Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
Sir John frowned. "I don't like your tone, sir."
"Perhaps not," Ravensworth responded with a disarming smile, "but let me put your mind at rest, Sir John. I am a man of honor. Try explaining that to Briony." He refilled his glass from the decanter and, with a rakish grin, topped up
Briony's
glass.
Sir John did not mince words. He addressed himself primarily to Briony. "It is imperative that Ravensworth wed you without delay, before the gossip about your delinquent conduct becomes universal knowledge. Your reputation may be a tad tarnished, but with the strong hand of a husband to restrain your wilder impulses and with your family behind you, I see no reason why you should be ostracized by Society."
Briony's
mouth gaped open. "Marry Ravensworth? Don't be
ridic
—
redic
. . ." She felt her voice slurring and ended on a lame note, ". .
.foolish
."
"There's no getting around it. You must marry me," said his lordship with melancholy conviction. "You have hopelessly compromised me, you see." He scrupulously avoided
Briony's
gaze.
"I? Compromised you?" she asked, shocked to the core.
His lordship's eyebrows rose in
an
supercilious arc. "Who forced her way into my chamber? Who delayed our journey by two extra days? Who involved me in a duel with Grafton—almost? If you don't marry me, I shall be ruined. No one will receive me. No
decent
woman will wish to marry me. Why, I won't even be able to beget a
legitimate
heir to please my dear papa! Surely, as a woman of conscience, you must see your duty?"
Sir John looked as if he were about to say something. Ravensworth silenced him with a speaking look. "I think you can safely leave it to me now, sir." Sir John shut his lips firmly, shuffled to his feet, and strode from the room.
Briony blinked at Ravensworth. "This is worse than the colonies," she told him with a stricken look. "You know we cannot marry."
"How so, Briony?" he asked, clasping her free hand in one of his strong ones. She sipped at her port as she tried to unravel the puzzle.
"Ravensworth," she began diffidently, "I am so sorry. I did not mean to ruin you."
At the tremulous words, a look of guilt fleetingly passed over his lordship's face, but he shrugged it off. "You don't hear me complaining, do you? You know that I always intended to have you, one way or another. Can't we just make the best of it, my dear?"
"But what of your father?" she asked, gazing up at him round-eyed with fright. "He will not countenance such a match."
Ravensworth hesitated, choosing his words with care. "He has no choice now. He would not wish to see me an outcast."
Briony shook her head. "I don't understand, at all. When you asked me to be your mistress,
that
wasn't about to ruin you, was it? But now, if I don't marry you, that
will
ruin you? You would be well advised, sir, to pursue your earlier suit," she finished with an absurdly wicked look.
The wine, Ravensworth noted drily, was having a deleterious effect on his beloved. He brought the full force of his powerful logic to persuade the reluctant lady to his will. "But when I asked you to share my life without benefit of matrimony," he began cautiously, "I did not know that you were an heiress."
"Does that make a difference?"
"Well, of course!"
"In what way?"
"Briony, I wished to protect you, cherish you,
lift
you out of poverty. The world would have commended me for my noble intention."
'Then the world is more of an ass than I suspected!" retorted the reckless lady in her plain style.
It took great effort of will, but Ravensworth controlled the retort that sprang to his lips. "But now that the world knows who you are and that you could very easily make a creditable match," he went on smoothly, "I shall be blamed for ruining your chances, even though it was you who compromised me."
"You don't say!" said Briony, by now well on the way to being half foxed.
"What an
idio
—
idio
—stupid notion.
I don't care what the world says, do you,
Ravensh
—
Ravensh
—
Ravensh
—Hugh?"
His lordship smiled wanly.
"For myself, no.
But think of my poor father. Is it right for me, for
us,
to deprive him of the heir he so desperately desires? I am an only son," he finished wistfully.
"Some girl of your own station will be glad to marry you," Briony consoled, clutching at his arm. For some reason, the thought dismayed her dreadfully, and she gave a pathetic sniff.
"Why not you, Briony?" asked his lordship softly, prizing the empty glass out of her fingers. He lifted her bodily from her chair to lie across his lap.
"Why not you?"
Her response to his touch was immediate. Briony was no novice to a man's embrace. Ravensworth, after all, had kissed her on three separate occasions. He had barely covered her mouth with his lips when one hand coiled round his neck and pulled his head down with sufficient force to deepen his tentative embrace. Ravensworth groaned and in desperation held her away at arm's length.
Briony's
fingers began to undo the buttons of his lordship's shirt. He slapped her wrists. "Madam, behave
yourself
," he said sternly. Briony pouted.
"Kiss me, Hugh," she pleaded softly. "You know how much I like it."
Ravensworth was sorely tempted but he ruthlessly crushed his burgeoning desire. "No more kisses until we wed." After a moment he amended, "Or at least till we are properly betrothed. You are just taking advantage of me again."
"I know. I am sorry," replied Briony, hanging her head. "But it only happens when you touch me."
A shaken Ravensworth deposited her firmly back in her own place. 'Then it is
settledT
he asked her, his voice husky with controlled desire.
"Yes," she sighed through a happy, intoxicating haze, but whether it was induced by the effects of the wine or Hugh Montgomery's discomposing presence, Briony could not say. And even although she had promised to be his wife, Ravensworth could not be persuaded to permit her to take advantage of him again. Briony was bitterly disappointed.
In the days preceding their nuptials, the
Marquess
and his bride came to points on a matter of no small consequence. Ravensworth was somewhat taken aback to discover that Briony intended to be party to the negotiations respecting their marriage contract—a most unusual arrangement in his opinion. Further aggravation awaited his lordship. The lady displayed an aptitude for business and came to the negotiating table with a certain stipulation on which she would not budge, namely, that the income from her fortune be credited in its entirety to her account. Ravensworth protested, for such a handsome sum, he soon perceived, would ensure that his wife to all intents and purposes would remain independent of her husband's management.
"Precisely," Briony had replied in dulcet accents. Ravensworth appealed to Sir John, who did his best to dissuade Briony from such an unwarranted course of action, but Briony remained adamant. Her fortune, at her demise, would be equally divided amongst her heirs, but until such time, the income from it would be hers to administer as she saw fit. Ravensworth would have been happy to see the interest held in trust for their children, but no argument of his could persuade his recalcitrant bride, not even when Sir John disclosed the amount of the handsome settlement that Ravensworth was prepared to make. Briony pointed out, quite reasonably, that to an heiress such a competence was quite irrelevant. Ravensworth ground his teeth in rage—to no avail. Miss Briony Langland would not trust herself completely to the protection of any male.
For a disquieting hour or two, it looked to Sir John that the wedding might be called off. Ravensworth, he knew, was insulted by
Briony's
provocative persistence. He contrived a few minutes' private conversation with his lordship and finally convinced him that a
married
Briony, although she might technically be a woman of independent means, in reality would be powerless to thwart a husband's will. Ravensworth considered and finally relented, but Sir John could see that he was not well pleased that his future wife had questioned his integrity. Briony protested that his logic was glaringly abroad since she proposed to leave the management of her fortune to her husband's discretion. She trusted him implicitly, so she said.
Ravensworth had no way of knowing that
Briony's
determination to retain a modicum of independence in her marriage did not emanate from a distrust of him in particular, but from the teaching and practice of her mother and other Quaker ladies of her acquaintance. Ladies of the Quaker persuasion were accorded a deference and independence by their
menfolk
which would have shaken his lordship had he but known of it. They were esteemed for their qualities of resourcefulness and leadership and encouraged to participate as equals in the management of whatever interest and aptitude had fitted them for.
Ravensworth knew nothing of
Briony's
background, nor was he interested. Whatever else she was, she was the one woman in the world who had the power to utterly confuse him. His volatile emotions swung from one extreme to the other. At times he was swept by a fierce desire to cherish and protect her while at others the impulse to throttle the life out of her had to be severely restrained. His longing for Briony had long since surpassed the mere physical desire to satiate his lust. He could not live without her. He wanted her to share his life. It was as simple as that.
He had played his cards well, so he congratulated himself, and was not about to throw in his hand over this last piece of feminine resistance. The slight twinge of remorse which afflicted him when he thought of the gross deception he had practiced to ensure
Briony's
compliance in falling in with his wishes, he easily suppressed by reminding himself that the lady returned his affections. He would not permit her to sacrifice their happiness on the altar of her misguided scruples.
His vanity, however, smarted from the wounds inflicted by Briony and he was determined to demonstrate his mastery from the moment he had his ring securely on her finger. For the few days before their marriage he gave himself up to daydreaming of a chastened Briony who would be compelled to do her lord and master's bidding without demur. .
The marriage was celebrated a week after their arrival in Bath in the front parlor of the house on Laura Place with the Reverend Edmund Darnell officiating. Ravensworth had readily agreed that Briony might have a Quaker wedding if she so desired, but on discovering that Quakers were in the habit of exchanging their vows without benefit of clergy, he had been shocked into hastily revoking his promise. Briony was somewhat mollified when the
Marquess
pointed out that it was unthinkable that in future
years
aspersions might be cast on the legitimacy of their progeny. They would be, when all was said and done, heirs to the dukedom of
Dalbreck
, and their claims must be unassailable. On this contentious issue, Briony gracefully gave way.
She had found Ravensworth rather cool and distant in the days leading up to the wedding and believed that he was blaming her for the embarrassing circumstances which had forced their marriage. His withdrawal depressed her spirits, for she could not but see what a comedown
marrigae
to her must seem to one of his consequent. That his lordship was not a suitable mate for a Quaker girl she never doubted for a moment, but Briony, honest enough to admit to herself that she had developed an aching
tendre
for the profligate lord, was beginning to harbor hopes that she might reform him.
The first gala evening of the Season to be held in Sydney Gardens chanced to occur on the very day that Briony and Ravensworth were married. There was to be a musical concert in the earlier part of the evening and a display of fireworks when dusk fell. Ravensworth proposed that, prior to the planned entertainment, a small family party including the
Grenfells
, the
Darnells
, and of course, Lord Avery, should repair to the Sydney Hotel to enjoy a champagne supper in one of the booths overlooking the courtyard. It promised to be an agreeable evening.
Briony sipped her champagne slowly under the watchful eye of her groom and surveyed with interest the continuous flow of stylish
promenaders
who streamed into the Gardens. All of Bath, so it appeared, was intent on making a night of it. When she heard her uncle ask Ravensworth what his immediate plans were, she turned back to give her attention to her table companions.
"I haven't really decided," said his lordship carelessly, dabbing his lips fastidiously with his table napkin. "I thought we might stay on for a bit in Bath and have half a mind to take lodgings for us in The Circus. On the other hand, my estate in Kent promises good riding and fishing at this time of year. I daresay a little rustication in the country after recent events wouldn't do any harm," he concluded with a meaningful look at his bride.