Nineteen

Hunter

6 December 1814

The morning of our wedding could only be termed as a quiet affair. I had requested to not make a spectacle of our vows and kept the invitations to close family and friends. It certainly helped that so few committed to making the journey from the country to London in the cold. When Mother informed me that Gwendolyn had made a similar request, this told me, in the most minute way, a spectacular characteristic about my wife-to-be. She did not seek pomp and attention. While I knew she received much for her lovely presentation in society, she proved humility in her preference for a simple ceremony despite her right to demand more. I smiled at the thought I now found another aspect I respected about her.

It was a blustery morning to appear at St. George's Hanover Square at ten. The possibility of rain bore heavily upon us as dark clouds hung precariously, threatening a deluge. Though I hardly expected sunshine since the entirety of our betrothal was anything but, I only hoped to get to the church and back to the Bissetts' without resembling a wet hound.

I had not seen nor spoken to Gwendolyn for five days, though she consumed my every thought.

Since I stopped by her home unannounced and found the handsome soldier in her parlor, it would have taken a cork-brain not to recognize the interest they had for one another. I was merely the second… always the second .

Trenton buttoned my pressed white shirtsleeves and tied the matching cravat to perfection. Guiding my arms into both my fine gold waistcoat and expertly cut black tailcoat, I only needed to step into my polished Hessian boots to complete my ensemble.

"Are you well, my lord?" He brushed the outer fabric with a bristled brush, removing any trace of lint.

I hesitated. My fate could certainly be worse. To gaze indefinitely at a woman such as Lady Gwendolyn… across the table, parlor, or ballroom, I would always find reason to look her way. But might we ever find reason to speak? Might we find common ground on anything? During that brief moment when I touched her, I had not prepared myself for the onslaught of desire that consumed me. Then I daringly ran a finger across her lips and the energy that crackled beneath the tip held me hostage and continues to do so.

"Yes, I am well." My answer came after a significant delay.

Trenton watched me carefully. Though he understood the variations of my mood better than most, he also knew when to stop asking. He tipped the brown glass bottle of my Spanish Leather Cologne over my hands where several drops landed in my palms. I rubbed them together and patted them on my neck.

Retrieving the ring from inside a fabric pouch on the desk, I gripped it between my thumb and forefinger scanning the intricate detail. I recalled the recent conversation with my father when I refused to give Gwendolyn the ring Josiah had acquired.

"She is to be my wife, Father. There is no need for us to bring Josiah into the memory of this day."

Truly, Father cared little more than the truth that the first ring cost a small fortune and it sat unheeded in his study.

The one I chose cost nearly the same, but I knew the moment I saw it at Garrard's, its perfection suited Gwendolyn. The silver band flanked an exquisitely cut emerald, the precise shade to match her eyes. Would she be offended it wasn't a traditional band? I honestly couldn't say, I hardly knew her. I only hoped she would see the resemblance between her matchless beauty and the ring's.

Standing in the enormous cathedral suited for hundreds of parishioners, though our guests filled but a fourth, I suddenly felt winded. I was about to become a married man, shedding the title of bachelor, and instantly doubted whether I had the implements to care for a wife. Lucas and Zachary both stood at my side, reminding me on more than one occasion that I needed to breathe.

Then I caught sight of Gwendolyn.

She wore a shimmering gown of silver muslin with a sheer fabric overlay extending down the length of both her arms to her wrists. It wasn't until she drew closer that I noticed tiny pearls adorned the bodice. Her dark hair piled effortlessly atop her head with a few wispy curls at her temples. Attached to her chignon, a satin veil flowed down the length of her comely figure. If I hadn't believed it before, she truly was the most beautiful woman in all of England.

And somehow, the moment our eyes met, my body calmed as if she grounded me… like an anchor. Strange how a metal apparatus that offered security and stability on the sea, preventing vessels from drifting away, became my first thought. Could we possibly be one another's anchors?

When she stood before me, I noticed her hands trembling. She hid them well by gripping a stalk of fresh lilies tightly within her slender fingers. I had yet to see her smile, and though I longed for it, she in no way appeared as the frigid woman from weeks past, for an unfamiliar softness appeared in her eyes.

When the pastor finished reciting the vows, I claimed her hand gently and kissed the top of her bare hand where the ring now rested to signify the conclusion. Heaven knows I would have loved to offer a proper kiss, as scandalous as that might be in front of the guests, but I would never force myself on any woman, and certainly not my wife.

My wife!

Those words bounced around my brain unfettered. I was now a married man.

I threaded her arm through mine as we walked the chapel aisle together toward the grand doors. "How are you doing, Gwendolyn?" I whispered.

"I'm well," she answered. "And you?"

"The same. You look stunning."

She glanced warily in my direction and the smallest of smiles touched her lips. I secretly celebrated this success. "Thank you. You are quite dashing in your suit as well."

I smiled broader and led her out to the carriage just as the rain began to fall. I ushered her quickly to the safety of the inside just as the onslaught hit us. It felt odd that the first time we shared a coach, we would be entirely alone.

"I hope that is not an omen," she said as she glanced out the window as enormous raindrops splattered against the glass.

I squeezed the excess drops from my ponytail and said, "It won't be," I added, "We won't let it."

She met my eyes and, when I looked upon her face, the gentle curve of her lips remained subtle. I could not quite classify it as a smile, but my heart still thumped wildly against my ribs from the gesture.

"Do you have everything from your father's house packed and ready?"

She peered back out the window. "Most everything."

"Did you pack your painting supplies?"

Her head whipped so swiftly in my direction, I flinched.

"How do you know I paint?" Though her question didn't surface with anger, a hint of fear leaked through.

"I cannot reveal my source," I said with a smile and a wink. "But I was most grateful to learn of it."

She looked down at her hands. "I was unaware of how much room I might be proffered at your father's house."

I wanted to slap my forehead. I had forgotten to tell her about the new house I had let. "We won't be returning to my parent's home after the breakfast."

She appeared momentarily nervous. "I was informed there wasn't to be a wedding trip."

Unable to read her expression, my heart sank. Should I have planned otherwise? She deserved to have a proper wedding, including a wedding tour, but a week ago I wasn't even certain she wanted to be in the same room as me. "I apologize, Gwendolyn, you're correct. We are only going to another home."

"Whose home?"

"Mine." I shook my head. "No, I mean ours . I have let a home off Hart."

An anxiousness still appeared in her eyes. She must think I will oblige her for a wedding night. Though I can't deny the hope, I would never coerce her.

Upon arrival at her parent's home, the footmen's preparations with umbrellas in hand managed to get us to the foyer relatively dry.

A long line of carriages followed us and, from that moment on, I hardly had time to speak with my new bride as our guests descended upon her at every turn.

The presentation of the wedding breakfast exalted even the fussiest of guests, for it exceeded all belief the earl might have been so close to such financial devastation. The hot rolls, cakes, sweetmeats, and eggs were cooked to perfection, accompanied with the finest wines, and not one person stepped away hungry or dissatisfied.

At the conclusion, I stood at the bottom of the stairs as the footmen retrieved her trunks and I awaited her descent. In a matter of minutes, I would be bringing my wife home to our new home… alone .

Well, not entirely alone. A staff of six waited upon us. Trenton, my valet, Daphne, Gwendolyn's abigail, a cook by the name of Mary Jane, and a butler named Henry. Both a footman, Freddie, and maid-of-all work, Hannah, came from my father's household.

Immediately upon our arrival at our new accommodations, Lady Gwendolyn politely excused herself to her bedchamber to rest. I sat in the sparsely furnished study. I had opted for a home that provided an opportunity for my wife to personalize and decorate, but now wished I had at least acquired a desk. With a solitary chair and a fully stocked sideboard, thanks to Trenton, I sank to the cushion.

After several drinks, Henry, our new butler sought me out.

"Pardon me, sir. The staff desire instruction on their duties and schedule."

Another thing I had hoped Gwendolyn would find pleasure in… being the mistress of her own home.

"Where is Lady Gwendolyn?"

"She has not come down yet, my lord. She only asked for a tray with a small repast for supper."

"Supper?" I glanced at the clock on the mantle in surprise. It was half past eight. Had I truly been in here for four hours… so in my thoughts, was I? "Blazes." I jumped to my feet. I had removed my cravat when I first arrived and I knew I would do a shoddy job of trying to copy Trenton's work, though I hadn't the patience to wait for him and left it draped across the back of my chair. "Thank you, Henry. I will see to the marchioness."

What a lousy husband I was. Our first day married and I had holed myself up like a recluse in the study. What must she think of me?

I took the stairs two at a time in my rush to her bedchamber, then paused at the end of the corridor. With nighttime descending she will surely think I have come to claim my consummate rights as her husband. I ran my hand through my hair and paced for several minutes. The approach must be simple. My only priority is to make sure she feels safe here.

I cautiously knocked on Gwendolyn's door and heard some shuffling and whispers. I hoped panic didn't follow.

When Gwendolyn opened it, I took a step back. I had never once thought the woman wasn't lovely, but here before me as she stood in her dressing gown with her dark hair falling past her shoulders, it took everything I had not to close the space between us.

And I stood there gaping like a reticent schoolboy.

I watched her seize another breath, then pushed the door open wide as if to invite me in.

I didn't move. Clearing my throat, I ran a hand across the back of my neck. "I came to apologize for dinner. Forgive me for my selfishness, I lost track of the time." My smile lifted halfway. I'm sure she only saw a bumbling fool. "And Gwendolyn, you have nothing to fear, I will remain in my room for the night."

"Oh?" I didn't miss the relief on her face. She clasped her hands in front of her and looked down. I turned to leave, then realized I hadn't said anything about the staff. When I faced her again, I had a strong desire to speak from the heart, and this might be my only chance to tell her the truth of my intentions.

"Gwendolyn, I know this marriage is not what you expected."

Her eyes swiftly found mine. They were filled with curiosity.

"You have shown immense courage in proceeding forward for your family's sake, despite your own wishes. I want you to know that I would never force you to be with me, even for an heir."

Her lips parted with a subtle gasp. "But it's written in the contract."

"Devil take the contract," I muttered. "I only wish for you to be happy. I wish for you to feel safe with me."

She didn't respond. Her eyes continued to watch me curiously like an exhibit at the menagerie. I glanced past her through the open doorway and saw Daphne rearranging her trunk. My chest lurched inwardly. Shouldn't she be unpacking? "Are you leaving?" I gestured past her.

She shifted weight to her other foot, and the slight tremble in her hands from earlier returned. "In the morning. It didn't make sense to delay what you expected of me."

"I beg your pardon?" I shook my head.

She stuttered, "I th—thought we were to live in separate homes."

"Why would you presume that?" I measured my tone. The woman who stood before me was not the confident woman I had grown accustomed to. Her eyes were unreadable. I clenched my hands behind my back. Of course. Father mentioned that's what she would want.

We faced each other as the silence amplified between us.

The muscles in my jaw jumped. Mere hours into my marriage and it appeared doomed to fail. "Well, I will leave you to your arrangements." I nodded to take my leave, but only retreated a few steps away and swiftly turned around, nearly colliding with Gwendolyn as she had moved out of her bedchamber and followed me. My hands naturally shot out to keep her from falling from the collision and held her upright with my hands placed upon her trim waist. I felt a thrumming beneath my fingertips as I held her. Her own hands rested on my forearms and neither one of us moved to release.

"Is that what you prefer?" she asked with renewed confidence, mere inches from my face.

Her proximity made me dizzy—from her sweet, flowery scent, to the softness of her skin beneath the thin fabric.

"Do you want me to live in the country during the Season?" I sensed some hurt in her voice that I hadn't heard before. No, it wasn't what I wanted , but I failed to form the words.

She bit her bottom lip, and my eyes went right to them. Deuces! "Isn't that what you preferred?" I countered.

She frowned and a slight wrinkle formed at the top of her nose.

Now I stared.

"Would you…" I took a breath. "Would you consider staying here at least a month or two?"

Her eyes reflected that sun-lit jade I described but brightened even more in that split second. "I wouldn't be a distraction?"

I tilted my head, confused. Of course, she would be a distraction… but a pleasant one. "Gwendolyn, we only just married, and I know nothing about you."

"I thought you preferred to live apart."

"Where would you get that notion?" I asked.

"Your father said as much."

It suddenly dawned on me. Chilton had orchestrated this whole narrative, believing that by forcing us to wed we would only find happiness apart. My hands still held her. If I had been anything like Josiah, I would have kissed her by now. "Stay, please," I whispered. "For as long as you would like."

She studied me as if she attempted to decipher my honesty. "I don't want to interfere."

"Interfere?" I paused. "You're my wife. How is your presence an intrusion?"

"I don't want to stop you from falling in love."

I choked, then sputtered out my next words. "Why would you think I would want to be with another?"

She blinked slowly and I found her long eyelashes distracting me, then realized once again, how she came to believe such falsehoods. I exhaled slowly through my lips. "My father."

She nodded.

I caressed the sides of her waist with my thumbs. The touch alone heightened all my senses. "Gwendolyn, I have no intention of seeking the companionship of another. I've never kept a mistress and don't intend to start now."

Her breath caught. Though slight, I heard it.

"What I would like, however, is to get to know you. Stay here in London and let me court you."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "Court me?" She tilted her head playfully. "Doesn't that generally come before the ceremony?"

I smiled with the first normal conversation we engaged in. "Had you let me, I would have courted you properly before now."

Part of her lips lifted in a grin. Not a full-fledged smile but the beginnings of one. Another small triumph.

"Perhaps I'll stay," she whispered and took two steps backward breaking our gentle connection. My fingers never felt so empty. I reached for her hands, then bowed over them. "Thank you, Gwendolyn. I bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hunter."

I watched her disappear into her room, but as she closed her door, I caught sight of her once more and the light in her eyes offered the most encouragement I had ever received thus far.