A Suitable Husband Page 15

  Oliver’s hand squeezed her shoulder and she looked up. He raised his eyebrow at the three men; Sarah nodded. He removed his arm and approached them, his expression no more than polite. He offered a cursory bow then waited for one of the trio to introduce themselves.

  ‘We are here in behalf of the Lord Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Westover. We wish to speak to one Sarah Fitzwilliam.’

  ‘I believe you are misdirected. This is Hepworth House. There is no one of that name residing here.’

  The lawyer’s eyes narrowed and he scanned the group at the top of the steps. Sarah had pushed Edward behind her and it was impossible for the man to decide which of the three women was the one he sought.

  Oliver remained alert and formidable, blocking their passage. The spokesman retreated and held a hurried conversation with his companions. ‘We have already visited Rowley Court and were directed here.’

  ‘I repeat, you have been misdirected, and are intruding on a private party.’ Oliver stepped forward and the men retreated further.

  ‘We will wait at Rowley Court for Mrs Fitzwilliam’s return.’

  The coach door was closed, the steps removed and the postilions regained their places. Less than ten minutes after its arrival, the earl’s carriage left Hepworth House. It bowled past the vehicle carrying Sarah and Elspeth’s father, Mr Peter Bartholomew.

  The flurry of excitement caused by seeing her parent for the first time that year gave Sarah time to recover her equilibrium before the inevitable questions from her sister. Oliver, as expected, spoke formally to his future father-in-law, in private, and both emerged well pleased with the encounter.

  An hour later the family gathered in the drawing-room as Sarah explained the significance of the visit from the earl’s lawyers. Elspeth was the first to break the stunned silence the revelation had caused.

  Edward is to be an earl and is heir to a vast fortune? What does he think about all this, Sarah?’

  ‘I have not told him. I did not wish to worry him unnecessarily; he is not old enough to understand.’

  ‘Quite right, my dear,’ her father agreed. ‘Time enough for explanations when he is safe.’ His kindly, bewhiskered face, creased into a smile. ‘I think you should be married immediately, Sarah, before you return home.’

  Oliver stood up. ‘I agree. As soon as we’re married Edward will no longer be the earl’s responsibility. I will be his legal guardian.’

  ‘The banns have been read. You can be married here. I will conduct the service myself.’

  Sarah stared at her father. ‘Here? Now? Is that possible, Papa?’

  ‘Yes my dear. I am an ordained priest; and marriages can be conducted anywhere, if the banns have been read or a special license obtained.’

  Lady Hepworth sprung into instant action. ‘We are all here; it will be the work of minutes to organize things. It is fortuitous Sarah’s wedding dress is still here. Come, my love, you must get changed. I will call the girls.’

  Sarah found herself bundled out of the room followed by Elspeth. She cast a despairing glance back at Oliver who grinned and shrugged. ‘This is the only way, Sarah. I’ll return to the Dower House to change. I’ll be back within the hour.’

  ***

  Less than an hour later Sarah was dressed in her wedding finery. Her nieces, Chloe, Charity and Lucinda, wore their matching dimity-gowns and even Elspeth, Sophia and Harriet had found time to don their best. Downstairs, Sarah’s father waited, prayer book in hand, in a hastily decorated ballroom. Lady Hepworth’s staff had worked miracles with vases of yellow, white and gold roses and elegant gilt chairs in rows.

  Edward, having had everything explained to him, was somewhat subdued. He was also the only member of the small congregation unable to changes his clothes. His garments had been given a quick brush and his face and hands washed. Soon the excitement of the impromptu ceremony was enough to overcome his worry. His only regret, he stated loudly, was that Rags could not attend, for which everyone else was profoundly thankful.

  ***

  Oliver, not in regimentals, but a new broadcloth coat of sage green, close-fitting inexpressibles, a green and gold embroidered waistcoat, and hastily polished Hessians, was the height of fashion. He also waited, checking his fob-watch every minute and glancing over his shoulder.

  ‘Now, now, my dear fellow; do not look so anxious. Your bride will be with you shortly.’ Sarah’s father chuckled. ‘You hop about like a man expecting to be jilted!’

  ‘Things are not as they seem, sir. It’s all such a damnable muddle!’

  Mr Bartholomew took Oliver’s elbow. ‘Come out on the terrace, my boy, and tell me what is troubling you.’ The elderly vicar was so easy to talk to, so open and friendly Oliver found himself halfway through his story before he remembered he was talking to Sarah’s father. It was far too late to retract. He faltered, but continued. ‘So you see, sir, it was always my intention to marry Sarah, but never to fall in love with her. I find myself unwilling to shackle myself to someone who does not return my regard, but, as a man of honour, I cannot back out.’

  Mr Bartholomew regarded him with fatherly affection. ‘Has my girl told you she does not love you?’

  ‘She has made it plain that she originally selected me to fill her nursery and be a father to Edward.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘And now she holds me in dislike - she was horrified when I dispatched two of her would-be assassins. I believe she’s only marrying me to protect Edward from the earl.’

  ‘I think you are mistaken, my boy. I have watched the way her eyes follow you about the room. Sarah has always been a stubborn girl but I am sure she will admit her feelings to you in time.’

  ‘I sincerely hope you’re correct, sir. It’s too late to change course now for I can hear them coming.’

  Mr Bartholomew took his place in front of the two rows of chairs and Oliver resumed his stand to the right of the aisle. He could hear the girls giggling in the passageway and then the door opened and Lord and Lady Hepworth, their eldest daughter Sophia and Edward and Elspeth walked in and took their seats.

  The flower girls began their stately progress down the centre of the ballroom scattering hastily plucked rose petals as they walked. Sarah had chosen to process alone as her father was no longer available to accompany her. She paused in the open doorway to collect herself. Slowly she raised her head, straightened her spine, and inadvertently her eyes flickered towards Oliver.

  A handsome, fashionable, stranger stood in his place. The casual, comfortable, country clothes were gone. She felt herself colouring as her assessment was returned in full. Pale blue-grey eyes travelled from the golden yellow rose buds tucked into her hair down to her feet encased in dainty golden yellow slippers.

  Oliver’s mouth curved into a smile of such charm for a moment she forgot to breathe. Light-headed she floated down the room, swaying slightly, to join the man she had promised to marry.

  In less than fifteen minutes she was Mrs Oliver Mayhew. The ceremony was brief and the wedding breakfast would now have to be a wedding supper but Sarah could not help smiling. Oliver took this as an invitation to kiss her. Ignoring the assembled company he drew her into his arms. His kiss was gentle, no sign of the unnerving passion that had frightened her last time, and Sarah enjoyed the embrace.

  Her lips softened under his and she pressed closer, feeling his heat through the thin cloth of her dress. Her fists, resting on the muscled hardness of his chest, slowly unclenched and slid around his neck. She loved the feeling of thick, silky hair beneath her questing fingers and she sighed with pleasure, allowing Oliver unfettered access to the hidden depths of her mouth. She shuddered and felt a sudden surge of unexpected heat flood her body.

  He held her closer, angling his head to gain greater access to what was being so willingly offered.

  Sarah’s fathe
r coughed. ‘Sarah, my child, let me offer my congratulations,’ he interrupted loudly.

  The words caused them to freeze in embarrassment. Oliver realized his ardour would be plainly obvious in his skin tight breeches and was transfixed with horror. It would be unthinkable to step away and reveal his predicament to the ladies.

  Sarah, who had after all, been married before, understood his dilemma. Skilfully she turned, keeping within the confines of his arms, but remaining discreetly positioned at his front.

  ‘Papa, I am so happy you conducted our service. I know it is not what we planned but it was still everything it should be. Thank you so much.’ Her father stepped up and she presented her cheek for his salute. Next Edward flung himself into her arms, demanding to be kissed by both his parents.

  Sarah moved away to be hugged by her sister, who whispered in her ear. ‘I envy you, Sarah, your captain is a real man. You will be happy with him, I am certain of that.’

  ‘I hope so, Elspeth. He loves Edward and that is all that really matters to me.’

  Elspeth’s look was incredulous. ‘He loves you, you goose. If he did not I would have stopped the wedding.’

  ‘What do you mean? Why would you have stopped the ceremony?’

  ‘Remember you wrote to me asking for information about him? I discovered he was known to be on the hunt for a rich wife. But whatever his intentions at the beginning he has married you for love, Sarah, not money.’

  Elspeth released her sister who was instantly enclosed in Harriet’s plump arms. ‘My love, I am so pleased for you both. You make the perfect couple.’ Harriet clapped her hands. ‘I have arranged for champagne and refreshments to be served in the dining-room, let us go in and toast the happy couple.’

  Oliver threaded his arm through hers, and with Edward hanging on to her other hand, she was guided from the ballroom, across the spacious marble tiled hall, into the dining-room. Toasts were drunk and tasty food consumed allowing her no time to consider the import of Elspeth’s revelations.

  ***

  It was full dark before they were waved off in the carriage used to bring her father from his parish in rural Essex. Sarah sank back on the cushions and closed her eyes, not sure if the unaccustomed alcohol or confusion was making her head spin so alarmingly.

  ‘I’m going to be sick.’ Edward said and promptly was. Oliver, moving with impressive speed, was able to catch the mess in his hat. When Edward had finished retching Oliver opened the door and tossed his new headgear, and its unpleasant contents, out into the night.

  ‘Are you feeling quite well, now, Edward?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, I’m better. I ate too much cake.’

  Oliver laughed as he wiped Edward’s mouth with his handkerchief. ‘Well, we can safely say that you no longer have any cake inside to upset you.’

  Sarah was forced to smile. ‘You are both quite revolting. I have no wish to discuss it further or I will be in need of another hat.’

  The incident had not only occupied most of the journey but also stopped them worrying about what might await them at Rowley Court. Sarah had all but forgotten Elspeth’s observations.

  Edward craned his head out of the window, which had, not unintentionally, been opened. ‘The lamps are lit, but the drive’s empty. The earl’s coach isn’t there.’

  ‘I should hardly think it would be; it is past ten o’clock.’ Sarah replied.

  Sally was summoned and Edward went willingly to bed. The late hour, combined with his bout of sickness, had exhausted him. This left Sarah and Oliver alone for the first time since their marriage.

  ‘I am retiring now, Oliver. It has been a long and eventful day. Goodnight and thank you for your assistance.’

  ‘Goodnight, Sarah. I’m going to take a stroll round the garden before I turn in.’ They nodded politely and parted, he to the garden and she to prepare herself for her wedding night.

  Beth was waiting, all smiles and congratulations. She brushed out Sarah’s hair to fall in a chocolate brown waterfall to her waist and then helped her into her delicate lace nightdress. Sarah replied when obliged to but otherwise remained silent. Eventually left in peace she was too restless and nervous to climb into bed. She went to the window, and allowed the night air to cool her.

  She knew her sister’s assumptions to be partially correct for she had always understood Oliver’s wish to marry money, but what about the other? She felt her pulse fluttering in excitement. If Elspeth was right then her husband was coming to her tonight as a man in love. His attentions would not be that of a man driven solely by lust.

  She fanned her heated cheeks with her hands and turned to gaze across the room. She had never noticed the marital bed was so huge. She could hear Oliver’s returning footsteps on the terrace below, then the sound of the windows being closed behind him. She felt sick.

  This union was her doing; she had selected Oliver to be her mate, to father her future children, but now the time was approaching for the consummation she was having second thoughts. All her doubts about his suitability, and his bloodthirsty tendencies, flooded back and she shivered, this time in fear. She was entirely in his power — he could use her as he wished. What if his inclinations were for rough handling?

  She could not go through with it. She could not share her body with a man she did not love, even for the blessing of more children. She ran to the door and turned the key, then flew back, into the dressing-room, to lock the servant’s door. Only then did she feel safe.

  How long would it take her husband to mount the stairs? Would he rouse the house with his fury at being refused admittance? Sarah retreated to her bed which, now the doors were locked, seemed a refuge not a threat. She scrambled in and pulled the thin summer coverlet up to her chin. Her heart pounded in her ears and there was the cold trickle of perspiration between her shoulders.

  Heavy footsteps approached her door; she froze, waiting for the handle to turn. The footsteps continued past the room without pause and vanished into the night. For a moment Sarah remained rigid and then slowly began to relax. Oliver had chosen to go to his own bed chamber. Perhaps he was more like Jonathan then she thought.

  She snuggled down in the feather mattress and fell instantly asleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Oliver, so she was informed, had been in the estate office discussing the possible introduction of Capability Brown’s radical agricultural notions for at least two hours when Sarah appeared in the breakfast parlour. The usual covered chafing dishes, filled with coddled eggs, fried ham and muffins failed to tempt her. Eventually she selected a slice of bread and butter and a single egg.

  As she was toying with her meagre breakfast Oliver strode in. ‘Good, I had hoped you would be here, Sarah. We have much to talk about.’

  ‘About the earl and his lawyers?’ She said faintly.

  He turned, with raised eyebrows, from piling his plate with food. ‘What else did you suppose I meant?’

  Sarah frowned at the sharp tone but assumed the question was rhetorical. Oliver carried his breakfast over and placed it, loudly, on the white linen tablecloth. Sarah watched him pour himself a mug of porter, curious to know why he was so agitated. Settled at last he spoke again.

  ‘I sent Jack to collect the wedding license from the vicar and take it to your father for him to sign.’ He glanced up. ‘It’s essential everything is legal or Lord Fitzwilliam might try and have it put aside.’

  All Sarah’s desire to discuss nocturnal visits, or the lack of them, vanished. ‘You are Edward’s guardian now; what Lord Fitzwilliam chooses to believe is not important. He can make demands but we don’t have to listen.’

  Oliver dug into his congealing breakfast with apparent relish obliging her to sip her tea whilst waiting for his answer. ‘I agree that’s basically the truth. However, you realize he’s an old man and will wish to meet his new heir, s
ooner rather than later.’

  ‘Immediately?’

  ‘That’s a possibility; an octogenarian has limited time at his disposal.’

  Sarah’s nostrils flared but she swallowed her annoyance. She smiled sweetly. ‘I meant, do you think the lawyers who came yesterday will expect us to go back with them?’

  He considered for a moment. ‘It might be unwise to do so; he will be considerably put out that he was unable to snatch Edward before the wedding, if that was his intention. I’ll agree to a visit but not to accompany them on their return.’

  ‘You will agree? Am I not to be consulted, Oliver?’

  He seemed surprised by her query. ‘Did you wish to be? Such matters are now my concern, but I’ll always discuss my decisions with you if that’s what you would like’ He smiled, apparently pleased with his sensitivity.

  Sarah lost her temper. She faced him, her eyes stormy and her cheeks stained with a hectic flush. ‘How dare you talk to me as if I am stupid? I married you to run my estates and to be a father to Edward, not to interfere and order my life.’

  ‘Do sit down, my dear, and please don’t shout. I’m not on the other side of the park.’ His amused response was fuel to her fury. Without a second’s hesitation she snatched up his half eaten breakfast and tipped it over his head.

  She did not remain to gloat as the sticky yolk trickled down his face and the ham slid from his grease spattered hair onto his intricately folded cravat. She knew as soon as the food had left the plate she had made a serious error of judgement. She had no intention of remaining in reach of his justified retribution.

  She was at the breakfast parlour door when she heard his chair crash to the floor. Frantically she turned the knob but it was slippery under her palm and would not engage. She gripped harder and it turned, she had it half open when his arm slammed it shut again.