“May she do it well,” he replied, then sobered. “Honestly, congratulations. August is right, you don’t always get to marry who you want.” His gaze darted toward Rosalind, then away. “But you can make the most of things as they are. Lady Townsend seems very fine today, without a hint of dirt about her wedding gown’s hem. Do keep in touch with us and let us know how your situation is going in a week or two.”
He nodded to his friends, then smiled at his mother as she came to take his hands.
“My darling,” she said, “you must go to your bride. It’s not good to spend the entire reception apart from each other.”
“Didn’t you and father—”
“Don’t bring up our wedding, not today of all days.” She grimaced, then took his arm. “Jane is going to love you once she knows you as we do, darling. Your father and I are so proud of you today, we truly are. We’re pleased to see you married so well.”
She meant they were pleased he’d seen this through.
“Give your bride as much love as you can,” she continued, tears shining in her eyes. “Never let her question that you care for her.”
“Of course, mama. Everything will be fine.”
He patted her hand, took leave of his friends, and made his way across the ballroom to Jane’s side. She stood with a group of Mayhew cousins, none of whom he knew. She greeted him with a smile, a pure, welcoming smile that sparked conflicting emotions within him. Guilt, possessiveness, pride. Confusion that she would like him so much when they barely knew one another. Never let her question that you care for her, his mother had said.
“How lovely it is that we’re finally married,” he whispered in her ear, so no one else could hear it. He would care for her, of course. He’d be a cad otherwise.
Love? That might take a while longer, if it happened between them at all.
*
Jane sat up straighter on the carriage seat, looking out the window to watch her new husband riding alongside. He certainly had a handsome stallion, large and dark like him.
Goodness, Townsend was large, wasn’t he? She hadn’t noticed until he was close to her, very close to her, how much he towered over her. At the wedding, when she placed her hand in his, it was almost comical how much larger his was. It was the difference between a dove’s claw and an eagle’s talons, as she stood there in her pale dove-gray gown, and he in black wool and cream like a bird of prey.
For some reason, she feared he would ride ahead and leave them behind. Leave her behind. He’d been a little too pleased there was no room for him in the carriage, after the last of her things had been loaded into the traveling compartment.
Well, he was still there. He hadn’t flown off yet. No, for they were to spend tonight together at an inn, and then arrive at Somerton tomorrow. Would she have her own room at the inn? She wasn’t sure and had been afraid to ask. Either tonight or tomorrow night would be their wedding night when he’d come to bed with her. She’d insisted to her mother and sister that she needed no education on that account, that she knew all there was to know of mating from her animal studies. Her mother had said, “Jane, really!” Her sister had smiled and laughed and said she would certainly be fine if she left the hard work to her husband.
The hard work?
It was possible she didn’t know as much as she thought, but Jane prided herself on her practicality. Whatever she did not know, she would learn, either tonight or tomorrow night. She would be the best, most blameless wife to Lord Townsend, the sort of wife he would be proud to accompany in a carriage, when said carriage was not full to bursting with wedding gifts, last minute personal items, and two wild animals in traveling crates.
Bouncer, her bunny, was a comfortable traveler. All he needed was a cozy box, some fluffy bedding, and a full stomach to fall asleep in the bump and sway of the journey. Mr. Cuddles, her four-foot-long albino python regius, was not used to such close quarters, even though his box was bigger than Bouncer’s. She had rescued the exotic python from a filthy barrel at the Exeter Zoo Exhibition, the poor reptile half-mad and stunted by starvation by the time a sympathetic keeper warned her of his imminent demise.
Over the past year she had nursed him back to health, soothing his mind with gentle caresses and fattening him up with fresh-caught mice from the kitchens. She hoped Somerton’s cats were as talented as the prolific mousers at her parents’ estate.
Now and again she peeked in on Mr. Cuddles to be sure the journey wasn’t upsetting him too much. A couple of pats on the head, a soothing rub along his coiled body went a long way to helping him relax. “Soon you will be warm and safe in your new enclosure,” she said. “I’ve told them to put in nice, deep soil and branches, and a big water bowl just as you like.”
She could not have sent her pets ahead with her lady’s maid, although it would have been easier. Only she knew how to care for them properly, after much study and consultation with books. Hers was a small menagerie, but well-loved. Without her care, Mr. Cuddles would have died in his miserable zoo, and Bouncer would have been long snatched up by predators due to his malformed back foot.
Jane wondered if there were any animals in need of rescue at Somerton. Townsend said it was a wooded, wild place, and she looked forward to exploring the grounds once they arrived, if Lord Townsend would let her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back upon the high seat. His carriage was a lovely conveyance, soft and plush, well cushioned for the bumps along the road. She held Mr. Cuddles’ box upon her lap and set one hand near the ventilation holes at the side, because snakes smelled by flicking their tongues out, and her scent might bring her pet some comfort.
She had not told her husband yet that she owned an albino python—or a lame bunny, for that matter. He’d invited her to bring her pets to their marriage, and promised them a warm, dry corner in Somerton’s stables. She had decided not to explain the sort of pets they were, for fear he’d rescind his permission. Nor did she challenge his requirement to keep them outside the house. Eventually, he’d come to love them as much as she did and perhaps allow them to stay in closer quarters. Until then, she’d make sure to visit them in the stables a few times each day.
Yes, she was just at the beginning of a grand adventure. She drowsed through some of the journey, having daydreams about a lovely, romantic married life. In the spring, how proud she would be to attend balls and entertainments on Lord Townsend’s arm. All the unkind ladies and crotchety old widows who’d gossiped about her broken betrothal would have to take their words back. She was not unmarriageable after all and would not be a spinster. The engraved gold ring upon her finger made her a marchioness, the new wife of a prominent aristocrat…
“But I will still make time for you,” she told her pets.
The tedious journey had her talking to herself, more or less, for the animals couldn’t answer. If Lord Townsend had found a way to crowd into the compartment with her, what would they have talked about? What would they talk about tonight during dinner?
Would he come to bed with her at the inn? Would they talk then, or move straight to the mating?
She must remember that it was not called mating in polite society, among people. It was not called anything, or talked about, but her mother had alluded to “the bedding.” Jane had also read an illicit passage in a romance novel once, about lovemaking. Making love sounded beautiful, even if the passage had been too flowery to impart any real information.