The Changeling Bride (8 page)

She took her place beside him, her hands shaking. When the time came, she repeated her vows, thankful she would not have to keep them. She was so aware of his presence beside her that she caught his subtle jerk of surprise at the sound of her voice. She realized then that he had not recognized her as the woman outside the window until that moment. No one could forget her mangled attempts at a British accent, once heard.

Her mind distracted by his surprise and wondering what he was thinking, she did not realize when the ceremony
was all but over. His fingertips were suddenly pressing lightly under her jaw, tilting her face, and his mouth descended to take possession of her own. His lips were smooth and firm, both gentle and strong as they moved upon hers, sending a warm rush from her heart to her loins.

His size and his closeness, the heat radiating from his body, and the faint scent of clean linen intoxicated her senses. It had been too long since she’d been kissed, and she was taken by surprise by the melting sensation. She wanted to savor it, but it was over in a moment.

She staggered slightly when he released her and was steadied by his strong arm. She looked up into his eyes but could read nothing there. All the same, the shivers of her flesh told her that a wedding night would not be as unwelcome as she had thought.

Chapter Six

Henry watched his new wife with suspicion. She was several feet away, speaking with an elderly aunt who was earnestly holding her hand and apparently giving heartfelt advice on marriage and the proper handling of husbands. Eleanor was nodding at the proper intervals, but she hardly looked as if she were paying attention. She looked downright uneasy.

He had been watching her throughout the afternoon and evening as she accepted congratulations from friends and family, ate at his side, and quietly listened to others talk. The woman was not consistent, and it unsettled him. At their first meeting, she had been distant, cold, and acidic. At the second, a smart-mouthed but spirited voyeur. And today, that dog that she still held by the leash declared her rebellion, yet she seemed subdued, even uneasy, and her wig was slightly askew.

It could be that she was finally accepting that she could do nothing to change her situation, and was resigning
herself to being his wife, but that did not feel like a complete explanation. There was something strange about her today that he could not quite put his finger on, and he had the nagging feeling that he was missing some piece of the puzzle.

Well, whatever it was, it should be an easy bit of work to discover. He was, after all, twelve years older than she and vastly more experienced. Once he discovered it, her actions and moods would make logical sense, and he could help her to fit neatly and unobtrusively into her position as the countess of Allsbrook, and she would give him no more trouble.

An unwelcome thought came to mind. He had been fairly certain that no insanity ran in the Moore family, but there could always be the odd mad cousin stashed away. Pray God that
that
was not the explanation.

Elle could feel eyes on her and turned to find Lord Allsbrook staring at her. Her breath caught under his gaze. For all that she hoped to be gone before the evening was finished, she could not escape the feeling that this
was
her husband. She was bound by cords of law and faith and honor to a stranger. And she was, for now at least, at his beck and call. He nodded slightly, acknowledging her, then turned back to the man who was talking to him.

She felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut when his attention shifted away, the release of tension was so dramatic. She brought her eyes back to the earnest woman in front of her and watched the woman’s lips move back and forth over discolored teeth. Elle had long ago stopped listening to the words.

The violins in the small orchestra scraped out an attention-getting string of notes, and Elle felt Lord Allsbrook’s presence behind her in a tingle that ran up her neck and tightened the muscles of her scalp.

“Shall we dance, my lady?” his smooth voice inquired,
and she could feel the vibrations of it throbbing against the timpani of her ears.

She turned to him, and he took her hand before she could muster a response. She let him lead her out onto the floor, too flustered to think straight. He took the end of Tatiana’s sash from her hand, giving it into the care of a man who stood at the edge of the floor. It was as he took his position, other couples lining up behind them, that Elle belatedly realized her folly.

The orchestra was not going to belt out some pop Madonna tune, and the guests were not going to dance however they pleased. They weren’t even going to waltz or do a simple foxtrot. This was going to be a dance with complicated rules, and whatever they were, she didn’t know them.

Her stomach twisted, and fresh sweat broke out under her arms, adding to that which the room of candles and overdressed bodies had already created with their heat. She felt a fine rivulet creep down her scalp under the wig and trace a path down her forehead. She was suddenly nauseated by the heat, the odor of so many bodies, and the knowledge of the humiliation that was about to come.

Lord Allsbrook gently squeezed her fingers in his gloved hand, and glancing up at him, she saw him raise his eyebrows expectantly. She twisted her head to see the women behind her and tried to mimic their positions beside their partners. Perhaps she could fake her way through this.

There came a brief hush, the music started, and Elle closed her eyes in a brief prayer that the dancing gods were feeling merciful tonight.

She let Lord Allsbrook lead her forward, then when he stepped away craned her head to watch the woman behind her. She twisted from side to side as the dancers’ positions changed, her feet fumbling along a half beat behind everyone else’s.

The dance increased in its complexity, and she became
more and more lost, making little running steps under cover of her skirts to put herself in the right position, too busy concentrating on where everyone was to even look up at her partner. More than anything she wanted to walk off the dance floor and escape this spectacle she was making of herself, but she couldn’t. She was the bride, and this was her first dance with her husband. Her chest was tight with unshed tears of frustration, but she wouldn’t quit.

She clenched her jaw and sniffed back the threatening tears, determined to complete the dance, however badly. Her world narrowed to her own feet and the woman who danced beside her. Her lips set in a grim line, she plodded her way back and forth and around, until with a final flourish the music ended, and Lord Allsbrook led her from the floor.

Once they had broken through the edge of the crowd he grabbed her arm pulled her with more force than necessary into an alcove. His face was flushed, his jaw tensed, but as she gaped up at him she saw his features smooth out, as if he were deliberately hiding his anger from her view.

“I know you have had dancing lessons,” he said in a low voice. “I can only presume that you are attempting to punish me in some childish manner for this marriage. You are an adult now, Eleanor, and it is time you took on adult responsibilities. Your behavior today has shamed your family and has shamed yourself.”

The unfairness of his accusation made Elle’s face flush in an anger she, for one, was not about to hide. It drowned her embarrassment in a cleansing wash of fury. “You, dear husband, have all the sensitivity of an ice cube,” she hissed. “You have no idea what I’ve been through today, and frankly, I doubt you could understand even if I spelled it out for you in three-foot capital letters. God help me, my palm is itching to smack that cool look right off your face.”

“I doubt God’s going to be much help to you with that. He was the one who blessed our union today.”

She broke away from him, too angry to bear his presence. She found Tatiana, snatched the leash from the man’s hand, and wove her way to the French doors that led out onto the patio. She had to get out of here, away from Lord Allsbrook, away from the heat and stench of bodies.

Lord Henry Allsbrook and the rest of this shallow, self-satisfied crowd could go to hell for all she cared. She had done nothing of which to be ashamed. Who were they to judge her?

The night air brought a welcome kiss of coolness to her flushed neck and cheeks, and she paused at the top of the terrace steps to savor the breeze that blew across the gardens and swirled in the lace of her gown. Tatiana tugged at her silken leash, reminding Elle that the Samoyed had been patiently awaiting an opportunity to use the facilities.

She let Tatiana lead her down the steps and onto a gravel path, avoiding the other party-goers who had come out for a bit of fresh air. For Tatiana the garden was an amusement park of smells, and she trotted happily from bush to bush.

Elle wandered with her dog down to the long reflecting pool, along its length, and up to the pavilion at its end, her mind cooling along with her body. There were lanterns in the garden up by the house, but none down here, and she found the darkness welcome, concealing her as it did from the watching eyes of others.

There were cushioned benches inside the pavilion, one of which she sat on now, finding to her dismay that her stays prevented her from attaining a comfortable slouch. Had it only been two days ago that she had thought it would be entertaining to wear a corset? Her dresser drawer of soft, faded bras and panties had never seemed so precious.

The benches were long enough to lie down on, so she lay back and swung her legs up onto the cushions, finding that the bustle tied around her waist was made of quite solid material, solid enough to feel like a log under her back. The monstrous wig shifted as she rested her head on the cushions, so she reached up and pulled the pins from it, tugging it off and setting it farther along the bench. She dug her fingers into her flattened, pinned-up hair, loosening it and letting the cool air touch her scalp.

This would be the perfect opportunity for those glowing fairies to come to her and take her home. She’d had enough of this adventure.

She rested her arms across her stomach and was almost comfortable, despite the bustle in the small of her back. She would just close her eyes for a bit and do some deep breathing exercises, and send up a private prayer that when she opened her eyes again she would be back home.

Henry searched the crowd again for the powdered head of his wife. She still was not back from the gardens, and he felt his irritation rise yet again. It had been literally years since he had allowed himself to lose his temper, yet this girl who was now his wife was nudging him ever closer to that precipice.

He excused himself and made his way out to the terrace, then down into the gardens. She should be easy to pick out, with that damn dog trailing after her, but she was nowhere to be seen. His eyes narrowed on the pavilion.

A low canine growl greeted his arrival in the dark structure, and he knew he had found her. The two indistinct white shapes shifted, and he realized Eleanor had sat up.

“Thank God, you’re here,” she said, her voice filled with relief. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t stick to our bargain.”

“Once again, madame, God is not on your side.”

A stunned silence met his words, then at last she spoke. “Lord Allsbrook.”

“My lady.” He heard the edge of anger in his own voice and for once did not care to dull it. “Has your lover stood you up? How unfortunate.”

“It’s not how it looks.”

“You do admit the situation is suspicious.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. How do women stand it, being watched every hour of the day? I can’t even go cool off in the garden of my own home, can’t even get off my sore feet for a few minutes without someone chasing me down and accusing me of fornicating in the shrubbery, as if I didn’t have better things to think about.”

He moved closer, staring down at her faint white form, the anger still hot in his blood. “You spoke of a bargain you had made.”

“Sit down, will you,” she snapped at him. “You’re looming.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, dredging up the image of his drunken, enraged father. He would not lose control of himself. He would not lose control of the situation. He sat down.

The dog had stopped growling, and now came and leaned against his legs. He let her sniff his hand, then scratched her head, the silky fur under his fingertips helping calm him. When he had mastery of his tone, he spoke again. “You admitted to waiting for someone. Who was it?”

He heard her sigh of exasperation. “It doesn’t matter. They won’t come if you’re here.”

“They?”

“Yes, ‘they.’ And ‘they’ are mostly female. Does that make you feel better?”

“It might if I thought I could believe you. I would have thought we could make it through at least one day without doubts of fidelity atop everything else.”

“You really are insufferable, you know that?”

“Were you waiting for a lover?”

“No! I was waiting for women, a group of young women . . . friends, who promised to tell me things about the . . . ah . . . wedding night.”

He was quiet a minute, stroking the dog’s head, rubbing the silky ears. Her voice did not have the ring of truth to it. He could press the matter, but it would serve no purpose. Tomorrow they would leave for Brookhaven, and whoever she had planned to meet would be out of reach. He needed this marriage. The tenants on his estates needed it. This once, and this once only, he had to ignore her misbehavior. “I will endeavor to take your word on that,” he said, his voice neutral. “I did not want this marriage to start as badly as our first meeting, although it seems to have done so. We have an entire life to live in each other’s company, and I would that we could do so pleasantly.”

“It hasn’t been
all
that bad a day,” she said.

“An encouraging sentiment.” His voice was lifeless, and then, to his surprise, she nudged him lightly with her shoulder.

“I’ve never known anyone who thought a wedding day easy on the nerves,” she said. Was she trying to cheer him? “I thought somehow I’d escape that part of it, that I’d just have fun today, but I guess I fell victim to bridal insanity. Surely you can’t always be so awful yourself?”