Chapter 27
Pen was sitting with Marcus in a carriage on the way to Gretna Green.
After she’d agreed to marry him, Marcus had taken his hat and left.
They’d discussed the matter of a small wedding, with only the witnesses present. This, Lucy insisted, wouldn’t do.
“I will organise a small wedding breakfast for you,” she decided. “Arabella and Birdie and their families have to attend at the very least, don’t you think?” She tipped a finger on her nose. “And Miss Hilversham. Speaking of which, our old teachers, Miss Weston and Miss Elton, too. As for a wedding dress, I have a gorgeous confection that we can have altered...”
Pen had listened to her friend and not said anything at all.
That evening, Marcus had returned and asked to talk to Pen alone.
“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have this turned into a big fuss,” he told her. “Should we go to Gretna Green and get it done and over with?”
“What do you mean, right away?”
He bowed. “Right away.”
Pen thought it was a good idea. Get it done and over with. That did not sound too romantic, but she was of the same frame of mind that she’d rather not have a big fuss made at their wedding.
After she put on a bonnet and pelisse and picked up a reticule, she told Lucy that Marcus was taking her for a drive. She felt utterly miserable lying to Lucy like that.
“Enjoy yourself, dear,” Lucy said, looking up with a quick smile.
Pen, who’d been half-way out of the door, choked. She turned, ran back and gave Lucy a fierce hug.
“You know, if you happen to decide to drive somewhat further than Hyde Park, further to the north, I would completely understand that,” Lucy murmured into her ear.
Pen pulled back, astonished. “How did you know?”
Lucy smiled. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”
Pen gave her a tremulous smile.
She almost changed her mind and had that wedding breakfast at Ashmore Hall after all.
So now she found herself in the carriage with Marcus, going north.
For most of the journey, Marcus had been reticent. Pen, never much of a talker herself, had leaned her heated head against the carriage window and wondered why she felt a pain in her heart even though she finally got what she’d always wanted.
Marcus leaned his curly head against the back of the seat, asleep. She studied his pale face, which showed the signs of his dissipated lifestyle.
He’d always behaved in a polite, rather distant manner towards her. Too polite, she thought. Too distant. It was as though his thoughts were always elsewhere. Now and then she caught him staring at her intently. Only to look away quickly when her eyes met his.
She heard, through Lucy, that Alworth was to leave for India soon. That should not come as any surprise, for he’d told her of his plans from the moment they met.
The carriage rattled through the countryside, and rain prattled against the window. Somehow that suited Pen’s mood. A happy bride felt otherwise, she assumed.
“Why did you never come looking for me?” Pen asked him. She knew that, even though his eyes were closed, that he wasn’t really asleep. “Was it because you’d forgotten about me? Or because you were ashamed of me?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. His green eyes opened. “Never ashamed, Princess. Never so.”
“Then, why?”
He studied her face. “How much do you remember your mother?”
“Mama?” Pen thought. Her face, like so many things from her childhood in India, turned into a hazy blur. “I think she was rather pretty.”
