Chapter 8 #2
Her cousins and the several friends she had made during her time in London now surrounded her, hugging her and squealing with excitement.
Even Gory was present, waddling about while eight months along and scaring every male present because she really looked about to pop out the next little Thorne at any moment.
Well, little was a misnomer because these Thorne men were big.
So was Alex.
Tulip’s heart did not stop racing, not during the ceremony or the entirety of the wedding breakfast, for her path was now irrevocably set.
She was a Davenport, for better or for worse.
Alex, true to his reputation, remained calm throughout.
She found herself becoming quite sentimental and burst into tears when John gave his speech. Her cousins did the same, for John had been like a father to them all.
They burst into more tears for the silliest reasons and often for no reason, but these were happy tears, she hurried to explain to Alex so that he would not worry.
Tulip found herself crying again when other family elders took turns speaking about her and all the incredible things they knew she would accomplish.
“You are a fortunate man, Your Grace,” George said, raising his champagne glass in toast. “Treat her well.”
“I will,” Alex replied, turning toward her. “Always.”
She smiled at him through more tears.
Gad, why was she such a watering pot today?
She noticed the loving way Sophie looked upon her husband as he sat beside her. John, it turned out, had already dampened two handkerchiefs with his joyful weeping.
All right, then she was not so bad.
Perhaps brides and their families were permitted to behave this way.
In truth, Tulip adored this love Sophie and John shared.
She hoped this is what she and Alex would look like thirty years from now.
They had yet to get through a single day.
Alex understood what she was thinking. “This will be us, Tulip. Never give up on me.”
Give up on him?
Did he believe she would leave him as his mother had left his father?
She could not see herself doing such a thing.
Perhaps his mother had felt the same about his father, going into their marriage with all the hope of love and then seeing it fade.
The Davenport reputation was a foul one, indeed.
This was why she had avoided Alex all these months, but he had won her heart anyway. Would their marriage turn out to be a big mistake?
No.
She could not think this way.
The wedding breakfast went well into the evening because no one wanted to leave. Tulip was also fretting about embarking on this next phase of her life and did not mind delaying its start.
She supposed their marriage would be like the phases of the moon, at times glowing and bright, at times waxing and other times waning, and sometimes dark when the moon fell in shadow.
The hour was approaching nine o’clock by the time they departed Chipping Way and made their way to Alex’s apartment in Bloomsbury.
They traveled in the twilight hour, the fading sun extremely bright as it settled over the Thames.
The moon was already out, hardly more than an inconsequential white ball against a pale blue sky.
“We’re here,” he said.
She peered out of the carriage window as the team of horses drew to a halt in front of his residence. This would be her home now, although only for tonight because they were leaving tomorrow morning for Somerset and the Davenport estate.
Her trunks had been brought over earlier in the day, but nothing was to be unpacked since they would not return to London for months, and possibly not until next year.
Alex introduced her to Mrs. Gayle, his housekeeper, who had waited for them to return before going home.
She was a pleasant, older woman who had a bountiful smile and a kind expression in her eyes.
“Welcome home, Your Graces.” She then turned to Alex.
“It is a pleasure to meet the young lady who has captured your heart.”
Tulip did not think she had managed that feat yet, but was hopeful he would come to love her in time. “Thank you for taking such good care of him, Mrs. Gayle.”
“It has been my honor, for he is an excellent man. Works too much and thinks too hard.”
Tulip laughed. “Yes, I suppose that is him in a nutshell.”
She noticed that her trunks were stacked in a corner of the parlor along with his own, as well as some special pieces of furniture and furnishings that probably held sentimental value for him and were to be brought along to Thornwycke Hall. “We’ll never fit all of these into your carriage.”
Alex nodded. “We’ll have two conveyances. A carriage to haul us and a cart for all of our belongings.”
“Mostly mine,” she realized, for she had three trunks to his one.
“Gowns take up more space. The luggage cart will follow us, but it will be more heavily laden and likely move at a slower pace. Do you have enough clothes for the next two weeks? We’ll load those onto our carriage. That ought to get you through until the rest of our belongings arrive.”
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning to help you,” Mrs. Gayle assured Tulip. “His Grace has thoughtfully arranged for Trent to see me home tonight and pick me up early tomorrow.”
Once Mrs. Gayle left, Alex gave Tulip a tour of his apartment.
“I don’t expect we’ll reside here,” he said.
“It wouldn’t do for a duke and his duchess to live like students.
I would have us move into the Davenport townhouse, but it needs quite a bit of fixing.
I’m thinking of selling it and purchasing a better property, perhaps in Mayfair where you’ll be closer to your family. ”
She nodded. “That sounds nice. But can you sell it?”
“Yes, full power. It is not part of the Davenport entailment.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “In truth, I’ll be glad to rid myself of that Davenport stench.”
He’d spoken with such unaccustomed venom, it surprised her.
And that dark look as he’d uttered the words.
It was just a flicker of darkness and then it was gone, but it revealed the depth of his animosity toward his family.
She had not realized quite how much bitterness Alex held inside.
He always appeared so calm and unaffected, almost indifferent most of the time. But she understood now that his resentment ran strong.
“Let me show you to our bedchamber,” he said, his manner once more polite and controlled while he led her upstairs. “I thought it would be more practical to sleep here instead of taking rooms at a hotel since we’ll be leaving early in the morning and all our trunks are here.”
“I don’t mind.”
He cast her a wry smile. “But I do. It feels kind of shabby to me now. And I did not even think to ask if you would prefer a fancier accommodation. I’m sorry, Tulip. I’ll make it up to you.”
“No need. These past few months have been a whirlwind of lavish balls and elegant parties. I think I have had my fill of excess and ostentation. A quiet wedding night will do just fine.”
He chuckled. “Well, I don’t know how quiet it will be.”
“Oh, do you have noisy neighbors?”
He started to say something, then choked on his laughter. “No,” he said, grinning, “that wasn’t…never mind. You’ll see. Hard to explain.”
She shrugged and followed him into his quarters. “Ooh, this is nice.”
“Yes, it is a comfortable room,” Alex said.
It was more than merely comfortable, for it had beautiful damask drapes, a large bed that would easily accommodate both of them, elegant furniture, and an obviously well-crafted carpet of oriental design.
She noted several books piled beside a plump, cushioned chair and ottoman beside the hearth where she imagined he spent his quiet hours reading.
There was also an adjoining dressing room for privacy while grooming.
“Surprised?”
She nodded. “I don’t know why I thought you would be sleeping on a cot in a sparsely furnished room and a bed sheet used as a makeshift curtain hanging over your windows.”
“I came into a little money when my mother died. This is why I managed to stay independent after she passed away. I was still young, not yet of age, but old enough to manage without the supervision of adults. Most of those childhood years were spent in boarding schools, anyway. My mother’s family did not want me around, either. ”
“Because you were a Davenport?”
He nodded. “They never forgave the Davenports for my mother’s death.”
“But you were a child and she tried to save you. How could they assign any blame to you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it was easier to despise me than bother to get to know me. They were angry and wanted to lash out. I was the closest Davenport at hand, so they took their sorrow and frustration out on me.”
She placed a hand on his arm and felt the ripples of tension within him. “Alex, I am so sorry. Did they come around afterward and apologize to you? Do you ever keep in touch with them?”
“No. They’re mostly gone now, only a few elderly aunts remain and they won’t ever accept to see me. As I said, easier to cast blame somewhere.”
“Except upon themselves,” Tulip muttered.
He shrugged. “It could have been worse. I wasn’t left penniless.”
“But you were left completely on your own.”
“Yes, thank goodness. My greatest fear was that I would be dragged back into the Davenport life from which my mother had tried so hard to shield me. Perhaps my father thought it was for the best, too. He did not attend her funeral. Nor did he ever try to contact me after she died. Then he was gone shortly afterward.”
Tulip’s heart was breaking as he spoke. “It won’t be the same for us.”
He said nothing, merely smiled.
He had a beautiful smile, but this one held a little heartbreak.
Alex returned downstairs to properly close up the house.
Tulip followed him, peering out the window onto the street and the taverns that lined it. They were coming alive now that students had finished their studies for the evening and were meeting up with friends. “Alex, why does Mrs. Gayle not live in? Isn’t this usually expected of a housekeeper.”