The Earl's Mistaken Bride. Abby Gaines

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ “My lady?” Miriam held up the nightdress.

       “I—yes—” she shook her fingers loose “—thank you.”

       When she was attired for bed, Miriam brushed out her hair.

       “My lady has thick hair,” she approved.

       “The color is unremarkable,” Constance pointed out.

       She was pleased the maid didn’t lie to flatter her, merely contented herself with, “The sheen is attractive.”

       Certainly under Miriam’s vigorous brushing it did have more sheen than usual. In her beautiful new nightdress, her hair smooth and gleaming, Constance felt more a bride than she had during the wedding ceremony. This is my wedding night.

       “If you need me, my lady, you have only to ring.” Miriam indicated the bellpull.

       “The, er, the earl’s chamber?” Constance asked, as she climbed onto the bed.

       “Through there.” Miriam indicated a doorway to Constance’s left. “Good night, my lady.”

       Constance lay in bed, blankets pulled up to her chin, observing the shadows that flickered on the wall.

       Her wedding night. She’d thought of this moment in the past few days…what bride wouldn’t? Curiosity, anticipation and—thanks to her mother’s scrambled words on the subject of wifely duty—some trepidation had mingled within her.

       When her husband came to her, she would be a wife in deed as well as in name.

       Would he come to her tonight? He had been angry. With good reason.

       She didn’t want him to come to her in anger.

       But they had struck a moment of accord during dinner, and he’d assured his mother he intended to be happy. If his anger had cooled, if he wanted to further his intimacy with the woman he had married…

       He had thought he was marrying Amanda.

       But he didn’t love Amanda, Constance was certain. So although he might have wished for a prettier wife, he had no sentimental attachment to her sister.

      If he came, he would forge a bond intended by God to unite man and wife.

       Probably, he would not come.

       But perhaps he would.

       If Amanda was to be believed—she knew far more about it than any young lady ought—even the highest-ranked gentlemen looked forward to their wedding night with eagerness.

       Could the intimacy God had designed overcome anger?

       Of course it could.

       Constance pinched her cheeks in the hope of bringing some color.

       It had been probably thirty minutes since she left Marcus. He must by now be in his own room. She listened, but heard nothing through the thick walls. She wondered if he’d had a new nightshirt made for the occasion, and stifled a giggle.

       Would he come?

       He’d said there would be no annulment. He was punctilious in the performance of his duties, or so everyone said, and this was indeed a duty.

       Constance arranged her hair about her shoulders. A nice sheen, Miriam had said. Maybe she should light another candle, to allow the sheen to be displayed.

       Vanity, she chided herself. What must God think of her?

       Oh, dear, she hadn’t prayed tonight.

       Constance slipped out of bed and onto her knees. With this deep carpet, a far more comfortable experience than at home. She prayed quickly, one eye cracked open to watch the door from her husband’s chamber, and finished with a request for God’s forgiveness of her haste.

       She felt better when she was back in bed. More peaceful.

       The candle sputtered, causing a moment’s alarm, then it strengthened again. Real wax, not tallow, as they used at home whenever there was no company. The smell was far more pleasant.

       Smell. Her mother had given Constance a small pot of precious perfume. Surely a bridegroom would prefer a fragrant bride on his wedding night?

       If he were to come.

       She slipped from bed again, scurried across the room like a thief, found the perfume on the dressing table. She dabbed a little on each wrist, and behind her ears, as she had seen her mother do. She sniffed her wrist. Floral. Sweet.

       Once more, she settled herself against her pillows. She would not get out of bed again. She would be at peace, ready to welcome her husband.

       She wished he would come.

       “Your cravat survived the day in excellent shape, my lord,” Harper, Marcus’s valet, observed as he removed Marcus’s left boot.

       “You were right, as always, Harper,” Marcus said. “The Mathematical was the style for the occasion.”

       Harper inclined his head. “I’ve had enough years dressing your lordship to know what’s what.”

       Marcus smiled as he stifled a yawn.

       “A very long day,” Harper said sympathetically, pulling off the other boot. “The second time this week you’ve driven all the way to Hampshire and back.”

       “I remember both occasions only too well, thank you,” Marcus said.

       Harper chuckled. “Miss Powell said her ladyship, the dowager countess, seems well.”

       “Her improvement makes the long journeys worthwhile,” Marcus agreed.

       His mother’s renewed strength had the quality of a miracle. Proof that the Almighty had accepted the bargain Marcus offered. He was inordinately thankful, at least as far as his mother was concerned. As for the rest…no denying the day hadn’t turned out as planned. One could almost think the Lord intended a joke.

       Marcus sighed. He wouldn’t trade his mother’s health for anything…but to have married a sparrow, when his position commanded a—a swan, and in such humiliating circumstances. He wasn’t yet convinced his bride was innocent in this. Surely the sister, Amanda, would have confessed to Constance—no sibling would be that “mischievous.”

       If she’d confessed, and if Constance had decided to take advantage of what she dared consider his lack of courtesy in failing to remember which sister was which…it wouldn’t be so strange. Plain as she was, she must have had limited marriage prospects. With bitterness he’d realized at the wedding breakfast that every other Somerton sister was livelier, and prettier, and more charming than the one he’d married. Which heightened his suspicions of a plot.

       It had happened before—Marcus may not read his Bible often, but he knew the story of Rachel and Leah. Jacob fell in love with the beautiful Rachel, but at the wedding, his scheming father-in-law substituted his other daughter, Leah. Marcus imagined a veil had been used on that occasion, too. He couldn’t remember if the СКАЧАТЬ