although, she decided, it would not be to her.

She must consider her future. Glancing about the church, she contemplated the potential of a half dozen of Julian’s cronies. There were one or two who looked to be promising. She must begin immediately. Her looking glass was reflecting more wrinkles every week, it seemed.

Julian stood uneasily before the altar, assuming a bland expression. He had thought he would be sleepy, given the late hour he went to bed. He was wide awake, and fully aware of the fraud he was perpetrating with the pretty girl at his side. Fraud! What would she say and do when he finally had the nerve to tell her the truth?

Chloe shifted nervously while repeating her vows. She had not expected to feel so guilty about this at all. Repeating her names—minus the one—had seemed a simple ruse when she fast thought about it. Now there were grave undertones. She was declaring before God and the assembled people—particularly her grandmother—her vow to remain with this man for the rest of her life. And she had not the least intention of keeping that vow.

How wicked she was. Yet, in spite of her love for Julian, she could not tie him to her when it was all a ghastly mistake, a vicious scheme gone awry. She vividly recalled his denouncement of Aunt Elinor, how he would do anything to avoid falling into her trap. He had not figured on the supreme escape—marrying someone else.

Merely standing at his side made her weak with longing. How would she survive weeks—months—close to him? She had to plan something. Perhaps the investigation of the murder would serve as the needed diversion. She could only hope so.

Julian repeated his vows with a strong desire that both he and Chloe meant their pledge. That is to say, he did, but he knew the dear girl at his side was contemplating just how long it could be before she instigated the annulment. Did she have someone else in mind? He considered all the chaps he knew who had dangled after her and could only think of Theo.

Could it be Theo? He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of his groomsman. No way to tell, unfortunately. But he would keep a sharp eye on any and all who sought her side. He needed time—time to convince her that his love was genuine and that life with him would not be so very bad.

And then the ceremony was over and done. They left the altar to enter the chamber where the church register was kept. Julian signed his name with a flourish and then studied her signature. Lady Chloe Elizabeth Susan Harriet Maitland. Was that the same group of names that had been announced during the reading of the banns? It would be ironic if she omitted the wrong name this time.

The bishop beamed a fatherly smile at them and said, “Julian St. Aubyn and Lady Chloe St. Aubyn, I wish you many years of wedded happiness. May you be blessed with children to cheer your old age.”

Chloe swallowed carefully at the mention of children. She had avoided that topic in all conversations with her grandmother, figuring that it was quite pointless. Now, darting a sideways look at a very virile Julian, she was wondering if she would have been well to ask a few trenchant questions. Silly, she rebuked herself. He no doubt is panting at the thought of leaving me in the country and returning to the pleasures of the city.

So, she placed her prettily gloved hand trustingly on his arm and together they left the vestry where the church register was kept. Her lie—the incomplete signature and her knowledge that the banns had been incorrectly called—left behind them. The deed had been done.

The Dowager Lady Dancy grimly noted the angelic expression on her granddaughter’s face and wondered. Well, her mind was at ease. She had accomplished what her daughter wished—namely that a fine husband be found for Chloe so that when Isobel and her new husband returned from their honeymoon there would be nothing to mar their peace and comfort. Silly woman. Isobel could have had much pleasure from seeing her only daughter married and happily settled.

As to happy, the dowager amended her thoughts slightly. One never knew with a scoundrel like St. Aubyn. It might be heaven and it might be the opposite. For Chloe’s sake, she hoped it would be tolerable.

Chloe and Julian exited the church into the morning sunshine, smiling at the cluster of women and children who lurked about the porch and steps. Some of the children threw flower petals at Chloe while she waited to enter the carriage and she flashed an amused look up at Julian.

Her husband.

There was no turning back now. Keeping a cool head might not be easy, but it was imperative for the success of their plan.

They both settled onto the cushions, as wary as a pair of strange dogs in new territory. Julian rubbed his hands together, then studied Chloe. He began his strategy, one planned with the carefulness of a general.

He fussed about her, tucking a pillow behind her, seeing that she was comfortable, all the while touching her here and there and taking notice that it seemed to fluster her greatly. “Our kiss at the church was most proper, would you not agree?”

Aware that if he had kissed her as he had other times all her resolve would have washed down the drain, Chloe gave him a hesitant smile. “Indeed, it is a private matter, and ought not be done while in public.”

Since this is what Julian had expected she might say, he repressed a smile, then swiftly and very smoothly drew her into his arms. In short order he expertly kissed his bride to his own satisfaction—and he hoped hers. When he drew back, he looked down at her bemused expression and felt he had achieved a measure of success. His first step in correcting matters as they stood.

“Goodness, my bonnet,” she squeaked in a breathless little voice.

He adjusted her dainty little head covering, noting the touch of blue ribbon under the brim. “Something blue?”

“Laura brought it for me to use. She is very sentimental.”

“Seems a shame that Twisdale has his eye on her.”

As the carriage drew up before the Dancy house, Chloe placed a hand on Julian’s arm, a frown creasing her brow. “We must not allow this. Once we are in the country we will hunt for clues—although if he poisoned her it may be impossible to discover the truth of her death.”

“Later, my dear. For now we must portray the happy bride and groom.”

Chloe nodded and accepted his hand after he had climbed down from the carriage. When he tucked her little hand close to his body, she wished she might bolt and run off, or perhaps merely be brave enough to walk on her own, without his assistance over the cobbles.

Lady Dancy had surprised both Chloe and Julian by offering to provide a reception for the invited guests. Scroggins stood by the door, his sour-lemon face for once looking halfway agreeable as he ushered in the bride the groom, then those who followed.

Laura and Theo entered immediately after Chloe and Julian and looked to be in complete charity with each other. Lady Dancy chatted with the senior St. Aubyn, quizzing him about the condition of the country estate where Chloe and St. Aubyn would retreat for their honeymoon.

“Honeymoon! Such a ridiculous term,” she declared while casting a skeptical gaze on the pair in question.

“A time of tenderness and adjustment to one another, or so I thought,” the elder St. Aubyn said. “You have doubts?”

“Actually they may do well enough together, if they can overcome the first few hurdles.” She exchanged a look full of meaning with the gentleman, leaving him slightly perplexed. When she sailed off to tend to a newly arrived guest his curiosity was left unsatisfied.

Since it was an early morning wedding, the reception did not last much past noon. Before she knew it Chloe found it was time to change into her traveling dress. Laura came up to assist her, although Ellen did the actual work. Laura was more inclined to chatter.

Once dressed, Chloe turned to her friend, “Do I look well enough? I am such a plain little thing. I do not know how St. Aubyn will adjust to me on his arm when he has had my gorgeous aunt there.”

“Does it bother you to know that he was so close to your aunt?” Laura said with a delicate hesitancy. Had the girls not been such very dear friends, the words would not have been spoken at all.

Chloe fixed her gaze on her gloved hands, fidgeting with the reticule she had picked up at the very last. “Of course it does. I cannot help but wonder if he compares me to her when he looks at me. My kiss cannot be as practiced as hers, nor do I have her skills—whatever they might be. However, she proved unacceptable, so much so that he turned to me in many ways before that disastrous confrontation in the Seftons’ library. If I do not do anything stupid, we may rub along together tolerably well for the time required.”

“I do not envy you, dear Chloe, and I so wanted to,” Laura said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Well, perhaps I will be cheering at your wedding one of these days,” Chloe replied with a heartiness obviously not felt.

“Indeed,” Laura said with a watery chuckle. “But know this, my best of all friends, there is nothing about you that is plain. I must say, you look quite delicious in that dark green with the pale blue trim. What an interesting combination of colors and such a dashing design. I vow, Madame Clotilde is worth every penny you pay her.”

With that happy thought, Chloe lightly walked down the stairs to greet Julian, who waited with more patience than she would have expected.

The ride from London and out through the country was tension-filled. Chloe kept wondering if Julian was again going to kiss her, or touch her as he had before the reception. When he did not do either, she wondered what had happened to change him.

Julian was all courtesy to her when they came to halt for the night at a comfortable-looking inn on the road north. He helped her from the traveling coach and into the inn, where they were given the best of rooms to be had, or so the landlord proclaimed.

They mounted the stairs together. Chloe wondered what would follow and little fears began to dance through her mind.

While there had been nothing said about consummating the marriage—for it was her understanding that it made no difference whether consummation (how frightening that sounded) occurred or not when it came to the annulment, which seemed quite odd to her—he had not indicated he intended to proceed with it. Whatever
it
involved. Chloe had not the least notion of married life, for her papa had died so very long ago and her mama had showed no interest in another man until the earl came along.

Chloe was indeed a green girl.