One Whispered Plea (Singular Sensation Book 9), page 7
The dukes exchanged a speaking glance, then Edenthorpe said, “You don’t love Miss Maitland. Not even in four days.”
“No, but she needs me.”
“Your protection perhaps.”
Michael nodded. “There is that, but there is something about her, an air of vulnerability that speaks to me.”
Lockwood snorted. “You can’t go around marrying every vulnerable woman.”
“Do shut up.” His lips twitched while they all shared a laugh. “This is different, and you know it.”
“We know nothing about her,” Edenthorpe argued. “And we are only trying to protect you.” When Michael went to protest, he held up a hand. “Stop. Have you bedded her? I could possibly understand your decision if you were motivated by lust.”
“No.” He ignored the continued heat on his neck. “I kissed her twice, once to keep her quiet and the second time for comfort. Two different occasions within the same day, but there is nothing else between us.” Not that he wasn’t aware of Charity as a woman and seeing her in breeches when they’d first met had been quite lovely, but he wasn’t looking for love or even someone to warm his bed. “I am not certain I can be that sort of husband again,” he said in a lowered voice. “Potentially losing someone I loved?” With the shake of his head, he dismissed the thought. “Besides, the two of you know me well. This is no frivolous affair.”
“I do, which is why I’m concerned.” For the space of a few heartbeats, Edenthorpe held Michael’s gaze. “You have never been interested in marrying a second time before. Losing your wife was difficult. So why now? Why with a no-name woman who has nothing to offer?”
Hot annoyance rose swift and sure through his chest from the unintentional slight. “I don’t know that she has nothing to offer. Everyone in this world is important.” He narrowed his gaze on the duke. “Perhaps it’s time for me to invite change into my life, and you fellows seem happy with your lots.”
Again, the dukes exchanged a glance.
Lockwood nodded. “You miss the companionship of having a woman about.”
Yes, but it was more complex than that. “I miss knowing there is a reason to come home at night. I miss the reminder that there is a reason I keep fighting—for everything. With my mind feeling more and more fractured with each passing year and the fugues I keep being trapped in, I want… security for myself, I suppose.”
“You have your son,” Edenthorpe pressed. “Children bring comfort and security.”
“Yes, and I will defend him to the death, but this is… different with Miss Maitland. I can’t properly explain it.”
“I know exactly what you mean, my friend,” Lockwood said with kindness and compassion in his eyes. “You are compelled to do this through some deep-rooted something inside. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“Yes.” Michael peered at his friend. He probably did know. Lockwood’s romance had nearly reached legendary status in their circle of friends and acquaintances, and even now he was having to prove that protection again and again thanks to a network of criminals who threatened everything the Rogue’s Arcade men held dear. “At best, love might grow from the union after a few years.” Though that wasn’t uppermost in his mind.
One of Edenthorpe’s brown eyebrows rose. “And at worst?”
He shrugged. “I shall have the friendship out of it I suppose, and a mother for Christopher. The boy has been pushing me to marry again in any event. As well, I have a feeling Miss Maitland will prove a pleasing viscountess.”
“Well, other ton marriages have worked with far less,” Lockwood said with an encouraging nod.
Edenthorpe huffed and shook his head. “That is asking much from a feeling of wanting to protect a woman.” He gripped the head of his cane more tightly. “You could set her up as a mistress, visit her, perhaps bed her if things go well, but you needn’t marry her.”
“Why must you continue to needle me?” But Michael’s lips twitched, for he knew these men only held his best interests at heart. “However, I am unable to ignore this nagging, lingering feeling at the back of my mind that tells me this is what I need to do. For us both.”
“Very well. Then you have my blessing and I wish you well.”
“Thank you.” When he happened to glance at the open double doors and caught a glimpse of Charity standing there, her hand resting in the curve of the Duke of Strathfield’s elbow, he temporarily forgot how to breathe. He’d not yet had the opportunity to speak to that particular duke about the hasty nuptials, but since all the members of the Rogue’s Arcade were so close, there was no doubt in his mind the man had been apprised, and now that fortunate bastard had the honor of escorting Miss Maitland. “Fuck me,” he whispered as he continued to stare. “I might have made a misstep.”
Her raven-black hair had been arranged into an elegant coif that had strands of pearls and sapphire-colored ribbons woven into it that showed her slender neck to advantage. A faint blush stained her cheeks and her lips, pulled ever so slightly down in a frown, were the most becoming dark pink hue. But what caught and held his attention was the gown of midnight blue, nearly sapphire, she wore. The skirting sparkled with each movement, each breath, as if the fabric had been torn from the nighttime heavens. Capped sleeves drew his notice to her shapely arms while the rounded bodice, trimmed with tiny clear glass beads, showed off a rather decent and quite lovely décolletage. A long, sheer veil in the same color streamed down her back with a shorter length of the gossamer fabric drifting in front of her face. The garment had been trimmed with a black satin ribbon, the only concession to her grief of her absent father.
Truly, she was beautiful in that moment, and for the first time he could see her at his side as his viscountess. There was no mistake in choosing her.
Edenthorpe nudged him with the tip of his cane. “Do remember to close your mouth, my friend. It is never a good thing to speak vows to a woman while having fly on your breath.” He winked and then moved away to sit beside his wife, who immediately took his hand and whispered into his ear.
“Right.” Michael snapped his jaws closed. “I, uh, suppose we should start the ceremony, then.” This was much different from when he’d wed his first wife. That had been a society affair, in a grand church with many guests in attendance after the banns had been read. His chest tightened as he flicked his gaze again to his fiancée of less than four days. “How can I do this?”
Lockwood dropped a hand to his shoulder. “If you do not, her reputation is ruined, for she has been beneath your roof for three nights. It is unclear if anyone saw her as a woman in the museum.”
He nodded. “And this is the only way I know of keeping her safe, for even if I sent her to Essex, there would still be talk,” he added in a low voice.
“Indeed. Good luck, my friend. We shall be there if you have need of us.” Lockwood’s expression sobered. “I have a feeling you haven’t met the worst of it yet.”
“Of that I agree.” As the duke went to sit with his own wife, Michael stared again at Charity, focused completely on her in that moment as Strathfield brought her through the room to him. “Good morning, Miss Maitland.” The day had already started busy and he’d not had a chance to greet her yet.
“Hullo, Lord Winteringham.” She turned her head to peer at the duke. “Thank you, Your Grace. I am truly coming to believe that the men of the Rogue’s Arcade are indeed a family, and it gives me great pleasure to know my soon-to-be husband is not alone.”
“All for one, Miss Maitland,” Strathfield assured her before giving a nod to Michael and stepping away, hampered only by his limp. The thump of his cane marked his passage over the floor until he sat off to the side and by himself.
Then Michael was more or less alone with the woman he would soon take to wife. Unease and anxiety swirled around him in a confusing cloud as his chest tightened while he sought to draw breath.
“Dear God, not here, not now!”
The fact that he offered up his own whispered plea wasn’t lost on him, but it seemed embarrassment would be his lot, on his wedding day.
Chapter Seven
Merciful heavens, I am about to be married.
An odd combination of feelings swept through Charity’s person: fear mixed with anticipation while in the pit of her belly while apprehension and excitement twisted down her spine, but looking at Michael in his evening finery, with his red hair combed, tamed, and arranged into a popular style somehow managed to tamp the worst of it.
Already, she’d met so many people, would probably never remember their names, it all happened in a whirlwind, but she appreciated that they’d all come to see their friend wed. Despite the fact she didn’t know the viscount well, that network stood as a testament to his character.
But when she glanced at him, she frowned, for he’d gone pale, and his eyes were shadowy pools of green-brown color. “I’ll admit, I’m glad you are here, for if it were anyone else, I might have already turned tail and run away.” He didn’t answer, so she laid a hand on his arm. “Michael?”
The viscount didn’t respond. He only stared oddly ahead, and she’d wager he didn’t see her at all.
“Michael.” Worry filled her chest. She shook his arm with a firmness borne of concern. “Michael, you are safe, you are at home, and there is nothing to fear. Please come back.” Daring much, she lifted onto her toes and touched her hand to his cheek, gently tapped it.
Several harrowing seconds later, he gasped, blinked a few times, and then finally focused on her. “Bloody hell. Did I freeze?”
“Yes.” She nodded as relief rushed through her bloodstream. “It only lasted a couple of minutes, and I doubt if anyone truly noticed, but I was a bit concerned.” Not willing to step away from him, she slipped her gloved hand down his arm to briefly clasp his fingers. “There is nothing to fear just now. The only people in this room are the ones you trust and have invited. And if it’s our ceremony that that sent you to this space, we can postpone it.” Keeping her voice low and even, she hoped it might induce calm in him.
Another frightening swath of heartbeats went by while he stared at her, but she wondered if he truly saw her. Finally, he nodded as a ruddy flush stained his cheeks. “I apologize.” Before she could respond, he took both her hands in his, and she relaxed by increments. “Your words helped.”
“Since you brought me comfort when I needed it, I’m glad I could give the same to you.” A marriage in name only wouldn’t be bad if they started it with friendship and mutual respect.
“Indeed.” He offered that slightly crooked grin. “By the way, you are quite a vision this morning. The sapphire color makes you seem as if you have been ripped from the night sky merely to tarry here with me.”
“Thank you.” Heat filled her cheeks. “It was the newest and prettiest of the gowns I own so I thought it would be perfect for the occasion.”
“It is that, most definitely.” When his gaze dropped briefly to her bosom and the Bastet pendant she always wore, the heat intensified. “After we are wed, you have full liberty to hire a modiste and order a new wardrobe.”
“That is quite an endorsement.” And only added to the confusion of the moment.
“You will soon be my viscountess and deserve to look the part. I am honored that I will have the right to give you that.” When he squeezed her fingers, his scent threatened to drown her. “If you didn’t understand before how monumental this day is for me, I hope you do now. I am… not quite the catch I think the ton believes.”
Ah, the poor man. “Stop. You might have challenges; we both do. That doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of seeking out good things.” As she peered into his face, it was far too easy to forget their audience. “You are quite handsome today. The gray waistcoat is quite lovely.” Made of almost silver satin, it had moons and stars embroidered upon it in white thread.
“Thank you. Astronomy is a hobby of mine while in Essex. Easier to see stars and such in the country.” His chuckle tickled through her insides, which was a bit odd. “Being dressed in dark evening clothes including a tailcoat will render any man handsome.”
“Mmm.” Thoughts and questions bounced through her mind like soap bubbles. What did she know of him? He had a title, yes, but what sort of man was he beneath the heroics? Did he keep a mistress? While at his club, did he frequent courtesans’ beds? “Are you quite certain you wish to do this? I would ask that you be faithful to me, even if our union is one of convenience.” Though her voice wavered, she lifted her chin a notch. “I won’t be an object of pity or ridicule.”
“It is a fair request, but to set your mind at ease, I haven’t had anyone in my bed for at least six months and don’t intend to disrespect you once we’re wed.” He brought one of her hands to his lips and then kissed the back. “You have my word.”
“Thank you.” Tingles of anticipation played up her spine and circled through her lower belly. Surely it was ridiculous to feel such things for a man she barely knew and had shared two fairly chaste kisses with, but she enjoyed it just the same.
For a few seconds, they stared at each other as if attempting to figure the other out, then the viscount gave his head a shake as if to break the spell. “The vicar is coming this way, so it’s no doubt time.”
“Right.” Charity glanced at the two approaching men. One was short and leaning toward fat while the younger man was quite tall and thin. He was the one who carried a book. “What an odd pair.” But concentrating on them took her mind off the hundred worries currently facing her.
The older of the two smiled at them both. Of middle age, he had kind eyes and a high brow. “Good morning. I am Mr. Fletcher, and I will be officiating the ceremony. This is Mr. Highbeck, my clerk.”
“Welcome, Mr. Fletcher.” Michael shook the man’s offered hand. “Mr. Highbeck, you may utilize the table near the doors to set up the register.”
The tall man nodded. “Thank you, my lord.” After handing a worn leather book to the vicar, he scurried off with his portfolio.
Mr. Fletcher cleared his throat. “Now that business had been attended to, if you would like to begin?”
“Absolutely.”
Charity nodded, and a flutter of unease went through her belly. “Yes, please.”
“Very good.” The vicar glanced about. “Let us set up near the fireplace. It makes a charming backdrop.” Then he cleared his throat and addressed the room at large. “Lord Winteringham would like to get underway, so if everyone could find a seat?”
As she and Michael followed the vicar to the appointed place, fabric rustled as guests settled onto furniture. Good heavens, this is truly happening. As best she could, she tamped her worries and hoped to concentrate on the imminent ceremony.
“I have the special license here, so thank you for attending to the details.” He tucked the paper into his book. Leather cracked when the vicar opened his Book of Common Prayer. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this gathering, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
The vicar’s words faded as her thoughts got the best of her. Is this the right thing to do? After all, she and Michael hadn’t done anything scandalous, and their presence together could easily be explained away, but there was still the matter of being in danger from persons unknown. Charity clung to Michael’s arm. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she would ever be married, but here she stood beside a man she hardly knew, a man who’d rescued her from her captor, a man who smelled so delicious she could hardly concentrate, a man whose strength could be felt beneath her fingertips, and an odd sort of calm came over her. Perhaps this union wouldn’t prove the disaster she feared.
Please?
It wasn’t until Michael discreetly and softly cleared his throat that she ceased her wool-gathering and attended to what the vicar said as he addressed the viscount.
“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Charity trembled. How could she not? This was the single most important moment in her life. She held her breath held in anticipation as her heart raced. How would she compare as a wife to his first one?
Not that this is a marriage in every sense of the word.
In a clear voice, Michael answered, “I will.”
Her hands shook as the minister addressed her. No going back now.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I…” What of her freedom? What of her future she didn’t even know what she wanted from? Then she straightened her spine. Charity squeezed her fingers upon Michael’s arm. “I will.” Her answer came out in a whisper, for tears crowded her throat. This was such a pinnacle moment. I wish my father and mother were here to witness it.
The viscount was instructed to take her right hand in his right hand, and hers shook so badly that he gently squeezed her fingers. He went so far as to put his lips to her ear and whispered, “It will be all right. I promise nothing will change; you can live the life you wish only now you will be a viscountess.”
“And you will keep me safe.” Which was one of the core reasons for doing this.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Yes.”
“You are a good man, Michael.” Charity smiled lest he think she looked upon the ceremony with dread. This was the grandest thing she’d ever done in her life, and oddly, she hoped to make him proud, hoped he would view her as worthy of the position. “I’m so overwhelmed and worried that I might be sick,” she continued to whisper. Movement at the back of the room prompted her to glance that way. When she saw Christopher, her heart fluttered. She gave him a subdued wave. He grinned in response.
