Tempting the Bride

chapter 4



Hastings’s soon-to-be wife looked out the window of the hansom cab, her back straight, her jaw set, her hands clasped tight in her lap, as if she were Napoleon arriving upon the stark shores of Saint Helena, understanding deep in her bones that this time there would be no escape.

The interior of the hansom cab was narrow. They sat shoulder to shoulder, the expanse of her skirt brushing against his knee. In the seconds before the scandalmongers had burst in on them, she had been anything but frigid. He could still taste their kiss upon his tongue, still feel the heat of her slender body pressed into his. But now she might as well have been on the far side of Siberia, as cold and remote as the Bering Sea.

He had not meant to force her into marriage: It simply had not occurred to him that there were any other possible explanations for him to be seen making love to her. Apparently she thought him the sort of man who entertained himself by ruining unmarried young ladies from good families.

And she’d rather become a pariah than his wife.

It did not console him that he was largely to blame for her antagonistic views. She was blind, this girl, as blind as Justice, except her set of scales had broken years ago, and all she weighed in her hand were her prejudices.

He looked down at his own hand, at his index finger poised atop his walking stick, applying the merest pressure to keep it upright, as if he hadn’t a care in the world beyond the balancing of this gentlemanly accessory.

“It’s unfortunate that maid of yours left,” he heard himself say, in a tone as insubstantial as his hold on the walking stick. “She would have tied you to the bedpost without blinking an eye.”

Her skirts twitched. She said nothing.

“No matter,” he continued. “I’m sure I’ll find someone for the task. Perhaps I can teach you a few knots myself. You are a clever girl. There’s no reason you can’t truss yourself in a most satisfactory manner.”

Her voice was a low growl. “The man I love is beyond my reach. I must marry a man who holds no appeal for me whatsoever. Have some decency, Hastings. Save your gloating until after the wedding.”

There, he’d successfully provoked her again, out of habit—out of pure reflex, almost. And his satisfaction was emptier than ever, his heart all but losing its beat.

He’d gone too far. Well before he opened his mouth, he’d known he’d go too far. Yet he hadn’t been able to help himself, the way a man who’d lost his footing on a steep hill only gathered speed as he stumbled toward a precipice.

“I never do anything for as silly a reason as decency. I will, however, grant you a reprieve of silence, but that is only because now I shall expect even greater gratitude from you, once we are married.”

His words were met with silence. For a stretch of several minutes, he looked out the window on his side of the hansom cab, dumbly noting their progress. Then he glanced back toward her.

For the first time in their long acquaintance, he witnessed her with her shoulders slumped. And then a shocking realization: She was crying. He could not see it or hear it—her face was turned completely away from him and she made not the slightest of noises—but her despair was palpable, leaden, a thing that choked the air from his lungs.

He looked away from her, back to the window, to the street outside overflowing with carriages and pedestrians. His own eyes were quite dry, but that was only because he’d long grown accustomed to despair, that old companion of his.

I’d like to speak to my family alone, if you don’t mind,” said Helena, as the hansom cab turned onto the street where the Duke of Lexington’s town house stood.

Her tears had dried; her voice was even enough. Her turmoil she would keep to herself: If this was the bed of nails she’d made, then she would lie on it with all the dignity and impassivity she could muster.

Hastings cast her an inscrutable glance. “I’ll wait outside for some time, but no more than ten minutes. And I trust you will sing my praises properly—I am the hero of the day, after all.”

He would be heralded as such, wouldn’t he? And Andrew, who was guilty of nothing more than the desire to see her, cast as the dastardly villain.

“You will be acknowledged as you deserve,” she answered.

As she stood before the door of the town house, she couldn’t quite feel the granite beneath her feet or the bellpull in her hand. Her whole person was numb, except for a dull burning in her heart.

“Right on time, Helena,” said Venetia, when Helena was shown into the drawing room, where Venetia had been chatting with Fitz and Millie.

Her raven-haired, blue-eyed, and ineffably beautiful sister was, if possible, even more dazzling than usual. Fitz, though he was Helena’s twin, shared Venetia’s coloring and bone structure, and had always been considered by Helena’s friends as swoon-inducingly gorgeous. As for his wife, Helena vaguely remembered thinking Millie somewhat mousy when they’d first met, but now she couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought so, for Millie, petite and fine featured, was extraordinarily lovely in her own way.

“Fitz and Millie were just telling me all about the Lake District.” Venetia winked at Helena.

They were all thrilled that Fitz and Millie, who’d known some heartbreaking years, had finally found the happiness they deserved. Without waiting for Helena to respond, Venetia waved her to a chair. “Sit down, my love. I’ve been bursting to share the news all day. Now that we are at last together in the same place—”

“I—” Helena began.

“The duke and I will be parents soon.”

Helena’s jaw dropped, as did Millie’s. It had long been thought that Venetia was barren. No wonder she had glowed so beatifically of late.

“Congratulations,” Helena, Fitz, and Millie shouted in near unison.

But Helena was the first one out of her seat to embrace Venetia. “I’m so happy for you I can scarcely stand it.”

A round of hugs and kisses followed, then another round, amidst laughter and squeals of delight.

“Where is Lexington?” asked Fitz. “He ought to be congratulated, too.”

“He has decided to arrive a few minutes later, in case there are questions you’d rather not ask in front of him.”

Fitz cocked his head. “Such as when the baby is due?”

Venetia blushed slightly. “Yes, that one.”

Millie raised a brow. “So, when is the baby due?”

“End of the year.”

“End of the year? But you’ve been married only—” Millie covered her mouth. “The duke’s mysterious lover during his crossing on the Rhodesia—you were her!”

“And when you fainted and we had to call in Miss Redmayne, you weren’t suffering from some mysterious illness. You were with child!” exclaimed Helena.

“He never knew who I was while we were on the Rhodesia. And I never told him until after I found out that I was in a delicate condition.”

Helena bit her lip. “My goodness, he must have been furious.”

“He was, but we have patched things up rather nicely since then, and we couldn’t be more thrilled about the baby.”

The duke walked in, a coolly handsome man—and a celebrated naturalist who shared a love of fossils with his wife. “Is it safe for me to join the conversation?”

“Yes, my dear, quite safe.”

Fitz offered his hand. “Congratulations, Lexington. Shall we drink to an heir?”

“And to the possibility of a girl as generous and capable as my wife,” said Lexington.

Helena’s eyes misted. It was a lovely thing to say to a woman who had struggled at times with the possibility that perhaps she was nothing more than a beautiful face. Venetia had chosen well after all.

“Shall I send for champagne—and some champagne cider for Lord Fitzhugh?” asked Lexington.

Fitz abstained entirely from intoxicating beverages and usually contented himself with champagne cider at celebratory occasions.

But before anyone could answer, a footman announced, “Viscount Hastings.”

In swept the realities of Helena’s life; all the gladness drained from her heart. “Perhaps not just yet,” she muttered under her breath. “The champagne, that is.”

Fitz and Lexington both shook hands with Hastings, with Fitz looking openly puzzled.

“I didn’t expect to see you until later this evening, David. But I’m glad to see you now.”

Hastings glanced at Helena, then at the gathering, perhaps noticing for the first time the general good cheer. “What did I miss?”

“The duke and I will soon be parents,” a still giddy-looking Venetia told him.

“My goodness, this is the best news I’ve heard all day. I shall spoil the child rotten.” He kissed Venetia on her cheek and shook hands again with the duke. “Well done, old fellow.”

“My pride is nearly infinite,” said the duke dryly.

Venetia motioned the gentlemen to sit. “Tomorrow the news will be all over town—ladies Avery and Somersby will do the trumpeting. But we wanted all of you to know first.”

“I take it that in the face of your marvelous news, nothing else has been discussed?” asked Hastings.

Helena’s stomach tightened. “No.”

Hastings glanced at her. “I see that I have arrived too soon.”

Fitz, always perceptive, frowned. “What do you mean, David?”

“Do you wish to tell them, Miss Fitzhugh?” asked Hastings, his expression a wall of amiability. “Or shall I?”

The point of no return—they’d come to it all too soon. The dull burn in her heart was now replaced by the sheer void of inevitability. “I assume it will be no surprise to anyone in this room that Mr. Andrew Martin and I have been seeing each other in a manner that would not receive widespread approval.”

There was a collective intake of breath. Instantly, the atmosphere turned tense.

“But don’t fret. I am still a lily-white virgin.”

They’d been surprised by her admission of the affair, but this shocked them—especially Hastings, it would seem. Why, did he think she’d be so stupid as to risk a pregnancy? Or that Andrew was so lacking in honor and responsibility?

“But I did something unwise today. I agreed to meet Mr. Martin at the Savoy, not realizing it was a plot by Mrs. Monteth to expose us. I wish to stress that my mobility was not due to negligence on the part of either Bridget or the gentleman who has had the unenviable duty to stand watch beneath Fitzhugh and Company. I played a trick to get free—and walked into Mrs. Monteth’s trap.”

Millie gripped Fitz’s arm. Venetia gripped the armrests. Lexington rounded behind his wife’s chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. Only Hastings, now that he’d recovered from his earlier astonishment, seemed entirely unaffected. He sat sprawled in his bergère chair, for all intents and purposes twiddling his thumbs as he waited for her to continue.

“Lord Hastings arrived in the nick of time. To save Mr. Martin, we hid him out of view. To save me, Lord Hastings told Mrs. Monteth and the senior Mrs. Martin that we have eloped.”

“Good gracious,” mumbled Venetia.

Millie and Fitz exchanged a look.

“It was quick thinking on Lord Hastings’s part and I am indebted to him.”

The words were grateful enough, but she could not make her voice sound anything other than lifeless, as if she were reading her own obituary aloud.

Hastings crossed his legs at the ankles. “We will, of course, marry as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, it is advisable for Miss Fitzhugh to be addressed as Lady Hastings—and for her to remove to my house today, to keep up the appearance of having eloped. The news of our ‘elopement’ will spread with the speed of a wildfire; we do not want anyone to question its veracity.”

Remove to his house today? The possibility had not even occurred to Helena. She’d counted on a few days of privacy, at least, to come to terms with what was to become the rest of her life.

“We will, of course,” added Hastings, “conduct ourselves with the utmost decorum.”

There was nothing objectionable in his reassurance to her family. All the same, Helena shivered.

Fitz sighed. “Are you sure about this, Helena?”

It dawned on her that he was offering her a choice, letting her know that she did not need to force herself into marriage if it made her unhappy. Tears welled in her eyes. Before they could fall, she blinked and set her face to a blank nonchalance. “By tomorrow morning the news will be all over town—there is nothing to be unsure about anymore. Lord Hastings and I have known each other a long time. We will deal favorably together.”

Perhaps her nonchalance wasn’t quite nonchalant enough, for a heaviness settled over the room, which only made her angrier with herself for having ruined what should have been a buoyant celebration.

She turned to Venetia. “Enough about Hastings and me. Let’s talk more about the baby. And do tell me why ladies Avery and Somersby knew about your condition before we did. I smell something juicy.”