The Reluctant Earl (12 page)

“And you are both single persons?”

“We are,” they chorused.

The door opened and Joe came in, followed by the man from the taproom who was to act as the second witness.

Mr. Elliot finished filling out his form, then the whole party moved to the square table upon which the bible reposed.  Mr. Elliot stood in front of it and Simon, Claire and the witnesses stood before him. 

“Do you have a ring?” Mr. Elliot asked Simon.

Claire’s heart sank.  A ring!  Neither of them had thought of a ring!

Simon put his hand into his breast pocket and took out something.  “Here it is.”  He glanced at Claire.  “My mother left her jewelry to me.  It’s one of her rings.”

Claire let out a long breath of relief.

Mr. Elliott took the ring from Simon and gave it to Claire.  “Hold this until we need it,” he said.

She took the ring and slipped it into the sash of her dress.

Mr. Elliott cleared his throat.  “We shall now begin the ceremony.

Claire stood as straight as she could and looked into Simon’s eyes.  He looked gravely back into hers.

Mr. Elliot intoned, “Claire Marie, have you come here of your own free will and accord?”

“Yes,” Claire replied, as firmly as she could.

“Simon Charles Matthew Joseph, have you come here of your own free will and accord?”

“Yes,” said Simon.

This is it,
Claire thought, and her heart began to pound in her chest.

The priest turned toward Simon.  “Simon, Charles, Matthew, Joseph, Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, forsaking all others, and keep to her as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” Simon said clearly.

Claire felt tears gathering in her eyes.

“Claire Marie, Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, forsaking all others, and keep to him as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” said Claire, blinking hard.

“Give the ring to Simon.”

Claire plucked the ring from her sash and gave it to her almost husband.

Mr. Elliot said, “Now Simon, hand the ring to me.”

Simon gave it to the priest, who then handed it back to him and instructed, “Now you may put it on the forth finger of Claire’s left hand.”

Claire extended her hand.  Simon put the ring on her finger, repeating after the priest, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.”

“Join your right hands please.”

They reached out to each other, and Claire saw that Simon’s eyes were bright with unshed tears too. Her throat felt tight but she managed to repeat after the priest, “What God joins together let no man put asunder.”

Mr. Elliot lifted his hands in blessing.  “Forasmuch as this man and this woman have consented to go together by giving and receiving a ring, I, therefore, declare them to be man and wife before God and these witnesses in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.”

Claire smiled in relief.  They had done it!  They were married! 

Simon stepped close to her and, bending, kissed her mouth.

“This is the best day of my life,” he said, his voice low and not quite steady.

“Mine too,” she whispered back.

Mr. Elliot shook Simon’s hand and patted Claire’s shoulder.  They had to wait while he filled out the marriage certificates, one for his records and one for them.  Then Joe took them back to the inn.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Simon and Claire went decorously up the inn stairway to their room, their certificate of marriage safely in Simon’s hand.  As soon as they stepped inside he went to the leather folder he had carried in his travel bag and put the certificate into it.  “It will be nice and safe there,” he said with satisfaction.  Then he straightened and turned to Claire.

Her brown eyes were huge.  “I can scarcely believe it,” she whispered.  We’re married.”

He grinned, encircled her waist with his hands, lifted her, and began to spin her around in a circle, laughing exuberantly.  She braced her hands on his shoulders and laughed back down at him. 

When he returned her to her feet, she looked up at him with eyes full of curiosity.  “How do we start?” she asked.

There had been women in the town near Simon’s school who offered opportunities for upper-class students to shed their virginity, but he had never taken advantage of them.  He wanted to come to Claire as pure as he knew she would come to him.  He looked at her now and felt such enormous tenderness, such gratitude that she had trusted herself to him, that he almost stopped breathing.  Then he held out his hands and said, “Come here and kiss me.”

#   #   #

Claire went eagerly into his arms and kissed him with all the love that was in her.  He kissed her back so fiercely he pressed her head all the way back against his shoulder. After a while his lips moved from her mouth to the arch of her neck, then slowly back again to her mouth.  She shivered as an amazing sensation rippled through her, from her mouth, to her abdomen then all the way down into her loins.  When finally he lifted his head, her heart was pounding and her knees felt so weak that they wobbled and she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her. 

He said in a strangely husky voice, “Would it be all right if I took off your gown?”

Utterly stunned by that kiss, she managed to stutter her agreement.

Her simple, sprig muslin frock came off easily, dropping to the floor and pooling around her ankles.  He put his hands on her waist and lifted her out of it, then stepped back to look at her.  She was wearing only her petticoat and a thin cotton chemise, and at the look on his face her heart began to race even faster.  She wet her dry lips with her tongue and said, “Now you take off your shirt.”

He pulled his white muslin shirt out of his breeches and then over his head.  He tossed it on the floor, his eyes never leaving her.  His hair fell across his forehead in a spangle of silver gilt and she stepped back into his arms, lifting her face.  As they kissed once more she ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the strong muscles under the smooth skin.  Just touching him this way made her breathing come even faster.

He surprised her by scooping her up and depositing her on the bed.  Then he stretched out beside her, kissing her again, her mouth, her neck, then pushing her chemise down so he could kiss her breasts. 

“You’re so beautiful, Claire,” he muttered.  “Your skin is like silk.”

The touch of his tongue on her nipples was sending liquid sensation pouring throughout her body.  Her breath caught audibly and her fingers tightened on his back.  He lifted his head to ask, “All right?”

“Yes!” she assured him huskily.   “I like it.”

“Oh God.” His voice sounded like a groan.  He inhaled deeply, sat up and ripped off his breeches.  Then he was back, and she felt his hand on her drawers, pushing them down.  She helped him get rid of them, and his fingers came up between her legs.

She stiffened at the touch.  Claire had been brought up on a stud farm, and she knew what was going to happen next, but still the intimacy shocked her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?  Do you want me to stop?”  Simon’s voice was almost unrecognizable and she shook her head on the pillow.  “No. No.  I’m fine.”

“Oh God. 
Claire.” 
He was panting.  “I’ll try to wait.”

His fingers began to move again and an amazing sensation began to emanate from his touch.  Instinctively, she arched up against him, spreading her legs so he could go deeper. 

“I can’t wait any longer Claire,” he said desperately.

“Go ahead,” she said and opened her legs even wider so he could enter her.   As he came in and began to move tentatively, a breathtaking tension started to build around him.  She could feel liquid begin to flow where he was, making his passage easier.   Her arms were around him and she followed his motion, totally concentrated on the feeling that was building inside her. Then he hit the barrier of her virginity. 

“This might hurt,” he said, his voice hoarse.  Sweat was pouring off of him. 

“That’s all right, Simon.”  Her voice was almost as urgent as his.  “I don’t mind.”

He groaned, reared back, and drove all the way in. 

Claire’s fingers dug into his shoulders.  All of the wonderful tension was extinguished, replaced by a burning pain.  She clenched her teeth so she wouldn’t cry out.  She felt him moving back and forth inside her, and dug her fingers tighter into his shoulders.  At last he let out a sound she had never heard before, and collapsed on top of her.  His heart was hammering so hard it made her breasts quiver.  She held him close, burying her mouth in his hair, until his breathing and heartbeat finally began to slow.

I
gave him this,
she thought, feeling fiercely happy in spite of the pain.

Finally he lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes full of concern.  “I hurt you.  I’m sorry, Claire.  Very sorry.”

“It wasn’t bad,” she said, reaching up and smoothing her finger along his cheekbone.  “We both know that a young mare’s first time with the stallion is hard for her.  It will get better.  And I liked most of it very much.”

His crystalline blue eyes smiled down at her.  “I don’t deserve you.”  He kissed her with great tenderness and she guided his head to rest in the hollow between her neck and shoulder.  They lay together like that for a long time, fulfilled and quiet and at peace.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Fortunately for Claire and Simon, Richard Jarvis was at his country home near Bedford when Simon’s letter was delivered.  Two hours later and he would have been on his way to London on business.

His butler brought Jarvis the letter while he was finishing up some accounts in his office.  When he looked up and saw the butler in the doorway he said impatiently, “I thought I said I didn’t what to be disturbed.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Jarvis, but a groom has just arrived from Welbourne Abbey with a letter for you.  It is from Lord Woodbridge and I thought you would like to see it before you left.”

“A letter from my nephew?”  Jarvis put down his pen.  “You had better give it to me, Whiting.”

The butler presented the silver salver upon which the letter reposed.  Jarvis took it, saying, “Wait until I’ve read it, will you?  There may be an answer.”

“Certainly, Mr. Jarvis.”

Jarvis unfolded the letter and read:

Dear Uncle Richard,

By the time you receive this missive, Claire and I will have reached Gretna Green in Scotland where we plan to be married.  I realize this will be a shock to you, but I love her more than anything in the world, and she loves me.  My father would never agree to a marriage between us, so we have eloped. 

I know we do not deserve your support, nevertheless I am writing to beg you to help us.  We are staying at the coaching inn in Carlisle, and I’m afraid I won’t have enough money left from the 100 pounds you gave me to pay for the mail coach to take us home.  Can you send me some more money?  Or even a carriage? I do not want to subject Claire to the common stage, which is all I can afford at the moment. 

We are both fully cognizant of how brazen such a request is, but I am hoping you will help us for the sake of my mother.

I have also sent a letter to Claire’s parents so they won’t worry, but I have yet to inform my father. Unfair as it may be, I am placing our future in your hands.

                              
Your grateful nephew,

          
                                    
Simon

Jarvis read the letter through twice.  So that’s what it was all about, he muttered to himself.  I knew the two of them were up to something.

His eyes fell on the words,
for the sake of my mother,
and he shook his head.  The young devil knew exactly how best to manipulate him.

He looked up and said to his butler, “Get me Hartly.  Immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”  The butler turned and left the room.

Hartly was Jarvis’ coachman and Jarvis had made a quick decision to send him to Carlisle with Jarvis’ carriage.  He couldn’t leave those idiot children stuck in an inn without money.  For a few moments he contemplated the thought of going himself, but the thought of a long, fast drive over rough roads wasn’t appealing.  He would send Hartly to bring the children back here.  Then he’d deal with them.

He read Simon’s letter one more time and, reluctantly, he smiled.  The young devil had pluck, he’d give him that.  It would be interesting to hear what he had to say for himself when he arrived at Jarvis House.

#   #   #

Elise and Liam had been frantic with worry when the squire brought them the news of Claire’s disappearance.  They stood in their drawing room after the squire had left (with many protestations of apology and offers to help), and tried to decipher what could have happened.

“She had to have left of her own free will,” Liam said.  “If someone had come into the room to kidnap her, Charlotte would have heard something.”

Elise’s face was white with fear and shock.  “Could she have gone downstairs for a book, or a drink, and encountered someone who shouldn’t be in the house?  A thief, perhaps.”

Liam shook his head.  “No thief would be idiot enough to try to rob the house of the local magistrate.”

“Then Charlotte must know what Claire was up to,” Elise said, her voice unusually stern.

“According to Weston she says she doesn’t.”

“She has to,” Elise returned in the same uncompromising tone of voice.  “Those two are as close as sisters.  Charlotte would lie for Claire if Claire asked her to.”

“She must be made to tell us, then,” Liam said.  “I’ll go over to Winsted and get the truth out of her.”

Elise put a restraining hand on his arm.  “You can’t just march in there and interrogate Charlotte, Liam.”