Page 23 of His Bluestocking Bride

“True enough.” Lucas cracked one blue-gray eye open. Lucas took after their father in appearance. Marcus inherited his mother’s brown eyes while Lucas’s were the stormy blue of their father’s. “How do you think she will get on in society?”

“I am not overly concerned. She has been raised a gentleman’s daughter, took part in Bath society, and carries herself with confidence and grace. Ellen will enter London society with a blank canvas.”

“A daunting task for those of us without artistic inclinations,” Lucas muttered, closing his eye and settling deeper into his chair. “Has she seen your sketches?”

Marcus drew himself up straighter and cast his gaze into the crackling fire. “No. I don’t make it a habit of showing them to people. Especially since I’ve given it up.”

“Then you are not entirely honest with her.” Lucas popped both eyes open and sat up. “Are you?”

Marcus shook his head. “They were the scribblings of a bored man. I have no time for them any longer.”

“If you are certain.” Lucas shrugged and stood, stretching. He took a few steps toward his younger brother and put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “Be careful, Marcus. Guard your heart but know you must be protector of hers. You are responsible for her happiness. Loving one’s wife is a good thing.”

“But you advise against it?” Marcus asked, taking in his brother’s stern face. He hardly smiled since Abigail’s death. Lucas had loved his wife from childhood and losing Abigail not long after their marriage had sunk Lucas into a hole he struggled to crawl out of again.

“Love is sweet while it lasts. But when it is taken away, there is nothing more painful than its absence. I will not advise you one way or the other, except to tell you to be kind to your wife.”

Marcus nodded and his brother squeezed his shoulder once more before letting go and moving to look out the window.

“You will go to Orchard Hill?”

“Immediately following the wedding breakfast.” Marcus came to stand next to his brother. “It is past time for things to be taken in hand. I have already visited. While I cannot say Orchard Hill has been neglected, I also cannot say that it thrives.”

“How long will you be there?”

“A few weeks. Long enough to get things settled. Then I must come to London and allow my wife to enjoy a season while we support you in Parliament. But I would much prefer to stay in the country.”

“You would disappear into the hills forever if we let you. I think that must be one of the reasons Mother wanted you wed.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “One among many. It is incredible how she believes taking a wife will cure me of all my ills.”

Lucas clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Mother is always right, Marc.”

Marcus laughed for both of them. “Then I suggest you make haste to leave as soon as possible after the wedding, lest she decide you need the same treatment as I.”

Lucas remained sober in his expression, but his eyes glittered for a moment. “She has no power over me, I’m afraid. If I marry again, it will be because I wish to. The idea of another in Abigail’s place—” He stopped speaking and cleared his throat, looking away.

“I know.” Marcus would have said more, but their hosts returned with the announcement that dinner awaited them.

Marcus sensed Lucas didn’t entirely approve of his decision to wed without love. But what would Lucas have him do? Love simply hurt too much.

Chapter Eleven

The day of the wedding dawned bright. Ellen woke in her bed chambers at Oak Lodge for the last time. It had been decided that Marcus and Lucas would stay at Margaret’s home, Lady Annesbury would stay at Oak Lodge, and the Falkhams were with Teresa. Guest rooms were in short supply, but not many other family members would make the journey for a small church wedding. They would wait for a more spectacular event in London, which Marcus’s mother promised would be the talk of the season.

Ellen did not spend a moment lolling about but rang for a maid at once. The wedding would be held immediately following morning services and the final reading of the banns.

One of the upstairs maids appeared with a small tray of chocolate and muffins. The wedding breakfast would be a grand affair, but Ellen didn’t think it wise to wait to eat. She needed her wits about her. Besides, the memory of her sister Dorothea fainting from hunger and nerves the morning of her wedding had made a strong impression upon Ellen.

Marcus wanted to marry her because of her practicality. Practical brides ate something before their wedding.

After eating, Ellen allowed the maid to do her hair up in ringlets, piled elegantly atop her head. She liked the effect, though she well knew her wedding bonnet would cover most of the efforts. She stepped into her best gown, made over with some silver ribbons, and the maid helped her tie and tuck everything into place. A deep blue cape went over the ensemble. Her light blue slippers were the last thing she put on, tying the ribbons about her ankles.

Her mother’s last missive returned to her thoughts. Dorothea had yet to deliver.

Write down everything about this day and keep your thoughts close. A woman’s wedding is a precious treasure to hold onto for the rest of her life.

Though nothing of great consequence had occurred yet, Ellen went to her writing desk and found her commonplace book. Normally, she recorded philosophical thoughts or notes on her studies. Today, it would have to do as a sort of diary, too.