Chapter Fourteen #2
He tried to smile, but the effort was weak. He feared what she was about to impart was not the positive message he had hoped to gain from her this day. “What worries you, Mama?”
“You have decided upon this union in a matter of days. Some take months or years.”
“I am sure of this.”
“I trust that. You have a good understanding of the nature of men and women.”
“So then, I ask again. What worries you?”
“We know that your bride is a woman of breeding and education. She walks like a breeze upon the earth. She talks with humor and wit. She speaks in that sultry voice that connotes an understanding of the trials and tribulations of not only her family, but of her friends and her country.”
“Yes, Mama. She is here because of them.”
“I know. So this morning, I ask you if you have an inkling of what is said of her?”
“I do.” He read newspapers and gossip sheets.
Hell, he had men who reported to him on everything from the price of grain in Yorkshire to what perfume Empress Josephine employed this month.
He knew that the gossips had so little to go on about the background of his bride that they’d had to speculate on her past. Some of their conclusions were not pretty.
In fact, they were nasty. “I know people talk and that they try to understand not only who she is, but why I would marry her. I know not every deed she has ever done, Mama. Who does when they marry?”
His mother nodded, a compassionate smile on her lovely lips. “And?”
“I know the worst that they say.” That Inès had come here to England because she was hunted, or marked by her family’s actions. Chances were that she had protectors, men or women who helped her or who paid her for her companionship. For her services. “I do not care.”
“You love her.”
“I do.”
His mother stood and stepped to him. He feared she would ask if his bride loved him. For that, he had a strong, instinctive feeling, but as of now, no words from her to affirm it.
He rose to his feet, and his mother arched up and kissed his cheek. “That is all I wished to know. I wish you the joy of that love.” She cupped his cheek. “I wish you to nurture it and tend it for decades to come, my dear son.”
He gathered her close and kissed her temple. “You are my treasure.”
“Ah, now you have a new one. Love her well. I know you will because you lavish that on me and your sisters and their families every day. I see how you spend it on your government and your country, too. I am proud to be your mother and proud you have chosen such a lovely bride. I wish you many happy days and joyous nights, great boons to your happiness and, please heaven, many children.”
“You have given me a fine example for all of that.” He hugged her to him. “Can we go now?”
She waved a finger in the air. “Never be late for your own wedding!”
#
Inès took the stairs in a rush. She needed to see Evan, put her hands in his and feel once again that this marriage was a joyous event.
At the open doors to the salon, she perceived the throng, and then her smiling groom.
Countess Halsey stood with tears in her violet eyes.
Beside her, Fee was beaming and Jessica just as delighted.
Close by were three other ladies, each on the arm of a gentleman.
These must be all Halsey’s sisters and their husbands, Inès presumed.
Then the crowd disappeared from view. Her gaze centered only on him. He was dressed in a formal black morning frockcoat and trousers, with a royal-purple satin waistcoat trimmed in silver embroidery. His white stock was in an elaborate tie around his strong throat.
He smiled and the world shimmered around her in sunny possibilities.
She went to him, in her hand the posey of pine and holly tied in white velvet ribbon that he had sent via his footman this morning.
He took it from her and passed it to his friend, Giselle’s husband, the dashing Marquess of Carlisle.
Then he enclosed her hands in his large, warm ones and she felt her cheeks flush, her heart pound, and her hope blossom.
He leaned so close, she laughed because she thought he meant to kiss her. But he whispered, “You are early. Eager, are you, my darling?”
She played coquette for a moment and made him laugh. “I shock you with my impatience.”
“Thank God,” he murmured.
The vicar who stood before them asked if they were ready to take their vows.
She nodded. “Quickly, please.”
The few closest chuckled. Evan did the same.
The words they each repeated seemed to flow over her like water. All she could think of was kissing her husband’s lips.
Breakfast was a happy event, but she weathered it as if it were a tempest of social obligations. One bright spot was Gus’s cook’s scones. Inès had two. The servant had outdone herself.
Evan stood tall, serene, her pillar of strength and righteousness as they both received each guest. All had a kind word or a recommendation for a long life together.
Kane, with Gus on his arm, told Evan “to always listen for the subtle sounds of agreement.”
“They are not always proclamations of delight?” Evan asked.
“There is a gradation. I hope your hearing is excellent.”
Gus pressed her arm to her husband’s. “His has improved over the years.”
Carlisle and Giselle came to express their congratulations. “A little mystery is a good thing,” he offered.
“Which means”—Giselle fluttered her lashes—“he cannot tell you all he does.”
“But you must tell me all,” Carlisle said with a rueful look.
Scarlett came forward on the arm of her dark, imposing chief clerk, Todd Carlton.
They were a striking couple, she with her wild auburn hair with traces of fire, and he so dark that he reminded Inès of a monastery near Blois on the Loire, long gone to the vicissitudes of the revolution.
The monks there had once worn black robes with black hoods.
They grew Vernay grapes along the river and kept to themselves.
Many feared them, saying they were the stewards of the devil.
Inès marveled at the two of them, so close physically, so close professionally, so distant—it seemed—romantically.
They were not stewards of any devil, but the organizers of Scarlett Hawthorne’s infamous and secret espionage ring.
They were not lovers, but colleagues, friends perhaps, each fulfilling the other’s needs in all else.
Neither was married, nor had been. Yet Carlton was Scarlett’s constant companion in business and in Society.
No other man ever accompanied her. Above all, they acted like a devoted married couple.
A mystery to Society, they certainly were.
“We were honored to be invited,” Carlton told Evan and Inès. “We do wish you many years of happiness.”
“Enjoy your new lives,” Scarlett told them both, and shook their hands.
As both excused themselves, Evan murmured for Inès’s ears alone, “Both are enigmas.”
“They seem perfectly suited,” she whispered. “Are you certain they are not intimate?”
“Yes. In all else, but not that.”
Inès leaned closer to her new husband, and the might she felt in his arm made her yearn to leave here. “Let’s go soon.”
He circled one arm around her waist and held her ever so near as a tall, slim man approached. “I wish you to meet the prime minister. Good morning, sir.”
William Pitt, the son of a previous leader of the British, was a pleasant, distinguished man who wished them both great happiness. “Your husband, countess, is invaluable to me.”
She pushed away the irony of that. Today was her wedding day, not one to plan for tomorrow and the horror she would bring to this accomplished politician. “I am so very glad. I find my husband invaluable as well.”
Pitt grinned. “He is a bright fellow with many fabulous ideas.”
“Ah,” said Evan, “would that you thought all of them fabulous.”
“Perhaps I will.” Pitt bowed to Inès. “Forgive me that I depart so soon. I have meetings, and this morning, I am not especially eager for any of them.”
Evan startled, his gaze drifting to the prime minister’s hand pressing into his ribs. “Are you well, sir?”
“Very. Do not trouble yourself with me. A pleasure, madam, to meet you. I will see you often after you return from your honeymoon.”
“I look forward to it, sir.” That was no lie, but the baldest truth delivered in heinous honesty.
She could not help it. Here in her midst was the very man who was her quarry.
The one she had wished for…and never hoped to corner, let alone meet, and with her husband on her wedding day.
Oh, how damned she was! She wanted to run away and hide!
Take back her vows! Save her husband from her hideous necessity!
Oh, God! What have I done?
Pitt strode away, his lips drawn tight, the picture of a man in pain.
A hand to her own ribs, Inès doubled over and gasped for breath.
“What’s wrong?” Evan leaned over her.
“I…I must have eaten too many scones. I will be fine. Fine.” She straightened. She had to continue, didn’t she? Find a way to save the man she loved. The one man she loved dearly.
She gazed at him.
“You are sure?” He brushed a tendril from her cheek.
“Very.”
“All right.” He squeezed her hand. “Here are the Ramseys.”
“Well,” Ramsey greeted them in his dark, heavy bass voice, “we hope you both are prepared for your complete transformations.” He, who never looked pleased about much, grinned at them both as he shook hands with Evan and kissed Inès on her cheek.
“I wish you every happiness, Inès. You deserve it. Never will I forget what you did for Amber in Paris two years ago.”
“You saved us,” Amber added, and gave Inès a kiss on each cheek.
Evan took that in, and looked as if he were proud of her.
Inès stirred. “Please, I—”
“She will tell you about that,” Amber persisted. “We encouraged her to do so.”
Evan curled Inès closer to him. “I want to hear it all.”