Magical Weddings (112 page)

Edward signalled to Ana and they moved to the other end of the office, giving the couple by the fireplace a modicum of privacy.

In the low light of his office, alone but for the oblivious couple at the other end of the room and just a foot apart, Ana felt terribly aware of how he towered over her, how broad his chest was and–though she knew a lady should not be aware of such things–how well-muscled his limbs were in his tight breeches and coat. Had he a mind to, he could snap her in two and she would have no hope of preventing it. But surely he would not...

“I intend to call on your father in the morning.”

Ana clutched at the folds of her silk dress. “I am afraid he will not give his consent.”

His eyebrows rose, as well they might. What father refused a viscount for his daughter?

“May I know the reason why?”

She wet her lips with her tongue. “I understand that the previous Viscountess Stapleton led an… unenviable life.”

His expression hardened. “I am not my father.”

“But sons learn from their fathers,” Ana said, gripping the edge of his large, leather-topped desk with one hand, “do they not?”

“They can learn what not to do, as well as what they should.”

“My parents have no assurance of that and they fear for my safety.”

“What of your own judgement?”

Ana tried to meet his eyes, but could not. “I could offer no evidence that might change their minds.”

“You do not trust me.”

Ana swallowed hard and looked away, because her heart did and her head did not and it made no difference anyway because her father had the final word.

“I have known you but a few days, my lord,” she said. “And far away from your home and those who know you best. Would you advise a sister to trust a man, on so serious a question, after such a brief and limited acquaintance?”

“Ana!”

They both turned at Harriet’s voice. Blakemore had his arm around her waist and they were both beaming.

“All is well, Ana,” Harriet said, reaching for her hands. “We are reconciled and the wedding will go ahead. Thank you a thousand times for your help. And you, Lord Stapleton, I cannot thank you enough.”

“I am in your debt, Stapleton,” Blakemore said, holding out his hand to shake.

“Think nothing of it.” Stapleton looked towards the door. “Miss Burton and Miss Stanley should return to the
rout
now and make a suitable excuse for their absence. We will follow in a few minutes, so it appears that we have been speaking together.”

Ana tried to draw on Harriet’s happiness to fuel her composure and wondered if a wise decision always felt like a terrible mistake.

****

The next night, Ana and her parents attended the Formans’ ball. She could not imagine that facing the gallows would be greater torture. Viscount Stapleton was not only there, but he had danced every dance so far and each of his partners had been more beautiful and eligible than the last. It felt like every eye in the room was turned on her, although whether the whispers were due to her or Harriet she did not know. The soon-to-be Earl and Countess of Blakemore waltzed in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of anything save their own happiness.

She escaped to the retiring room for as long as she dared, but finally had to make her way back to the ballroom. She stood by the door to the terrace and wished she could step outside and feel the cool air on her skin, but without Harriet to accompany her she was not permitted.

A cool breeze wafted in through the doors and she breathed deeply. Perhaps if she just stepped outside the door for a few moments…

She looked across to where her mother was standing and, once she was distracted, slipped outside. Then she took a slow, deep breath.

“Ana.”

Her head whipped round. Edward was standing just a few feet away.

She turned back to the ballroom. “I must return before I am missed.”

“You were right.”

She paused and looked back. His expression, illuminated softly by the moonlight, looked sincere.

“I tried to be angry, but your words repeated in my head until I was forced to acknowledge the truth in them,” he said. “No woman of sound judgement would wish to take such a risk with her future. And I desire a wife of sound judgement.”

Another cool breeze came and she shivered. He moved closer to her, reached out and took her gloved hand and suddenly she was cold no longer.

“Perhaps it will reassure you to know that I had another example of marriage in my formative years. I spent a good deal of time with my mother’s sister and her husband, and after my mother’s death I spent my school holidays with them. They had a very successful, contented partnership and that is the model I have always aspired to follow.” He sighed. “But how am I to convince you–and your parents? Surely it is impossible for a man to prove that he will never do something?”

Ana dropped her gaze as the heat from his hand slowly travelled up her arm. “That is true, but a sound knowledge of his character will tell a person how likely it is that he will.”

“Which you are unlikely to gain if your parents will not allow me to court you.”

“That is also true.” Ana shook her head. “I fear it is a hopeless situation.”

He stepped closer and murmured, “I could always compromise you.”

Her head jerked up and she took an involuntarily step back. He did not let go of her hand.

“That is not to say that I intend to.”

Some of the tension left her body at that, but she remained alert. She should not be here with him. Whether he intended to or not, he could do it so easily…

“There are others walking the terrace,” he murmured, taking a step closer. “If I were to pull you into my arms and kiss you, they would see. Someone would doubtlessly report it to your parents and they would demand I marry you. Which is, after all, what I want. And, while you may not be certain it is the right thing to do, on one level I think you want it too.”

He brushed his fingers lightly down her cheek and Ana gasped at the feelings this provoked. How could so little do so much?

“But you will not do so?” she whispered.

He let her hand go and she felt bereft.

“No,” he said. “I will not do so. For I am an honourable man, Ana Stanley, and I will think of a way to prove it to you–and your parents–so that you may be easy in your mind when you consent to be my wife.”

He nodded to the ballroom. “Now slip back inside before you are missed. I will walk in the gardens and return later.”

Trembling, Ana did so. Just in time to be accosted by her mother.

“Ana, you know better than to go outside on your own,” she hissed into Ana’s ear. “Countless girls have been ruined in gardens by dishonourable men.”

“I am sorry, Mama,” she murmured. “It is so warm in here I felt a trifle faint. I was only just outside the doors and there were others there.”

“It is a sad crush,” her mother conceded. “If you feel faint again, excuse yourself and go to the retiring room. Come and be introduced to the Earl of Crawford.”

Ana allowed herself to be led away and prayed that she could keep her mind on all things respectable.

****

“Beauty and pain go hand in hand,” her mother had told her the first time Ana had been burnt with the hot irons. Harriet’s wedding seemed to bear that out. Despite her happiness for her cousin, her heart ached with the knowledge that she would no longer be able to share the season with her friend, for the new Earl and Countess were to go straight to their estate in Nottinghamshire after the wedding breakfast and did not plan to return to London that year.

“You must come for a visit when the season is over,” Harriet told her, as they said a tearful goodbye. “That is, if you are not on your own honeymoon! But you must write, in any case. I shall expect to hear from you at least once a week with all the latest news.”

The earl put a hand on his new wife’s arm. “I am afraid we must leave now if we are to reach the inn I have arranged to stay at tonight.”

Ana embraced her cousin tightly. “Journey safely,” she said, “and answer every letter I write. I will not be easy in my mind until I know you are… settled.”

“I promise.”

The earl handed his countess into their travelling carriage and the guests waved as they trundled off down the street. As the other guests made their way back inside, Ana dried her eyes on her handkerchief and wondered how in the world she was to face the season without her friend and confidante.

“Ana.”

She hastily blinked away fresh tears and turned to her father. He smiled down at her.

“Viscount Stapleton called on me this morning,” he said. “He has invited us all to stay at his country estate.”

Ana’s breath caught in her throat.

“We are to be introduced to his friends and neighbours, to observe how he treats his servants and tenants and make any enquiries we wish into his situation. And he has encouraged us to stay for as long as we need to satisfy ourselves that you will be safe with him.”

Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed. “Truly, Papa?”

Sir Stanley’s eyes softened. “He must think a great deal of you to be prepared to go to this trouble to secure your hand. But it means that you will have to forgo the rest of the season and your chance of other suitors. I will leave the choice up to you–is that something you are willing to accept?”

Blushing, Ana dropped her gaze and nodded.

“Then you may tell him that I consent to the plan.” Her father briefly laid a hand on her head, as he had done when she was a little girl. “He will be waiting for you at home.”

****

Ana stepped into the drawing room, her stomach in knots and her hands trembling. Edward was standing by the fireplace and he turned as she came in. Their eyes met, they smiled at each other and Ana’s insides filled with bubbles.

Once the butler had left, they met in the centre of the room. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it and a thrill ran all through her body from her fingers to her toes.

“Has your father told you of my proposal?”

“Yes.” Ana smiled up at him, tears springing to her eyes. “Thank you, my… Edward. But are you certain you wish to do this? This will take you away from the season as well and I am certain there are many who would not hesitate to accept you.”

“Plenty will not look further than a title when accepting an offer, it is true. The fact that you and your family will shows sound judgement, and, as I said before, I am keen to marry a woman of sound judgement.”

It was the kind of compliment she had always valued most–one concerning her character. And yet, all at once, Ana found herself longing for him to tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Because, coming from him, she would believe it.

“I am certain there are others,” she murmured.

“You may be surprised,” he muttered. “However, in any case, I want you.”

Her hopes rose. “Could you… could you tell me why?”

His eyebrows rose. “As I have said, you have all the qualities I looked for in a bride–intelligence, good sense and loyalty being the most important–and you will also be happy to reside in the country, which is vital as I do not intend to come up to town more than occasionally. Given all I know of you, I am confident that we will work together well.”

“Oh, I see.” Ana looked down at the floor, where her heart was currently located. “Yes, I expect we will.”

He cleared his throat. “Forgive me if that was not the answer you wished to hear. I thought a sensible lady such as you would appreciate being chosen for her character. But you are, after all, a woman, so perhaps more is needed.”

Ana looked up at him questioningly, but before she could speak he swept her into a kiss.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her head spun as she lost herself in his embrace. Heat began to pool in parts of her body she had barely noticed before. Her hand rose to his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. He was so warm, so solid and so unquestionably male. She had been aware of the physical differences between men and women in a general sense, but never had they seemed so… desirable.

He drew back. Ana heard herself make a little moan of protest and flushed at how wanton it sounded. She had heard of young women being ruined and had never understood why they would allow themselves to get into that situation. Now, she knew.

“The other part of the answer,” he said, his breathing noticeably quicker and shallower than it had been before, “is that, if I do not gain the rights of your husband soon, Miss Ana Stanley, I may expire from unfulfilled desire. I cannot rightly tell you just what has made me ache to possess you, but you will find that I am not fickle in my attachments. Nor am I selfish in my desires. You will be a very happy wife, my Ana.”

Ana was sure her cheeks must be quite scarlet by now. She knew a little about what happened between man and wife–it was difficult to remain wholly ignorant living in the country with animals all around–but there had never been any suggestion that the female enjoyed it too. But after the way his kiss had made her feel, it did not seem such a stretch to believe it.

“One more kiss,” he said, pulling her close once again. “And then I must return you to the bosom of your family. Otherwise my control may very well desert me and you may find yourself ravished on the chaise, open door or not.”

She really must be turning into a wanton, Ana decided, for she was not at all sure she would have protested. But then, surely there was no such thing as a wanton wife…

Two months later:

MARRIED

Edward Dalby, Viscount Stapleton, of Trelbourne, Surrey to Miss Juliana Stanley, daughter of Sir William Stanley of Bayton Manor, Kent.

--
The Times

Jennifer Gilby Roberts has a degree in physics and a postgraduate certificate in computing, so a career writing fiction was inevitable really. She was born and grew up in Surrey/Greater London, but now lives in North Yorkshire with her husband, her small daughter, a middle-aged cat and a lot of dust bunnies. Find her at
www.jennifergilbyroberts.com
.