Prejudice in Regency Society. Michelle Styles

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      ‘Is there? I never participate in At Homes if at all possible.’ A shudder went through him. ‘On point of principle.’

      A sudden pain coursed through Lottie as her future plans crumbled to dust. Not participate. But the After the Marriage calls were some of the most significant calls a woman could ever make. She might not be having the wedding of her dreams, but she thought she’d at least have the calls and the attention. She had dreamt of making such calls ever since she had first been allowed to participate in At Homes.

      ‘But you will have to.’ Lottie leant forward, placing her hands on her knees to keep them from trembling. ‘We will need to make calls when we get back to Newcastle. The After the Marriage calls are a necessity, or how else will anyone know that we will continue to see them socially? And all of my friends will be anxious to meet you. I dare say they will be quite green with envy. Pea green.’

      ‘We won’t be living in Newcastle.’ Tristan regarded the woman sitting opposite him. Her head was full of society and outward appearances. At Homes. Dances. Positions. Furthering her status at the expense of others. She had to be made to realise that there was more to life than such things. He wanted to glimpse again the woman who had berated him for not looking after his parents’ graves.

      ‘Where? London? Or on the Continent? Paris, maybe? I do think I would quite like Paris and its salons.’

      ‘Not there,’ Tristan said firmly, gritting his teeth. He would test her, and she would learn the lesson. He would reach the woman from the cemetery.

      ‘Where will we be living?’

      ‘My uncle left me an estate—Gortner Hall. I have a fancy to settle down. It is up in the North Tyne Valley, about fifteen miles from Haydon Bridge.’

      ‘Then I will be expected to make calls on the various ladies who live near there.’ Lottie folded her hands in her lap with maddening complacency. ‘It will be expected. You will have to go calling with me. There must be someone I know from Newcastle who could smooth our way…’

      ‘No one of any consequence lives near.’ Tristan paused. ‘It will not be expected. It is the country, not the town.’

      ‘Aunt Alice and Cousin Frances are bound to know several.’ Lottie waved a dismissive hand. ‘Aunt Alice knows positively everyone in the Tyne Valley. She can offer introductions. It may be the country, but there is always somebody. Calling and socialising is what makes the world go around.’ Lottie sat up straighter. She shook out the folds of her dress. ‘It is the lifeblood of the community. I plan to play my part as your wife. I will show them the right and proper way to behave.’

      ‘I have been on the Continent for years. And as your cousin quite rightly pointed out to you, I led a somewhat scandalous life in my youth.’ Tristan struggled to maintain his temper. He would give her one more chance. ‘I am uncertain how many might wish to acknowledge me.’

      ‘Oh. How truly thoughtless and terrible of me.’ Lottie sat back against the hard seat and her face crumpled. She reached out and touched his hand. ‘No doubt we shall meet them in due course and convince them of our worthiness to be befriended.’

      ‘It may take some time.’

      ‘But working together, we will convince them in the end. For our children’s sake.’ Her cheek flushed scarlet. ‘You have proved your worth to me. You have saved me from ruin.’

      ‘It was something any gentleman would have done.’ Tristan shifted slightly. His plan would be harsh, but it should work. She had a good heart.

      Lottie drew a shaking breath. Why was he making it so difficult? Tears pricked at her eyelids. He had to understand what she was attempting to do and why. He had to accept her apology. She would try much harder in the future, truly she would, but right now she needed reassurance— reassurance he appeared reluctant to give.

      ‘Not anyone. I can name a half-dozen officers who would not have done what you did. They would have left me to my fate.’

      ‘I kissed you. It very nearly went much further, Lottie.’

      ‘You saved me from a life of cats and skirts being subtly drawn away. I do not think I would care for being my mother’s companion either—fetching and carrying all the time. We would have driven each other mad within a fortnight.’

      She stuffed her hand against her mouth and looked out of the window at the grey landscape. Yesterday on the train coming to Gilsland Spa everything had seemed so fresh and new. She had never imagined that she would be sitting here, facing an almost complete stranger on her way to be married.

      ‘Yes, in due course, we will encounter the neighbours.’ Tristan reached forward and caught her hand with his, interlaced his fingers with hers. The slight pressure sent tremors along her arm. ‘Try to sleep now, Lottie. It has been a long day and we won’t be in Gretna Green for a few more hours.’

      ‘As long as that?’

      ‘Would it be easier if I came over and sat next to you? You may put your head on my shoulder.’

      He moved over and sat by her. The pressure of his leg against hers somehow made everything appear better. He wasn’t angry with her. He did not blame her for what happened. It was not what either of them had anticipated, but she would do her best. Surely being married to him would be pleasant. A great wave of tiredness washed over her. It seemed liked for ever since she had kissed Aunt Alice and Cousin Frances goodbye. What would Frances say when she learnt her cousin had married the notorious Tristan Dyvelston? She gave a small sleepy smile and settled her back more firmly against the seat. There was at least that.

      ‘I will close my eyes for a moment. It is really quite pleasant to be able to lean against someone. Comforting.’

      His arm came around her and held her. ‘It will work, Lottie. You must see that.’

      The sun had risen and the road teemed with carts, carriages and various livestock by the time the carriage reached the outskirts of Gretna Green. Tristan’s muscles ached from the journey and his arm had gone to sleep. However, Lottie had snuggled close. Her warm body touched his. He looked to where her red lips had parted, soft and inviting. Her lavender scent rose around like a perfumed cloud.

      It had taken a vast reserve of Tristan’s self-restraint not to pull her more firmly into his arms and make love to her in the carriage.

      He forced his body to wait, to remember that she was a virgin and unused to such things. He would have the rest of his life to get to know her.

      But first he had to be certain of why she had married him so quickly, why she had agreed to his suggestion. Did she know his true identity? Had she seen this as her only remaining chance to fulfil her mother’s expectations and marry a title? He was under no illusions how powerful an incentive such expectations could be, but he wanted to know that she had married for the man, not the status. He had to know.

      The carriage slowed down to a crawl and the noise of the town resounded in the enclosed space. They had arrived in Gretna Green and Tristan knew he had to act, he could no longer afford to sit and cradle his wife-to-be. He gently eased the sleeping Lottie from his shoulder and banged on the roof with his cane. Instantly the carriage halted. Tristan stepped СКАЧАТЬ