Chapter Five

N o sooner had she demanded one of the grooms saddle a horse for her—astride, if you please—than Hattie mounted said mare, then tore through the streets of Mayfair headed toward Hyde Park. What was another scandal heaped upon her head? Who truly cared if she caused a sensation as she shot over the streets that morning to escape attending her own wedding breakfast?

Gossip and whispering wouldn't help her situation, nor would they proffer answers.

Glad for the fur-lined cape as she flew through Mayfair, the cold in the air caused her eyes to tear and her skin to chill, but she continued, didn't stop until she reached Hyde Park. Only then did she slow in order to navigate the bridal paths. Finally, once her nervous energy was exhausted, but her mind wasn't clear, she dismounted near the part of the Serpentine considered the lake. The water there was too deep to have frozen like the shallower part known as the river, and that suited her just fine.

Being able to watch the wind make waves that scudded through the water with small whitecaps soothed some of her troubled soul. Almost she could ignore the bluster of the wind and the winter's cold, but not quite, so she pulled her cape more tightly around herself and walked to a more suitable location. With a sigh, she perched on a large tree stump. Feeling a bit more like herself, she sat with her legs crossed beneath her Turkish style with her skirts billowing about her as she contemplated her life.

Had her hasty exit from the house already put her in breach of the marriage contracts? Was Mrs. Dove-Lyon even now asking for a private audience with her father so she could demand the agreed-upon coin?

How many more people would she disappoint before the day was done?

A shiver shot down her spine. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea, but she couldn't help it. Trapped in that room with a man she didn't know—handsome though he might be—had made her mind spin out of control, and that had led to panic.

Which was a most odd scenario for her; she wasn't prone to such things, for she'd largely done as she pleased over the years. Of course, she'd never faced such stiff penalties or warnings before either.

So what was the answer now? She could run away, but she would still be married, and without living together in the first ninety days following today's ceremony, she would have violated her agreement with Mrs. Dove-Lyon. The penalty would be assessed to her father anyway. Yet how could she be expected to continue with a stranger as if things like this happened every day?

There were no easy answers, so she focused her attention on the water and tried to ignore the chaos within. Her horse was content to graze on the dead grasses nearby.

She didn't know how long she'd rested on the tree stump before the sound of a man's voice interrupted her reverie… but it wasn't that of her new husband.

"Lady Hattie? What the devil are you doing out here? I read in the papers you were to be married this morning."

With a start, she glanced upward until her vision focused on Samuel Toppin, Viscount Chesterton's son. Dismay and gladness warred for dominance in her chest. "Uh, I was married, not an hour past, but I needed some time to myself." She twisted the new ring on her finger beneath her glove. The trinket felt heavy, if that were possible. "I am Mrs. Huxley now."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He came close to her location, and he was every inch the windblown, devil-may-care man she'd come to know, the man she'd let touch her intimately a time or two, but they'd never gone beyond that. "Captain Huxley isn't good enough for you."

She snorted. "That doesn't matter. We are wed, and that's the end of it." Did it make her a ninny for not having the courage to follow the new path stretching out before her?

"No." He shook his head, and the wind ruffled his chestnut hair. " I wanted to marry you. You are mine, Hattie."

Surprise ricocheted through her chest. He'd never mentioned how he'd felt before. Then she frowned. Why did men assume women could read their minds? "You should have said something, for now I'm beyond your reach." Not that her parents would have agreed to the match. There was no future there, and quite frankly, she was a bit relieved, for though Samuel was a fine kisser, he wasn't responsible. "It's for the best."

"We cannot accept that." Desperation reflected in his hazel eyes. "I realize my pockets are nearly to let, but I vow to do better. Perhaps take a paid position."

The sad fact remained the man was far too lazy and arrogant for any of that. He expected to be given the title more sooner than later, even though his father was in strong health. "Then do it. Make something of yourself. It will help you when the title is finally passed down."

When he went to take her hand, she instinctively pulled back, which was odd, for she'd never done that before. Perhaps subconsciously she realized she owed the captain her allegiance now. "Don't be like that, Hattie. We can still be together." Urgency threaded through his voice. "You can become my mistress."

"Ha." She couldn't help the unladylike snort. "I am of more value than that, don't you think?" If he truly loved her, he wouldn't have suggested such a thing. "Besides, you couldn't keep me in comfort if you have no income."

He frowned and annoyance flashed through his eyes. "You didn't think that of me before."

"I didn't know that might have been an option before. We were merely having fun." This conversation didn't help anything. She waved him away. "You should go. It's unseemly for you to be with me."

"You didn't mind scandal before."

"True." She shrugged. "Everything is different. Before, it was only my reputation. Now I have a husband, and I don't wish to sully his name too."

When had she ever thought of others before? Was it possible to mature so quickly?

Samuel shook his head. "You don't want him."

"Yet I still have him. Face the fact. I am wed, and that is the end of it." It grew more and more uncomfortable to remain in his company, talking with him when there wasn't anything else they could do for each other. Truly, he was part of her past.

He crossed his arms at his chest. "I'm not giving up on us. You'll see."

"Those attempts will fail; I'm warning you now."

"You will see how earnest I am." Finally, he loped away, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Barely did she have time to relax or ponder the waves on the Serpentine further before she was interrupted again, and this time, it was her husband who found her.

"Bit of a harsh day to be sitting woolgathering in the park, wouldn't you say? Especially with you dressed so delicately and without having eaten."

The timbre of his voice sent flutters into her lower belly, which was entirely odd and a tad worrisome. Annoyance went through her chest, but she didn't look at him. "Leave me be, Captain. I need time to myself."

"I can't do that." As he moved closer, the wind shifted and brought his scent to her nose, and once more those masculine notes helped stir the confusion in her brain.

She frowned. "Why?"

"You are my wife." When he moved into her line of sight, their gazes connected, and that intensity in his eye lit a few tiny fires in her blood. "It's bad form to marry a woman then immediately misplace her." A hint of humor fairly dripped from the words.

Well, buggar. He would have to be charming, to boot, but she knew nothing about him. Was he a layabout? A man with a temper? Did he harbor horrible secrets or keep a mistress? Did he do anything exciting or was he a typical man about Town with nothing to occupy his time except throw coin at stupid things?

And how did he come to lose his eye? Had he squared with it? Was it hideous beneath that patch? Questions bounced through her mind like soap bubbles.

"Tell me why you ran from me not ten minutes after the vicar pronounced us wed." There was neither censure nor amusement in that tone, and his expression gave nothing away.

Could he teach her how to hide her emotions like that?

With a sigh, Hattie waved a hand. "I couldn't be in there any longer." There was no harm in telling him the truth, or at least a small portion of it. "I was… frightened of everything, and slightly panicked to the point where I couldn't breathe."

Slowly, he nodded. "Do you often wrestle with panic and anxiety?"

"Not that I knew of, but you must admit, marrying a stranger under duress as it was, is a bit of a stressful endeavor."

"It is, that." For the space of a few heartbeats, he remained silent as he regarded her. "However, I agree with you. I couldn't remain in that room either, but then, I often feel restless."

"Oh? As if you don't belong… here?" Would that make her sound like a ninny?

"Yes, exactly." Surprise marched over his face while speculation filled his eye. "Ever since I left the navy, I have felt like an odd duck."

At that moment, a real duck flew over the water just then, quacking as he went as if he were battling his own discontent. Both she and the captain shared a laugh.

Did that mean he had a sense of humor? Too early to tell. Another sigh escaped her, and she turned her attention to the water again. "I am sure you are a lovely person, but I don't want a marriage at this time." Perhaps it was best to have this conversation over with too.

He scoffed. "Neither do I, but here we are, and since I rather doubt petitioning the courts for a divorce would prove effective—to say nothing of the expense and the embarrassment—and there are certain… additions to the wedding contracts Mrs. Dove-Lyon has put forth that both force and hold my hand, our union will need to stand regardless of how we feel."

"That is what I'm afraid of." Hattie huffed while cold disappointment filled her chest. "However, I'm not fond of being coerced either."

"Neither am I." Then he grinned and it reflected in his eye, and another bout of butterflies went through her belly.

The least she could do was invite him to sit with her.

Damn him.