Chapter Seven

Merciful heavens, I am about to be married.

An odd combination of feelings swept through Charity's person: fear mixed with anticipation while in the pit of her belly while apprehension and excitement twisted down her spine, but looking at Michael in his evening finery, with his red hair combed, tamed, and arranged into a popular style somehow managed to tamp the worst of it.

Already, she'd met so many people, would probably never remember their names, it all happened in a whirlwind, but she appreciated that they'd all come to see their friend wed. Despite the fact she didn't know the viscount well, that network stood as a testament to his character.

But when she glanced at him, she frowned, for he'd gone pale, and his eyes were shadowy pools of green-brown color. "I'll admit, I'm glad you are here, for if it were anyone else, I might have already turned tail and run away." He didn't answer, so she laid a hand on his arm. "Michael?"

The viscount didn't respond. He only stared oddly ahead, and she'd wager he didn't see her at all.

"Michael." Worry filled her chest. She shook his arm with a firmness borne of concern. "Michael, you are safe, you are at home, and there is nothing to fear. Please come back." Daring much, she lifted onto her toes and touched her hand to his cheek, gently tapped it.

Several harrowing seconds later, he gasped, blinked a few times, and then finally focused on her. "Bloody hell. Did I freeze?"

"Yes." She nodded as relief rushed through her bloodstream. "It only lasted a couple of minutes, and I doubt if anyone truly noticed, but I was a bit concerned." Not willing to step away from him, she slipped her gloved hand down his arm to briefly clasp his fingers. "There is nothing to fear just now. The only people in this room are the ones you trust and have invited. And if it's our ceremony that that sent you to this space, we can postpone it." Keeping her voice low and even, she hoped it might induce calm in him.

Another frightening swath of heartbeats went by while he stared at her, but she wondered if he truly saw her. Finally, he nodded as a ruddy flush stained his cheeks. "I apologize." Before she could respond, he took both her hands in his, and she relaxed by increments. "Your words helped. "

"Since you brought me comfort when I needed it, I'm glad I could give the same to you." A marriage in name only wouldn't be bad if they started it with friendship and mutual respect.

"Indeed." He offered that slightly crooked grin. "By the way, you are quite a vision this morning. The sapphire color makes you seem as if you have been ripped from the night sky merely to tarry here with me."

"Thank you." Heat filled her cheeks. "It was the newest and prettiest of the gowns I own so I thought it would be perfect for the occasion."

"It is that, most definitely." When his gaze dropped briefly to her bosom and the Bastet pendant she always wore, the heat intensified. "After we are wed, you have full liberty to hire a modiste and order a new wardrobe."

"That is quite an endorsement." And only added to the confusion of the moment.

"You will soon be my viscountess and deserve to look the part. I am honored that I will have the right to give you that." When he squeezed her fingers, his scent threatened to drown her. "If you didn't understand before how monumental this day is for me, I hope you do now. I am… not quite the catch I think the ton believes. "

Ah, the poor man. "Stop. You might have challenges; we both do. That doesn't mean you aren't worthy of seeking out good things." As she peered into his face, it was far too easy to forget their audience. "You are quite handsome today. The gray waistcoat is quite lovely." Made of almost silver satin, it had moons and stars embroidered upon it in white thread.

"Thank you. Astronomy is a hobby of mine while in Essex. Easier to see stars and such in the country." His chuckle tickled through her insides, which was a bit odd. "Being dressed in dark evening clothes including a tailcoat will render any man handsome."

"Mmm." Thoughts and questions bounced through her mind like soap bubbles. What did she know of him? He had a title, yes, but what sort of man was he beneath the heroics? Did he keep a mistress? While at his club, did he frequent courtesans' beds? "Are you quite certain you wish to do this? I would ask that you be faithful to me, even if our union is one of convenience." Though her voice wavered, she lifted her chin a notch. "I won't be an object of pity or ridicule."

"It is a fair request, but to set your mind at ease, I haven't had anyone in my bed for at least six months and don't intend to disrespect you once we're wed." He brought one of her hands to his lips and then kissed the back. " You have my word."

"Thank you." Tingles of anticipation played up her spine and circled through her lower belly. Surely it was ridiculous to feel such things for a man she barely knew and had shared two fairly chaste kisses with, but she enjoyed it just the same.

For a few seconds, they stared at each other as if attempting to figure the other out, then the viscount gave his head a shake as if to break the spell. "The vicar is coming this way, so it's no doubt time."

"Right." Charity glanced at the two approaching men. One was short and leaning toward fat while the younger man was quite tall and thin. He was the one who carried a book. "What an odd pair." But concentrating on them took her mind off the hundred worries currently facing her.

The older of the two smiled at them both. Of middle age, he had kind eyes and a high brow. "Good morning. I am Mr. Fletcher, and I will be officiating the ceremony. This is Mr. Highbeck, my clerk."

"Welcome, Mr. Fletcher." Michael shook the man's offered hand. "Mr. Highbeck, you may utilize the table near the doors to set up the register."

The tall man nodded. "Thank you, my lord." After handing a worn leather book to the vicar, he scurried off with his portfolio .

Mr. Fletcher cleared his throat. "Now that business had been attended to, if you would like to begin?"

"Absolutely."

Charity nodded, and a flutter of unease went through her belly. "Yes, please."

"Very good." The vicar glanced about. "Let us set up near the fireplace. It makes a charming backdrop." Then he cleared his throat and addressed the room at large. "Lord Winteringham would like to get underway, so if everyone could find a seat?"

As she and Michael followed the vicar to the appointed place, fabric rustled as guests settled onto furniture. Good heavens, this is truly happening. As best she could, she tamped her worries and hoped to concentrate on the imminent ceremony.

"I have the special license here, so thank you for attending to the details." He tucked the paper into his book. Leather cracked when the vicar opened his Book of Common Prayer. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this gathering, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…"

The vicar's words faded as her thoughts got the best of her. Is this the right thing to do? After all, she and Michael hadn't done anything scandalous, and their presence together could easily be explained away, but there was still the matter of being in danger from persons unknown. Charity clung to Michael's arm. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she would ever be married, but here she stood beside a man she hardly knew, a man who'd rescued her from her captor, a man who smelled so delicious she could hardly concentrate, a man whose strength could be felt beneath her fingertips, and an odd sort of calm came over her. Perhaps this union wouldn't prove the disaster she feared.

Please?

It wasn't until Michael discreetly and softly cleared his throat that she ceased her wool-gathering and attended to what the vicar said as he addressed the viscount.

"Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Charity trembled. How could she not? This was the single most important moment in her life. She held her breath held in anticipation as her heart raced. How would she compare as a wife to his first one ?

Not that this is a marriage in every sense of the word.

In a clear voice, Michael answered, "I will."

Her hands shook as the minister addressed her. No going back now.

"Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I…" What of her freedom? What of her future she didn't even know what she wanted from? Then she straightened her spine. Charity squeezed her fingers upon Michael's arm. "I will." Her answer came out in a whisper, for tears crowded her throat. This was such a pinnacle moment. I wish my father and mother were here to witness it.

The viscount was instructed to take her right hand in his right hand, and hers shook so badly that he gently squeezed her fingers. He went so far as to put his lips to her ear and whispered, "It will be all right. I promise nothing will change; you can live the life you wish only now you will be a viscountess."

"And you will keep me safe." Which was one of the core reasons for doing this.

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Yes."

"You are a good man, Michael." Charity smiled lest he think she looked upon the ceremony with dread. This was the grandest thing she'd ever done in her life, and oddly, she hoped to make him proud, hoped he would view her as worthy of the position. "I'm so overwhelmed and worried that I might be sick," she continued to whisper. Movement at the back of the room prompted her to glance that way. When she saw Christopher, her heart fluttered. She gave him a subdued wave. He grinned in response.

The vicar cleared his throat and continued with a raised eyebrow. "Lord Winteringham, repeat after me…" He intoned words she scarcely heard until Michael said them to her.

"I, Michael Charles Ashworth, Viscount Winteringham, take thee Charity Louise Maitland to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

They were directed to release hands, and Charity was told to then hold Michael's right hand with her right hand. "Ahem." The minister addressed her. "Miss Maitland, repeat after me." He gave her the words, and she prayed she would say them in the proper order without doing something embarrassing .

"I, Charity Louise Maitland, take thee Michael Charles Ashworth, Viscount Winteringham to my wedded Husband." She paused to swallow and squeeze his hand. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, ‘till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "And thereto I give thee my troth." How wonderful and slightly terrifying such a thing was, and now she would never be alone. She had a family again.

Please show me this isn't a mistake.

They were instructed to again release their hands. Michael solicitously put a leather pouch that clinked with coins on top of the vicar's open book, no doubt to pay for services rendered. He also laid a lovely silver and sapphire ring on the book.

"I thank you, my lord." The pouch disappeared into the vicar's waistcoat pocket then he took up the ring and murmured a few words of a blessing on it.

"Of course." Once the vicar returned the ring to Michael, she removed the glove from her left hand, then the viscount slipped it on the fourth finger of that hand. "I chose this ring for you because it reminds me of your eyes. My father gave it to my mother when they were wed, so it has special meaning."

"How lovely." So flattered and honored he had picked this particular ring over any other, she blinked back the tears that welled in her eyes. "I shall strive to be the perfect viscountess." With regret for covering the pretty sapphire stones, she slipped her glove back on.

Michael snorted. "Perfection is unachievable. I'd rather you be yourself."

She huffed. "Such as I am." Was she far too inadequate for the world he inhabited?

"Repeat after me, Lord Winteringham," Mr. Fletcher said.

In his steady tenor, Michael did so. "With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship," his voice wavered on those words, for theirs was naught but a marriage in name only, "and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow." He paused, pressed his lips together, then sought out her gaze with his. "Know that I will always keep you safe and that it is my privilege to serve as your family." His Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow. "In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

"Thank you," she managed in a choked whisper. We are truly wed. Charity kneeled when he did, still clutching his hand while the vicar invited all in attendance to pray.

As the words droned on, she closed her eyes and sent up a simpler prayer of her own, conveying gratitude and thankfulness and asking for strength to survive what would surely be a difficult adjustment to a brand-new life as well as finding answers surrounding the tiara.

After the prayer ended, Michael stood and brought her to her feet. The vicar intoned, "I now pronounce thee husband and wife."

And then the ceremony was over. They were married.

No longer was she alone in the world. No longer was she without direction. She was now the Viscountess of Winteringham, and the new mother to an eight-year-old boy. A wave of insecurity and doubt washed over her, but when she glanced at her new husband, he briefly met her gaze and gave her a slight grin. Flutters danced through her lower belly to chase away some of the worry, yet she still didn't know how they would get on together.

"Come," he said into her ear. "We must sign the registry." They were ushered to a table near the open double door where the younger man waited. Moments later, they both signed the registry, which made the union official. Afterward, Michael smiled. He gently lifted her veil and put it behind her head. "For better or for worse, we go through life together."

"I can hardly believe we are wed." It would take some time to acclimate to it. But she couldn't fret or marvel over it, for they were soon surrounded by well-wishers.

Eventually, the men separated into a group while a few of the women remained with Charity. Christoper left the room with his governess.

A lady with beautiful auburn hair clutched her hand. "Welcome to the rogue's family, Lady Winteringham." Oh, good heavens, it was the first time anyone had called her by the new title. "I'm the Duchess of Edenthorpe. That pretty blonde is the Duchess of Lockwood, and this," she pulled a young woman with brunette tresses forward, "is Viscountess Aldren." Amusement danced in her eyes. "We are but three wives to our rogues, and now you are one of us."

Her mind spun to be presented to two duchesses. "This is all so much." Should she curtsey? Address them as their titles? For the first time she regretted her unorthodox upbringing, for she hadn't had much training on moving through ton society. Surely, she would disappoint her new husband.

Lady Lockwood came forward and took possession of Charity's hands. "Please don't worry over anything. My husband told me what brought you to this pass, and your story reminds me of my own." When she smiled, Charity was instantly put at ease. "I won't say that your path will be easy, but I can tell you it will be worth it in the end." She squeezed her hand. "Keep an open mind and grant your husband latitude for his failings."

"As I hope he will do for mine." Already, she wished to hide away than to be seen in public as such a bumpkin from the lower classes.

But it was the younger lady who completely disarmed her. Viscountess Aldren gave her an impromptu hug once the duchess released Charity's hands. "I know it feels mindboggling at present, but things will even out." She smiled. "I shall call on you once I have an opening in my schedule at the boxing salon."

Charity didn't know what that meant, but she nodded. "I would enjoy that very much."

The other woman followed Michael's movements with her gaze. "You know, before I married my husband, I'd considered flirting with Winteringham. He is quite handsome, and with that red hair, I'll wager he's quite fiery at times."

When jealousy stabbed through Charity's chest, her eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wouldn't know about that. We have only just met, and in that time, the days have been a whirlwind."

"Understandable," Lady Edenthorpe said with a smile. "Never doubt Winteringham's loyalty. He has been a good friend to all our husbands and never wavered to lend a hand in their times of need."

"Thank you. I shall bear that in mind." Then her gaze collided with Michael's, and she trembled, for his expression suggested he wanted to either run or cast up his accounts. Why? He excused himself from the men he spoke to and then came her way with a frown.

Lady Lockwood patted her arm. "Best wishes on your new union. I hope the viscount and you can puzzle out where your missing tiara is." The duchess lowered her voice. "And if he shows you his prickles or a short temper, go slowly. Grief is a fickle thing. Trust me, for I know from what I speak on that as well."

"I appreciate your wisdom and insight." She left the circle of women and met her new husband in the middle of the room. When he reached her location, she stifled a sigh, for Lady Aldren was correct... he was handsome. "Is all well?"

By slow increments, his frown faded. "It is… difficult just now, but I have lived through worse."

Was he thinking about his first wife? Her chest tightened. Would she ever live up to the specters of the past? Not that she wished to compete with them. "You didn't need to go to such extremes to keep me safe. I could have managed."

The sadness that shadowed his eyes fled. Determination replaced it. "Do hush, Lady Winteringham." Then he turned to the room at large and raised his voice. "If you would all be so good as to move into the dining room, the wedding breakfast will get underway presently." Then he slipped his hand to her upper arm. "Come with me for one moment."

They exited the drawing room through a door at the opposite side that led into what she assumed was Michael's study—his private sanctuary.

"I'm not allowed in here, remember?"

"For this instance, I rescind the rule." After softly closing the door behind him, he regarded her. "Besides, I wanted a private word with you before we go into breakfast, which will probably be an hours' long ordeal."

A half-giggle, half-snort escaped her. "You don't care for the company or the food?"

"I like both, actually, but if I'd had my druthers, I would have preferred hosting a ball later in the summer and taking breakfast with you and perhaps Christopher."

"I understand." She nodded. "For that matter, will your son join the breakfast?"

"He will not, but afterward, you and I will pop in on him together to answer any questions he might have." As he roved his gaze over her face, she trembled for a whole different reason. "I'm sorry the wedding took precedence. We will immediately resume the search for the tiara. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can draw out the enemy."

"It will be lovely to have that weight gone." Despite the gravity of the conversation, she dropped her notice to his mouth. Would he kiss her properly now that they were married?

"I will try my best."

"Thank you." Again, tears welled in her eyes. "The fact you would do all of this," she gestured about them to presumably encompass the events of the past four days, "makes me beyond grateful. How can I possibly repay you?" Panic rose in her chest. "Perhaps when we find the tiara, we could sell it and I could—"

"Charity, stop." The viscount easily tugged her into his arms, dipped his head, and fit his lips to hers, effectively stemming her babble.

She stared at him in surprise for the space of a few heartbeats. Then resting her palms on his hard chest, she relaxed with a sigh and gave herself up to the kiss, even though she knew it meant absolutely nothing, for theirs was a marriage of convenience only.

Seconds later, he pulled away and regarded her with that slightly lopsided grin. "You owe me nothing, and neither will I take payment if you try." Gently, he cupped her cheek. "Understand? I married you for my own reasons just as you did me for yours."

"Yes." Charity nodded. "I appreciate it all the same."

"I know. "

Then he moved his fingers to the Bastet pendant that rested just above the swell of her breasts. "Why do you wear this every day?"

"My father gifted me this pendant when I was with him in Egypt the summer I turned sixteen." She briefly closed her fingers around his and let her hand fall to her side. "Bastet was the goddess of protection, pleasure, and the bringer of good health. Since the Second Dynasty, she was worshipped as a deity, most commonly in Lower Egypt, and my father thought that she would protect me as well."

"Did he find it on a dig?"

"No." Charity shook her head. "In a Cairo marketplace. That was the day he told me he regretted letting me travel with him instead of raising me with my mother's family to learn the social graces or having the chance to marry well."

Sadness shadowed his green-brown eyes. "I think your father would be pleased at where you are today."

"Because of you." Blinking away the remainder of her tears, she sighed. "I think you might have liked my father. You both have the same heart of compassion."

"And we want to see you safe." He offered her his arm, crooked at the elbow. "We'd best join the breakfast else my friends think the wrong things about our absence."

"Right." With another sigh, she slipped her hand onto his arm. "I just hope I don't show my ignorance during the witty conversation that is sure to go around the table."

"The first thing you need to remember is that you are Lady Winteringham. There is nothing you cannot do if you set your mind to it." With a wink, he opened the door. "I have a feeling you were stubborn before I met you, so you will fare just fine."

That made her grin. Perhaps she wouldn't prove an embarrassment after all.