“Babs! I never advised such a course,’’ said Lady Azaela, horrified.
Babs laughed in genuine amusement. She shook her head. “Indeed, I know you did not. But it seemed the only course open to me. Pray do not look like that, Aunt. The earl was all that was gentlemanly, once he understood why I had come, and indeed, we were able to come to a very satisfactory agreement.”
Lady Azaela regarded her niece with fascinated interest. “What sort of agreement, my dear?”
Babs told her aunt in a few well-chosen sentences the sum of her conversation with the earl. “And that is how it stands. Together we shall fight my father and hope to win free in the end.”
“I see.” Lady Azaela was silent for a moment, reflecting upon what she had heard. She looked up and squeezed her niece’s hand. “You have done well, Babs. It is much better than I could have hoped to come out of your father’s intolerable connivings. Perhaps the match will be one that can make you happy, which is, as you know, my dearest wish in life for you.”
Babs leaned forward to give her aunt a swift hug. “Yes, I know. And I promise you that I shall be as happy as I possibly can.” She straightened and smiled at her aunt. “I am so glad that you have come. You can have no notion how anxious I was that you would not arrive in time to attend the wedding.”
“Your father will be very angry,” Lady Azaela said quietly. She saw the stiffening of her niece’s frame, and her own fingers tightened on the chair arm, relaxing only with an exertion of her will.
“Yes, I know.”
That was all that her niece said, but Lady Azaela thought she was familiar enough with the subtle intonations of the girl’s voice to know that Babs was badly frightened by the thought of Mr. Cribbage’s inevitable fury. He would not take well to all of his plans being usurped by the earl’s quick action. Lady Azaela made up her mind. She had not yet completely discharged her duty to her dead sister, she thought. “I shall remain here instead of opening my own house. Your father shall have no choice in the matter, as I shall say that my house needs to be thoroughly aired before I can possibly move into it.”
Babs gave her aunt a speaking glance. “Thank you, ma’am.”
As Lady Azaela bethought herself of something farther that she wished to say in regards to the bargain Babs had struck with the Earl of Chatworth, the maid returned with the tea tray. “We shall speak more on the subject of his lordship,” Lady Azaela said firmly, even as she nodded to the maid.
Babs agreed, though she wondered what Lady Azaela could possibly want to hear. She had told her aunt all that had transpired. However, as the maid went on with the packing and the ladies enjoyed their tea, the conversation shifted pleasantly to other things and Babs forgot her aunt’s odd seriousness of tone when she had spoken of the Earl of Chatworth.
Babs was under tremendous anxiety during the wedding ceremony.
At the eleventh hour she had had second thoughts about the wisdom of marrying the Earl of Chatworth. His lordship was a complete stranger to her. Moreover, he was a gentleman outside her ken, whose morals and manner of life were far removed from her own ideals. She decided that she could not sensibly expect even a marriage of convenience between them to be anything but unhappy for herself and a source of irritation for his lordship.
After a particularly unpleasant interview with her father, who had indeed been enraged to learn that the wedding was to be that same week, she had realized with resignation and despair that her only true recourse was to go through with the sham of marriage. Lady Azaela had interrupted that same confrontation before its ending and had sharply recommended her brother-in-law to take a powder. She would deal with Babs, she said.
Lady Azaela was wise enough to perceive much of the turmoil that stirred her niece’s unhappiness. She had taken it upon herself to deliver a short lecture. “I shall not point out the social advantages, Babs, for I know that weighs very little with you. However, you must consider that as the wife of a peer you will not be constrained to endure your father’s unwelcome meddling in your life.”
“Yes, there is that,” Babs had agreed with a somewhat hollow laugh. It was as much Lady Azaela’s persuasions as her own good sense that had finally convinced Babs of the continued wisdom of her original decision to throw in her lot with the Earl of Chatworth.
And so it was that she found herself elegantly coiffed and gowned in shimmering satin and fragile lace, standing beside a man utterly unknown to her with her fingers held captive in his firm clasp, while her body was shaken by uncontrollable shivers.
As the marriage vows were exchanged, her responses sounded mechanical and strained in contrast to the earl’s firm voice.
When her new husband lifted her veil, she was white-faced. As custom demanded, the earl bent to kiss her. Her lips were cold as ice, but if he noticed anything amiss in her lack of response, he did not acknowledge it publicly by either word or expression.
Babs’ eyes lifted fleetingly to meet his. He gave her only a swift, penetrating glance from his remote hard eyes before he offered his elbow to her. She placed her hand on his velvet-clad arm. A wink of gold caught her eyes and she stared at the narrow gold band on her finger. Feeling herself under observation, she looked up quickly to meet the earl’s inscrutable gaze.
“An odd feeling, is it not?” he said, too quietly for any but herself to hear. He did not seem to require an answer, and she was glad of it.
They walked out of the church sanctuary and passed through the outer doors to the street. Amid the shouted well-wishers and pelting rice, the earl and Barbara hurried down the steps and immediately got into the crested carriage that awaited them at the curb.
The earl had chosen to eschew a reception, again with Babs’ complete concurrence, and so there was nothing to hold them back from their departure. It was time to embark on their married venture. Barbara shivered slightly as she took her seat.
The earl shut the carriage door firmly and without a glance for her settled himself on the seat. The well-sprung vehicle started with a jerk, to rattle over the cobbles with a dismaying sound of finality. The bridal couple, at last free of the eyes of the curious, were able to contemplate their fate.
Babs knew the moment that the earl turned his eyes on her, but she pretended not to notice. She carefully smoothed her gloves over her wrists and even reached up to adjust her veil more smoothly over the brim of her bonnet in order to avoid his gaze. She knew that she was acting in a cowardly fashion, but she could not seem to help herself. It had been terrifying to contemplate marriage, but what she now felt made that emotion pale by comparison. She had finally and irrevocably taken the step that bound her to the gentleman seated beside her.
As though he had read something of her tumbling thoughts, the earl said, “We have done it, Miss Crib—my lady. We have burned our bridges and there is no alternative now but to go forward.” There was a trace of grimness in his normally drawling voice.
Babs glanced at him. He sat at ease, his body swaying gently to the carriage movement. There was a frowning expression in his eyes that served to grant her a measure of courage, for she saw that she was not alone in feeling unease over her changed circumstances. “Indeed, my lord. I hope that neither of us has reason to regret the course we have embarked upon.” She took a steadying breath as she plunged into what was for her a confidence.”I must admit to a feeling of trepidation. I suppose because it is all so foreign to me. In truth, I never thought to hear myself addressed as ‘my lady.”‘ She attempted to laugh as she shook her head over the vagaries of fate.
“As my wife, you will become used to that, as well as to a great many other things,” said Lord Chatworth. His eyes slowly traversed her face and figure, pausing finally on the glint of gold on her finger. Then he turned his head to stare out of the window.
Babs’ heart pounded. She wondered exactly what his lordship was thinking. His scrutiny had been peculiarly encompassing and the color had risen unbidden to her face during his brief survey of her. It was such a strange, penetrating stare that she suddenly wondered whether she had been as perfectly clear as she had thought during their first meeting. Surely Lord Chatworth had understood that theirs was to be a marriage in name only. If he had not. . . the alternative appalled her.
She was not a shrinking miss, nor quite as ignorant as perhaps she should have been. As a girl in her father’s house, she had seen and heard enough to have gained a fair notion of what went on between a man and a woman. After her mother’s death—and even before, when her mother had already become ill—her father had brought various women into the house. Mr. Cribbage had not cared that he wounded his wife’s sensibilities or that he exposed his impressionable young daughter to the cruder aspects of life.
Upon Mrs. Cribbage’s few and timid remonstrances on her daughter’s behalf, Mr. Cribbage had laughed rudely and declared that the girl needed educating in her future marital duties. “She is not like to get it from such a pale milksop as yourself, madam,” he had said bitingly to his wife.
Mrs. Cribbage had risen from her chair, bright spots of color in her normally pallid face, and had exited the sitting room with her husband’s hateful mocking guffaws beating about her ears. Her rare rage had the effect of invigorating her, despite the weakness of her constitution. The following morning she had taken Babs and gone for an unprecedented and lengthy visit to her sister, Lady Azaela. It was during this time that she had confided so much and exacted the promise of her sister’s aid for her daughter in the event of her own demise.
In accordance with her sense of duty and out of deep affection for her niece, Lady Azaela had naturally taken it upon herself to discover in just what guise this marriage of her niece and the Earl of Chatworth was taking place. When Babs had informed her aunt of every detail of the pact agreed upon between herself and the earl, Lady Azaela had instantly seen its advantages, but later she had warned her niece that at times such understandings could be conveniently set aside. She had proceeded to inform her niece in great detail of what to expect if his lordship should choose to exercise marital rights, after all.
Babs had listened in shock and amusement, but with immense gratitude as well, for she knew that her aunt spoke of such things only out of great love for her.
Now as she recalled some of Lady Azaela’s strictures and explanations, Babs had cause to blush. She glanced again at the earl. She had seen before that he was handsome and that he was possessed with an intriguing hint of recklessness in his eyes and his quick lithe movements. From the first, she had been attracted to him, despite his lordship’s unfortunate propensities for gambling and womanizing. Before, her awareness of the earl’s attributes had all been academic, but now, this dangerously attractive nobleman was her lawful husband.
She was sitting close enough to him that the clean masculine scent of musk, cloves, and sandalwood was in her nostrils. As she realized this, she was abruptly and newly aghast at what she had done.
She had consigned her future into the hands of a stranger, all on the conditions of a flimsy verbal agreement.
Babs’ introspection was so deep that at the earl’s touch of her arm, she startled like a timid rabbit. His lordship’s brows rose in questioning surprise. Babs flushed. “I—I was thinking, my lord. I am sorry.”
Lord Chatworth did not comment upon her nervousness, but instead remarked, “We have arrived, my lady.”
Startled, Babs realized for the first time that the carriage was slowing. Despite the knowledge that it revealed a measure of gaucheness, she leaned toward the window for a glimpse of her new home.
The carriage stopped. The door was almost immediately opened by an expressionless manservant in red-and-gold livery. The earl got out and then, as on an afterthought, he turned to offer a hand to his new wife as she descended to the sidewalk. The manservant shut the carriage door and signaled the coachman to drive on, then ran ahead of the earl and the countess up the steps to the open door of the town house.
With her hand lightly on her husband’s arm, Babs looked up at the impressive facade of the town house as they ascended the steps. When she had come on her veiled visit, she had not taken particular note of the residence itself because it had not been of importance. But now the town house was to be her home and she found herself quelled by the sheer size of the place.
When she and the earl stepped through the open door and into the front hall, she was astonished to see a long row of servants. The servants stood at quiet attention, their eyes fixed upon the couple who had just entered. The earl was apparently just as surprised as she was by their reception. Babs caught a muttered expletive from him. However, when he spoke it was mildly enough.
“What is the meaning of this gathering, Smithers?”
“The staff has gathered to convey our respects to my lord and her ladyship upon this auspicious occasion,” said the butler, bland of face and voice.
“I should have expected something of the sort,” Lord Chatworth said softly, an odd smile playing about his mouth. More loudly, he said, “Quite proper, Smithers.”
The butler gave a slight bow. He gestured for his lord and lady to precede him and with grave formality proceeded to introduce each member of the staff to the new Countess of Chatworth.
Barbara inclined her head and murmured what was appropriate, all the while acutely aware of her husband’s amused expression. As for the members of the household, she met varying glances of scarcely veiled curiosity, of contempt, of critical reserve, even patent hostility. By the end of the formal ceremony, she had fully realized the difficulty she faced in assuming her position as lady of the house. Given the nature of her marriage and her own lack of social stature, the staff would not easily accept her, as they would instantly have done someone of, or near, equal birth to the Earl of Chatworth. Unless Babs completely missed her guess, there was going to be a pitched battle to prove herself worthy of her position, which she had every intention of doing. She had learned well from her aunt that a household must be guided by a firm hand, or chaos resulted.