The Rake's Arranged Marriage (11 page)

She took this in, marveling at her husband's candor. It wasn't the most flattering admittance. But the honesty of it was truly to be admired.

"I like to be the one in the know," he continued to explain. "And besides, catching people off-guard always results in hilarity. For instance, what do you think your father's face will look like when he hears the news? Or his friend Colonel Simms? They'll be shocked! Don't tell me you're not going to get some enjoyment out of that!"

She smiled. She would
indeed
get some enjoyment out of seeing their faces. And when she thought about it a bit more, she realized that she and Lord Eliot were probably above any serious reproach. They were both of age, both widowed. Their elopement wasn't really so shocking when it came down to it – especially considering Lord Eliot's reputation for living on the edge.

Still, it was with some reluctance that she crawled from the warmth of the covers. A large part of her never wanted to leave this small room. She stood by the bed and stretched, watching Lord Eliot don his coat. He was out the door the next minute, giving her another quick kiss and telling her he'd saddle Lodestar and Shadow.

When the door closed behind him, Cara made her way to the ceramic basin to splash some water on her face and straighten her hair. Suddenly alone, she found herself to be deeply and truly happy. It was, perhaps, the greatest surprise of all. As she did up her corset to the best of her ability and stepped into her blue wedding gown (a bit rumpled from the night it had spent on the floor of the rectory), she was humming under her breath.

Mrs. Quentin Eliot. I am Mrs. Quentin Eliot!

***

Shadow and Lodestar carried them across the moors at a soaring gallop. The spring sun warmed the earth, and the birds were singing. It was a glorious day. Cara didn't think she had ever seen fluffy clouds so perfectly white or a sky so brilliantly blue. As they rode, the natural wonders all around effectively kept her distracted from any residual anxiety about attending the reception. In fact, she felt surprisingly confident and eager to face the crowds. Perhaps it
would
be fun.

They approached Hedgeton from the North. Now, in the daylight, she was better able to assess the lay of the land. Although she was a bit sore from the diversions of the previous night, she managed to stand in the saddle to get a better view of the prospect up ahead as they crested a hill. There was Hedgeton Manor – no bigger than a teacup on the horizon. It was beautiful. Cara could see the hedge maze off to the right of the great house and the long driveway that led down to the road. As they rode closer, she could see that there were one or two vehicles and several riders – latecomers to the festivities, no doubt – on the driveway. But the flattened area just in front of the manor was positively packed with curricles, barouches, and the odd carriage. The day was so fair that most of the guests appeared to have opted for open-air conveyances.

They were a quarter mile away when the first faint notes of string music wafted to them on the breeze. Lord Eliot reined up now, and Cara did so, too, coming to a stop beside her husband.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well," she said. "It sounds to me like you hired a chamber group!"

"A chamber group? No, my dear. Don't be silly. I hired an orchestra!"

Her mouth dropped open. "An
orchestra?
"

"We only get married once. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true in our cases," Eliot said with a grin. "Fine, we're each getting married for the second time, but it's the first and only time we're marrying each other. I figured the occasion called for a little decadence."

She could only smile and shake her head.

"Come on," Lord Eliot said, urging Lodestar forward into a trot. "I have an idea."

Chapter Nine

They gave Hedgeton a wide birth, diving into the trees on its western side. Soon Cara understood what Eliot meant to do. The sound of the music was louder back here, and she could tell by the pure, unfettered tones that the musicians were likely seated outside, in the back courtyard area, which was exactly where they seemed to be heading. She also guessed that wherever the music was, that's where the celebration would be centered. When they emerged at a gallop into the cleared green just behind the courtyard, her suspicion was confirmed. As soon as they were spotted, she saw guest after guest arise. Ladies lifted their fans to their foreheads, shading their eyes to get a better view of their host and hostess' approach. Several people called out. "Look! Look there!" The general commotion was astounding – and quite gratifying. The music petered out as one by one the musicians stopped playing and took to gawking as well.

Lord Eliot led the charge all the way up to the low stone wall separating the courtyard from the green. He reigned up hard, and Lodestar reared impressively, snorting and whinnying in a grand display. One of the ladies nearest the low rock wall fainted dead away at the sight. Her fat husband had a time trying to bear her weight as she fell directly onto him. Cara had to bite back the urge to giggle at the sight. In this particular moment, she could plainly see what Eliot had meant about people doing the damnedest things when they were surprised.

Eliot was dismounting now, his cheeks ruddy and a merry twinkle in his eye. He handed the reins to a stable boy and his gloves to the valet Pierson, both of whom seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Cara dismounted, as well, helped by serving man in a white wig and formal suit, who had also appeared out of thin air. "Welcome home, Madame," he said formally, as he took her cloak from her shoulders and folded it over his arm.

She had begun to suspect that her husband had planned their surprise entrance in just this way. Eliot stood regally now, running a hand through his honey locks as Pierson brushed him off and took his long riding coat. Watching him, Cara sensed a change in his attitude. He seemed suddenly distracted, distant. But when she caught his eye, he winked at her and extended his hand. She took it, feeling a completely illogical stab of anxiety. But she didn't have time to dwell on it, for the next second Eliot was sweeping her in a wide arc before the guests, allowing them all a good look at her beautiful blue dress. She could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. She was not used to such displays – especially of her own person – but she wasn't about to deny her husband anything in this moment. He was obviously the master of ceremonies. And after last night, she trusted him implicitly.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, my wife and I welcome you to Hedgeton!"

General hubbub and whispering ensued. He let it play out. Now, standing at his side, she looked up at him, but he didn't shoot her a glance. He was too busy observing the effect his words had had upon the gathering.

"Your
wife!?
What do you mean, sir?"

The cry rang out above all else, and she recognized the voice. She turned towards it. Sure enough, there was her father, his brows drawn together and a shocked, questioning look on his face. Predictably, Colonel Simms was at his side. Now that she was off her father's hands for good, Cara supposed Lord Calloway was free to occupy his time however he wished, which, evidently, was proving to be mostly in the company of the silly Colonel. Cara even surmised that Simms had probably taken up residence at Boyle Estate in her absence.

"Why, yes, Father!" Eliot replied.

"But, but..." Lord Calloway sputtered. "I assumed I would be present at my own daughter's nuptials!"

"I do hope you'll forgive me, Father," Eliot said, bowing low. "But I feel that marriage is a very private affair. Lady Eliot here shares my sentiments, I do believe."

He shot her a quick smile. She inclined her head in agreement.

"But
where
were you joined? And when?" Lord Calloway moaned petulantly. "The church has been quiet all morning – the bells were not rung. In fact, Father Timothy was already here at the party when we arrived!" Lord Calloway pointed, and Cara followed his finger to see plump Father Timothy, the parish priest. He was drunk as a skunk, fast asleep at his table in a puddle of spilled punch.

"Quite right, sir!" Eliot assured him. "We were joined by Father Matthew."

"I've never heard of him!" Lord Calloway grumbled.

"I'm not surprised. He leads somewhat of a...
hermitish
existence in the private chapel and rectory on my lands."

Another murmur went up through the crowd. But this time, it was broken by a new voice – one that was unfamiliar to Cara.

"Why, Q! You never told me you had a private chapel!"

The woman who had spoken was wearing a low-cut gown of a dusky rose color. Her ample breasts were pushed up, her cleavage pleasantly pink. Her golden hair was curled and piled atop her head in an extravagant style, studded with pearls and bedecked with feathers. It was clear she was from town, everything about her bespoke high London fashion and wealth. The fact that she addressed Eliot as “Q” was further confirmation of whence she'd come. Cara thought the woman looked like a beautiful bird ready to sink its talons right into Lord Eliot. Indeed, that's what she did in short order.

"My dear Charmian," Eliot said, bowing and taking her hand to kiss it. When he straightened, his eyes lingered with obvious appreciation and familiarity on the woman's décolletage. Instantly, Cara felt sweat break out on her brow.

"How lovely that you were able to make it!" he continued pleasantly. "And was Mr. Pembroke able to accompany you?"

"Oh, I fear not, dear Q. His business keeps him in town," Mrs. Pembroke replied with a little pout.

"Ahh..." Eliot breathed. His hand was still holding the woman's, Cara noted. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and she had to clear her throat. The small sound seemed to remind Eliot of her presence. He turned to her.

"Lady Cara Eliot, may I present Mrs. Charmian Pembroke of London."

Cara curtseyed with as much dignity as she could muster. Mrs. Pembroke returned the favor, dipping languidly.

"Let me be the first to offer you my congratulations, Lady Eliot," the lovely bird said. Her voice was husky, low...and mocking. "I suppose you've proved us all wrong."

"I'm not sure I follow, Mrs. Pembroke," Cara said carefully.

"Well, so many of us were certain Q couldn't be tamed. That he was simply a bachelor at heart...forever to roam!"

It was quite an obvious jab, but an effective one, nonetheless. Cara's eyes drifted involuntarily over the crowd. Everywhere she looked, she seemed to see smug female faces – experienced, worldly women, all ten times more beautiful than she. Her vision began to blur as the happiness of the previous night and glorious morning drained away from her. She looked up at Eliot, but he seemed unaware of her now. He was smiling wolfishly at Mrs. Pembroke.

"Who says I've been
tamed
, Charmian dear?" he said, raising his voice for all in attendance to hear. Then he let loose a throaty laugh. "It's only a marriage!"

The assembly erupted into hearty laughter. They began to disperse, their curiosity sated. Some went for the punch, others went for the hors d'oeuvres. Sanderson the butler signaled the orchestra to begin playing. The conductor took up his baton and began to lead a waltz.

Eliot and Mrs. Pembroke chatted merrily on beside her, but Cara couldn't hear their conversation. She felt as though she'd been dealt a great blow. She was frozen and stiff and deaf to the revelry all around. There was but one thought in her mind. It loomed large, blocking everything else out.

How could I have been so stupid? How?

"Cara, my dear."

Her father's voice. She looked up. Lord Calloway was standing before her.

"Dance?"

She nodded, finding herself glad for the distraction.

Her father did not have much to say as they joined the other couples who had formed lines and were beginning to move in waltz time on the terrace. Cara was certain Lord Calloway's sense of propriety was more than a bit piqued by the wild entrance he'd just witnessed, but he did offer his congratulations, saying that he hoped they would be very happy.

"I hope so, too, Papa," she made herself say with a perfunctory smile. But all the while, she had her eyes locked on Eliot. He hadn't moved from his place. Now several of the other female guests had joined in the conversation between he and Mrs. Pembroke. Cara heard Eliot laugh wildly and call for another glass of brandy. This meant that in the few minutes since their arrival, he was already on his second glass – and she hadn't even seen him take a first. His cheeks were rosy, his honey hair framing his face like a wild halo in the morning sun. Cara thought he'd never looked more attractive in all the time she'd known him. He was masculine and angelic at once. She'd seen the gentle and passionate heart beneath the gorgeous exterior, which made this perverse demonstration all the more painful.

She managed to keep her composure through the dance with her father. Then Colonel Simms stepped up to take Lord Calloway's place when the songs changed. Halfway through this second dance, she could see that one of Eliot's arms was thrown about Mrs. Pembroke. The other ladies were pressing in close to him, their fans batting madly as they giggled and chirped. It was too much.

When the music ended, she bowed quickly to Colonel Simms. He returned the gesture, the medals on his red coat clanging together with an annoying sound.

"Will you excuse me, sir?" she asked as pleasantly as she could.

"Why of course, my dear Lady Boyle! Erm, I suppose it's Lady
Eliot
now!" The Colonel proceeded to dissolve in laughter, as though his mistake were the funniest joke on earth.

She lost all patience. Her heart was so sore that it spilled over and took control of her tongue.

"Quite right, Colonel. I am
Lady Quentin Eliot
. To call me by my old name on my wedding day is a gross insult indeed. You're a careless, doddering old man, and a discredit to Her Majesty's service. I'd tell you to retire while you were ahead, but I fear the time for such advice has long since passed. Good day, sir."