Page 13 of Pride of Lyons

“Do not worry about Honoria. I’ll discover what has happened to her.” He positioned himself at her opening. “I promise you I will find out where she has gone.” He closed his eyes, seeing Honoria’s face on the pillow beneath him. “I will find you,” he muttered to himself, “no matter how long it takes.”

With a vigorous thrust, he slid all the way home.

Chapter Seven

“Thomas, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?”

As Papa intoned the age-old vows, Honoria could scarcely pay attention to the words, so intent was she on not trembling or having her teeth chatter. It wasn’t cold in the church, but she could have stood in the blazing sun and shivered. She was marrying an almost complete stranger, and however good and honorable he seemed to be, she couldn’t bring herself to accept the situation.

Except she must. Papa was now charging her.

“Honoria, wilt though have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?”

What if she simply said “No?” Papa had told her privately he wouldn’t make her marry Lord Braeton. But Mama had made it known, in her special tone that was tantamount to a command, that should she refuse his lordship’s offer, it could go very badly for her father. If the scandal got out, if Lord Danford told lies about her in London, then Papa might very well lose his living. With no other source of income, the family would become destitute almost overnight.

Lord Braeton had assured them that once Honoria became his wife, Lord Danford would not dare disparage her reputation. If he did so, he would undergo a challenge from her husband, which he surely would not risk. After that revelation, Mama’s words had been clear. Honoria couldn’t simply think of her own feelings. And as there was nothing at all objectionable about Lord Braeton’s offer, Honoria must do her duty.

“Honoria?” Lord Braeton’s gentle but urgent word snapped her back to the present. “You must answer the charge, my dear.”

Yes, she must. Throwing back her head, she stared into her father’s eyes and said, “I will.”

The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur, save for the almost comic moment when Papa had asked, “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” and then, flustered, said, “Oh, my word, that is me.” The next thing she knew, her mother was wishing her happy, and she and Lord Braeton were signing the register.

The small wedding breakfast in the vicarage afterward seemed just as unreal. The party was small, only her immediate family, Lord Braeton’s friend, Lord Longford, who had stood up with him, and Lord and Lady Rochdale, Lord Braeton’s sister and brother-in-law. They had all congratulated Honoria, and Lady Rochdale had been sweet and warm in her address to her new sister-in-law. Still, though Honoria smiled and nodded and made the correct responses to everyone—at least she hoped they were the right things to say—she couldn’t make herself believe she was now married to a man she did not know.

Once the guests had left, Honoria sat down in the green parlor chair, her legs too wobbly to hold her up any longer. She’d not eaten a bite all day, even though her mother, sisters, and even Lord Braeton had brought her small plates filled with dainties throughout the breakfast. Smiling, she’d accepted the food, but managed to hide all of it in strategic places around the room. The way her stomach roiled, she doubted she’d ever eat again.

“My lady?”

Frowning, Honoria looked around. Lady Rochdale had already departed, so who—

Lord Braeton was looking directly at her, a slight smile touching his lips. “Yes, I mean you, Lady Braeton.”

Dear Lord. She had a title now, so she’d best try to act like it. Instead of giving in to the sudden weakness in her knees, Honoria raised her chin and nodded. “I am sorry, my lord, but I’m afraid it will take some getting used to.”

He chuckled and took her arm, helping her rise, then twining it through his elbow. “I’m sure it will, my dear. Ladies have such a trial when they wed, having to get used to being called by a completely new name, with a new household to run, new staff to become acquainted with.” He patted her hand. “I am certain you will do just fine once you get your bearings.”

While she pondered that compliment, he led her toward the front door, where she found her family lined up to tell her goodbye and wish her well. “The carriage is ready, my dear. We must begin our journey soon if we are to arrive at Braeton House in time for dinner.”

Honoria nodded and moved to kiss her father’s cheek. Her husband had informed her last evening that they would only travel back to London after the wedding, then the next morning begin the journey to his primary seat in West Sussex, Knowlton’s Keep. Why they were not staying in London she’d not had the courage to ask. Perhaps he would tell her on the way.

“May you have all the happiness in the world, Honoria.” Papa kissed her cheek and hugged her close. “I believe he is a good man, my dear,” he whispered in her ear. “I hope you will find him so.”

She sent up a prayer her father’s words would be correct, then moved to her mother. All too soon, she hugged her youngest brother and turned back to Lord Braeton. Putting her best foot forward, she forced herself to smile and said, “I am ready, my lord.”

His return smile almost took her breath away, though it was neither wide nor particularly bright. The right corner of his mouth quirked upward just enough to be called a grin, as though he wanted to smile, but was being lazy about it. It was thoroughly charming and stopped Honoria as she reached to take his arm. He chuckled and assisted her by securing her arm in his. “Then let us be off. Mr. Quinn, Mrs. Quinn.” He bowed formally. “Thank you for your hospitality to me and my wife. I promise to return soon so I may become better acquainted with her family.”

Then he led her to the carriage, assisted her in, and they were off. Pressing her face against the cool windowpane, she kept watching her childhood home until it was swallowed up by the streets of Lower Clapham. She leaned back in her seat, suddenly very aware of her husband sitting next to her on the tufted black leather seat.

The silence between them stretched out for several minutes until Honoria began to panic. The tension of not talking seemed worse than actually talking together. They needed to learn to carry on a conversation, and there was nothing else to do during this ride back to London. Taking a deep breath, Honoria opened her mouth and prayed for divine guidance. “We will be staying only the one night in London, you said last evening, my lord?”

His brows rose, but he nodded. “Yes, I thought it best that you not be fatigued before we set off for Sussex. A good night’s sleep will make the journey easier.”

Oh, this was not the first conversation she wanted to have with him. But he’d brought up the most pertinent question for her: would she indeed get that good night’s sleep? It was their wedding night. From what she’d gathered from things she’d overheard at various parties and from her mother’s halting explanation last night, rest was not something a bride could count on during her wedding night. “That is kind of you, my lord.”

“There is something I would ask of you, my lady.” He had turned toward her, regarding her with eager eyes.

Her mouth dried as though she’d taken a mouthful of sand. What was he going to ask her to do?