Burning Bright (49 page)

Selina and her husband would be there, and Miles’s father, and Arthur Beaumont and Captain Horace to serve as witnesses, and a few others of Miles’s acquaintance, but neither Elinor nor Miles wanted a great fuss. They intended to return to
Athena
directly afterward in lieu of a wedding trip. They had already traveled much farther than anyone Elinor knew could imagine.

The eighth day was unexpectedly cool and rainy for July in London. Elinor rubbed her bare arms and shivered as their carriage left the Admiralty for the quiet London neighborhood where Miles had found a church with a priest enthusiastic about performing their marriage ceremony. “It was quite warm six days ago when I ordered this gown,” she complained, picking at the dove-grey silk. “I did not realize I should have purchased one of wool.”

Miles smiled and tucked her under his arm. He looked wonderful in his dress uniform, his hat in his lap, his hair newly trimmed and swept back from his face so those blue eyes would draw everyone’s attention. “If we were home, and you were warm, I wouldn’t have this excuse to put my arm around you.”

“I should upbraid you for your impertinence, but I find my time in the Navy has made me rather wanton. I hope you do not mind it.”

He brought his left arm around to draw her even closer to him. “You know,” he said, “that night at Harry’s party, I wanted to ask you to dance with me.”

She gasped. “And I was so awful to you.”

“I thought you might think I was making fun of you. Then I regretted not asking the whole rest of the night.”

“I wish I could tell you I would have said ‘yes’. But you are right. I likely would have become even more offended, and then I would have said truly awful things to you, and you would have hated me, and we would never have become friends—”

“Or I would have liked your defiant spirit, and fallen in love with you immediately, and gone to my knees and begged you to marry me right there.”

She laughed and laid her head on his shoulder. “I much prefer the way you actually did it.”

“What, me stammering and not knowing what to say, and terrified that I was wrong and you didn’t actually care for me?”

“You standing there, so handsome, looking at me as if I were your heart’s desire.”

“Which you are.” The carriage came to a rattling, bouncing halt, but Miles, not releasing her, pushed back her bonnet and brushed her forehead with one of those light kisses that made the fire at her center leap up in response. “Are, and always will be.”

The beautiful little church, like a miniature cathedral, and its walk were slick with rain, the short grass emerald green under the lenses of a million tiny drops, so Miles took her hand and swept them both from the street to the door so rapidly the rain had no time to fall on them. They were the last to arrive, though their guests did not seem impatient; the slender young priest, on the other hand, was fairly bouncing with excitement. Elinor supposed his normal routine did not include performing the marriage of two Extraordinaries.

She and Miles walked together down the aisle to stand in front of the man, who beamed at them and began speaking almost before the witnesses could arrange themselves, then had to pause when Elinor realized she was standing on the wrong side: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God…”

She listened to the service, had a smile for Selina’s husband John as he handed her over to Miles, responded at the proper time with the proper words, then Miles slid a thin gold band over her finger, saying “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship.” There was a look in his eyes that said he intended to show her exactly what that meant, and she heard the rest of the service in a daze.

Afterward, Selina embraced her tightly, happy tears in her eyes, the swell of her belly pressing against Elinor, and Elinor clung to her briefly, shedding a few tears of her own. She was kissed on the cheek by her new father-in-law, a tall grey-haired man who had his son’s blue eyes, then she turned to greet Miles’ friends and saw a portly figure leaving the church, trailed by a woman who looked over her shoulder at her daughter and raised her hand once in farewell. Elinor caught her breath. Perhaps he had changed his mind.
Or, more likely
,
I married well enough to suit him
. She felt no sorrow at his absence.

“We will have your wedding breakfast at Wrathingham House, and I do not wish to hear your demurrals, Elinor,” Selina said, “for I am certain I will not see you again for a long time, if you are going back to the Navy.”

“I will not fight you, Selina,” Elinor said with a laugh, “but now that I have no fear of discovery, I will probably return more often, if our new Bounder can bring himself to lay hands on me.”

“Is he so very young, then?”

“He is full three-and-forty years old and has never been to sea in his life. I believe he is afraid I will break.”

“Breakfast, yes, Lady Wrathingham—”

“You must now call me Selina, Miles.”

“All right, Selina, but we mustn’t linger because it’s just gone four o’clock where
Athena
is and I should be there immediately after sunrise.”

The door opened, letting in grey, watery light and a slim young man shaking drops of water from his flat cap. “Captain Ramsay?” he said.

Miles turned, and the young man advanced down the nave to hand him a rolled sheet of paper, bow, and leave as quickly as he had appeared.

“Strange,” Miles said, flicking the dangling seal with his thumbnail and turning away to read the letter.

“Selina,” Elinor said, “I hope I can see Jack and Colin before—”

“
Damnation!
” Miles roared. Selina and Elinor both gasped. The priest said, “Captain!” Beaumont covered his mouth to hide a smile. “Good heavens, Miles, what on earth is the matter?” Elinor exclaimed.

He turned back to face her, waving the letter as if hoping to make the words fly off the page and disappear. “This,” he began, “this is—it’s completely irregular, far too informal, but they do it this way sometimes if they think you’re likely to pretend you didn’t get the message—just read it, Elinor.”

Elinor took the paper from him and scanned its contents, and blanched. “But I don’t want to be a countess!” she said.

Selina gasped. “Oh, my dear, a
countess
?”

“It’s not the sort of thing you refuse,” said Miles. “And I guarantee you, my being created Earl of Wherever-it-is—”

“Enderleigh.”

“Wherever-it-is is meant to reward
you
, Elinor. The Regent may respect and admire you as a fellow Scorcher, but he doesn’t like to give titles to women in their own right, so the instant you were safely married—”

“Congratulations,” Lord Wrathingham said, extending his hand to Miles and not flinching when he saw the stump. “I’m only surprised they didn’t elevate you sooner, Extraordinary war hero and so forth.”

“Because I’m good at staying out of the way, that’s why,” Miles said, grimly.

“Let us go and have breakfast,” Selina said, “you and all your friends, and there will be plenty of time to fall into despair later.”

The rain had stopped and the clouds had begun to drift, revealing fragments of a sky bluer than the Caribbean Sea. Miles assisted Elinor into their carriage and the two of them rode silently for a quarter of a mile before Elinor said, “But I don’t want to be a countess!”

Miles laughed. He flattened the paper, which had become rather crushed in his grip, and put it away inside his uniform jacket. “It could be worse. You could be a duchess.”

“That is not much worse. I am so awkward in society, and I do not see how we are expected to maintain an earl’s household on my fifteen thousand and whatever you have invested in the funds.”

“I do have quite a tidy sum saved, you know. Though you seem to be an expensive woman, always needing new gowns and the like.” She poked him in the side and he pulled an injured face. “In seriousness, we will have income from whatever property is attached to the title. Gifts—we’ll be expected to host a gala when we finally return, a celebration of our well-deserved nobility, and our guests will be generous with their welcoming gifts. And I think some of these titles come with a lump sum.”

“That is terribly wrong, when we are at war and trying to support our troops and our Navy.”

Miles shrugged. “I have no control over the profligacy of our king and his Regent. What I
do
know is that a title does not preclude serving in the Navy, so until this war is over, or they have no more need of us, we won’t be leaving
Athena
. Imagine if that letter had been a notice that I had become an admiral instead.”

“But if you were an admiral, your career would be truly secure. I would much rather you were an admiral than an earl.”

“I think you may be the only woman in England who has ever said those words.”

“Then I am the only sensible woman in England. At the moment, I am relieved no one is coming to drag us away from our home and send us off to this drafty manor, wherever-it-is.”

“Enderleigh.”

“Wherever that is.” She leaned against his shoulder and sighed. “I suppose I can endure being Countess of Enderleigh if I may also be the wife of Miles Ramsay.”

“I would have to insist on it.”

Breakfast was a happy, raucous affair, for Lord Wrathingham was a cheerful man who did not stand on ceremony, who loved to tell stories of his time in the Army and trade jests with the Navy men. Selina pretended to blush and chastise her husband when he became too exuberant, but her fond smile told everyone how she truly felt. Elinor watched Miles roar at one of her brother-in-law’s jokes and thought,
Stratford would have loved this.
The idea filled her with sorrow, but not with pain.

Then they were back at Admiralty House to return to
Athena
, and Elinor was beginning to feel the exhaustion of having been awake for more than twenty hours. She watched first Beaumont, then Miles vanish along with the new Bounder, whose name she could not remember, then a minute later grasped the man about the waist and felt, not Stratford’s smooth transition, but an abrupt jerk that rattled her teeth. “I beg your pardon,” he said. In the dim light of the Bounding chamber he looked terribly embarrassed, so she merely smiled at him and exited the room.

Miles had vanished. The deck was sparsely populated with sleeping bodies in slightly swaying hammocks, as it was nearly six a.m. and only the starboard watch was asleep. The distant murmur of working men made her smile with contentment. Still home. She removed her shoes and made her way silently through the rows of hammocks, apologizing to the one man she jostled out of sleep. Then she was up the steps and into the great cabin, which was lit dimly by the pale pink of the rising sun.

Someone put his hand on her waist and spun her around. “Mrs. Ramsay,” Miles murmured in her ear, “welcome home.”

“My home is wherever you are, Captain Ramsay.” She put her arms around his neck and returned his kiss.

He smiled and bent to lay his forehead against hers. “Even if it is a cold, drafty manor with fireplaces that smoke?”

“Even then.”

She felt herself rise off the ground until her stocking-clad toes barely brushed the planks. “Even if all I have to offer you is a narrow bed in a narrow, windowless room that smells of damp wood and tar?”

His single hand was busy unfastening her gown, something his Moving could not easily do, and she reached out to stroke his scarred cheek. “Even then.
Especially
then.”

He laid the stump of his wrist over her hand where it rested on his face. “Even if I ask you to share that bed with me?”

“I would have to insist on it,” Elinor said.

This book would not have been possible without the encouragement and support of many people, especially Jacob Proffitt, Jana Brown, and Hallie O’Donovan, the latter of whom rose to unparalleled heights of diplomacy in discovering at least fifteen new and gentle ways to tell me I was wrong. Sherwood Smith kindly went over the final version of this manuscript and was equally kind in pointing out my many mistakes; any remaining errors are due either to narrative necessity or my own failings.