It was impossible that she would sit by Augustus, but when she passed him in the narrow space, she felt his intake of breath.
Nearly all theton—minus the Brightleys, who had not been allowed back into the Carrington social circle since the incident at the ball—were packed into the pews at St. George’s. Eloisa had anticipated more outright societal rejection of the marriage, but, instead, it seemed that, if society had objections, they were restricting them to whispered predictions of failure and ruin for the young couple. Eloisa had also told Olivia that she suspected that Percy’s being a younger son had something to do with the muted reaction of society to his wedding a foreign girl of Indian extraction. She knew that Eloisa had not put too fine a point on this explanation for her sake. Nevertheless, she knew her friend was right. If Percy had been the heir, thetonwould have been much more vicious. But the truth was that Percy, while titled and wealthy, was no longer even third in line to the earldom. His older brother, Lawrence, after all, had two boys.
And with Percy so charming and Natasha so captivating (and with a generous dowry, more than appropriate for her husband-to-be’s station), it seemed that society was willing to be more accepting than Eloisa had ever anticipated. Olivia was less certain, however, that such complacency would be extended in her case, if she were to marry Augustus.
These thoughts were swept away, however, when the ceremony started. When Natasha walked down the aisle on Nathanial’s arm, the entire room held its breath. She was that stunning, so young and radiant—it made Olivia’s eyes cloud with tears. She had known Natasha since she was a little girl and to see her so rightly appreciated, shining as she ought, was a joy.
When she joined Percy at the altar, the bashful, happy smiles of the young couple could not have failed to kindle at least a spark of warmth in the coldest heart watching. St. George’s had doubtlessly seen many brutal marriages over the years—those of convenience and pure calculation and extreme reluctance on one or both sides. And, yet, when you looked at Natasha and Percy exchanging their vows, such unhappy unions felt impossible.
Their admiring glances and the easy, wholesome attraction apparent between the two left one with the distinct impression that every marriage that ever had been and ever would be had to be like this one. And that any marriage contracted on such real affection must succeed.
By the end of the ceremony, Olivia even felt a bit more hopeful for her and Augustus.
*
After the weddingbreakfast had been eaten and the bride and groom had departed for their honeymoon—a month, as it were, at a Carrington family estate in Scotland—Olivia received another note.
Come to my carriage. It waits for you. Augustus.
Her heart pulsed, almost painfully, in her chest. She whispered her farewell to Eloisa, who knew about her plan to sneak away. Fortunately, Nathanial was too distracted speaking with Miss Wallis to notice her departure.
Olivia retrieved her cloak from the Carrington Place staff and swept into the street. She was uncertain where Augustus’s carriage waited but, very soon, she saw it, loitering only a short way down the street. Its curtains were drawn. She knew he must be waiting for her there.
When she approached, the coachman hopped down from the box and handed her up.
Before the door was even closed, she was in his arms. He had pulled her onto his lap and was kissing her, nearly frantically, like a man who had been starving. As the carriage lurched forward, she pulled away, laughing.
“You seem to have missed me.”
“Imagine my agony,” he said, burying his face into her neck and breasts, “To have experienced such mind-shattering ecstasy and then to be forced, for days, to be parted from you.”
He widened his legs and she could feel the press of his erection even through her pelisse.
“Never again,” he continued, “I will not allow it.”
“I missed you, too.”
The next fifteen minutes were lost to their rediscovery of one another. She kissed him with such abandon that she forgot all sense of time or place—or what they were even doing in the carriage to begin with.
When the conveyance lurched to a halt, she felt drugged. And not at all inclined to stop kissing him.
But he broke their contact.
“We’re here. Come.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
When the coachman handed her down, she recognized their surroundings.
“We’re in Bloomsbury,” she said to him. In fact, they were no more than two streets over from the Mappertons’ rented lodgings.
“Yes, indeed.” His smile informed her that he was up to something wicked—and that she would like it. “This way.”
He directed her into a neat little town house, smaller than the one that Eloisa rented, but just as fashionable. When they entered the dwelling, she saw that it was beautifully furnished. Every detail, from the fender to the bookshelves, seemed to have been attended to with care.
“Whose house is this?” she whispered to him.
