“Oh, my child,” Mamma said, softly. “My sweet child, you have grown into a beautiful young woman. Now, you are a wife!” She pressed one damp cheek against Louisa’s to whisper, “Just think, you may soon be a mother with a little girl of your own.”
Louisa knew, of course, that marriage brought babies. As Lady Granborough, she’d be expected to present her husband with an heir, but Mamma’s prediction alarmed her. She barely knew His Lordship, yet tonight she would share her bed with him. In nine months’ time, they might share a child.
Heavens, a woman’s life moved quickly!
CHAPTER TWO
They’d spent little time alone together, though he’d escorted her through all the tedious courtship rituals—drives in Central Park, Sunday promenades on the Avenue, luncheons at Sherry’s. Through it all, Giles had grown to resent his new wife’s fortune, despite needing it quite desperately.
The Thurston Reids spoke openly of money, which embarrassed him, chatting about who had what and how they’d come by it. Their friends discussed steam yachts with as much fondness as an Englishman would his prized horseflesh. And their homes! When these people grew bored of a place, they simply bought another and filled it with art and furniture they’d ransacked from the Continent. Even his mother-in-law, who was as kindly and sensible a lady as a fellow could ask for, had a gallery dedicated to showing off her Sèvres—the same of which any good Englishman kept in his china cupboard.
They disclosed all this to him, a stranger, with pride!
Of course, they were proud to add him to their collection.‘An English marquess in the family,’they’d boasted. Penniless, but titled. Handsome, well-educated, cultured.
Giles had not let himself go cheaply.
Mr. Thurston Reid had laughed about it as they’d haggled over the wedding settlement. In the end, Giles had secured one million dollars for the Granborough estate, which would be made available to him after the honeymoon, and fifty thousand dollars per year, for the happy couple to share between them.
Louisa would also have funds of her own, from her personal investments, which wasnotthe done thing in Britain, yet oddly common among American women—such a level of independence chafed, but Giles hadn’t argued. The less he had to do with his wife, the better.
Nonetheless, he’d looked for her during the wedding breakfast, eager to toast their mutual good fortune. Louisa had disappeared upstairs to pack her trunks and change from her wedding dress into something more suitable for the journey.
He spied her atop the grand staircase, surrounded by a gaggle of school-girl friends. The new Lady Granborough had what these belles called ‘snap’. She was attractive, elegant, and energetic. Feminine, yet self-sufficient. What was considered crass and loud in his culture was the ideal here.
For example, Louisa possessed a trousseau of sixty dresses, not to mention hats, shoes, coats, gloves, and lingerie. Even a fine lady’s bicycle.
What use had an English marchioness of a bicycle? Would she pedal along the village lanes, red-faced and puffing?Perspiring?She didn’t know how to sit a horse, but—Lord help him—his new bride thought nothing of splitting her skirts over a bicycle saddle.
The dreadful impropriety! It was indecent. He’d rather she took up roller-rinking instead.
Louisa descended the stairs to take his arm. There were no maidenly hysterics as she kissed her parents and bid farewell to the only world she’d ever known.
Giles shook hands with his in-laws and allowed a kiss from Mrs. Thurston Reid, whose tears dampened his collar. He sympathized with the mother being parted from her daughter and assured her it would not be forever. Louisa’s parents could come over for the christenings of her children, and even holidays. He wouldn’t like Louisa to be alone on Christmas.
The bride and groom left amid cheers. Her friends and family wished them well, flinging handfuls of rice over Louisa’s ‘going away’ ensemble of blue velvet trimmed in sable. Giles didn’t know any of the gathered guests besides Cousin Caroline and her husband, who—for lack of anyone else—had served as his best man.
The Vanderheids had been so ecstatic over that development that they’d offered the new couple use of their fine town carriage and horses. The glossy conveyance awaited them at the bottom of the steps, covered in flower-streamers. Giles made a mad dash across the pavement and lifted Louisa onto the squabs.
She waved at the onlookers like some fairytale princess as the door closed, the carriage juddered, and the high-stepping horses paraded down Fifth Avenue. Women, children, and reporters jogged alongside the carriage, soon joined by mounted policemen in a bizarre cortège.
Giles found it all an intrusion. He slunk back against the seats, drawing his tall hat down over his eyes. “Lower the window shade or our faces shall be splashed across every newspaper in the city. We’ll never escape the press.”
Louisa seemed to revel in the attention her wedding had garnered. What bride wouldn’t have done? “I don’t mind the press coverage, as nobody will care about me after this. I consider it my one moment in the limelight.”
“You ought to know that Englishwomen abhor such attention-seeking behavior…”
She smiled. “Am I an Englishwoman yet, my lord? Surely, I have to cross some longitudinal line in order to make that claim. I’ve never even stepped foot in your country.”
“You were English from the moment you signed the register at St. Thomas’,” he told her. “You’re Lady Granborough now.”
Louisa lowered the window shade, mimicking him.“Lady Granbruh.”
“That’s right,” he teased. “Practice enough and you’ll have the pronunciation down by the time we dock in Liverpool.” Giles claimed no tender feelings for her, but he liked her well enough to bant and spar.
His new wife seemed to enjoy their little games of back-and-forth, as well. Louisa relaxed beside him, resting her weight against his shoulder as the carriage bumped along. The lowered shades created a rather cozy, somewhat drowsy atmosphere.
She idly petted the sable trimmings on her frock. It was a fine piece of tailoring, hugging her figure like a second skin. Aside from the ridiculous leg-o-mutton sleeves, every inch of fabric was drawn against her as tight as a drum. Giles couldn’t help but appreciate her little dips and curves.
