Читать книгу Christmas With His Wallflower Wife - Janice Preston, Janice Preston - Страница 13

Preparations for the wedding gained momentum throughout the day and Jane allowed herself to be swept along despite the unease that writhed in her stomach like a restless snake. She needed to speak to Alex. It was all very well the family assuming the matter was irrevocably settled but what if, now he’d had time to think, Alex had changed his mind?

All the frenetic activity infected the Beauchamps’ dogs: the Duchess’s wolfhound, Hector, Myrtle, a three-legged, bull-baiting type of terrier belonging to Mr Graystoke, and Liberty’s Romeo. The three of them became increasingly excited, chasing one another around the house, in and out of the rooms, until Romeo darted in front of a footman carrying a tray of china and he went flying. The resulting crash brought everyone running.

‘This is outside of enough!’ The Duchess, her hair awry, shooed the dogs outside. ‘The doors are to be kept shut and woe betide anyone who lets those animals back inside!’

Even that added to Jane’s guilt. The entire household had been set on its ears just because she had foolishly decided to go for a walk alone.

The day wore on and, in the late afternoon, Jane found herself helping Alex’s two aunts, Lady Cecily and Thea, Lady Vernon, to arrange flowers in three matching lead-crystal cut-glass vases to decorate the hall.

‘These vases were made by Stour Crystal,’ Lady Vernon said, her pride clear.

Jane knew Lord Vernon’s wife came from a family of Worcestershire glassmakers. ‘Is that your father’s manufactory?’

‘It is. Well, it belongs to my brother now. Papa died two years ago.’

‘I am sorry to hear that…but you must be very proud. These are beautiful.’

‘They are, aren’t they? And yes, I…’

Her voice drifted into silence as the front door flew open and Alex and Dominic bowled in, laughing, the three banished dogs at their heels. Jane stilled, nerves erupting.

‘Please leave the dogs outside,’ Lady Cecily said to her nephews. ‘Rosalind’s orders. They are overexcited and have been causing mayhem, with everyone so busy. You’re fortunate to have missed the worst of the chaos.’

She looked from Jane to Alex. ‘Dominic?’

‘Yes, Aunt Cecily?’

‘Thea and I would appreciate your opinion on the seating arrangements if you will come to the dining room?’

The three disappeared, leaving Jane facing Alex, anxiety churning her stomach.

‘Well, Honeybee, and how are you today?’

Honeybee…the affectionate nickname he had given her when, as a child, she was for ever buzzing around, like a bee around a flower. He sauntered over to the table and picked up one of the lilies still to be placed in the vases.

‘I am well, thank you, Alex. You…you’ve been gone a long time.’

‘Oh, I got the licence, all right and tight, if that’s been plaguing you,’ he said. ‘But I must ask you—’

His jaw snapped shut as the Duke and Duchess came into the hall together and Jane’s heart sank, knowing Alex wouldn’t continue with his father present.

‘Alex. You’re back,’ said the Duke.

‘As you see.’ Alex replaced the lily on the table, its petals now mangled, and withdrew a document from his pocket. ‘With the licence.’

‘So, you still wish to proceed?’

‘Of course!’ Alex took Jane’s hand. ‘As long as you aren’t about to back out on me, Janey?’

She shook her head. Alex grinned, only slightly settling her nerves. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was going on inside his head.

‘We’ll leave you in peace.’ The Duchess linked her arm through her husband’s and they disappeared into the drawing room.

‘Sorry about that flower.’ Alex nudged the stem of the lily he had destroyed. ‘Shall I go and cut you another?’

‘No. We already had more than sufficient. But thank you.’

He grinned again, flicked her nose and headed for the staircase. ‘I must change my coat and boots. I’ll see you later, Janey.’

‘What was it you wanted to ask me, Alex? Before your father came in?’

He paused, then turned back to her. ‘I just wanted to know if you have everything you need.’

‘Yes, thank you.’

She doubted that had been his original question. She watched him bound up the stairs, hope and dread warring in her breast as she wondered what their future held.

Alex stood in the local church the next morning at eleven, waiting for his bride. He stared at the floor, Dominic by his side, still torn by what was about to happen. Every time his doubts had edged him close to backing out of this marriage, his father had said something that made him leap straight back into those slowly closing leg shackles. And besides…there was Jane to think about. Now she’d been compromised—and the whispers had already started—she must marry someone and quickly. And Alex could not condemn her to marriage with a stranger. That same boyhood instinct to protect her that had spurred him into that rash proposal made sure of that.

‘This takes me back,’ Dominic whispered. ‘Waiting at the altar, fretting that Liberty might not show up, but mark my words…’ he gripped Alex’s shoulder, and squeezed it ‘…all your worry will fly away as soon as you set eyes on her.’

Except Dominic married Liberty for love.

Alex half-turned, eyeing the members of his family, sitting in the pews, waiting to witness his marriage to his childhood friend. The only one missing was Olivia, who was attending the bride. Lord Hugo Alastair, her husband, had his hands full coping with their two-year-old twins, Julius and Daisy, helped by Liberty. Alex’s father and stepmother were there, with three-year-old Christabel and two-year-old Sebastian—his young half-sister and half-brother—and Susie, their adopted daughter. Further back were Uncle Vernon and Aunt Thea, with their three—Thomas, four, Sophie, two, and one-year-old George—and Aunt Cecily and Zach with three-year-old Florence.

Every one of them had married for love. But Alex, yet again, would be different.

Apart. Alone. Always the outsider.

Except you’ll never be alone again. You’ll have Jane.

And a whisper of…was that hope?…stirred in his heart. He forced down the doubts that clogged his throat, longing for that whisper of hope to be true.

The organ music changed and Alex turned to watch his bride walk up the aisle. Another lump filled his throat…not doubts this time, but concern. She looked desperately uncertain. A wave of protectiveness washed through him. Filled him. She was his responsibility now…her happiness depended on him and he would do all he could to stop her regretting their marriage.

Her gown was beautiful: peach-coloured silk that hugged her slim figure and complemented her mass of shiny conker-brown hair, held back with combs and interwoven with delicate white jasmine flowers, leaving loose tresses to wave down her back—and it was almost as though he were looking at her for the first time, which was absurd because he’d known her for ever. She was two years younger than him, his neighbour and his childhood playmate…he’d known her all her life. Taught her to ride. Led her into plenty of scrapes. And yet, here…now…he seemed to really see her. As his friend, Jane, yes…but also as a woman. An attractive woman. Not beautiful, maybe, but her figure was…mouth-watering.

And then all thought and conjecture ceased because she had reached his side and he turned to face the Reverend Padstow, his bride by his side, her sleeve brushing his.

Afterwards, he endured the congratulations and the backslapping outside the church, plastering a smile on his face. He felt like public property. This day couldn’t be over soon enough for him. But he kept Jane close by his side, his hand resting at the small of her back. She was part of him now. They were a partnership. She was his wife. And when her father, stepmother and half-sisters approached and he felt her tense, he slid his arm around her waist and held her even closer.

‘Well, Jane. This is a happy day indeed.’ Lord Stowford thrust out his hand. ‘You are a very welcome addition to our family, Alexander. You must visit us whenever you choose.’

Alex ignored the hand and inclined his head. ‘I rarely visit Devonshire these days, sir, so you need not fear we will darken your doorstop with any regularity.’

We’ll visit you over my dead body.

But it was his wedding day. He was the bridegroom. He must be polite to the guests, even when every nerve in his body craved solitude.

He nodded coolly at Lady Stowford and her daughters, and said to Jane, ‘Come, my dear. Our wedding breakfast awaits and our guests must be hungry.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered as they walked to the carriage waiting to drive them back to the Abbey. Alex handed Jane in and then collapsed on to the seat beside her, shutting his eyes.

‘Are you finding this very trying, Alex?’

He cranked his eyelids open to find her watching him, her eyes filled with concern. They were lovely eyes, now he came to study them properly. Warm brown and thickly lashed and full not only of concern, but of kindness and understanding. And wasn’t that typical of Jane? All her worry was for him. Even on her wedding day.

‘A bit,’ he replied.

He straightened. They would be home shortly…except he never thought of it as home any more. Foxbourne was his home now and had been for close on five years. His father had bought the estate, together with its breeding stock, five years before. Alex moved in later that year and, two years later—once he proved he could be trusted to run the place—his father signed it over to him. He loved Foxbourne and he couldn’t wait to return. To go home.

He laid his hand against Jane’s cheek, registering the softness of her skin.

‘Shall you object if we leave here tomorrow? I cannot wait to show you Foxbourne Manor, although I fear it lacks a woman’s touch at the moment.’

They would need more indoor staff—he’d led a bachelor’s life until now, cared for by only his man, Drabble, and Mr and Mrs Kent, who ran the house.

‘I have often longed to run my own household.’ Her eyes glowed. ‘And I cannot wait to settle into my new home, so I’m happy for us to leave tomorrow.’ She smiled, then, and raised her eyebrows. ‘And I know you well enough to know you’ll be itching to leave here as soon as possible.’

He laughed. ‘That I am.’ He slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. ‘You are a brave woman, taking me on when you know what a moody wretch I can be at times.’

He kissed her cheek and the delicate scent of jasmine wreathed through his senses. Desire sparked through his veins, surprising him.

‘Well—’ Jane pulled back, capturing his gaze with a teasing smile ‘—in a straight choice between you and Pikeford I thought black moods a touch easier to cope with than drunkenness and r-r-r…’

Her lips quivered and his heart cracked. He pulled her close, nestled her head to his shoulder. ‘Don’t, Honeybee. Don’t try to be brave and pretend it was nothing.’

She stayed there, trembling, for a few minutes. Then the carriage started to slow and she pulled away from him. Brushed a finger beneath each eye in turn and gave a tiny sniff. Alex handed her his handkerchief without a word.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

They both put on a decent show, Jane probably more successfully than him. To watch her you would never believe anything troubled her, but Alex saw the effort she was making all through that day.

Her family left early—to everyone’s relief—and, watching Jane with the Beauchamps afterwards, Alex could see she would fit right in. And why shouldn’t she, when she had known them for so long they were like a second family to her?

He watched over her, alert for any hint of distress. None came. And, through the day, Aunt Cecily, too, kept her eye on Jane and often drew her into conversations.

‘She will need your patience, Alex.’

Zach joined Alex as the family gathered in the drawing room after dinner that evening.

‘I am aware of it.’

Zach turned his dark gaze on Alex. ‘She is a woman who was born to lavish care on those around her and she will thrive, given love and care in return. You are a lucky man. I feel you will be good for one another, but do not be surprised if the path is bumpy in the beginning.’

Alex couldn’t help grinning. ‘Is that your Romany half talking, Zach?’

Zach smiled. ‘Perhaps.’ He bent to fondle Myrtle’s ears. She rarely left his side. ‘Or maybe it’s more that I know human nature and I know you, Alex.’

Alex sobered. Zach was right. He did know Alex—as well as, if not better than, any other member of the family. Their mutual love for and understanding of horses had fostered their friendship and respect. The rest of the family were talented horse riders, but they did not share that natural feel for troubled animals, and for horses in particular, that Alex and Zach had in common. Edgecombe, Zach’s estate in Hertfordshire, was less than thirty miles from Foxbourne and Zach regularly helped Alex with some of the challenging animals he was sent to ‘cure’.

‘I know it won’t be easy.’ He would need patience with Jane, but he suspected she would need even more with him. ‘But I’m determined to be the good husband she deserves. We’ve always been friends. It is a good place to start.’

‘Indeed it is.’

Alex noticed his father casting occasional pensive glances at him and Zach as they talked and his stomach clenched, aware Father wanted nothing more than to be as close to Alex as he was to Dominic. He turned away, allowing that same unhappy, unsettling mix of resentment and regret to subside. Why did he always feel that way? The rest of the family loved his father unequivocally and Alex—when he viewed him objectively—saw he was a good man. A good husband. A good father. A good employer. But no matter how he tried to overcome his unreasonable distrust with logic, his emotions always won.

He scanned the room for Jane. She sat with Aunt Thea, their heads together, chatting animatedly—well, Aunt Thea was always a veritable bundle of energy—and he wondered, for the first time, if his new wife might help him to change. Could he change? Was it possible? Could he, as he longed to do, learn to love his father unconditionally?

That thought unsettled him even more. Maybe he could, in time. But not yet. Now, all he wanted was to leave the Abbey and to return to Foxbourne, where it was safe. He no longer questioned that feeling of insecurity that assailed him at the Abbey. It simply was. It was how he had always felt.

‘We are leaving tomorrow,’ he said now to Zach.

Zach raised one dark brow. ‘That is a pity when you have just arrived. The rest of us plan to remain a little longer—the children do so love to spend time with their cousins.’

‘We’ll all be sorry to see you go, Son.’ Alex stiffened as his father interrupted them. ‘But I guessed you would be keen to take Jane to Foxbourne as soon as possible. I’ve ordered your carriage for nine in the morning, but if you prefer to leave earlier, or later, just send word to the stables.’

‘Thank you, Father.’

His father tipped his head to one side and smiled. ‘Don’t leave it so long to visit us next time.’ He reached out and grasped Alex’s upper arm. ‘We miss you. I miss you.’

Alex swallowed, his throat constricted by a painful lump. ‘I won’t.’

But he knew he would.

He threw a smile at his father and Zach and moved away to join Jane and Aunt Thea on the sofa, wondering again if marriage and, in time, fatherhood might help him relax more around his father. He truly hoped so.

‘I’ve been telling Jane about the children, Alex,’ Aunt Thea said.

This was the first time Alex had met baby George, the youngest of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Thea’s children. Thomas, with a mop of red curls like his mother’s and busy creating havoc wherever he could, and Sophie, a little chestnut-haired poppet, had both grown since he’d last seen them and Alex felt a pang of remorse at missing so much of their childhood. At times like this, he could almost forget those feelings that kept him away. Kept him distant and alone. But then they would rear up, nipping and clawing at the edges of his memories, and he would retreat again, behind his barricades, to safety.

‘They’re all having such fun here together,’ Aunt Thea continued, ‘that Rosalind has invited us all to come again at Christmastide. I do hope you and Jane will come—we shall be here from a week before Christmas right up to Twelfth Night.’ She looked at Alex hopefully. ‘It would be lovely for the entire family to be together.’

‘Oh, what a wonderful idea,’ said Jane, before Alex could reply. ‘I remember coming here at Christmas. How I loved all the old traditions—the Yule log, the Christmas Candle, decorating the house with greenery on Christmas Eve. Do you remember, Alex?’ Her eyes turned wistful. ‘The fun, the laughter, the games—so different to Christmas at Stowford Place. Stepmama never countenanced those old traditions. To her, Christmas is a religious observance and all about charity for the poor. We never even exchange family gifts, whether on St Nicholas’s Day or on Christmas Day as your family did.’

‘I remember. I’m sure we’ll be able to come.’ He said the words, but didn’t mean them. Christmas was far too soon—he doubted he would be ready by then to stomach all that enforced gaiety.

Jane smiled happily at Alex. ‘I shall look forward to it, especially as we won’t be spending much time with you all now—assuming you still wish to leave tomorrow, Alex?’

‘I do.’ He averted his gaze, guilt at misleading her making him brusque, but there were months to go yet. Time enough to prepare her for disappointment. ‘Father has ordered the carriage for nine so, if you’ll excuse us, Aunt, I think it’s time we retired.’

It was their wedding night. The perfect excuse to go to bed early…no one would question them doing so, especially with an early start in the morning. He stood, helping Jane to rise. Her hand trembled in his as they said their goodnights. If the circumstances had been different and if Alex had been his brother, or his uncle, there would have been a few pointed, if not ribald, comments made. There were none. It was as though they’d been married for years: no teasing; no winks; no nudges.

He told himself he didn’t care. He was used to being the outsider. He read the concern on every face in that room. Well, they needn’t worry about him—he was determined he and Jane would be happy together. It wasn’t until they were walking side by side up the stairs that it occurred to him the concern was for his bride. He squared his shoulders and hardened his heart. What did he care? He would be the very best husband he could possibly be to Jane. Surely her life with him couldn’t be any worse than life with that old witch of a stepmother?