With This Ring (20 page)

She turned to leave, except that the
major grabbed her skirt and held her there. “Really, Major!” she
protested.

He sat her down again, closer to
him, if that was possible, and clamped his arm around her waist so
she could not bolt. “Your parents have turned you out? Come on,
Lydia, speak to me!”

“
It’s Miss Perkins,” she said, then
started to cry. He loosened his grip on her but did not let go. In
another minute she pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and blew
her nose, which only made her flinch from the pain. She knew she
did not dare look at him, so she continued to stare straight ahead.
“I do have a plan, so you needn’t worry about me,” she
said.

“
Good,” he said. Then after a pause,
“Would you mind sharing it with me?”

“
I mean to go to an employment
registry, and hire myself out as a governess, or a lady’s maid.
Heaven knows I’ve done enough of that for Kitty.” She dabbed at her
nose again, more careful this time. “My only problem is that I
daren’t go right now, with my face … well,
I
would not
hire me, would you?”

He shook his head. “Probably not, if
I were a matron with hopeful children.” He turned himself on the
cot to see her better now. “Why did you come back here?”

“
I thought I could work here for a
week, and maybe just stay here ….” Her voice trailed off as
she looked toward the main chapel and its few inmates. “It seems I
have worked myself out of a job here, doesn’t it?”

“
It does. Thanks to you, the Duke
himself, and Lord Walsingham—oh, by the way, his son the Viscount
Lindsey is on his way to a well-earned rustication in Cornwall—and
the first minister dropped by this morning.” He nodded, real
appreciation on his face. “Lydia, you must have opened up with a
salvo worthy of Battery B!”

“
Oh, don’t remind me!”

He laughed and released her. “Oh,
but I would like to thank you for what you did. Oh, yes.” He
reached under the cot and drew out the hatbox. “Here’s your hat. I
was actually going to take it by your house before I
left.”

“
You would not have found much of a
welcome,” she said, opening the box for another look at the
beautiful hat. She held out her hand to him. “Thank you, Major
Reed. I really should be going now.”

She got no farther than the entrance
arch to the lady chapel, stopped there by one word.

“
Where?”

She turned back. He still sat on the
cot, regarding her with a kind expression. “I have no idea,” she
said frankly.

“
Then, let me offer a
suggestion—just a suggestion!—which you might consider.”

She held up her hand, as if to ward
off his voice. “Sir, you wouldn’t be thinking of offering marriage
again? I have certainly not forgotten your dilemma.”

“
Why not?” he countered. “I need a
wife in the very worst way, and you appear to be a bit of a babe in
the woods.”

“
No,” she said, with what she hoped
was a decisive tone.

It must not have been decisive
enough, because he walked along with her as she hurried toward the
chapel’s entrance. “I contend it is an excellent solution to both
of our problems. It will help me keep that inheritance that my aunt
is so generously providing, and it will whisk you far away from
London.” His tone hardened, and she stopped. “It will certainly
give you an opportunity for a pain-free life.” He took her arm and
pulled her around to face him. “Lydia, I do disjointed things at
times, but I don’t beat women.”

They were at the entrance to St.
Barnabas now. He sat down on one of the benches placed there
earlier for recuperating soldiers and carefully leaned back against
the sun-warmed stone. “Ah, that is good,” he said. “Sit down, Miss
Perkins, and give me a really good reason why this isn’t a
brilliant stroke of mine. I dare you even to think of
three.”

She sat. “Number one: I hardly know
you.”

“
I contend that you know me very
well,” he said. “I’m a steady sort of fellow, except that I get an
occasional wild hare.” He peered closer at her, looking under the
brim of her bonnet. “Which might be the sort of thing you need in
your own life, by the way, Miss Perkins.” He touched her cheek so
gently that she did not wince. “Apparently someone’s been trying to
beat the spontaneity out of you, but obviously it isn’t entirely
gone, or you wouldn’t be here. No, you know me by now. In
essentials, I do not change.”

Well, now, she thought, wishing that
her face was not warm with a blush, even though she knew it was; he
was too close. “Number two: I don’t love you, Major Reed.” There;
she said it, even though it seemed so intimate, especially with men
coming and going from St. Barnabas, even as they sat
there.

He shrugged, and though a moment.
“Do you like me?”

“
Of course!” she exclaimed, “Who
wouldn’t?” then could not help herself. “And you have excellent
taste in bonnets.”

He laughed out loud, and it was a
wonderful sound that warmed her down to her sturdy shoes. “Oh, my
dear Miss Perkins. It appears that you are shameless in your love
of hats!”

“
I already told you that,” she said
pointedly.

“
So you did, my dear. Miss Perkins,
if you like me, that will do well enough.” He leaned closer, so no
one would overhear. “I was going to suggest an arrangement of
convenience anyway, until we get to know each other better. It
seems only fair. My, you can blush.”

She turned away from him, only to
see a grinning soldier on a nearby bench. She turned back to the
major. “Number three: Mama says I am stupid and naive.”

“
Your mother is wrong, Miss
Perkins … oh, hang it … Lydia,” he said, taking her by
both hands this time. “You’re quite intelligent—smarter than I am,
I think—and if you are naive, what is wrong with that? I know how
to pawn things, and I can find a place to stay at night, and I’m
certainly not afraid to tow you with me into a pub for
luncheon.”

He was speaking quite earnestly now,
or she thought he was. I wonder, will I always have to guess if he
is serious? she asked herself. “And besides all that, I have some
salve for my back, which is still too hard for me to reach. You
could put it on for me. Think of us as a team, Lydia.”

She shook her head, but she was not
unhappy with him. “And if this arrangement does not suit?” she
asked. “You know that it might not.”

“
Lydia, we can arrange a quiet
annulment. My aunt has been threatening to die for years and years,
so I doubt I would occupy too many months or years of your time, if
you decide I won’t do. I’d see that you have sufficient income for
a comfortable life. What about it?” He laughed again. “I am so
prepared for a yes, Lydia. As a parting joke, Sir Percy even gave
me a special license. It already has my name on it. You can’t
imagine how much exertion that was for Percy.”

It was her turn to laugh this time,
and she did. “I hear those things are expensive! You have strange
friends, sir.”

“
Oh, I do,” he agreed. “With any
luck, you’ll never meet him. What about it, Lydia?” he asked
again.

Well, what about it? she asked
herself. I should at least entertain the unimaginable. “You’re sure
there are no dark secrets you are holding from me?” she asked. “No
surprises in store, beyond a little light nursing?”

“
Cross my heart,” he said promptly.
“We’ll have a peaceful ride to Northumberland. There’s plenty of
time for me to tell you all I know about Delightful Saunders,
and ….”

“
Who?” she asked.

“
Oh, that’s your name. You don’t
really think we were sober when we hatched this scheme, do
you?”

“
No!” she declared. “But
Delightful
Saunders?”

“
If it’s any consolation, I believe
Percy signed her letters as Della. Yes or no?” he asked. “If we
hurry, we can get this done before noon and be on our
way.”

Don’t even think about it, Lydia,
she told herself. Just say it before you lose the last ragged
remains of your nerve.

“
Yes.”

He kissed her hand. “You won’t
regret this, Lydia.”

“
I already do!”

B
efore
noon, she, Lydia Lucinda Perkins, spinster, was married in the
parish of St. Barnabas (the current chapel new since the Great Fire
of London) to Major Samuel Elliott Howard Reed, bachelor, Lord
Laren of Laren, Northumberland, by a special license purchased as a
joke by Lieutenant Sir Percy Wilkins, second-in-command of Battery
B. General Thomas Picton served as best man and his wife, who
claimed she was never surprised at any stunt of her husband’s
officers, did what she could to hold up Lydia, who shook like
blancmange, and whose stomach growled throughout the entire
ceremony. The parish priest appeared to be hard of hearing, but
even he paused once to look over his book at her.

There was even a ring, a pretty
Spanish piece looted from Badajoz that the major had carried around
for several years, for no discernible reason. To everyone’s
delight, it fit Lydia as though it had been meant for her finger
all along.

The general and his lady were
already late for another festivity associated with the victory
celebration, so the major and his wife said good-bye to them from
the steps of St. Barnabas. “If Boney should break out, I’ll expect
you in the battery again, Major!” Picton called as he leaned out
the window. Lady Picton pulled him in before he could
continue.

As Lydia watched them go, her
stomach growled again. Major Reed shook his head. “It seems I only
married you just in time before starvation set in, my dear,” he
said. “This is a horrible neighborhood, but I know there is a
public house around the corner where the beef and kidney pie should
stave off famine. Shall we slum? I have been slumming for years and
have acquired some expertise.”

It was excellent food, served by an
interested woman amid the clink of bottles and clatter of plates
and shaking of dice. “Why does she keep staring at us?” Lydia asked
in a whisper, leaning across the table toward her
husband.

“
At you, my dear, at you,” he said
cheerfully, wiping his mouth with a napkin surprisingly clean,
considering the general condition of the dockside neighborhood.
“You are quite pretty—Ah, now, don’t object!
I
happen to
think you’re quite pretty—and that is a lovely bonnet, and I hate
to tell you this, but your cheek really is impressive.”

She gasped and lowered her head,
then changed her mind. “I should fit right into this neighborhood,”
she said. “People will think you are a dreadful brute who beats his
wife.”

He nodded, and finished his ale. “We
can only go up from here, Lydia Reed.”

True, indeed, she reflected as he
paid the bill. I still cannot quite believe what I have done,
except that my name is written on the registry in this parish, and
I am most legally married. Lydia Reed will take some getting used
to, however. I won’t even contemplate how difficult Lady Laren will
sound, but since Sam doesn’t appear much interested in that part of
his name, I suppose it doesn’t matter.

“
What are we to do now?” she asked,
and smiled at her husband. “I mean, ‘What are we to do now,
Sam?
Now that you have so kindly married me, I don’t have to
worry about what I am to do.” She clasped her hands in front of
her. “Except that I would like to know.”

He helped her to her feet, and took
her by the hand to lead her from the tavern. “I directed my trunk
to be taken to the King’s Whistle Tavern, where the mail coach
leaves, Lydia. It’s not high style, but my banker is in Durham, not
London, and we’re going to economize at least that far.”

She nodded, thinking of all the
boring trips by post chaise she had made with her family, where no
one ever had anything kind to say by the end of the first day’s
journey. “I have never traveled that way,” she said as he hurried
her along. “I hear it is quite interesting.”

The mail coach was more than
interesting; it was crowded. Lydia looked with some dismay at the
current inmates, who stared back, as if daring them to find a
corner to wedge themselves into. “H’mmm,” said the major. “Madam,
could you ….” The woman glared back and spread her skirts
wider. “I suppose not.”

Lydia caught the eye of an older
gentleman. He grinned at her and gave her a broad wink. “Here,
laddie,” the man said. “You sit here and put your pretty missus on
yer lap.” He moved over six inches to accommodate them.

“
Aye, then, very well,” said the
major. He eased himself into the narrow spot, which somehow widened
enough for him to squeeze in his hips. He flinched as his right
shoulder came in contact with the man, and Lydia could see the
sweat break out on his forehead. Oh, we are walking wounded, she
thought as she watched him. Calmly she took a handkerchief from her
reticule and wiped his forehead.

“
He has an injury from Toulouse,”
she said quietly to the older man who had made room. She sat
herself on the major’s lap, and his arms went around her, with his
hands resting comfortably over hers on her stomach.