Obedience!Elizabeth crumpled the note in her fist.How like him, to add a barb to what might otherwise have been a charming message.
She shoved the wadded note into her dresser drawer and untied the oblong box. Inside, wrapped in tissue, lay the most beautiful pair of spectacles she had ever seen. Gold-filigreed wire encased the lenses with shimmering strips of mother-of-pearl inlaid at each temple. And where temple met lens, a tiny diamond winked back. Exquisite.
“Lizzie,doput them on,” Annabelle gushed. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Aye.” Rose’s eyes misted. “He’s sweet on yer, lass. That cost ’im a mite.”
“More’n a mite, Rose.” Evie laughed. “More like a might many pounds!”
“An’ a might many favors he’ll be expectin’ on his weddin’ night in return.” Mae giggled.
Elizabeth’s cheeks heated. “They are lovely, yes,” she murmured, admiring them in the mirror.
By the time Miss Li’s maids had finished with her, she looked the very picture of a presentable, bespectacled, London society bride.
St. Mary le Strand’s pews in London’s West End had cost Milton a pretty penny to bedeck with fragrant, snow-white lilies—the bloom he’d chosen to declare ‘my love is pure.’
Though love, of course, played no part in his marriage.
He paced the church sanctuary in anticipation of his bride. The guests had all arrived, including those he’d hired to make their wedding appear sufficiently grand. His side of the church was filled with well-dressed whores and sailors, his bride’s side with well-compensated actors. He’d even paid a few London rags to report on the event. And of course Lady Stanton sat front and center, pug wriggling on her lap.
She caught his eye and waved; Milton pretended not to see her.
His friend, Wellesley, had brought his wife, the Duchess of Allendale, who did indeed look very pregnant. Milton was surprised the lady had ventured out. Wells’s mother, the Grand Dowager, had also deigned to attend, for which Milton was exceedingly grateful. She lent an air of respectability to any gathering; he’d thank Wells later for such a generous gift.
And there sat Li beside his mother, looking decidedly put out, but then, when did she not? His thoughts veered to all his wedding portended, to his arduous journey here. One step closer, and all he could think was: Would Elizabeth now accept him? Would she even grow to like him?
It was a childish thought, one he quickly dismissed. For he’d wooed her enough this past week and slaked her lust just last night. She’d succumbed to his vulgar talents and displayed an appetite for earthly delights, open, he now hoped, to more intense experience.
She had only to keep her appetite for him, for tonight.
He tamped down his lewd thoughts, willing his cock to also stand down. He had a ceremony, luncheon, and dance to get through before more amorous distractions might be enjoyed. He must first make Elizabeth irrevocablyhis.
He looked up and saw his bride approach down the aisle. Breathtaking.
***
Papa held Elizabeth steady, and good thing that he did, because her legs were jelly as she entered the church. The closer she got to the altar, the more her limbs rebelled. She couldn’t do this, it was impossible to move forward. Yet somehow, miraculously, she did. She stared straight ahead, unable to meet the eyes of guests she passed, row upon row of people she did not know. She didn’t want to be the center of their attention, of this ceremonial charade. Their stares felt like arrows piercing the armor of her gown with each labored step she took.
Elizabeth wished to run, screaming from the church; her father merely patted her hand.
As her panic grew, her breaths stuttered in her chest. She gulped air as the room tilted sharply and the altar swam dizzyingly before her eyes. In the nick of time, the Baron turned and locked her in his stare: a flicker ofcalm, of hope.
No more, no less.
Air filled her lungs, as if she’d silently gasped. Her breaths propelled her forward and not once did Milton’s gaze waver.
When she reached the altar, her father let her go. The Baron’s warm grip steadied, his smile genuine.
The ceremony passed in a blur—Elizabeth’s fine new spectacles notwithstanding. Already, she sat atop her husband’s phaeton, unable to recall how she’d gotten from altar to carriage, a handsome white gelding pulling them through the streets, for all of London to see.
She was, God help her,married.
Elizabeth waved to passersby, performing her new role, and Milton, seated right beside her, appeared well pleased. When he stopped them before an impressive, limestone-embellished dwelling, he jumped down to hand the reins to a groom before he helped her alight. Rows of staff stood outside the house to welcome them inside, but before they’d even reached the front door, he scooped her into his arms to carry her across the threshold, into her new life.
Inside, he planted her on her feet and kissed her roundly. She was overcome by both his ardor and the sheer scope of the entrance hall: the massive, ornate staircase, tall potted palms, enormous Baroque paintings, and more rows of servants lined up against the walls.
“Welcome to your new home, wife.” Milton grinned.
