Forbidden (20 page)

Lord Middlethorpe leapt down, eyes intent, and came over to her.

"You look as you did when first I met you," he said soberly. "Frightened."

She could not deny it.

They stood for a moment, silence pressing in, then he said, "I'll walk with you back to the cottage." He waved his groom to drive the curricle ahead, and extended his arm.

Serena had no choice but to place her hand upon it.

They strolled along in unnatural silence. Serena was perfectly aware of a number of eyes upon them and a number of correct assumptions being made. She saw, too, how the women looked at her companion.

Appreciatively.

She found herself wishing that he were shy, pudgy, and awkward. It made her feel guilty to know that she had trapped such a prize.

At last he spoke, sounding a little strained. "I stopped at the vicarage. Reverend Downs will be ready to perform the service in half an hour."

Serena wanted to say,
It's all right. We don't have to do this. I've thought of an alternative.

But she hadn't.

"What will happen afterward?" she managed to ask.

She had never thought of Lord Middlethorpe as particularly large before, but in his caped greatcoat and high beaver he seemed massive beside her. She felt fragile and vulnerable.

"A meal, I suppose. Then we will go to Thorpe Priory. It is only twenty miles and we should be able to make it before dark. Unlike our previous journeys, the weather is fine and the roads in excellent condition."

Serena's heart thumped. She was to be pitch-forked into his home today? "Arabella intends to come with us," she said.

"I'm supposed to fit four and baggage into my rig?" His voice was sharp with irritation, and she flinched.

"I don't know, my lord. I, at least, have very little baggage."

They covered the rest of the walk in silence.

When they arrived at the cottage, however, Lord Middlethorpe gave his groom instructions to ride into Marlborough and hire a traveling carriage for a journey to London.

"London?" Serena asked. "But, my lord..."

"London," he said shortly. "I'm sure you have purchases to make, and it would hardly be fair to you or my mother to break the news by turning up unannounced. I will write and forewarn her."

Then Arabella appeared and plans were made. She approved of the trip to London and reasserted her intention to accompany them. She gave orders to her housekeeper to prepare a substantial meal, then set out with them for St. Martin's church.

To Serena, it all seemed dreamlike and impossible. She could not really be about to marry a man she had spent less than a day with.

But she was, and she had to.

As they approached St. Martin's church, Serena was at least glad she would be married in this old church. Her previous wedding had been in the drawing room at Stokeley, a place with no spiritual atmosphere at all. St. Martin's was charming and rich with the atmosphere of seven hundred years. In her weeks in the village, Serena had come to know it well. She had prayed well there, and for her it was a holy place.

The kindly vicar was waiting for them, beaming, obviously convinced this was a romantic affair. A number of villagers, sensing what was afoot, slipped in to attend.

Reverend Downs gave a brief but playful homily, making much of the gallant hero who had claimed the fair lady by an arrow straight to the heart. Then he conducted the ceremony.

Serena's new husband had obtained a simple gold band to slide onto her finger. He said his vows without hesitation. She said her vows clearly, hoping she would be able to keep them without destroying herself.

Lord Middlethorpe turned to her, and she couldn't miss the troubled shadow in his eyes as he kissed her briefly on the lips.

Serena said an extra prayer that somehow this marriage would be a source of joy to him.

Reverend Downs insisted that the couple step into the vicarage for a moment for a congratulatory glass of Madeira. Francis made no objection, giving some coins to one of the villagers with the instruction that they all go and drink to the new couple's health at the Duke of Marlborough Inn.

The vicar and his wife could not help but indulge their curiosity about this match, but Lord Middlethorpe handled it easily.

"My wife and I met some months ago, sir, and became close, but the death of her first husband was too recent for her to make decisions on a second marriage. Once she agreed, however, I was in no mind to wait."

The vicar chuckled. "I can quite see that, my lord. Permit me to say that you have acquired a treasure. Your wife has created quite a stir during her weeks amongst us. But she has created great joy, too. A genuinely kind heart. She will be missed."

Serena felt tears prick at her eyes, for sincerity rang in Reverend Down's voice. She smiled at the man. "I will miss Summer St. Martin, too, vicar. You have all been very kind to me here."

He beamed. "You're not hard to be kind to, my dear Lady Middlethorpe. But I am pleased to be handing you into the care of Lord Middlethorpe. His aunt speaks much of him, and all of it good. Not one of these rackety young bucks we hear too much of."

Then they were on their way back to the cottage, Arabella discreetly walking a little distance behind.

Serena glanced up at her husband. "I had not fully realized that I would be Lady Middlethorpe. Is there anything I should know about it?"

"It shouldn't be a great burden," he said coolly. "It's not a high tide, like countess or duchess."

"What duties will I have?"

"None you do not care for. My mother handles everything. Leave this for now," he said rather impatiently. "'
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"
Then he winced. "I did not intend that quite the way it sounded."

Serena could not help but be hurt, though.

There was a lavish spread at the cottage. Arabella and Lord Middlethorpe did justice to it, but Serena did not. She picked at a slice of tongue.

"Serena," said Arabella testily, "you must eat. You'll make yourself ill."

Serena looked at the meat distastefully and picked up a slice of bread and butter. She glanced at her husband, thinking he might command her to eat something more sustaining, particularly when it might be his son and heir at risk. Though he frowned a little, he said nothing.

She would eat, she told herself, when things were just a little more settled. At the moment, the thought of food made her stomach rebel.

Her possessions were packed, so when Lord Middlethorpe's man returned with the coach and four, it was a matter of moments to put their luggage into the boot and be off. Postilions were now in charge, and Kipling was left to take the curricle home. He was also carrying a letter to Francis's mother informing her that she was now the Dowager Lady Middlethorpe.

Serena was happy not to be there when that news arrived.

As they bowled out of Summer St. Martin, Serena sat stiffly in her seat, both glad and sorry to have a third person on this journey. She was anxious to learn more of her husband, to find out how he would behave toward her, but she was also very afraid.

"Went off well," said Arabella gruffly. "Nice simple wedding. Don't care for these grand affairs. You'd think some people were staging a theatrical rather than exchanging vows."

Lord Middlethorpe looked across at Serena. "How did this compare to your first wedding, my dear?" There was an edge to the question, and she knew he was taunting her.

Was he going to turn churlish now that she was trapped?

"It was very similar," she said, hands tight beneath the cloak. She felt the smooth band on her finger, subtly different from the one it had replaced.

Suddenly, she opened her reticule and pulled out her two old rings. "Take these, please," she said, and passed them to her husband. It was a gesture of trust, and she hoped he took it as such.

Not that it mattered anymore. All her possessions were his to do with as he wished. Including her body.

He looked at the rings. "What do you wish me to do with them?"

"Dispose of them suitably." She was referring to his offer to sell them, but to her astonishment, he lowered the carriage window and hurled them into the hedgerow.

"Here!" screeched Arabella. "Have you run mad, Francis?"

He slammed the window shut again. "I'll give Serena the value of them."

"So I would hope, but if you've a mind to toss such baubles around, toss 'em my way. I have many uses for their value."

He flashed her a cynical look. "You have plenty of money, too."

"No harm in a little more."

Serena wondered what on earth had possessed him to throw her rings away. She had to admit that if they hadn't stood between her and starvation, she might have done the same thing, but
he
had no cause to be disgusted by them.

"Speaking of money," said Arabella militantly, "when we are in London, I intend to instruct my man-of-business to draw up documents to ensure Serena's welfare."

Serena made a sound of denial, but her husband said, "Of course. But my man will draw them up. Yours can go over them if you don't trust me." Then he pulled out a paper and passed it to Serena. "There is also this. It is for your own use, to do with as you wish."

She found it was a draft for three thousand guineas, signed with his name.

"What is this for, my lord?" she asked with a touch of horror. Payment for that one wicked act? What was a high-class whore worth? She didn't know.

"I wish you to call me Francis," he said sharply.

Serena looked up, wanting to say, And I wish you to be kind to me. But she knew she didn't deserve kindness.

"Francis, then," she sighed. "What is this draft for?"

"It is not
for
anything. It is your money obtained from your brothers."

"But how?"

"A wager," he said tersely.

"My goodness," said Arabella, "that was well done. It would have been deuced awkward, dragging it through the courts. But what of Serena's jewels?"

"I don't want them," Serena said.

"You should want them," said Arabella firmly. "Any jewelry given to you during the marriage is indisputably yours. We'll consult a lawyer."

"You will do nothing unless Serena wishes it," said Francis.

Serena touched Arabella's hand. "I am completely satisfied with the money."

Arabella gave a snort of disgust.

Serena, however, was overwhelmed with relief that she would never have to see those ornaments again. If necessary, she would have taken them and sold them to survive, but this was much better. She tucked the draft neatly into her reticule, then listened as Arabella and Francis had a very businesslike discussion of marriage settlements.

Serena had known nothing of the settlements of her first marriage, and the present discussion confused her. To her, marriage meant confinement in the country with everything purchased for her. All this talk of pin money, together with arrangements for household accounts, was new and frightening. In fact, in these matters she was still an ignorant fifteen-year-old.

Lord Middlethorpe looked at her. "Is this agreeable, Serena?"

"I think so," she said, hiding her fear and ignorance. "If there are to be documents, perhaps I could look at them."

"Of course you should look at them," said Arabella sternly. "Keep your wits about you, gel. Turn out to be a widgeon and I'll wash my hands of you."

Conversation lapsed after that. Serena gazed out the window at the bleak winter landscape, worrying about new responsibilities.

Even though her mother had died when she was eight, she had never been encouraged to deal with household management at home. Her father had hired a housekeeper who took care of everything. With adult wisdom, she had come to realize that Mrs. Dorsey had doubtless earned her wages in Sir Malcolm Allbright's bed as well, but she had kept Grove House in good order.

At Miss Mallory's, household management was a subject dealt with in the later years, which she had missed.

At Stokeley Manor she had been mistress in name, but as she had been given no money, the title had been hollow. The servants had run the place according to Matthew's orders. They had not consulted her at all except in such minor matters as what she would like for her meals.

Now she was to be put in charge of her husband's properties, which included at least a town house and his estate. Lord Middlethorpe said his mother would continue to take care of everything, but would the dowager wish to, and if she did, did Serena want that? Growing in her mind was the bold notion that she would like to run her own household, and run it well.

As the light began to fade, more immediate concerns grew in Serena's mind. Soon she would be alone with Lord Middlethorpe as his wife for the first time.

What would he want of her?

Under her cloak, she began to tremble. She desperately wished she could avoid the coming night.

She could plead the child. She had to cough to stifle a burst of wild laughter at that unconscious parody of the reason a convicted woman could give for not being hanged.