She sat with Phillips and NannyJune, who were a little intimidated by being in such a grand house with such grand company.Marcus sat opposite, tending to his guests, as was proper—Flynn and Daisy on one side and his best man, Mr Wimple, on the other—but glancing at her from time to time with a slightly worried look on his face.She smiled to reassure him.Everything was perfect.
“But how did Lord Alverleigh know where to find you?”Tessa asked Philips and NannyJune.
They looked at her in surprise.“Didn’t you know?He’s the one that gave us the cottage to live in,” NannyJune told her.
“And the pensions,” Phillips added.“Generous they are, too.”
“Otherwise we’d a’been done for,” NannyJune said darkly.“On the parish, in the workhouse.Your pa left us nothing.”Phillips nodded.
“I’m so sorry.”Shame flooded Tessa, and not for the first time.She’d assumed her father had had second thoughts and done the right thing by these two loyal old family retainers.Who meant more to her than family.
NannyJune patted her hand.“Not your fault, lovie.Your pa didn’t do right by anyone, from what I heard—and you most of all.Marrying you off the way he did when you were still just a child—and to such an old man!Shocking it was.”
“But all behind you now,” Phillips said firmly.“You’ve got a good man there, a good husband.He’ll take good care of you.”
“I know,” Tessa said, looking across the table at the man who seemed so cold and remote to people who didn’t know him, but was capable of such quiet generosity and kindness.She frowned slightly.He was having some low -voiced conversation with Mr Wimple, and looking quite grim about it.Whatever was that about?
#
“BUT WHY DIDN’T YOUjust refuse?”Marcus said in an undervoice.He was keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the other guests.
“Do you even know your aunt?”Barney said indignantly.“I told you before, she’s a gorgon—turns a fellow to stone with that dratted glass of hers.Makes you completely helpless.She’s as terrifying now as she was when we were at school.”He chewed thoughtfully on a chicken leg, then added, “More, actually.She insisted I deny to everyone that you had kidnapped Lady Hewitt from her brother’s house and made her your mistress.”
“But Ididn’tkidnap her and she’snotand never has been my mistress,” Marcus said through gritted teeth.
“I know you didn't,” Barney assured him.“Don’t know the gel—dashed pretty though—but have known you forever.Soul of discretion.Honorable to the back teeth.You’d never do anything so blasted sordid.Or vulgar.Or illegal.”He added a mound of ham to his plate.“I say, this breakfast is dashed good.Compliments to your cook.Weddings always give me an appetite.Other people’s that is.”
“So if you knew Ididn’tkidnap Lady Hewitt and she wasn’t my mistress, why the hell did you go around denying it to all and sundry?”Marcus demanded.“Because if anything was guaranteed to give credence to such a nonsensical rumor it would be energetic denials!”
“Well I know that,” Barney said indignantly.“And I tried to explain it to Lady Gosforth.But the old b—er, lady insisted.And don’t tell me I should have resisted—you know what she’s like!Apart from turning fellows to stone, she’s a dashed what-d’you-call-it, that Indian thing?”
“What Indian thing?”Marcus said, bewildered.He glanced at his aunt, holding court on the other side of the table.She might not be too keen on Cockney dressmakers who couldn’t even be bothered to feign a French accent, but she had no objection to being charmed by a handsome Irishman.“You mean her turban?”
“No, of course I don’t mean her turban,” Barney said irritably.“What on earth would that mean—‘she’s like a turban’?Make sense man.A turban is not the least bit alarming.Though depends who’s wearing it.No, I mean the other Indian thing.The one that your aunt is like.”
Marcus couldn’t think of any Indian thing that his aunt resembled.Her nose was admittedly large, but it was Roman rather than Indian.“This conversation is getting out of hand.Forget the blasted Indian thing.Why didn’t you tell her that denying the rumor would only make any gossip worse?”
“As I said, I did try, but listening ain’t her strong suit,” Barney said, and took another long draft of champagne.“Oh I say, look at that!What a splendid cake.And that trifle looks delicious.Very fond of trifle, I am.Did I say, my compliments to your cook?”
Marcus gave up.Despite Barney’s confusing explanation, one thing was clear to him: his wretched aunt was behind the rumors that had made it necessary for him and Tessa to marry.And she’d bullied Barney, poor sap, into spreading them.
For himself, he didn’t mind being tricked, though he loathed being the subject of gossip, especially false gossip.Marrying Tessa was exactly what he wanted.But she’d been forced into marriage twice before, and now it had happened again—or if not exactly forced, she’d married him on a false premise.And he hated that this time it was his fault.Or at least his aunt’s.
He dreaded having to tell her.
Barney tugged his sleeve.“Juggernaut!”he declared triumphantly.
Marcus stared at him.“What?”
“Your aunt, the Indian thing—she’s like a Hindoo juggernaut!M’uncle told me about it once.Saw it in India.Terrifying thing.Unstoppable force.Crushes everything before it.Your aunt does that.Pass me that bowl of trifle, will you?”
#
THE WEDDING BREAKFASTwas drawing to a close and Marcus gave Tessa a nod to indicate it was nearly time to leave.She went upstairs and changed into more suitable attire—a traveling dress in sage green with a collar and cuffs in dark purple, a pelisse in a darker green, and darling green hat with a jaunty little purple feather.
Their carriage departed with everyone spilling out into the street, waving and wishing them well, but once they were on the road south, they fell silent.Tessa was happy just gazing out of the window, watching the passing scenery, and when she glanced at Marcus, he seemed to be dozing.
Her husband.She took a few moments to gaze at him; she’d never really been able to do so before, not closely, because whenever she looked at him, he always seemed to be looking at her.
