Chapter Fifteen #2
“It is not an unlawful marriage. As everyone knows, Marksman and I are not brothers in blood, my lord. Just as Graham is not my brother. What type of father would have both a Scottish and an Irish family, as well as several English ones? Lord Duncan simply guided each of us into our earldoms. If we were brothers, Marksman could not have recently married Lord Duncan’s daughter.
” Beaufort knew very well how none of the Scottish peers in the House of Lords would dare to speak out against Lord Macdonald Duncan, for he was not only a leader in the Home Office, but the most senior Scottish delegate to the House of Lords.
“Of course, I simply thought…”
“I have known Lord Beaufort longer than any of my brother’s other acquaintances,” Annalise said as if on cue.
“Would you enjoy having some female company, my dear?” Navan asked, leading her to her response.
“Oh, please say you will join me, Lady Freya. I adore both Beaufort’s and Lord Graham’s company, but I have had so little chance to build connections to other young ladies in society.”
“If my father is agreeable, I would very much enjoy seeing this part of Scotland through Lord Graham’s eyes, as well as being one of the first to know Lady Annalise’s plans for the wedding.”
“How far is it to your estate, Graham?” Cunningham asked grudgingly.
“A bit over ten miles, but the roads in this area are better than those inland. Approximately an hour and a half, I estimate. My staff will be pleased to have others to serve beyond my minor needs.”
Cunningham still did not appear pleased with his only true choice, but he said, “Freya, dear, please inform their lordships’ men which of your mother’s and your trunks would be most essential for this evening’s purposes. I am grateful to each of you, my lords, for your generosity.”
Annalise laced her arm through Lady Freya’s. “Permit me to assist you. Come, Roland,” she said to Graham’s footman. “We shall require your assistance.”
Two days later, Annalise made her appearance in the small church on Lord Graham’s estate.
She had hoped her new friend, Lady Freya, would stand with her, but, as her dear Beaufort had explained, Cunningham greatly disapproved of Graham’s parentage, for Duncan had orchestrated a belated marriage-over-the-anvil style joining between the prior Lord Graham and Aaran’s rightful mother.
With Lord Graham’s passing, Duncan’s efforts had made Aaran Graham the new earl and denied the previous Lord Graham’s second son the earldom.
When Graham appeared to be taken aback by Cunningham’s continued show of animosity, Annalise had told Aaran repeatedly how fortunate would be the woman he chose to marry.
“You are one of the kindest creatures to walk God’s earth, but, equally as important, you are both intelligent and decisive.
A born protector. And what more could a woman wish for in a husband?
” Naturally, Lord Graham objected to her praise, but he appeared pleased by it, nevertheless.
The ceremony was small by necessity, but Annalise still felt special. She wore one of the gowns Lady Orson had chosen for her, and Lord Beaufort’s eyes had never left her countenance as they recited their vows.
Assuredly, she was still a bit nervous regarding her wedding night, but it was good to be permitted a decision of her own.
As she stood before Lord Graham’s clergyman, Annalise attempted to forget how she was putting her life and her future happiness into, essentially, the hands of a stranger.
She had known Lord Beaufort for less than three months total.
In truth, she had questioned whether she should have waited, while knowing if Alexander disapproved, her brother would have tied up her life and her fortune for more years than she would wish.
Especially, if Theodora spoke her suggestions in Alexander’s ears.
Annalise thought the new Lady Marksman would wish all set aside for Annalise to be used on Alexander’s children.
Yet, Annalise could not resist the idea she had jumped over the frying pan and stepped into the fire.
Though she had not said the words to anyone, not even herself, for doing so would make her appear conniving, she had easily recalled one item of importance Alexander had shared regarding their father.
“Robert Dutton placed a separate fortune of thirty thousand pounds in your name alone, available to you when you turn five and twenty. He was confident I would find you, and he wanted you to be secure financially and not dependent on the earldom or upon others, if such was your wish. It is yours to do with as you wish, not part of any dowry offered by me and the earldom when you marry.” Annalise doubted Beaufort was aware of this guaranteed fortune.
Even if her husband soon tired of her, she would still possess a means to a future she alone could name.
Lord Graham escorted her to where Beaufort awaited her. She knew he felt the tremble in her hands, for Aaran cupped her hand with his. Annalise made herself hold her chin high and pretend confidence.
Beaufort wore a coat of charcoal gray and black pantaloons. At least, he looked upon her with soft eyes. The ceremony was a mix of traditional and what Lord Graham had termed as “over-the-anvil marriages,” where all one required was a “Do you” and an “I do” to be legal.
“You noticed that the vicar forgot to say the word obey in the vows, Beaufort,” his lordship had teased. “Lady Beaufort may possess a mind of her own when she wishes it and, therefore, act accordingly.”
The celebration at Lord Graham’s estate had been an abbreviated one, for Annalise’s new husband wished to set out for Wales and Holyhead as quickly as it could be arranged.
Though she was also eager to view Ireland, for she had heard much of the beauty of the country, Annalise worried whether Beaufort’s urgency had more to do with avoiding her brother than returning to his homeland.
“I was thinking we might let a ship in Holyhead to deliver us directly to Cork City. The accommodations might not be grand, but…”
“But I am expected to make do?” she accused.
“I meant no such thing,” he snapped. “It is time for the rainy season in Dublin and the snow in the mountains. Travel will be difficult no matter how we make the journey.”
Tonight, she would be expected to perform her duties as Beaufort’s wife, and her anger had more to do with that than it did with the mode of travel he would employ.
She understood the basics of the act. One could not live the life she had with Jacob Moran and not have encountered a number of men and women in the act of copulation.
However, in her opinion, the act was noisy and possibly executed in anger and assuredly required an abandonment of her dignity.
Annalise was not comfortable with anything to which she had previously stood witness.
Her first night as Beaufort’s bride would be in an inn on their way to a place called Holyhead.
Then to Cork City. Neither of which was she familiar.
And according to her beloved Navan, followed by a ride through Ireland’s mountains to his grandparents’ estate.
Eventually, they would view Beaufort’s estate, but not right away.
Though the idea disappointed her, Beaufort had explained that his grandmother’s estate would one day belong to one of his minor children.
Their efforts at Klare Fields would secure not only his grandmother’s future, but that of one of Annalise’s children. One of Beaufort’s children.
Annalise decided despite the fact she did not know Ireland, in time, the land Beaufort loved would be her home—a place where she would belong, and soon, no one would have the ability to take it away from her.
At length, Lord Graham kissed her cheek and supported her into Beaufort’s chaise and four. Her husband followed her inside, and they were off again. A new life, her mind announced, while her stomach tightened in what felt of fear.
They reached the planned inn for the night, the one Graham had recommended, though, if he had been alone, Beaufort would have instructed his coachman to continue on for a few more hours.
When he glanced to view his wife’s features, he knew without a doubt she required a full night’s sleep.
Graham must have sent word ahead, for the inn’s owner met them before they reached the door.
“My laird. My lady,” the man said with a thick Scottish accent.
“Welcome to me inn. Trust your journey be pleasant.”
“Very much so,” his wife answered before Navan could construct a response.
“Lord Graham sent his instructions for your stay. Your rooms be prepared.”
His wife stumbled to a halt behind him and the innkeeper, and Navan returned to her side to whisper, “What is the matter, my lady?”
She blushed as red as her hair. “I am your wife, Beaufort,” she hissed, but she held her head high.
“Yes, you are, and we will discuss whatever is your complaint in the privacy of our quarters.” She dropped her gaze again, but he knew she had not been satisfied with his response. He turned to the innkeeper to say, “Her ladyship simply turned her ankle. We are prepared. Lead on, my good man.”
When they reached their connected quarters, the chambers each sported a good-sized bed, especially for a rural inn. “There be hot water in the jars. My son’ll bring up your trunks, and then we’ll see to your servants.”
Beaufort nodded his gratitude and excused the man. When the door closed behind the innkeeper, he asked his wife, “What was your prior concern, my lady?”
She dropped her eyes again. It would be necessary for him to break her of that habit, which she likely learned at Jacob Moran’s hands. “I simply thought…” she began.
“Thought what, my lady?” he asked in a tone that said his patience was slipping away.