Chapter Ten
Three weeks? Three weeks!
Janelle’s head spun. She’d just started to grapple with the idea that she was engaged to a near stranger. This morning she’d looked at the ring on her finger and realized that she would get married someday. Some very distant day in the far-off future.
Until Major Vance started talking about special licenses. He said three weeks was the longest his lordship would wait. And suddenly, she was feeling sick to her stomach.
Thankfully, their carriage arrived at the theatre, and they were busy climbing out of the conveyance and heading toward their seat.
People were still arriving. Indeed, they would be coming and going throughout the performances, but the flow was slow enough—and the major imposing enough—that they rapidly found themselves in Lord Benedict’s private box.
How wonderful to be able to breathe with no one crowding around her. With only the three of them in the box, Janelle could not only see the performance but hear it as well. Or so she hoped. The tragedy had not yet begun, which gave the major a moment to lean forward and whisper into her ear.
“I did not mean to upset you, Miss Caddick. It seems you are apprehensive about your wedding coming so soon. If I may be so bold, exactly what frightens you?”
She turned to him. Indeed, how could she not?
Just when she was feeling a stomach-churning tension, his soothing voice grounded her.
Even better, he set his gloved hand upon hers.
It was there only for a moment. It would not be appropriate for him to linger.
But it was enough to draw her attention away from the sea of feelings in which she floundered.
“Major?” she rasped. Did he know that his title was like a lifeline cast outward?
Apparently so, because he smiled at her.
His blue eyes turned soft, his lips curved gently, and she noticed for the first time how full they were.
His nose might be a blunt instrument on his face, but his lips were soft and tempting.
“Miss Caddick,” he said, “it is my duty to see to your wellbeing. I have upset you, and so I must remedy it.”
“You did not upset me,” she said. “You merely surprised me, and that was my fault for not pressing Lord Benedict for details earlier.”
“Ah. Well, Lord Benedict thinks at a different level than most of us. His thoughts are on affairs of state, not the mundane details of life. It is why he needs me.”
“To inform his fiancée of their wedding date?”
“Exactly so.” His expression deepened. “Do you wish to delay the wedding? I could broach the topic with Lord Benedict.”
Yes, yes, yes!
But that was the reaction of a child, and so she lifted her chin and stood on her own two feet—metaphorically speaking.
“I appreciate the offer, however any such discussions should be between myself and his lordship. Surely you can see how having a third person in my marriage bed is highly inappropriate.”
He pulled back, obviously insulted. “That is not at all what I meant.”
And now it was her turn to touch his arm in apology. “Forgive me. I spoke badly. I am unsettled.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me—exactly—what disturbs you about your upcoming nuptials. Is it the timing? Do you fear you can’t get the wedding plans in place by then? I assure you, I am a wizard at managing logistics. I coordinated an entire battle, I can handle a wedding.”
“You coordinated battles?” For some reason, she thought he’d be the one out front fighting them. Though by the looks of him—and his scars—he’d probably done both.
“I was one of many. But yes, I became a trusted leader.”
“A successful one, too,” she said. “Napoleon was defeated in Spain.”
“He was indeed. Which leaves me free to arrange every detail of your wedding.”
She quickly shook her head. “Oh, don’t do that. Aunt Esmee would never forgive me.” She looked over at her aunt who turned at the sound of her name.
“Forgive what?”
“If the major handled the wedding logistics.”
“No, no, no! I’ve been planning Janelle’s wedding for years.
I had only sons, you know. This is my chance to really indulge.
” She grinned at the major. “I had her wedding gown started the minute I learned of the engagement. And our side of the guest list is already complete. I will need to get with you to finalize Lord Benedict’s wishes. ”
The major nodded, his expression smoothing out into a polite blandness. “I will be happy to. Indeed, if you give me your list, I shall see the invitations printed immediately.”
“Delightful!”
And so the conversation slid to her aunt and the major talking about wedding details while Janelle looked toward the stage. When would the tragedy start? Any minute now, if the movement behind the curtain was an indication. Or within three weeks, if she were honest.
She was marrying a man she didn’t know. Her life would be forever tethered to him.
He didn’t seem cruel or violent, but how would she know until she lived with him?
That was the thing about tending so many laboring women.
They told her things in the long hours as their bodies prepared to expel a child.
She knew men were rarely what they seemed in public.
Always, the women bore the brunt of their husband’s perfidy.
“When will I see Lord Benedict again?” she abruptly asked. “Is he at home tonight?”
The major turned from his discussion with her aunt to address her. “Should I arrange an appointment for you?”
She winced, hating the idea of going through another person to arrange for her to see her future husband. “Yes, please.”
He nodded. “Shall we say another walk in the park tomorrow at the usual time? If he cannot make it, I will take his place and answer all your questions.”
She tilted her head. “Major, I asked for a conversation with my fiancé, not a conversation with you about my fiancé.”
His expression was sympathetic as he shrugged.
“Unfortunately, that happens more often than not with Lord Benedict. It is the nature of his job, you know. Whereas most gentlemen of your status will be available to you with a modest amount of effort, I’m afraid Lord Benedict has a great many responsibilities more important than his fiancée.
Or his wife.” His expression grew rueful.
“It is something you must accept now or be very unhappy in your marriage.”
She looked at him hard. He didn’t seem particularly regretful of the news, and her temper boiled over.
“I think you enjoy Lord Benedict’s status.
I think you like being the only arbiter of access to him.
Even to the point of inserting yourself between me and him.
You want to plan my wedding. You want to tell me when I can and cannot see my husband.
And you want to order the shape and details of my days.
” She shook her head. “I do not believe we suit, Major Vance.”
He nodded gravely. “I agree, Miss Caddick. Unfortunately for you, Lord Benedict and I have been working together for a decade. We have waged war together, saved each other’s lives, and now are poised to create a new world after Bonaparte.
If you wish to marry Lord Benedict, then you must find a way to work with me.
” He leaned back in his chair. “Unless, of course, you want to cry off. There are dozens of gentlemen who would be grateful for your hand. Indeed, I might be able to steer a few very worthy men in your direction.”
Good God, had she really thought him sympathetic? What an idiot she was. He was doing everything in his power to end her marriage before it even began. “Why?” she asked, her mind scrambling to understand. “Why are you threatened by someone as simple and unimportant as me?”
His brows rose. “A wife is no small thing, Miss Caddick. And you are far from simple. Indeed, I believe your intelligence is your problem. Boredom is the curse of a clever mind. And a bored wife is a dangerous one.”
“And you stand to protect Lord Benedict. From me.”
“I do.”
“Because I’m so scandalous.”
He arched his brows, and his gaze filled with double meaning. “Scandal is the plague of every politician. It is the one thing that can fell a great man. And I will not allow—”
“Enough!” Aunt Esmee all but shouted. Indeed, her outburst was loud enough to catch a few people’s interest in neighboring boxes.
“Aunt Esmee!” Janelle hissed. “Lower your voice.”
The lady did not. Indeed, she stood slowly, her chin raised and her body stiff. At that moment, the woman was every inch Lady Boxval.
“Walk with me, Major,” the woman commanded, her body quivering with authority.
The major dipped in ghost of a bow, then he gestured with a casual wave to the back of the box. The lady proceeded him out the back, and he followed with a mocking kind of saunter. At least Janelle thought it mocking, but then she was not predisposed to think anything charitable about the man.
Fortunately for her own turbulent emotions, the orchestra announced the beginning of the tragedy with a loud flourish.
The curtain opened and the play began. Hamlet was not a favorite play of hers.
The prince dithered in a way that she thought showed the weak side of masculinity.
A woman didn’t have time to debate her actions, for better or ill.
She either fought them immediately or accepted the status quo.
Only men had the luxury of acting after thorough debate.
If a man wanted to do something, he just did it.
A woman had to plan and maneuver. She had to either hide her actions or surprise her opponents with the deed already done.
It was the nature of things.
And so as Hamlet began with all the moaning of the ghost nonsense, Janelle realized that now was her time to act.
She had questions about her upcoming marriage, beginning with the major’s exact role.
And if she did not receive a satisfactory answer to that question, then she would indeed cry off and damn to the consequences.
After all, what was the worst that could happen?
She would be packed off to Devon where she could resume her life as Betty until Janelle ceased to exist all together.
With that happy possibility fixed in her mind, she pulled out her purse. It was much smaller than her usual bag, but it was large enough to contain a pencil and paper. On it, she wrote a simple excuse. One that her aunt had seen a dozen times.
I am feeling unwell. Don’t let me spoil your fun. I shall return home immediately to sit in the dark. Migraines are terrible things.
She signed it and set it on her aunt’s chair.
Then she slipped out of the box using her cloak to cover her head as she left by the back stairs.
She’d learned of them last season when she’d helped tend a prostitute who had been beaten and left there for dead.
She wasn’t the only one to know of these stairs.
Indeed, there were at least two couples indulging together as she rushed past. Fortunately, they were too involved with each other to care about her.
Five minutes later, she made it outside to where a row of hackneys waited for people who wanted to escape.
“Take me to the Foreign Office,” she ordered.
“Wot?”
She dug into her memory. The major had said that Lord Benedict was entertaining dignitaries tonight with the Secretary of State.
“Take me to Lord Castlereagh’s home on Cleveland Row.
” At least she hoped that was where it was.
She wasn’t exactly sure. Either way, she was determined to find her fiancé tonight.
She would have a discussion with him without Major Vance, even if she had to interrupt his superior at dinner to do it.
And if it forced Lord Benedict to request an end of their engagement, then she would make sure to gain a settlement from him that would make her father happy.
At least she hoped she could. And she prayed it was enough to prevent her father from killing her for the embarrassment.