“The local vicar,” Francis told her plainly, then turned to face her as he took her hands in his. “I know you would have liked for your sisters to be present, but we can have a big bash of a wedding one of these days in London. For now, I’m, just so damn eager to make you my wife that I’d rather not wait a moment longer.”
His honesty cut straight to her heart, sending it soaring. How on earth this had happened, she wondered. She’d no idea how they’d ended up so captivated by each other, and in truth it didn’t matter. She only knew that she’d never thought to know so much joy and happiness, and to see it reflected in his eyes was more than she could ever have hoped for. “The faster, the better,” she grinned anxiously. “I’m sure my sisters will understand. But is it even possible? Don’t we need a license of some sort?”
Francis looked at her steadily. “I took care of that while you were having your little chat with Kate this morning.” He spotted the pained look in her eyes and hurried on in hopes of lightening the mood once more. “I’ve known for some time that I wanted you to be mine—even before I began courting you, I knew. And then we shared such a wonderful day together yesterday. . . . Emily, I never wanted it to end. I knew then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life strolling through Vauxhall Gardens with you by my side. I love you, Emily—so much that my heart aches when you’re not by my side, and leaps with joy when you are near. So, I took the liberty of attaining a special license in the hope that when the opportunity arose, you’d marry me straight away.”
“Well, we are indeed fortunate that you were so thoughtful and farsighted—good qualities indeed in a husband,” she giggled as she drew him close for an affectionate kiss.
“Would you like a tour of your new home before the vicar arrives?” Francis asked her. “Or would you prefer a drink in the library?”
“Let us have a drink,” Emily said decisively.
“What a splendid choice,” Jonathan said with obvious relief.
“A woman after my own heart,” Francis concurred as he led the way down a wide corridor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jonathan quickly made his excuses after dinner, saying that he had some reading to catch up on in the library. Francis couldn’t help but grin, for he knew that Jonathan never read anything other than the morning paper. He appreciated his tact, however, as he now sat alone with Emily in the parlor. She looked radiant, though she’d been unable to change her clothes—married life apparently agreed with her. Nevertheless, he would have to have some of her garments sent for in the morning.
The ceremony had been quick and to the point. Still, the sound of her “yes” had gone straight to his heart, filling him with so much hope for a happy future together. He regretted that she hadn’t had a proper wedding gown, and that her flowers had been hastily picked in the garden, but for some reason, he sensed that she’d been perfectly happy with that. In fact, it had seemed that all that had mattered to her was that she was now his, and that she didn’t give a fig about what dress she wore as that came to pass. He regarded her for a moment as a warm feeling of comfort washed over him. She was his, and she would remain so. He suddenly had a desperate need to pamper her—to show her how eternally grateful he was for that simple “yes.”
“Since you’re without your abigail here, I’ve spoken to Mrs. Reynolds and requested that she send up a maid to assist you in the meantime.” He walked across to the side table and picked up a crystal carafe, pausing with his hand on the stopper as he turned to look at her. “Would you care for sherry or brandy tonight, my love?”
“I was hoping for a glass of port, perhaps,” she replied.
“Well, if you insist on being difficult,” he countered with a crooked smile.
“Ah, my lord, I’m afraid this is just the beginning,” she chuckled wryly.
“In any event, it is well worth it,” he told her as he picked up a dark bottle and poured two glasses from it. He handed her one of them as he sat down beside her on the blue silk brocade loveseat. He clicked his glass against hers. “To a marriage filled with joy, happiness, and a house full of children.”
Emily blushed at the thought of how all of those children were to come about, then lifted her glass to her lips and drank to his toast. She felt a nervous excitement wash over her as she watched his eyes roam over her like a hungry man surveying a vast feast. Tonight was her wedding night, and she knew intellectually what that would entail. But there was no doubt that she’d only sampled a very small part of what lovemaking might involve, and her stomach now tightened at the thought of what was yet to come.
Taking her hand in his, Francis turned it over, mesmerized by the slenderness of her fingers and the transparency of her skin. Placing his lips against the top of it for a kiss, he felt it tremble ever so slightly beneath his touch. It took so little for Emily to arouse him, yet he forced himself to keep his primal urges at bay. They had the whole night ahead of them, and before he took her to his bed, there was much that they needed to discuss. “Why don’t I ask Mrs. Reynolds to have a bath drawn for you so that you can bathe before bed?”
“Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea, Francis. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said as he went to ring the bell. A moment later there was a soft rap at the door, which opened at Francis’s request to admit a cheerful Mrs. Reynolds. “My wife would like to take a bath before retiring this evening. Would you please see that it is taken care of?”
“Certainly, sir,” Mrs. Reynolds replied. “I’ve sent Georgina up already to prepare her ladyship’s bedroom. Georgina will also be acting as a temporary replacement for her ladyship’s abigail—I trust that her ladyship will be pleased with this decision.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds,” Emily responded with a smile. “I’m quite certain that everything will be to my liking.”
“Very good, ma’am,” Mrs. Reynolds replied with a bobbing curtsey before closing the door behind her as she went to see about the bath.
“In the meantime,” Francis said, his eyes suddenly more serious than Emily was comfortable with. “I believe there are some things that I must tell you.”
“Francis,” she implored him. “There’s no need to do it now—why don’t we just enjoy this evening without letting our pasts interfere with our happiness?”
“Because,” he told her gently. “I don’t wish for there to be any secrets between us when I take your innocence later tonight. Such a sacred act must not be tarnished by anything. It’s all but too easy to brush it off until later, and there will always be another excuse to do so again. In truth, however, there is no better time for it than the present.”
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for what was to come. He could see the fear in her eyes, and understood only too plainly the source of it. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There are things that I must tell you about myself—things that are quite painful and difficult for me to talk about, but I trust you with my heart, Emily, and for this reason, you must know about them. Believe me when I tell you that what I am about to say can never change the way I feel about you—if anything, it will only bring us closer.”
“I lost you once because of this, Francis. I don’t want to lose you again,” she whispered with downcast eyes.
He paused momentarily as he lifted her chin with his fingers to look her straight in the eye. “Take courage, my love, and have faith that what I am about to tell you will only strengthen our relationship. It is the not knowing that threatens to hurt us.”
“Very well, then,” she said with determination as she kissed him lovingly on the lips. “Tell me what it is and let me help you carry this burden.”
Francis sighed deeply as he rose to his feet and strode across to the window, where he stood for a moment in silence, looking out onto the driveway. “Lady Elisabeth Riley, the woman I have always addressed as mother—and whom I have always loved as such—is not the woman who gave birth to me,” he began.
Emily decided at that point that it was very fortunate that he’d turned away from her, for it prevented him from seeing the shock that surely must have been visible upon her face. Her mind was immediately filled with a flood of questions, but she forced herself to remain silent, having no desire to keep him from continuing. Instead, she took a deep sip of her port and allowed the loveseat to support her as she settled back against it.
“After many attempts and a series of humiliating doctor’s visits, it was eventually discovered that Lady Elisabeth was unable to bear children. She and my father were, needless to say, devastated—she perhaps more so, as she continuously blamed herself for not providing him with an heir.
“She loved him very much, you know—more than he ever deserved, as it turns out.” Francis turned back toward Emily after a moment of pensive silence. “In fact, it was she who suggested that my father should take a mistress—another woman to carry the child that she could not give him. Do you have any idea how hard that must have been for her?” Francis’s eyes glistened, though his voice remained firm. “He refused to . . . at first . . . but he so desperately wanted what she could not give him. The temptation, coupled with her blessing . . . well . . . it was too strong for him to deny.”
Francis’s eyes clouded over again with sudden rage. “He was a weak man who wasn’t satisfied with what he had—and he had a lot.”
“But . . .” Emily said softly with a great degree of caution. “If he hadn’t done what he did, you never would have been born.”
“I often think that would have been for the best, Emily,” he told her grimly. “You see, it was my mother —I mean, Elisabeth—who handpicked Charlotte for him herself. She wanted his mistress to share her features, so that any child she gave birth to would be likely to resemble her. But my father was reeled in by Charlotte’s charm and feigned sincerity. He became enamored of her, and she gradually tightened her hold on him, latching on, and refusing to let go.
“The only commendable thing that she ever did was hand me over to Elisabeth the minute that I was born. I’m told that she didn’t even wish to look at me. And Elisabeth showered me with love and affection—she was a wonderful mother. But, she wanted her husband back, too.”
Emily was shocked to see a damp line form on Francis’s right cheek. He didn’t seem to register the tears himself, so caught up was he in his story. “I don’t recall ever meeting Lady Elisabeth,” Emily said, unable to think of anything else.
“You would have liked her. She was pure of heart, with nothing but goodness and the best of intentions. She wasn’t as strong as she needed to be in order to fight Charlotte, however. And Charlotte’s incessant haranguing—the way in which she taunted her, dangling the fact that my father had finally chosen his mistress over his wife—it ate away at her. Do you know, he even moved Charlotte into the room adjoining Elisabeth’s—at Charlotte’s request—so that when he would visit her at night—and he did so often—Elisabeth was forced to listen to the sounds of their constant lovemaking, even if she didn’t wish to. And the house in London . . .” His words faded as if he couldn’t quite bear to continue.