Jenny herself was determinedly cheerful during those three weeks. Mr.Jamieson had called upon Lucas, by appointment, three mornings after the wedding, in order to make a formal application for her hand. Lucas took her aside before she went to the visitors’ salon to listen to his proposal, and explained to her that Jamieson had admitted his father’s financial situation had gone from bad to worse recently. But one must not necessarily blame the son for the father’s deeds. Jenny did not need the warning. She listened to the marriage proposal, thanked Mr.Jamieson for his kind offer, and refused him. She spent the rest of the day in her own rooms, supposedly nursing a headache though no one doubted the true reason. She reappeared the following day, as cheerful and even-tempered as ever.
Philippa asked her about her decision when they were alone together a few days later.
“Do you love him, Jenny?” she asked gently.
“I have considered the possibility, of course,” Jenny told her, snatching up a cushion to hold to her bosom. “I think Icouldlove him if he loved me. He does not, however. He loves my money. He is not a villain. Many men find themselves forced to look for wives with fortunes. It works the other way too. That fact does not necessarily mean the marriage will be an unhappy one. But I do believe that under such circumstances there should be no pretense of love. It is not a necessary element in a marriage, after all—is it?—provided there is honesty and respect and some affection. He toldme he loved me when I asked him. And hesmiled.Poor man. I ought perhaps to have told him that someone who smiles incessantly is not really smiling at all. But I did not wish to be cruel. I was tempted to accept him, Pippa, for he is very good-looking and very charming. But I do not believe I was ever in danger of saying yes. I doubt I ever will be. It is even to be hoped I will never again be asked. I do not like upheavals to my emotions. There. Enough of me. One thing I amveryhappy about. I hoped for you as a friend as soon as I met you, but I have got far more than that. You are mysister, and I am over the moon with delight.”
“So am I,” Philippa assured her. “One is always aware that when one marries one takes on not just a husband or wife but a whole family too. That must cause a great deal of anguish in many cases, must it not? I am very fortunate. I love all my new family.”
“Even Grandpapa?” Jenny’s eyes twinkled.
“PerhapsespeciallyGrandpapa,” Philippa said, and they both laughed.
As for Philippa’s marriage, she was cautiously hopeful. It had been rushed and forced upon them partly by the indomitable will of the Duke of Wilby and partly by the heart seizure he had suffered at Almack’s. Would Lucas ever have asked her to marry him if his grandparents had not been so set upon promoting a match between them? Or if she and Stephanie had gone straight home from Hyde Park after the kite flying that morning instead of going to Arden House for cakes and lemonade? Would she have accepted if she had not grown so inexplicably fond of the duke? Or if she had not gone to Arden House from Almack’s that night but had returned home with her brothers and Gwyneth? However it was, hehadasked and she had said yes.
He had never said he loved her.
She had never said she loved him.
But she remembered what Jenny had said—I do believe that under such circumstances there should be no pretense of love. It is not a necessary element in a marriage, after all—is it?—provided there is honesty and respect and some affection.It was very much what Lucas had said himself on their wedding night. And Philippa asked herself if she would prefer that he profess a love he did not really feel—and that he smile incessantly.
Oh, she would far prefer honesty, she decided.
And really she had very little of which to complain. They did not spend all their time together—which was agoodthing. But they did go walking and riding together and attended some private dinners and parties. They both agreed to avoid any of the grander entertainments of the Season, especially balls, until after the one Devlin and Gwyneth were organizing in their honor. They spent some time at Stratton House and went to the Tower of London one day with Ben and Joy and Stephanie. And they spent more time at home than they might otherwise have done in order to give their company to the duke and duchess—and to Jenny, who was obviously mourning her lost love even though she had made what was almost undoubtedly a wise decision.
And there were the nights of lovemaking, and often the early mornings too—and occasionally an afternoon. Her husband was a considerate lover and probably a skilled one too, though Philippa had no one with whom to compare him, of course. Shelovedthe nights. And if he was still beside her when she awoke in the mornings, she always turned toward him and hoped he would love her again before they got up. He almost always did. He was, of course, doing his duty. His grandfather very much hoped for a child at the end of nine months.
It never felt likejustduty, however.
It was never duty on her part. At first she found it merely very, very pleasant and assumed that it would never mean any more than that to her. It was men, after all, who were assumed to get all the pleasure from such activity. She soon learned how wrong she had been, however. The physical part of her marriage became deliriously, even passionately pleasurable. And as for the rest... she was satisfied. She might hope for more, but even if it never happened, helikedher, she believed. He wasfondof her. He was kind and considerate.
If there was never any more than that, she would consider herself fortunate indeed.
She loved him, of course. She did not know just when she had fallen in love, but she had. She could live without telling him, though, and embarrassing him. She could live her love. She did not need to put it into words.
She was having a new gown made for the ball. She no longer needed to keep to white. She also no longer presented her bills to her mother or Devlin. Her husband would pay for her ball gown and all the accessories to go with it. How strange that seemed. But he insisted. Theonlytime since their wedding he had frowned at her and even spoken rather sharply to her happened when she had suggested that she use her own money for at least a part of the expense. It was an extravagance, after all. She had other gowns she might have worn.
“Phil,” he had said. “Please do not be ridiculous.” There had been no humor in his voice or in his face. There had been no invitation to discuss the matter. Quite the contrary.
She had not repeated the offer.
It was perhaps foolish to be looking forward so much to the Stratton House ball when she had already experiencedtonballs andin many ways they were all much alike. And when she had had what she considered a very nearly perfect wedding day.
But she was.
—
Lucas wished the wedding ball had been set for any other week but this particular one. For while Philippa was very obviously excited about it, as were Aunt Kitty and Jenny and the ladies from Stratton House, there was also a vastly contrasting air of anxiety and foreboding hanging over them all. It hung over the whole of London, in fact.
During the past week conflicting snippets of news had been coming from the Continent. Nothing could be fully verified or relied upon, however. Some reported a massive battle having already been fought somewhere in the vicinity of Brussels. A few people close to the southern coast of England claimed to have heard the pounding of cannon, which had continued for hours on end. Others spoke of a massive defeat for the Duke of Wellington’s forces, and panic spread among those who believed them and were convinced that Napoleon Bonaparte and his fearsome columns of French infantry were about to march into London and either massacre all its citizens or lead them into captivity. There were a few feeble calls to burn the bridges spanning the river Thames.
There were those too who had heard of a decisive victory and had expected no less. For was not Wellington himself at the head of the British armies and Field Marshal von Blücher at the head of the Prussian forces? Had they not proved themselves invincible in previous battles?
But no oneknew.No official dispatches had arrived in England, or, if they had, no public announcement had been made. Hard facts were in remarkably short supply. Stories abounded, and,as is ever the case with rumor, there was an endless supply of persons willing to embellish and sensationalize them and add lurid details that proceeded purely from their imaginations.
All of Wellington’s great military victories seemed to have come on a Sunday, people remembered. That wasfact, and many used it to declare with some certainty that the battle had been foughtlastSunday, on the eighteenth of June. But the skeptics were quick to point out that Sunday came once every week. Perhaps battle would be engagednextSunday or the Sunday after. Or not on a Sunday at all.
Lucas spent all morning and the early part of the afternoon on the day of the ball going from place to place, most notably White’s Club, in the hope that by now someone had heard something definite. And of course many men had. Some had heard quite definitely of a defeat. Others had heard just as definitely of a victory.
