“Wherein things go according to plan. Well ... one of them.”

 

Aubrey had allowed Violette to sit quietly for the first five minutes or so, not wanting to bother her if she was feeling unwell. She had been terribly quiet, avoiding his gaze and staring out of the window, and then biting her lip and looking so anxious he began to feel alarmed.

Quite unable to stand it a moment longer, he moved to sit beside her.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, looking down at her lovely face and wishing with all his heart that they would marry this morning. If ever there had been a doubt to her love, he had long since buried it.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, one hand twisting around the other as she avoided looking at him.

“What is it?” he asked, wondering why she was so anxious. Oh God. Perhaps she’d suffered a change of heart. She had spent a lot of time laughing with Ranleigh at the ball, perhaps she had rethought her decision. Going against her brother was a big step, after all ... his stomach twisted at the thought. “You can tell me, Violette,” he said, his voice soft as he prayed that he was wrong. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

She took a deep breath, apparently gathering her courage. “Well, Aubrey, the thing is ...”

The carriage rocked to a stop and Aubrey looked up in surprise. He’d been so busy watching Violette that he’d not even noticed the route they’d taken, and now the carriage had pulled up outside of the church at St James’, where he’d planned to marry her this morning.

“I ... I’ve decided to get married,” she said in a rush, her green eyes full of something that might have been panic as he stared at her in astonishment.

A bang on the carriage door made him look around and he was confronted with the face of the Duke of Ranleigh as he opened the door and looked in at them, grinning.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind.”

“No,” Violette said, blushing scarlet, and then turned to Aubrey, her green eyes wide with anxiety. “That is ... Aubrey, if ...”

“Oh, oh yes,” Aubrey said, his voice dull. He could hardly breath, the pain in his heart was so exquisite and all encompassing. “I ... I wish you very happy, I’m sure.”

Violette stared at him, frowning, and then at the duke, who smothered a laugh.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, before withdrawing to a discreet distance.

Violette gasped. “Aubrey Russell!” she exclaimed, her face becoming suddenly animated. “You odious creature! I thought I told you I had no intention of ever becoming a duchess.”

Aubrey stared at her, frowning. He could tell from her tone that she was really rather cross with him, but why, he couldn’t fathom. He was the one who’d been jilted, after all. And then he thought about what she’d said.

“Oh, there we are,” Violette said, her tone dry as he stared at her with dawning realisation.

“But what the devil is Ranleigh doing here?” he demanded in confusion.

“He has the licence,” she replied, crossing her arms with a huff of annoyance.

Aubrey stared at her in, a slow smile dawning over his face

“You want to marry me?” he replied, wondering how much more stress his heart could possibly endure in the next hour.

“I think I’ve mentioned that fact once or twice,” she replied, sounding so sulky now that he wanted to kiss her. “But if you don’t want ...”

He stopped her words with a kiss and she twined her arms around his neck, melting into him in such a way that made him pray that the ceremony would be brief.

“Of course I want to!” he exclaimed as he released her. “That’s why I have a licence in my pocket. That’s why I’ve arranged all the details of our elopement, including our wedding at nine am this morning.

“Oh,” she replied, staring at him in surprise. “Ours is at half past.”

They burst out laughing and he kissed her again. “So, you’re eloping with me, Lady Greyston?” he said, grinning at her like an idiot.

“No,” she said, with a haughty sniff, putting up her chin. “You are eloping with me!”

“Have it your way, love,” he replied with a grin. “At this point, I really don’t care who elopes with whom.” He opened the door and let down the steps, pulling her to her feet. “But for heaven’s sake,” he exclaimed. “Let’s go and get married!”

***

Aubrey thought that the duke took it really rather well when they told him his licence had been procured for nothing.

“Oh,” he said, raising his eyebrows and giving them a rather guarded smile. “How fortuitous.”

“Oh?” they replied, staring at him in surprise, but he said nothing and just wished them happy before sauntering off, whistling quietly to himself.

“Whatever was that about?” Violette wondered.

“I have no idea,” Aubrey replied, adding simply, “and I don’t care.”

The ceremony was brief and simple, a fact for which Aubrey felt he would be eternally grateful, as the spectre of Violette’s brother was looming large over his shoulder. Though he had long since resigned himself to whatever Lord Winterbourne chose to throw at him in retaliation for their elopement, it was not an easy thing to be sanguine about. However, sitting now in the carriage with Violette tucked into his arm, he felt he could cope with anything. Though he rather hoped the wedding night would come first.

“Where are we going now?” Violette asked, smiling up at him.

“We’re going to Hertfordshire first,” he replied, staring down at his new wife in wonder. “My family has a small cottage there,” he explained. “It’s not very grand, I’m afraid, but it’s pretty, and it’s private.”

Violette smiled at him, her eyes alight with pleasure though her cheeks were a little flushed. “Sounds perfect,” she replied.

He leaned down a pressed a kiss to her lips, wishing they didn’t have to travel at all. The desire to lay her down and make her truly his wife was a heat beneath his skin, branding him from the inside out. He sighed with frustration and pulled away from the temptation of her lips. He was not going to seduce her in the carriage, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“There is a catch,” he admitted, looking a little rueful. “It’s on the edge of my grandmother’s estate. She’ll expect a visit.”

“She knows?” Violette exclaimed in alarm. Though she had never met his grandmother, he knew she had heard much about her from Celeste. Lady Seymour Russell was a power all of her own among the ton.

Aubrey grinned at her. “Yes, I wrote and told her, though she won’t be surprised. She more or less ordered me to marry you,” he admitted, laughing at the astonishment in her eyes. “It’s true.”

“Well ... I ...” Violette began before leaning back against his chest with a sigh, apparently having given up on commenting. She sat bolt upright a second later with an appalled look on her face. “We don’t have to see her today, do we?”

“Good God, no!” Aubrey said with heat. “There are far more important things to think about today.”

***

Violette leaned against her new husband and wondered how the relatively short journey into Hertfordshire seemed to take an eternity. Aubrey had promised they would be there by early afternoon, but the hours seemed to be endless. They had stopped at an inn when they changed horses, and had been presented with a wonderful meal, but she could hardly eat a thing from nerves, and now couldn’t even remember what she’d been given. She sighed with frustration and tried to enjoy the simple fact of being with Aubrey, but anticipation was singing in her veins.

She wondered if perhaps she ought to be more maidenly and shy about everything that a marriage night could entail, but all she could feel was impatience. The moments in Aubrey’s arms, when she had run to his rooms to be alone with him…Those moments were etched into her brain, his touch a brand on her skin that ached and burned for more. Added to that everything that Celeste had told her, about how wonderful married life could be with a man who loved you, well, she could hardly sit still.

“Are we nearly there yet?” she demanded, and not for the first time, as Aubrey looked down at her with amusement.

“Perhaps an hour to go, my love,” he replied, turning towards her.

She gave a huff of annoyance and pouted at him which only made him laugh.

“So eager for your wedding night?” he teased her, tracing the contours of her mouth with his finger.

“Yes,” she admitted, deciding she may as well be honest, and stared boldly back at him. She was rewarded with the darkening of his eyes and a look that made her tingle all the way to her toes.

He leaned down so that their lips were almost, but not quite, touching. “Me too,” he replied, his words a breath of warmth against her mouth.

She moved, closing the distance between them and sliding her hand around his neck, pulling him down.

His kiss began gently, and she suspected he had meant it to remain so, since he’d been so careful with her (so far, at least). She’d guessed that he’d been on his best behaviour, keeping his distance so as not to alarm her, or perhaps not wanting to let things get out of control when they were in a carriage and not the privacy of their own room? She rather felt the latter was the reason, as she’d not been alarmed by his intentions before now. In fact, she rather felt she remembered begging him to continue.

Whatever the reason, the kiss that had begun so tenderly, as a gentle brushing of lips, very quickly moved onto something rather more urgent.

Aubrey’s hand moved from her waist sliding under her cloak to cup her breast through the fabric of her gown and he groaned with frustration. “Dammit, are we nearly there yet?” he growled, repeating her question of just moments ago with such resentment that she couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbled, nuzzling her neck with his lips, the warmth of his mouth against the cold air surrounding them such a contrast that she shivered. “You’re killing me, love.”

“I am?” she asked, all innocence, though Celeste had left her in no doubt as to what it was men felt at such a time. Curious as to what his reaction would be, Violette lifted her head to allow him to kiss further down her neck, and at the same time moved her hand to rest on his thigh.

There was a slight sense of tension that she felt run through him, and it was intriguing how she felt him tense further as her hand slid farther up his thigh. When she finally found the courage to slide a little higher still, and encountered the evidence of his arousal, the desperate sound he made was really very empowering. She moved her hand, just a little, fascinated by the way he had become so utterly still, and was annoyed when he snatched her hand away.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, and she looked up to see a rather frantic look in his eyes. “Don’t ... I can’t ... not here ... Oh, God, Violette.”

It was a rather incoherent plea, perhaps, but Violette got the gist of it and could only feel satisfied that her husband was suffering just as much torment as she was. She bit back a rather smug grin as she realised that it was for him, by now, rather worse.

***

At last, of course, the interminable journey did come to an end.

Their luggage was unloaded in double quick time, everyone having been well-briefed by Aubrey to make themselves scarce as soon as they were able. They watched the carriage move away, the sound of the horses’ hooves a muffled clatter on the frozen dirt road.

Finally, they were alone, stood together before a small whitewashed cottage with such a heavy burden of thatch that the tiny building seemed to crouch under the weight of it. Although the garden was almost bare in November, it was nestled up to by trees on three sides, and then a long vista of rolling hills could be seen on the forth side.

The freezing wind tugged at Violette’s skirts and the first delicate fall of snow began, a few scant flakes dancing on the air around her. A plume of smoke billowed from the wonky brick chimney of the cottage before them and the warm glow of candlelight could be seen through the windows.

“Oh, Aubrey,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. “It’s just ... perfect.”

Aubrey grinned and looked rather pleased with himself. “Knew you’d like it,” he said, pulling her by the hand up the path to the painted front door.

She followed him, laughing, almost at a run, as they hurried under the little porch. At the last moment, Aubrey swung around and lifted her into his arms as she squealed with surprise. Kicking the door open he kissed her and carried her over the threshold.

“Hello, Mrs Russell,” he said, grinning at her as he set her carefully back on her feet.

“Hello, Mr Russell,” she replied, feeling unaccountably maidenly and shy after all.

“What do you think?” Aubrey asked, gesturing at their surroundings. “Does my wife approve?”

Violette sighed and then looked up with a grin of delight as the warmth of the place wrapped around them. It wasn’t just the warmth of the fire blazing merrily in the large hearth, either. The heavy oak beams and low ceilings and the soft glow of candlelight all conspired together to make the most welcoming and cosy parlour that Violette had ever seen. But it was nothing to the warmth in Aubrey’s eyes.

“I certainly approve,” she replied, feeling as though she might actually burst from happiness. Any misgivings she might have had about marrying to disoblige her brother fled, and she knew, with no question, that she had done the right thing. “But won’t you show me the rest?” she asked, her voice low.

“I’d love to,” he replied with a chuckle and took her hand. She followed him to what looked like a small, wooden cupboard door, and watched as he ducked under the low lintel. Following where he led, she found herself on a narrow staircase, and at the top, another wooden door.

The bedroom was warm and cosy. Thick velvet curtains were drawn against the cold afternoon and the fire was blazing. Taking up almost all of the available space was a large, ancient four-poster bed, and Violette gasped in astonishment.

“Goodness,” she exclaimed. “However did they get it in here? It looks grand enough for Henry VIII.”

“It was made at the same time as the cottage,” he replied, watching her as she moved around the room, trailing her fingers over the huge carved posts that held up a tapestry canopy.

“It’s very old,” he said, moving towards her. “Almost three hundred years, I think.”

She glanced up at him, wondering how many married couples had spent their first night in this room. She turned to the window, twitching back the curtain to see the cold white sky and the freezing countryside beyond the glass.

“Glad I’m in here,” she said, turning back to him.

“So am I,” Aubrey said with a chuckle. “Especially as it’s our wedding night, I’d be a bit lost without you.”

She bit her lip but couldn’t help but point out, “Hardly night, it’s barely four o’ clock.”

“Is that a complaint?” he murmured, tugging at the ribbons on her bonnet and casting it onto a chair without a second glance.

“No,” she said, hearing a rather breathless quality to her voice that hadn’t been there before. “The servants ...” she queried and saw him shake his head.

“There is no one here but us,” he replied, reaching for the buttons on her pelisse. “I’m reliably informed that there is wine and fresh bread and ham and ... oh, any number of things to ward of starvation.” She glanced up at him to see the amusement in his eyes, and was suddenly aware that he seemed very much more sophisticated than she.

He paused and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not frightened of me, are you, love?” he asked, the slightest frown in his hazel eyes.

She let out a breath and reached up her hand, cupping his dear face with one hand. “No, of course not,” she replied, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “Just ... happy, and ... a little nervous, perhaps,” she admitted, wondering where all the confidence she’d discovered in the carriage had fled to.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. “Well,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “To be honest, so am I.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, so obviously sceptical that he laughed and drew her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. “I swear it’s true,” he said. “Cross my heart,” he added, placing her hand on his chest, and she felt the steady thud of his heart beating beneath her fingers. “I have dreamed of this, of you here with me, since that first night when I found you, all alone on the street, in the dark.”

Violette felt a glow of warmth in her chest as she remembered that night herself. “I was very frightened,” she admitted. “But then, there you were, and I knew it would be alright. You had such kind eyes.”

Aubrey pulled a face at that. “Kind eyes?” he replied with a slight huff. “Could you not have said that I cut such a dashing figure that you knew I would defend your honour at all costs?” He frowned and waved a nonchalant hand. “Or something like that. I mean, a fellow has his pride, dash it. Kind eyes,” he repeated, grumbling just a little.

“Oh,” she said, stifling a giggle. “Well, obviously, I thought all of that too.”

“Obviously,” Aubrey replied with the quirk of one eyebrow and she realised he was teasing her and hit him half-heartedly.

“Oh, Aubrey,” she said, smiling up at him. “I do love you.”

“Well, there’s a coincidence,” he replied, his voice low as he pushed the pelisse from her shoulders and allowed it to fall in a crumpled heap. Before she could protest, not that she had the slightest intention of doing so, she was swept up and laid on the huge bed.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed, peering over the edge as Aubrey climbed on himself. “It’s a long way down. I feel I’m in the story of the princess and the pea.” She squealed as the mattress dipped in the middle and the two of them rolled together.

“Well, hello again,” Aubrey said, laughing as they were swallowed in the soft mountains of the mattress. His laughter died, though, as he moved to push the curls from her face and kissed her.

For a moment, Violette was content to remain still, accepting his kisses and feeling the warmth of his body as it radiated through her clothes. But passivity wasn’t in her nature, and soon she found she wanted more. Reaching up, she tugged at his cravat, and, finding the obscure knot quite beyond her, turned her attention to his waistcoat.

“Oh, take it off!” she muttered in annoyance as Aubrey chuckled.

“Well, you only had to ask, love,” he chided, trying to sit up as the mattress enveloped him once more in its loving and rather smothering embrace. “Good God, it’s like climbing a mountain range,” he remarked as he tried to get off the bed in order to undress.

Violette began to giggle and Aubrey peered up at her lofty position. “Would you awfully mind not giggling whilst I’m taking my trousers off? Quite unnerving for a chap, you see.”

Of course, this had quite the opposite effect, and sent Violette off into whoops of laughter. She had no doubt, of course, that it was exactly what he’d intended, and that he was doing everything he could to put her at ease. She could only love him more for it, if such a thing were even possible.

He made a show of climbing back onto the massive bed before collapsing beside her with a huff. “That’s it. I’m worn out now. Getting on this damn bed’s like climbing Everest.”

Violette cast an appreciative and curious gaze over the beautiful form of the handsome man beside her. His eyes were closed, so she didn’t need to feel self-conscious, and her eyes drifted from the strong line of his broad shoulders, down a fine, well made chest with a slight scattering of auburn hair, and then further to a flat belly and a dark trail of hair that led beneath his drawers. She rather wished he’d taken them off too, but, then, she could wait - for a little while, at least. His bright, hazel eyes blinked open.

“You don’t mind it too much, do you?” he asked, looking suddenly rather self-conscious, and she frowned at him, wondering what he meant. His hand went to the scar on his thigh, a slight twisting beneath the skin where the muscle had knit a little awkwardly, and she gasped with shock. She stared at the scar, remembering how terrified she’d been that he would die, and felt suddenly furious that he should believe she would care about a stupid scar.

“Oh Aubrey,” she snapped, scowling at him. “Do you really think me so abominably shallow?”

“Well n-no,” he stammered, looking appalled, and then gave her a rueful smile. “But it ... it isn’t very pretty.”

“And you think a pretty man is all I want in my husband?” she demanded with one imperious lift of her eyebrow.

Any lingering doubts he might have harboured seemed to dissipate in the light of that demand, and he sank back into the voluminous mattress with a sigh.

Violette coughed to get his attention once more and then smirked at him. She got to her knees, turning her back on him. “Well then,” she said, her tone mild. “If you’ve quite finished preening, would you mind undoing my buttons before you fall asleep?” she teased, though her heart seemed to be beating awfully fast.

She felt the mattress shift beneath her as he moved, and then came the touch of his sure fingers as the buttons slid free one by one.

He didn’t say a word as he helped her remove her dress, petticoat and stays and finally her chemise. She was left in only her stockings and garters and could feel the heat of him against her bare back.

The anticipation was almost more than she could bear and she turned her head a little, looking at him over her shoulder and seeing an expression of such reverence in his eyes that she couldn’t help but smile.

“So very lovely,” he murmured, reaching out a slow hand, as though afraid she was an image in a soap bubble and would disappear if he touched her. But his fingers met her skin and trailed a path down her neck, down the line of her spine, until his fingers splayed our and he curved his hand around her waist.

Violette sighed as he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and then at the junction of shoulder and neck, and then she became too impatient and turned into his arms.

She pressed against him, overbalancing both of them and they almost disappeared into the depths of the mattress as they fell together.

Aubrey gave a bark of laughter and stared up at her. “Do you think it’s possible to drown in a bed?” he asked as Violette stifled a giggle.

“I have no idea,” she said, grinning like a fool. “Let’s find out.”