The marquess approached. “As do I. Lady Ferncroft, shall we travel to Hawthorne Park for our wedding breakfast, where our families await?”
Her new name was far too formal for her, but she would wait to discuss how they addressed each other in private until…well, they were in private. “Yes, my lord.”
He offered his arm, and she took it, grateful for his strength, which should keep her from any more mishaps. As they exited the church, a shower of seeds greeted them from her wonderful friends and the villagers of her husband’s estate.
She could almost feel his pride, and looked at him to find the marquess smiling at those around them. It was the first time she’d seen him smile, which was a relief. She had started to wonder if maybe he was always serious and stiff. She certainly hadn’t wanted to be married to a lord “stiffboard,” as Lissa called some of the aristocracy.
He led her through the shower of seeds to his waiting coach. The Ferncroft crest decorated the door, and the footman were all at their posts. He handed her up into the empty coach then joined her, taking the seat opposite.
Surprised to find them alone, she addressed her immediate concern. “Where are the children?”
The upturn of his lips lingered still, even rising a bit more. “I sent them ahead home with their nursemaid. They behaved very well, and I didn’t wish them to have to be so for too long.”
Pleased by his thoughtfulness and caring, she relaxed. “I was very impressed with Maggie and Peter. You must be proud of them.”
“I am.” He continued to gaze at her.
Was something amiss? She patted her hair to be sure it was all still in place. Then again, he could simply be staring at its bright red color. Surely Lissa and her husband had told the marquess about her “unfortunate fiery locks,” as her father termed them. As her new husband opened his mouth, she prepared for his disappointment.
“I hope you will find Hawthorne Park to your liking. There are parts of the house, I will admit, that are not my favorite, so if there are any areas you would like to change, please confer with me. Except for my study, I’m open to suggestions.”
Nonplussed by the lack of criticism, she didn’t speak at once as she tried to refocus on his actual words. “That is very generous, my lord.”
He waved his hand as if it were nothing. “My late wife found fault with much of the house and fully enjoyed changing it over, some rooms more than once.”
She raised her brows at that. Her husband must have quite a bit of wealth for that to be so. Her own father kept her mother regulated to one room every two years. That meant Lord Ferncroft was situated well, as well as quite handsome. Which again raised the question, why had he married her?
“Now, as to the nursery, you may need to confer with my children. In fact, I have no doubt they would enjoy a different scene than what is presently there. It is a meadow with a lake with swans, though my daughter insists they are geese, which Pete will then immediately pretend to hunt.” Again, his lips lifted.
That he would allow his children of five and seven to have a say in the nursery décor was quite remarkable, and not a littleout of character for the formal marquess, from what she could see. Her curiosity, now completely roused, needed answers. “Why did you marry me, my lord?”
He blinked before cocking his head. “Why? I had thought I made it quite clear that I wished for a mother for my children.”
Despite his obvious affront—though whether it was to her bluntness or ignorance, she knew not—she’d been taught to logically argue, and so she would. “Yes, I was made aware of that. What I meant by my question is why me, specifically? There are dozens of younger women who would be quite open to your attentions. And why an arranged marriage without ever meeting me? Were you not worried I would not do?”Shecertainly had worried about that, and still did.
His brows drew together in obvious puzzlement. “I knew you were a woman of the peerage and, according to my brother, one who would welcome being a mother to my children. And as to your age, my lady, Ispecificallydidn’t want a younger woman. I am thirty-six and far too old for a simpering miss straight out of the schoolroom. In addition, not only did my brother recommend you, but the Duchess of Northwick sang your praises most readily. She was quite insistent that you had a good intellect and would manage my family well. Lastly, you were available and possibly open to an arranged marriage. Since your attributes met all of my requirements, I did not see a reason for us to meet. Would you have preferred I interview you like a high-level servant?”
She shook her head, a bit stunned at his revelations. He obviously did not want a wife for himself, but for the management of his home and the caring of his children. Illogically hurt by his explanation, while at the same time grateful for the kindness of Lord Bellamore and the Duchess of Northwick, Ellie lapsed into silence—not a common occurrence for her.
It appeared it wasn’t so much that the marquess had sought her out specifically, but had a list of criteria and she happened to meet them all. It washed away the cloud she’d floated upon for the last month while the banns were read and the settlements were finalized. Though he said he didn’t interview her like a common servant, he had done far less.
She folded her arms as much to comfort herself as to stay warm. On the other hand, no matter how she found herself a marchioness, she was. And a mother of two. She had never hoped for the first and had craved the second since she was a child of five years and insisted on giving her dolls cocoa. If she were able to follow the Duke of Northwick’s teachings in logic, she was indeed in very good circumstances. That was somewhat of a consolation. But the fact that it wasn’t enough had her feeling guilty for expecting something more.
“Lady Ferncroft, I do need to make something very clear in regard to my children.”
At her husband’s voice, she pulled her gaze from the lap of her best blue dress to his face. “Yes. I hope we will always be clear with each other. What about your children?”
“I chose you specifically because of your skill in mothering others. I do not want my children to have a mother they see every other day to inspect their dress and who only parades them before guests. I’m sure you will be having guests for tea, and my children are not to be used as gossip fodder. I wish you to be the kind of mother who is involved in their lives on a daily basis so they know they can depend upon you and will wish to seek you out when they are afraid or hurt. Anthony and I had a rare but satisfying childhood because our parents were involved with us. They did not hand us off to tutors and governesses. Though we had both, it was our parents who actually raised us.”
The marquess raised his hand. “Yes, I understand it’s quite unorthodox, and I can only lay that blame at my mother’s door,as I assure you, my father, the Duke of Roxburgh, did not have such an upbringing. However, having experienced it firsthand, I believe it the best way to raise children to take on the responsibilities they will inherit in adulthood. So, I ask you—am I correct in believing that you can provide this type of childhood for Peter and Maggie?”
As he spoke, her unrest dissipated, giving way to the joy of his request. It was her secret dream to be involved in her offspring’s childhood, and one she was anxious to pursue. Lissa had been absolutely correct. Lord Ferncroftneededher.
She held back her smile, curbing her enthusiasm, which was no easy task. Lissa had cautioned her not to reveal too much, too soon. “You are correct. I can provide such an upbringing. Though I would ask one boon of you in return.”
The man stiffened from the tip of his angular nose to the straightening of his shoulders. “What boon would you ask beyond marriage?”
She gave him a soft smile. “That in private and with the children, we address each other by our given names. I believe it will help Maggie and Peter to accept me. Losing their mother had to be a terrible loss if this was their type of childhood.”
