Chapter Eighteen
What the devil? The morning following the arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Cynssyr, Bracebridge stood at the side of his house in breeches and shirt, mouth open. A line of carriages stretched from the front door and around the first curve of the driveway and past. Two footmen were outside assisting passengers from carriages, pointing drivers toward the stables, or directing other servants to drive the same direction.
He’d gone out for a morning breather, an essential part of his training regimen, then into Hinderhead to spar, and now this? He wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
He ought to have expected this. His neighbors had descended upon Corth Abbey because the long-unmarried, scandalous Earl of Bracebridge had secured a countess. That, and the fact that the Duke and Duchess of Cynssyr were present. Word generally got around when Cynssyr called.
The length of the line suggested that gentry from well beyond Hinderhead had called, too. He glanced at the front parlor window and saw the owners of those carriages crowding the room. Thank goodness Anne and Cynssyr were here to handle everything. Not that he thought Emily incapable, but for a second night, neither of them had slept much. One could hardly expect a bride as young and inexperienced as Emily to cope with a crush of visiting strangers.
A drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and reminded him he was not appropriately dressed and that he ought not allow anyone to see him. His valet swooped in the moment he entered his quarters via the private entrance at the back of the house.
“My lord,” Keller said as he caught the shirt Bracebridge stripped off and tossed at him.
“How long have the vultures been here?” He peeled off the rest of his clothes and touched a sore spot on his upper chest. When he was at Corth Abbey, he frequently sparred with a fighter who had retired to ownership of a tavern in Hinderhead. While he had bruises to show for the outing, so did his sparring partner.
“They began arriving promptly at ten o’clock, my lord.”
It was now going on noon. Emily had been alone with those people for going on two hours.
“Thank goodness the duchess is here to see that all is in order.”
Keller stropped a razor while they spoke. They had their routine. A fresh suit was laid out; polished shoes, ready. He stepped to the basin and picked up the cloth next to a jar of fragrant salve. “His Grace and the duchess departed shortly after you went out this morning.”
Bracebridge stared at his valet. “Do you mean to say she’s down there alone with every woman from the parish and Lord only knows how many others?”
“Yes, my lord.” Keller took over washing away the dirt and sweat of Bracebridge’s training.
“Someone should have sent for me.”
Keller looked horrified, and under any other circumstance, this would have been the appropriate response. The entire staff was used to staffing a bachelor’s household and, subsequently, knew his training was not to be interrupted.
“I do not wish to be interrupted. Nothing has changed about that. But I am a married man now. The rules must necessarily be relaxed.”
“My lord.”
“I’ll have a word with Pond.” He thought of that line of carriages. Emily must be overwhelmed. “News travels quickly.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
Further conversation was delayed while Keller shaved him. No doubt Bracebridge’s marriage had become common knowledge within an hour of their arrival at Corth Abbey and grew widespread once Pond engaged that young woman as a lady’s maid. Not to mention purchases had been made for Emily.
Of course everyone knew. Of course callers descended. Whatever disaster was unfolding in the parlor, the fault was his and his alone.
Keller wiped the remaining lather from Bracebridge’s face. “Her ladyship herself assured us there was no need to fetch you.”
He declined to inform Keller that Emily was in over her head. If the staff had not already realized that, they soon would. She had no experience with a household the size of his. The Cooperage was in no way comparable. “The cream waistcoat, I think,” Bracebridge said. “With the gold stitching.”
“An excellent choice, my lord.” Keller retreated to the wardrobe to fetch the garment Bracebridge normally wore only for formal or official events.
He entered the parlor unnoticed, wondering whether the din signaled a success or something more ominous. Pond had opened the doors to the connecting salon to accommodate the crowd. Bracebridge recognized many of the guests, but not all: his immediate neighbors, anyone from Hinderhead with pretensions to gentility, and several from nearby villages.
Most everyone seemed to be smiling and holding glasses and plates of food. The kitchen must be an absolute madhouse now, for footmen strolled among the guests with trays of food and drink or discreetly removed abandoned plates and glasses. Farther inside the parlor, the scene was familiar to anyone who had ever been at a London crush attended by the Divine Sinclair.
His wife was the center of attention, absolutely radiant.
Fortunately, it appeared, the single men with whom he kept company knew better than to call without an indication from him that he intended to continue the acquaintance, but there were others who were obviously sons or scions of the leading families.
Despite the crowd, somehow Emily knew he was here, for she stood and caught his eye. He’d seen her in that gown nearly every day for the past fortnight, and still she took his breath. A flash of empathy for her got caught up in his reaction. He’d taken her from a situation not to her liking and put her into one where she would not have what she deserved. Plenty of better men than he genuinely loved her.
If he hadn’t taken her off to Scotland to make a point to her father, one of those men would eventually have been her husband. Someone who loved her; someone who appreciated her intellect, her wit, and the joy with which she approached life. He’d denied her that.
His regret was complicated by vivid memories of her naked and in his arms. Her mouth. The taste of her. Her whispering his name. Her utter abandon to the act of marital intimacy. Being inside her while she clung to him. He yearned to take her aside right now.
They would find a way to make a life together. There would be no grand love, no exalted emotion, but there were grounds for mutual respect.
Someone tapped his arm. “My lord?”
He swung his head to his left to see Mrs. Iddings, the matriarch of one of Hinderhead’s leading families and a woman who thoroughly disapproved of him. She sank into a curtsey. To her credit, her greeting managed to convey respect without pretending they were on good terms. For Emily’s sake, he could do the same.
The Iddingses lived on the opposite side of Hinderhead from Corth Abbey. Mr. Iddings was not the sort to frequent the likes of Two Fives, or to attend parties to which Bracebridge had also been invited, so Bracebridge had mercifully little to do with either of them. The Iddingses had a daughter, but he knew only that she existed and was roughly Emily’s age.
“Mrs. Iddings,” he said with a bow. “Welcome to Corth Abbey.”
“I am here,” she said, “because of your wife.”
He maintained a pleasant smile. “How delightful.”
“We are exceedingly fond of Lady Bracebridge at Fontain.” Fontain was the Iddings’ estate.
“I appreciate your kind words.”
Her attention focused on him. Mrs. Iddings was a handsome woman who had once given him a direct cut and had not addressed him since. “When we heard the news of her marriage, we came immediately.”
Her marriage. Did she mean to insult him? Emily hadn’t got married by herself, after all. He knew how to smile at people who thought they were better than he, so he did just that at Mrs. Iddings. “I was not aware you were acquainted with Lady Bracebridge.”
“We consider her a dear friend.” Mrs. Iddings cleared her throat, and he gave her his attention once more. She drew him aside, away from the crowd forming to greet him. “My lord.” She curtseyed again, and the reprobate in him hoped she hated the necessity of all that bowing and my lord-ing. He was Bracebridge, and she had best not forget that fact. “May I beg a moment of your time?”
Nothing would have given him more pleasure than to send her away with a curt no. “Certainly.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He restrained himself from asking her to get on with it. Emily would need allies if she stayed in at Corth Abbey, and Mrs. Iddings would be an important one.
“Your condescension is appreciated,” she said. “Do please accept my heartfelt congratulations on your marriage. Mr. Iddings and I wish Lady Bracebridge all the happiness in the world.”
Her sincerity took him aback almost as much as her exclusion of him from her wishes of happiness. For an absurd moment, he actually thought, I shall be very bloody happy, thank you. “I shall relay your sentiments to Lady Bracebridge.”
Mrs. Iddings clasped her hands beneath her chin, gathering herself for the continuing effort of being polite to a man of whom she disapproved. “You are exceedingly lucky to have won her heart.”
“I am indeed.” He put his hands behind his back and curled his fingers around one wrist. The poor woman was floundering, and he took pity on her. For Emily’s sake. “You are perhaps unaware that I have known the Sinclair family for many years.”
“Lady Bracebridge mentioned her acquaintance with you once she learned we lived in Hinderhead.” She took a short breath, obviously coming to a decision about what she intended to say to him. Thank God. He’d been in the parlor hardly ten minutes, and he was at his limit of good behavior.
“My lord. Mr. Iddings and I have not pursued as warm an acquaintance with you as we might have, given how close Corth Abbey is to Fontain. You came here a bachelor, and your frequent visitors were of a sort we were unused to seeing in Hinderhead.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. He would not ruin Emily’s friendship with this woman. He would not. Pray God, he would not. “I commend you for keeping better company than I.”
She squinted across the room, but when he followed her look, he saw nothing there to pique her interest: several young ladies and a corresponding number of fathers, brothers, and other male relations. She returned her attention to him. “You have married the most generous, caring, and loyal young woman it has ever been my pleasure to know. I do confess to you that when she was introduced to us, I was concerned about her influence on my daughter. Given her family, I am sure you understand.”
“We shall quarrel if you mean her sister, the duchess.”
“I consider it an honor to know Her Grace.” She lifted her chin. “But her father, the scandal of her sister’s first marriage—”
“You mean the present Lady Thrale?”
She swallowed. “Lady Bracebridge has been an excellent friend to my daughter, and I could not, in good conscience, fail to pay my respects or tell you of our regard for your wife.”
“Indeed?” He knew how to behave in public, but he was hard pressed not to tell Mrs. Iddings that he did not consider her opinion much of a recommendation. Emily, however, deserved his discretion. He had no wish to be the cause of difficulties between Emily and her friends.
“Our regard for Lady Bracebridge knows no bounds. She is all that is charming and gentle. So intelligent. Such a delight. Say what you will about her father, her character is exemplary.” Mrs. Iddings pressed his arm. “All of this is familiar to you, I am sure, and I do commend your good sense and judgment. You have married an exceptional woman. All of us at Fontain hope to continue our acquaintance with your wife.”
He gave her a half bow. “I leave our social calendar entirely to Lady Bracebridge.” True or not, the words rolled smoothly from his lips. As for him, well, if he must tolerate a house full of people more often than he liked, he would. He would even tolerate Mrs. Iddings.
The woman beamed at him. “Very wise of you, my lord. I think you shall find a wife convenient in many ways, not the least of which is managing one’s social calendar.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you for your good wishes. Lady Bracebridge and I appreciate that very much.” He took a breath and adopted the most ingratiating manner possible. “We are fortunate to have the support of a woman such as yourself.”
Mrs. Iddings considered him for a long moment, and smiled in a way he had not seen from her before. He almost believed she meant it. “You are too kind, my lord.”
She curtseyed and made her escape while Bracebridge stood, bemused and confounded. Guests descended upon him, eager to pay their respects. For the next half hour at least, he shook hands, greeted people he barely recalled, and was introduced to people whose names he’d never known and promptly forgot. He had not been the best neighbor; he was the first to admit that.
Eventually, he made his way to the sofa where Emily sat. The crowd around her parted when he reached her. The young woman beside her proved to be none other than Miss Iddings, whom he liked against his inclination. She strongly resembled her mother, but her face was open, agreeable, and sincere.
He kissed Emily’s cheek amid swooning ahs from onlookers, and was swept into another wave of introductions. He recognized the besotted admiration of the company around his wife. Men and women alike fell under her spell. For the next hour, he chatted with strangers who had long wished to know him better and who now plainly admired Emily. He had several conversations about land usage, hunting and hunting dogs, and entertained one or two sly jokes about gaming hells, which he pretended not to understand.
The crowd eventually began to disperse, with Emily or himself escorting one or more of their callers to the parlor door. And then, somehow, he was alone with his wife, and their first social event as Lord and Lady Bracebridge was behind them.
Having seen out the very last caller, she returned to the sofa and sat with her head leaning back. She pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a long breath. “We have survived.”
He wondered whether he ought to sit beside her but ultimately did not. “I apologize for leaving you here to deal with most of Hinderhead and beyond descending upon the house.”
She sat straight. He had no idea how to deal with Emily as his wife. Should he be demonstrative with her when there was no prior affection between them? Was that not in some way dishonest? The state of their marital relations suggested otherwise, but satisfying intimacy was not the same as a years-long friendship, which they did not have. He again considered sitting beside her, but his thoughts went immediately to holding her in his arms. Was that not proof that what he had with Emily was something other than friendship?
“Pond was wonderful,” she said, oblivious to his thoughts. “My compliments to him and your staff. As for the rest, you Hinderheadians are a charming lot. I enjoyed meeting them.”
Two footmen silently removed the detritus of the party while another closed the connecting doors, returning the parlor to its usual dimensions. The servants completed their work, and he and Emily were truly alone.
“I was surprised you joined us.” She curled her legs underneath her. “I told everyone you would not return in time.”
After all, he did sit beside her, closer than would have been proper were they not married. This was his house. His home. She was his wife. “I’m glad I did.”
She leaned back, chin tilted toward the ceiling. “I saw Mrs. Iddings take you aside. I was about to come to your rescue when you managed to get free. I am sorry. She can be a difficult woman.”
“We arrived at an understanding.”
She shot him a quick look. “About?”
He had no habit of confiding in Emily. She wasn’t Anne, with whom he had so much in common. He and Anne shared favorite poets, their opinions on many subjects were similar, and they were often amused by the same things. He had always found her serenity to be a soothing counterpoint to his volatility. When he was with Anne, he always came away convinced he could be a better person than he was. But Emily? He’d spent the past year actively avoiding her because he was not a better person around her.
As he sat beside Emily, he acknowledged a prick of resentment. Anne was the woman he loved, and he did not want his marriage to interfere with that. He did not know Emily even half as well as he knew Anne. “Mrs. Iddings and I have agreed to hold our mutual dislike in abeyance.”
“That is a relief.”
“I was not aware that you knew her.”
“Why would you be?” She rearranged her legs and the distance between them, surely by happenstance, increased. “I like Miss Iddings. We’ve always got along. I was resigned to being obliged to call on her at Fontain, rather than invite her here, for I know her mother disapproves of you. She’s another Mrs. Glynn.”
“There is no shortage of women who disapprove of me.” He stretched an arm along the top of the sofa. “You may entertain whomever you like.”
Emily shifted to face him. “I ought to tell you before I forget, I’ve promised the vicar I shall assist him with a school he is attempting to organize. I hope you don’t mind. If you do, I can make an excuse.”
“No need. Do just as you like.” He pressed his hand against her far shoulder, and she moved closer to him until her shoulder touched his chest. They’d done this all backward. Lovers before the kind of encounters that led to respect and friendship. How on Earth did one begin?
“Mrs. Miller promised to send us her famous raspberry cordial, by the way.”
He bumbled about in his memories for a recollection of this Mrs. Miller but came up blank.
“Your neighbor to the north. Grey hair going white, very spry, but like Pond, she has a painful knee.”
“Did you recommend a similar poultice?”
“Yes. She walked here, and Pond tells me she is five miles distant. I sent her home in one of your carriages with everything she needs to improve her knee.”
“That was thoughtful of you.” Mrs. Miller, he now recalled, was a widow of some years. Exactly the sort of lady who avoided a man like him.
He contemplated taking Emily’s hand again but didn’t. She was wearing a pair of white kid gloves more suited to morning calls than the pair he’d bought her. Several shops in Hinderhead had already sent on bills for accouterments of the sort ladies required. He had put them in line for immediate payment.
He took her hand and toyed with the buttons on her gloves. “Until your things arrive from Bartley Green, purchase whatever you need from Hinderhead. Or send to London, if there is someone there you prefer.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
He unfastened the buttons at the wrist of her gloves and stripped them off.
As if he hadn’t, she said, “I should like to have Mrs. Elliot come here. You need a housekeeper, and Mrs. Elliot will do quite well. Pond would appreciate the assistance. May I write to her?”
He worked off her other glove. He approved of the suggestion, and not the least because Mrs. Elliot would be her ally. “Yes, please. There must be someone to deal with female staff.”
She moved closer. “I rather thought Maggie might be the first and last.”
He kissed the tip of her first finger. “Mrs. Elliot shall be an exceptional housekeeper. If you had not suggested it, I would have. Write to her at Rosefeld. If she’s not there, Aldreth will know how to reach her.”
“Thank you.”
With his fingers lightly around her forearm, he kissed her second finger, then the third, and finally the smallest. Her skin was so soft. From experience, he knew this was true everywhere. He moved closer and, at last, she ceased staring at the ceiling.
“Miss Iddings told me you were the most intimidating gentleman she’d ever seen and that she never dared look you in the eye.”
“I am the terror of Hinderhead.” He moved closer, twisting so he could look into her face. She was simply exquisite. There was a deathless silence between them as he gazed into her face. His focus settled on her mouth, and he slowly drew her close. Why shouldn’t he kiss his wife?
She came willingly, arms around his shoulders, smiling, inviting. He kissed her, and she relaxed into his embrace and answered his lust with desire of her own. All his uncertainties and regrets faded away, to be replaced with a spreading lightness. There was no one less suited to him than Emily, except in this one thing. As a lover, she had no equal.
But he did not want this opportunity to know his wife better to be lost in dalliance, however appealing the idea. “Did Cynssyr or your sister say why they left?” He did not realize how treacherous the subject was until he’d broached it, and then he wasn’t certain how best to recover. “I regret I was not here to bid them goodbye.”
Emily’s response was smooth, entirely unexceptional. “No, they did not. I asked them to stay, but Cynssyr said they never intended to stay long.”
He did not trust her heart-stopping smile. She used her smile the way a knight used his shield. “Anne might have helped you entertain.”
Silence fell, and still she was smiling as if at this very moment, the world was the best of all possible worlds. Us. He ought to have said us. What a blunder.
“I am capable of entertaining callers,” she said. “As for being prepared, you could not ask for a better manager of your staff than Pond. He and York rose to the challenge.”
“Indeed, they did.”
“Even if you cannot trust my competence, you ought to have trusted theirs.” She stood. “I’ve had a long morning. I’m tired.”
With a sinking heart, he watched her leave. He’d bungled that badly.