Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“You have to promise,” Teresa said seriously, staring at her companion. “You have to promise that you will not leave me.”
She hoped to stare him into seriousness, but she did not seem to be able to manage it.
Alexander laughed. “Teresa, I am not going to abandon you with a lion, come now! It is hardly a promise that needs to be made, you will be absolutely fine.”
But Teresa glared at him. They were standing in the huge hallway of Loxwich Park, the Caershire family seat, and it had been overwhelming the day before, when Teresa had arrived. Now, knowing the guest that was expected at any moment, it was terrifying.
Teresa smoothed her fingers over her light green gown. It was her best, even after its dip in the Thames, and despite Alexander’s offer to purchase a new one, she knew that this was the perfect dress in which to meet her.
If she ever turned up, of course.
“Mother is always late,” Alexander said calmly, as though he could read her mind. “You cannot make an entrance if you are always on time, when people expect you.”
Teresa raised an eyebrow, and then resumed her pacing.
“Alexander, I have been thinking – thinking about my sister.”
He nodded. “I thought that you would be. ‘Tis only natural, the day before your wedding, to consider your family. They will be arriving soon, do not fret.”
Teresa bit her lip. “That is the thing. I do not – I cannot see how they will be. Father is so unwell, Helena may not wish to move him. She will not be able to, they have not the funds to move him in a comfortable manner.”
Alexander shrugged. “Then we will send a carriage. It will not take long to reach them, and they will be here before the morning is out.”
She stared at him. Was she ever to truly become accustomed to this much wealth? When there was a problem, it could always be fixed by throwing money, or servants, or influence at it. Nothing was too difficult for the house of Caershire.
“And then,” she said delicately, aware of just how large her request was.
“After the wedding, could Helena and my father . . . well, perhaps stay somewhere here? There must be an old cottage somewhere with no one living in it, and it could do with a little upkeep. It would give my sister the freedom not to work, you see, and – ”
“Teresa,” Alexander said seriously, staring at her with a slow smile. “Do you really think that I would allow your sister to consider working herself?”
The nerves of meeting his mother were intermingled with fretting over her sister, a long-formed habit, and she stared at him uncomprehending. “You would not?”
Alexander shook his head. “My love, they are my family now, my own flesh and blood. Helena will never need to work in her life, if she does not choose to. Your sister and father will want for nothing.”
Teresa resumed her pacing. “You do not know my sister like I do. Helena is proud, she may not want to accept our help.”
She could not see him from where she paced, head down, but she heard his voice and it softened her heart and slowed its frantic pace.
“Whatever we can do for them, we will always do. They are family.”
Teresa smiled to herself. It was almost difficult for her to comprehend; just four weeks ago she did not know Alexander from Adam, and now here she was, about to be married the very next day. An unconscious smile rose, unbidden, across her face.
And then their nightly lovemaking would be acceptable. Not that it had stopped them losing themselves to passion and pleasure almost every day either.
Her eyes flickered over to Alexander, who was lounging sedately in a chair.
His strong jaw and dark olive complexion seemed perfectly suited here, the seat of all the Dukes of Caershire before him.
She could see him in every oil painting in every room: his eye there, the turn of his nose there, the way that he held himself in that grand portrait over the dining table.
Teresa shivered. Here were generations of Caershires, all making respectable marriages, all with ladies of good family and fortune: and here was she. Teresa Metcalfe, fisherman’s daughter.
“Are you quite sure,” she began.
“Yes,” interrupted Alexander with a smile.
Teresa scowled at him. “You do not even know what I am going to ask.”
But she could barely hold the scowl for more than a few seconds, as his smile melted her heart. Honestly, would she ever be able to resist that look?
“You are worried,” said Alexander quietly, rising from his seat and walking over to her, “that you do not have the – goodness, I suppose, the ‘breeding’, for want of a better word – to be here. And you would be right.”
Teresa’s scowl returned. “Right?”
Alexander wrapped his arms around her, and he grinned, twisting up Teresa’s insides until she could barely look at him without wanting to kiss him.
“You are better than all of them,” he whispered. “All they had was breeding; nothing more. You have determination, and drive, and desire. You will do whatever it takes to protect your family, and now you will do whatever it takes to protect this family. I would say that is an asset worth having.”
She could not help but soften. “But are you sure?”
He smiled, and shook his head. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “Do you think that I would have done what I did to you last night if I was not sure?”
A flutter of memory whispered through Teresa’s mind, and she shivered in joyful remembrance – and hopeful anticipation.
“I hope that we will do it again tonight,” she whispered, and brought her hands around his neck, leaning up for a kiss.
Their lips were but inches away when the front door slammed open.
“Ah,” said a haughty voice. “I see that you are practising for tomorrow night.”
Teresa flung herself away from Alexander, heat rising in her face, to stare at the newly arrived voice.
It belonged to a woman, but like no woman who she had ever met. She was tall, taller than most men, with her hair piled up by jewelled pins and a cascading pearl string glistened down to her waist. Her eyes were sharp, like a hawk’s, and she had affixed them on her son.
“Ah, so this is the way that you address your mother now?” She raised an eyebrow as she stopped before them as they snapped apart. “In complete silence and awe? Well, I must say that I approve. It is nice to feel the power of one’s entrance into a room.”
Teresa’s heart was beating fast, and her mouth was dry. This woman – nay, matriarch – was surely a power to be reckoned with. What would she say if she knew about her past? Would she stop the wedding? Would she prevent her from seeing Alexander ever again?
But one glance at him calmed her fears, and slowed her heart. He was smiling.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek and taking her hand. “And you know quite well how marvellous it is to see you, so do not pretend that you cannot see the joy in my face.”
The Dowager Duchess of Caershire stared at him for a moment, and sniffed. “Well, I cannot say that I do, but if you insist that it is there then who am I to contradict you?”
Alexander laughed, and his other hand found Teresa’s. “My love, may I introduce Arabella Stewart, the Dowager Duchess of Caershire. Mother, I would like to introduce to you my bride, and the next Duchess of Caershire. Miss Teresa Metcalfe.”
Her heart pounding once more, and her hand feeling uncomfortable sweaty with anxiety, Teresa dropped into the deepest curtsey she could muster without tipping over.
The older woman’s eyes did not leave her for a second, and Teresa raised hers only to be met with a stern gaze.
“Hmmm.”
Teresa found that she was holding her breath, and not even a squeeze of her hand from Alexander was enough to calm her.
This was it, then: this was the moment that her fate was decided.
For what sort of man would go against his mother’s wishes?
If Arabella, Dowager Duchess of Caershire, took a disliking to her future daughter-in-law, well – she would simply cease to become her future daughter-in-law.
“Good morrow, Miss Metcalfe,” the Dowager Duchess said sternly.
Teresa found her voice, but it was a struggle. “Good – good morrow, my lady.”
A stern eyebrow was raised. “Is it? Is it indeed?”
She flushed. She should have known that it was all too good to be true: meeting Alexander, being saved by him and falling in love with him. There was, of course, going to be something that stood in their way.
And she could think of nothing more substantial to stand in their way than a fearsome mother-in-law. Alexander dropped her hand and took a slight step back – the coward, she could not help but think.
“So. This is the young lady who threw herself into your path, and claimed you.” The Dowager Duchess sniffed. “How . . . interesting.”
Her unyielding gaze swept up and down Teresa, and she felt her flush deepening. Really, it was too much to bear. To think that she was going to lose Alexander in the next five minutes, and she was just standing here, letting it happen!
“‘Tis indeed an interesting story,” Teresa found herself saying, as she tried not to notice her fiancé’s broad grin just beyond her future mother-in-law. “I would love to tell it to you, sometime.”
“I have already heard it,” snapped the Dowager Duchess. “And I must say, I did not think that it would be my son, of all the noblemen of England, who would end up being seduced by a harlot.”
The word stung in the air, and Teresa glanced desperately at Alexander, who shook his head slightly to indicate his non-involvement. There was bile growing in her throat and she felt like she was going to be sick.
This was how it ended, then. She had taken on the job to protect her family, and now she would be returning to them, carried by a different kind of disgrace.
And then, a sort of madness overcame her.