Chapter Thirty-Four
Janelle knew nothing of her new husband’s plans. The wedding breakfast was finished and their guests departed before the man mentioned travel to Cornwall. He wanted to leave within the hour, and Janelle could do no more than gape at him in shock.
“I do apologize,” he said. “I thought you’d been informed. The major should have it all arranged.”
He turned to look at Gabriel who was across the room in close conversation with a mustachioed man.
Who was that gentleman? Servant or guest?
Good lord, her head was addled. She and Alex had consumed way too much wine the night before, and now her head pounded enough to make everything a little irritating.
Of course, her own discomfort was nothing compared to the red-rimmed eyes of her new husband. Naturally, he covered better than she. He smiled often and spoke warmly with every soul who came to congratulate him. She did her best, but there were moments when she felt completely unequal to the task.
And now Lord Benedict expected her to embark upon a many hour trip to a ramshackle castle as if it were as easy as changing one’s shoes.
“We cannot rely on Major Vance to communicate between us,” she said, her tone verging on peevish. “We must speak to one another or our marriage is over before it has even begun.”
His face tightened in frustration, and she tensed in fear. Sometimes her father looked like that, and it was a prelude to something very ugly. Had she just joined her life to a man with a violent side? A moment later, his expression turned into one of genuine regret.
“You are completely right, Janelle. I have been much too distant with you and that is not how I wish our marriage to begin. We shall make a point, perhaps, to breakfast together every morning. No matter what my duties, I shall endeavor to have that single private meal with you. And then, in time, we shall bring the children into it, yes? So that they can share in our private delights.”
Not every private delight, she thought. Then she felt like an immoral tart for the very idea.
Obviously, he was not thinking of their marriage bed, and it was only her anxiety that kept the concept at the forefront of her mind.
That and all the bawdy innuendoes that were inevitable at a wedding breakfast. She’d mistakenly believed that those in political or diplomatic careers were of a refined mindset.
That was decidedly not true for at least a third of the guests.
In any event, she needed to focus on her current situation. “You want us to leave in an hour?”
“If possible.”
“I haven’t packed—”
“Excuse me, my lady, my lord,” interrupted the mustachioed man. “Forgive me for interrupting, but Major Vance asked me to relay certain particulars regarding this day’s travel. He apologizes for his abrupt departure, but he has gone to acquire my lady’s portmanteau.”
“What?” she said as she scanned the nearly empty room. Gabriel had indeed departed. The damned man hadn’t dared look her in the eye since the ceremony itself. He certainly hadn’t said a word to her, and…
And she didn’t know how to feel about that. Angry or grateful? Heartbroken or relieved? Good God, she wished her head didn’t ache.
“My lady, your maid was informed this morning to pack a portmanteau for you. My lord, I understand your luggage is already in the carriage.”
“Thank you, Doyle. We shall depart immediately for my lady’s former home.”
Janelle had trouble sorting through all the “my lady” and “my lord” references. She was not used to being addressed as such. Then her husband referred to her “former home” and Janelle gave up all attempts to control her life. At least until her head stopped aching.
Lord Benedict extended his arm to her. She obliged by setting her fingers upon it, then smiled benignly at the servants cleaning up the mess from their breakfast. And that was yet another oddity.
She’d thought they would be shown to a bedroom as happened after most country weddings, but that was not the case here.
They’d stayed until the last guests had departed and now were set to travel to Cornwall.
“Please lead the way, my lord,” she murmured.
“There is time for you to say your goodbyes.”
Good. Her father had left nearly an hour ago, but her brother, aunt, and uncle were there to wish her well.
She promised to visit them as soon as she returned to London, then hugged them each tightly.
She held Alex for an extra-long measure and when they separated, he winked at her with a sloppy kind of grin.
Then she was in a carriage, finally private with her husband, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and wait for the throbbing to go away. Apparently, Benedict did, too, because he immediately dropped his head back and closed his eyes.
Very well. She mimicked the gesture all the way to her father’s London home. Once there, she pasted on a warm smile, received all the teary well-wishes of her servants—former servants—and then watched as the footmen settled a very large trunk onto the boot of their carriage.
Everything happened so fast because of Gabriel, who directed everyone with efficient commands. She’d thought him stunningly handsome in his uniform as he stood at the altar. He now wore a travel outfit as befit a man who planned to ride postillion all the way to Cornwall.
“That can’t be wise,” she murmured. “He cannot have had much sleep last night.”
“None whatsoever,” Lord Benedict commented grimly. She hadn’t even realized he was beside her, but she heard him clearly despite the noise.
“Surely we can manage without him.” She didn’t actually think that was possible, but she had no desire to see Gabriel collapse from exhaustion.
“We cannot.”
“But—”
“We cannot.” Those were the sharpest words she’d ever heard Lord Benedict utter, and she turned to him in surprise. Then she watched as his cheeks turned ruddy. “I will switch places with him once we get out of London. He can rest in the carriage.”
Herself and Gabriel alone in a carriage? Absolutely not.
“How sore is your head?” she asked.
He shrugged by way of dismissal, and she realized that of the three of them—Gabriel, Benedict, and herself—she likely felt the best. Her throbbing head had less to do with the wine from last night and more to do with her broken heart.
Suddenly resolved, she turned to her husband. “My lord, you realize that you have married a practical woman, do you not?”
He frowned at her. “Of course, but—”
“I see no reason to put on missish airs just because it’s my wedding day.”
“I never thought you were.”
“Good. Because I’m not.” She waved over her maid. “Please put a riding habit in a small bag for me. I shall change at the first posting inn.”
Lord Benedict touched her elbow. “Miss Cad—Janelle. Don’t be silly. We’re on our honeymoon. You can’t—”
“What? Enjoy the air on a beautiful spring day? Of course, I can. And if you are about to fuss that I shall ride astride, I refer you to my first statement.”
His lips quirked. “About being a practical woman?”
“Sidesaddles are the most impractical things in the world.”
“You are steady on a man’s saddle?”
“And on a sidesaddle, a donkey cart, a draft horse, and every manner of gig.” She wouldn’t win any races or look stylish doing it, but she was competent enough with all of it.
“Because of your hobby?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “And because of that hobby, I am fully aware of how much pain you are in. Was it all drink or do you have another aliment?”
The man’s eyes widened as his lips twisted into a self-mocking smile. “I am indeed fortunate in my chosen wife. I find I like ‘practical’ very much.”
“Good.” Because she had no intention of changing.
She noted that he did not answer regarding his ailment, but she knew the look of a man with a sore head.
And if there was some other difficulty, then she would discover it soon enough.
After all, by all accounts, they were about to become very private for an extended period of time.
*
Never in her wildest imagination could she imagine a more awkward trek across England.
They each took a turn riding postillion.
It was the only way, she learned, that Lord Benedict could get his favorite horse to the castle.
Meanwhile, Gabriel insisted on maintaining every appearance of being a servant rather than a best friend to Lord Benedict.
He would not insult his employer by riding inside the carriage, so he sat up top with the coachman and nearly killed himself when he toppled in his sleep.
Fortunately, their coachman had quick hands, and Gabriel woke as he was being jerked back into his seat.
She was never more grateful to arrive at a crumbling old castle with massive overgrowth and dangerous ruins.
She didn’t care if the bedding was moldy or threadbare.
She would sleep in her clothes and curse anyone who disturbed her.
And unless she missed her guess, Lord Benedict felt the same.
What Gabriel thought was beyond her, as he’d ridden ahead to ready things for their arrival.
So it was that when she finally stepped onto the rutted courtyard, she was greeted by an elderly couple of retainers, Mr. and Mrs. Carr, a very young maid Mary and her equally slight brother Bob.
Gabriel stood half hidden in the doorway.
Lord Benedict clearly knew them. After all, he’d been here less than a week ago, and everyone indicated their surprise and delight that he had returned with his new countess.
She greeted them as best she could and then was led directly into a master bedroom with excellent apportionment. She had just received her trunk, thanks to Gabriel’s vast shoulders when her husband sent message to her via Bob.
A packet of missives has arrived, and I shall be working on them until the late hours. Please rest and we can regroup in the morning.
—B
So they were to communicate via missive.
Or at least, he was. She soon learned from Mrs. Carr that his lordship had food and wine and was already at work at his desk in a lower solar.
Indeed, over the past few weeks, he had slept there on a well-apportioned couch more times than he had rested in his bedroom which was attached to the solar.
The major had also been given food and drink.
His bedroom was at the top of the east tower—the only one still habitable—and it attached to both the great hall on the main floor, the rooms taken by Lord Benedict for work and rest on the second floor, and hers on the highest floor.
The rest of the edifice was a ramshackle mess, but Mrs. Carr would be pleased to give her a tour in the morning.
It would seem that all three of them had gone to their own corners to regroup. She didn’t know why her marriage had turned into a triangle of awkwardness, but she hadn’t the strength to fight it. So with a smile of gratitude, she dismissed Mrs. Carr and young Mary, then fell into bed.