The Runaway Duchess (10 page)

“But
I suppose,” she said thoughtfully, “life gives us what we need, not what we
want.”

They
rode the rest of the way down Bayview Street in reflective silence, and when
the carriage pulled up beside a handsome brownstone with matching mulberry
trees and a towering gate they embraced tightly, if not a bit awkwardly given
that neither of them could stand to their full height inside of the carriage.

“Be
safe,” Dianna whispered.

“I
shall tell you everything once I return.”

“You
had better. I want every single detail, with
nothing
left out. Just
think,” Dianna said over her shoulder as Greensburgh opened the door and
enthusiastically offered his arm for her to step down, “when you return you
will be Mrs. Graystone!”

“Mrs.
Graystone,” Charlotte repeated softly under her breath once Dianna had managed
to slip undetected into her house and the carriage was once again moving. “Mrs.
Charlotte Graystone.” It had a certain ring to it, she supposed. Surely it
sounded better than the ‘Duchess of Tarrow’.

But
if that was the case then why did it feel as though a heavy stone was sitting
in her stomach and her palms were damp with sweat? Turning her head to the side
to hide her growing anxiety from Tabitha’s watchful gaze, Charlotte closed her
eyes and feigned sleep until at long last, lulled by the rocking of the
carriage, she slipped mercifully into unconsciousness.   

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gretna
Green was a small village just past the border that divided England and
Scotland. Easily accessible by the Great North Road, it had become a
commonplace destination for couples desiring a quick marriage without the
consent of their parents and beyond the judgmental eye of the
ton
.

Once
upon a time being married in England had been a simple affair, but following
the Marriage Act of 1753 it took a turn for the complicated. Banns were
required to be read in the church where the wedding would take place, not once
or twice but three times over the period of twenty one days, effectively
eliminating any wedding of haste. If one wished to wed without having the Banns
read, they needed to obtain a marriage license which would only be granted if
both parties were of age and there was no impediment… such as the bride being
engaged to another man.

In
short, if a couple wished to elope they had no choice but to flee to Gretna
Green, where nothing more was required than two witnesses willing to put their
signature to parchment. It made the entire affair fast, simple, and, to
Charlotte’s way of thinking, horribly unromantic.

As
she stood shoulder to shoulder next to a man she hardly knew while a priest
flew through their marriage vows without once glancing up at the couple he was
uniting forever, Charlotte’s stomach twisted into one tight knot of
apprehension. She peeked sideways at Gavin, hoping to catch his eye, but he was
staring straight ahead, his stoic countenance revealing none of the nervousness
and anxiety she was certain was written all over her own face if only anyone
cared to look.

She
and Tabitha had traveled all day and all night to reach Scotland by late
morning, and it seemed no sooner had Charlotte’s boots touched the fresh loamy
soil than Gavin appeared to whisk her away to the Blacksmith’s shop where all
weddings in Gretna Green took place.

It
was a narrow, rectangular building that smelled faintly of steel and smoke. The
cobblestone floor had been swept clean in anticipation of their arrival, but
cobwebs lingered in the rafters and straw was piled high in all four corners.
It was not, Charlotte thought with a grimace, the beautiful church she once
dreamed of being married in as a young girl, but then again she hardly had
reason for complaint, not when it was Gavin on her arm instead Crane.

Again
she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. This time he glanced back, but
his gray eyes were as unreadable as the rest of his face. Charlotte managed a
small, hesitant smile; Gavin turned his head and resumed staring at the short,
portly priest who was reciting their marriage vows with as much enthusiasm as a
rain cloud on a dreary, sunless day.

Her
back stiffened. Very well, then. If Gavin wanted to make their wedding no more
intimate than two strangers waiting in line next to each other at Twinings she
could certainly oblige him. Two could play this game of cool indifference, and
with everything Charlotte set her mind to she intended to be the best at it.

She
managed to hold her attention solely on the priest for a few more minutes, but
as he droned on (and on and on) she found her eyes wandering around the room
and landing with no small amount of chagrin on the skirt of her light green
traveling dress, wrinkled and worn from so many hours spent sitting in a
carriage.

She
wished there had been time to change into the ivory morning gown with blue
satin trim she brought specifically for the ceremony, but Gavin had been
adamant they marry immediately and, exhausted and disoriented from traveling,
she had not bothered arguing.

Noting
a spot of mud she frowned and attempted to brush it away as inconspicuously as
possible. When that did not work she looked to see if anyone was watching her –
the only other two people in attendance were Tabitha and Gavin’s valet, a man
whose name she did not remember; both of whom appeared to be dozing off – and
slipped her hand free from its glove to pick at the stubborn dirt with a
fingernail.

She
became so consumed with her task that she did not hear her name being spoken
the first time, nor the second. Only when Gavin grabbed her arm did she jump
and raise startled eyes to his. “What?” she whispered. “What is it?”

“We
have reached the part where you need to pay attention,” Gavin explained. His
tone was sober, but the faint hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his
mouth. “Perhaps you had best read the vows to her again,” he advised the
priest. “My wife-to-be is a bit hard of hearing.”

“Hard
of hearing, ye say?” The priest’s bushy gray eyebrows rose high on his
forehead. “Should I start from the beginning with all of it, then?”

“NO!”
Charlotte and Gavin shouted simultaneously and poor Tabitha, who truly had
fallen asleep behind them, jumped awake with a little shriek and nearly tipped
sideways off her chair.

“Sorry,”
she squeaked. “I am so sorry, Lady Charlotte.”

The
priest sighed. “Very well. I shall repeat the vows one final time, that is if
the bride is now paying attention?”

“I
am,” Charlotte said solemnly.

The
look the priest gave her said he highly doubted that, but he began again
nevertheless. “Lady Charlotte Vanderley, wilt thou have this Man to be thy
wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of
matrimony?”

“Yes,
I will.”

The
priest glowered.

“You
are supposed to say ‘I do’,” Gavin whispered.

“I
do,” she amended hastily.

“Wilt
thou obey him, and serve him, and – yes, what is it
now
?” the priest
asked in exasperation when Charlotte’s hand slowly crept into the air.

“It
is just… well… the wording of that one particular vow. The ‘obey’ part. I do
not think I like it.”

“You
do not
like
it?”

“No.”
She shook her head. “I do not. Is there another word we can use in its stead?
One that is less…”

“Dictatorial?”
Gavin suggested dryly.

“Yes.
Precisely.”

The
priest swelled to his full height (which was still rather unimpressive) and
glowered at both of them. “And what word would ye suggest I use?”

“Listen,”
Charlotte said after she thought about it for a moment. “I could vow to always
listen to my husband.”

“Do
ye agree to this… this malarkey?” the priest blustered, turning towards Gavin
who shrugged.

“They
are her vows, not mine.”

“Very
well, very well,” he grumbled. “It is extremely irregular but if that is what
you wish—”

“It
is,” Charlotte said.

“—then
that is how it will be. Now, for the third and final time, God help my soul.
Lady Charlotte Vanderley, wilt thou have this Man to be thy wedded Husband, to
live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”

Charlotte’s
brow creased. “Didn’t you already say this part – I do, I do!” she squealed
when Gavin pinched her arm.

“Wilt
thou
listen
to him, and serve him, love honor, and keep him in sickness
and in health and, forsaking all others, keep thee only until him, for as long
as ye both shall live?”

Charlotte
knew she was supposed to give her answer to the priest, but for some
inexplicable reason she found herself looking at Gavin instead, and he at her.
Their eyes met, and she had to swallow twice before she managed to croak, “I
do.”

The
rest of the vows flew by in quick succession. Charlotte nodded in all of the
right places and repeated all of the right words, although if someone were to
ask her what had been said after the fact she would have no recollection. It
seemed as though time were passing in slow motion and everything was a lovely
blur of color and sound until reality came crashing in like waves breaking up
against the shore when Gavin raised her left hand and thrust a ring upon her
finger.

It
was a simple gold band, old and thin and rubbed smooth around the edges. It
showed all the signs of having been worn by someone else and Charlotte wondered
about the woman whose finger it had rested upon for so many years, as well as
the man who gave it to her.

Was
she Gavin’s mother? Grandmother? An aunt, perhaps, or no relation at all? With
a jolt she realized she knew absolutely nothing about his family. He had never
told her, and she had never thought to ask. Were his parents alive? Did he have
siblings? A sister, or a brother?

She
truly was marrying a stranger. A stranger she knew absolutely nothing about.
Why, she did not even know what he did for work! Some sort of business, she
assumed, but what sort and with whom? She should have asked more questions, but
there had not been any time. Now she was bound to the man beside her for all
eternity, and she knew little more than his name – and not even his middle one,
at that!

“Smile,”
Gavin demanded tightly. “You look like a frightened little mouse.”

A
frightened little
mouse
? Charlotte drew back her shoulders. No more than
a few minutes into their marriage and her new husband was insulting her
already! The nerve. Ignoring his command, she frowned so fiercely little
grooves appeared in the corners of her mouth and concentrated all of her
attention on the priest who was flipping through his thick ledger for a clean
page they could sign.

Gavin
made his signature first. His handwriting was small and bold with none of the
finesse Charlotte’s looping scrawl embodied.

Tabitha
and the other witness came forward to sign their names as well. The priest
blessed them, Gavin pressed a cold, emotionless kiss to her cheek, and the
ceremony was over.

As
Charlotte walked out of the blacksmith’s shop she was a bit disappointed to
discover she did not feel any different. Certainly she did not feel married,
not even a little bit, and she wondered if Gavin felt the same. Shading her
eyes against the late morning sun she stopped beside the carriage and turned to
face him while Tabitha busied herself elsewhere. “We are married, then.”

Gavin
stood stiffly, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his gray trousers
and his jaw set. He had donned a cravat for the wedding, but he tugged at it
now, unwinding the crisp white cloth and leaving it to dangle carelessly over
one shoulder. “We are,” he agreed.

Of
its own accord Charlotte’s thumb tucked inwards and ran across her wedding
ring, spinning it round and round. She did a quick study of their surroundings,
taking a moment to note and appreciate the quiet simplicity of Gretna Green, so
different from the loud, constant chaos of London.

 The
sky was a clear blue; the sun warm against the back of her neck. She stepped
into the wavering shadow cast by the carriage and leaned against one massive
wheel, giving her travel weary body a momentary respite.

“I
take it your journey here was uneventful?” Gavin asked.

He
was so formal, Charlotte thought distastefully. So rigid.

She
knew they did not know each other very well – or, in truth, at all – but did he
have to act as though they had never kissed in a dark study or gazed into each
others eyes on a balcony?  “It was fine,” she said. “Quite long, but
fine.”

“Good.
That is good.”

Silence
fell between them, heavy and straining. Charlotte looked at the sky. Gavin
pinned his gaze to the ground. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Charlotte’s eyelids
grew heavy. She blinked and shook her head, fighting back a yawn.

“Are
you tired?”

“Yes,”
she admitted. “Quite. I was not able to sleep very well in the carriage.”

“I
have reserved two rooms at the inn.” He lifted his arm and pointed past her.
Following the direction of his finger Charlotte saw a stone building with a
thatched roof and a crooked wooden sign that read:
Stone Pig Tavern
.

Her
brow creased. “Two rooms? But… but aren’t we returning to London today?” With
the rush to get
out
of the city she had admittedly not given much
thought to the journey back
into
the city, and staying overnight at an
inn with Gavin had most certainly never crossed her mind. Perhaps it should
have, as traveling from Gretna Green to London in one day was beyond the realm
of possibility, unless her new husband managed to procure a carriage with
wings. 

“The
horses are tired. They need the rest, and by all appearances so do you. We will
leave at dawn tomorrow.”

There
was a lot of time between now and dawn, Charlotte thought with a mild surge of
panic. And Gavin had made it a point to mention
two
rooms. Did that mean
one was for him and the other for her and Tabitha? Or was the first for Tabitha
and the second for them? Did he intend to claim his husbandly rights tonight?
And if he did, would she be ready?

“You’ve
gone pale as a sheet,” Gavin observed.

“I…
I… I…” Her mouth opened and closed, but the right words refused to come out.
Embarrassed at her lack of coherency, she forced herself to take a deep breath
and tried again. “I rather thought… That is, even though we are now technically
married… Perhaps, er, well I think we can both agree that we hardly know each
other and before we, er, take part in matters best left to the bedroom—”

“Matters
best left to the bedroom?”

Was
he laughing at her? No, surely not. It was a trick of the light that made it
appear as though his eyes were gleaming with amusement, for surely he would
never
laugh
when she was attempting to discuss such a serious topic.
“Yes, I think it would be best if we took our time to get to know each other
before we, er, that is to say…”

“Partake
in matters best left to the bedroom?” he offered, and this time there was no
mistaking his grin for anything other than exactly what it was.