Chapter Four #2
Though it sounded trite, Rhys didn’t mean for it to sound like that.
He only meant that petty things like fashions or gossip added little to his world in sense of worth.
Rhys only cared to live a quiet life, far from the bustling cities and noises of the modern world.
He had too much interaction with the world as a soldier and only wished for a peaceful existence.
An existence that would be supported by tenant farming in a few short years, and then he might finally breathe easily.
It was difficult for a former soldier to learn how to relax.
Not since the war had Rhys ever truly calmed down enough not to constantly be on guard.
He had tried to dull his nerves with drink and even laudanum, but the aftereffects made it impossible to move about the world in a productive way and as he had only ever been sure of that solid feeling of a hard day’s work, he didn’t allow himself to take part in distractions.
The ride to the cathedral was short, and by the time they reached the steps, they were met with a young couple exiting the church.
Though she had been wearing a mask, Rhys guessed that this raven-haired woman was Ruby from the night before.
And on her arm was, to Rhys’s surprise, the Duke of Carmon.
Both looked equally stunned as they proceeded down the steps of the chapel.
“Lieutenant Carlyle,” the duke spoke upon seeing Rhys.
“Carmon,” Rhys replied, before introducing Louisa. “May I introduce my fiancée. Miss Louisa May Babcock.”
“Your Grace.” She curtsied.
“A pleasure. May I introduce my, er, wife, Rose Prescott, er, I mean, the Duchess of Carmon.”
“Your Grace,” Rhys and Louisa said in unison.
“How do you do,” the black-haired beauty said softly.
“I take it the archbishop is in then?”
“Aye.”
“Well then, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”
Rhys and Louisa entered the church, both struck by the silence. The early morning sunlight glistened through the windows high near the ceiling, giving the church an ethereal, warm glow. Standing at the front pew was the Archbishop of Canterbury.
“Your Holiness,” Rhys said upon reaching the man. “I believe we’ve an appointment.”
The bishop, clearly disgusted by Rhys, turned to Louisa.
“My dear child, if you are here against your will, please do not hesitate to tell me. That Dove-Lyon woman has stuck her nose in too many people’s businesses as of late and I will not be made an accomplice to her outrageous plots.”
A long silence followed, and Rhys realized that the marriage would not happen without Louisa’s answer. When she didn’t speak, a strange, small part of him began to think that perhaps she might rather live with the humiliation of having gone to the Lyon’s Den. But then—
“With the greatest respect, I assure you, I am here of my own free will.”
The priest was not pleased to hear that and stood back. Rhys only exhaled.
“Very well. Yet another one of her participating pawns. Then, let’s be done with it, lest I find it in my soul to stop this madness.”
It was a short ceremony, without a vicar, and only the curate and his wife, a Mr. and Mrs. Wily, attending as witnesses.
Rhys held Louisa’s hands, and he noted that she still wore the reticule around her wrist. It was a minor thing, something that shouldn’t have stood out considering how strange the last twenty-four hours had been, but he couldn’t help but stare at the little purse.
He found it quite distracting, considering how quickly the ceremony lasted.
As soon as the vows were said, the archbishop spoke.
“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder,” he said, snapping his book shut. “There. Lieutenant Carlyle and Mrs. Carlyle, if you would depart. I’ve two more of these ridiculous ceremonies to do.”
With that, Rhys and Louisa left, returned to the carriage, and made their way to their second location, Louisa’s uncle’s home.
“We shouldn’t dawdle,” Rhys said on their way. “I had planned to be on the road north by noon.”
Louisa glanced at him.
“By noon?”
“Yes.”
Though she didn’t say anything, Rhys noticed the slightest flicker of worry that shone in her eyes. This entire situation was cruelly rushed. From meeting, to marrying, to leaving, all within a single day. It was a lot to take in.
“I know this is all rather overwhelming.”
“It really is,” she said lowly, causing Rhys to rely solely on reading her lips. “But there’s no helping it now, I suppose.”
He gave her a short nod, stunned by her steely resolve. For some reason, he felt the need to reassure her.
“The journey north should only take two days. I’ve decided to stop at the Fox and Raven Inn, although I hadn’t expected to be traveling with another person.” She nodded but said nothing to reveal her feelings on the matter.
“We’re just about there,” she said, looking out of the window.
As the carriage slowed to a stop, Rhys noticed that they weren’t in a terribly posh neighborhood, though it was still respectable. Curious as to why her uncle, a presumed baron, would be living in this part of London, Rhys decided to observe his new bride.
Louisa did not appear hesitant as the driver opened the door and helped her out, nor did she seem particularly sad. In fact, she was almost mirroring Rhys’s own calm demeanor.
That should bode well, should it?
Before he had a chance to finish his thought, the front door was torn open and a young woman with matching red hair came bounding out of the house, followed by an elderly man with a cane, and two old hounds that were barking and baying like they had seen a rabbit.
“Louisa!” the young woman cried, wrapping her arms around Rhys’s wife. “Where have you been?”
“Castor! Pollux! Stop that noise at once!” the elderly man yelled as he hobbled out of the house. His eyes landed first on Louisa. “My dear, you’ve set the house aflutter. Where have you been?” He glanced at Rhys. “See now, who is this with you?”
“Kitty, Uncle, this is Lieutenant Rhys Carlyle,” Louisa said loudly. “My h-husband.”
The young lady’s jaw dropped while her uncle appeared perplexed.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“Oh, Louisa, what in the world have you done?”
“Stop teasing, Louisa, and come inside,” her uncle said, cutting in front of Kitty. He looked Rhys square in the face. “Who are you?”
“Lieutenant Rhys Carlyle, at your service,” he said loudly with a slight bow as the hounds continued to bay.
“But who are you to our Louisa?”
“Just as she said. I’m her husband.”
The word felt foreign in his mouth, but he ignored it as the elderly man frowned.
“How can that be? Castor and Pollux! Stop barking this instant!”
“Come, Uncle,” Louisa said as she took his arm. Rhys watched as her other hand slid into the reticule that she had been carrying the night before. Pulling out some sort of treat, she fed one to each of the dogs, who ceased their barking at once. “I’ll explain it more inside.”
From what Rhys could see, Louisa was discussing something with her uncle as they walked into the house, but without her facing Rhys, he couldn’t tell exactly what was being said.
The house was smaller than he anticipated, with a narrow parlor and peeling yellow wallpaper. It seemed to be in a state of disorder and there wasn’t a maid or footman in sight.
Uncle Malcom and Kitty sat on one threadbare settee while Rhys sat next to Louisa. The hounds lumbered over to a large, holey quilt that was laid out before the fireplace. They both dropped to the ground and almost instantly began to snore.
“But how can that be?” Louisa’s uncle mouthed as they all sat down.
Rhys didn’t ask for a clarification; he did not wish to speak about his hearing in front of Louisa’s family. To his surprise, however, Louisa turned fully to face him, and spoke.
“The lieutenant and I have been writing to one another for several months now. Ever since we met in Hyde Park.”
“But you never mentioned…” Kitty mouthed but trailed off.
“And how was it that you two met?”
Rhys looked at Louisa whose knack for fibbing seemed to stall.
“Well, I suppose—” he tried, but she interjected.
“There was a horse that became spooked.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and well, er…” Louisa hesitated as her gentle gray eyes pleaded with him to help.
“To be honest,” Rhys began, but seeing the panic on Louisa’s face caused him to swallow, “the horse reared up and I am ashamed to admit that I panicked. I reached for Miss Babcock, or rather, Mrs. Carlyle and pulled her out of what I believed to be harm’s way.”
“There was no actual danger then?”
“No.”
“At least, not from the horse,” Kitty murmured as Mrs. Hummel entered the room with a small tea tray.
She placed it on the table that was situated between the settees.
“Mrs. Hummel,” Uncle said as she stood up. “I think you should start packing up Louisa’s things.”
The cook arched a single brow as she glanced back and forth between her employer and his niece.
“Oh aye? And where is Miss Louisa going?”
“Evidently to her husband’s house,” the uncle said, surprising the cook. He stared at Louisa for a moment after that before turning to face Rhys. The cook was quick to leave the room, closing the doors behind her as she did.
Now they all sat in silence, waiting for someone to speak. Rhys was just about to open his mouth when Louisa’s uncle spoke.
“I’m sorry, but I’m having trouble believing this. Louisa, weren’t you just going on about that Harper fellow? What was it? John or Joseph?”
Harper? Though Rhys was sure he had read the elderly man’s lips correctly, he was convinced by the heightened color on Louisa’s cheeks. So, there was someone.
She had lied to him.
“It’s not worth discussing, Uncle.” She lifted her hand to show the gaudy ring on loan from Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
Though her uncle and sister appeared skeptical, neither had any grounds to disagree. They had been married by the Archbishop of Canterbury for goodness’ sake.
“Then I assume we should have some sort of celebration,” her uncle said slowly.