Surrender to Love

Face flushed with anger, the Dowager Marchioness made as if to rise from her chair, only to find herself pushed back into it with so much force that she gasped with fear and outrage. “You have forgotten yourself completely now! How dare you treat me in such a fashion? Leave now, Gavin, before I ring for my servants to remove you.”

“My dear mother!” Instead of obeying her or looking chastened he threw back his head and laughed, and she suddenly noticed that he was playing with the silvertopped cane he had brought in with him. And then the laughter was wiped from his voice and his face as he leaned over her and said distinctly: “This is not your house, and the servants who staff it are not your servants. Do you understand? I am the Marquess of Newbury and I own this place and everything else I pay for from my income. You are dependent on what I choose to allow you— and what you may do or not do is also dependent upon my permission, since I am the head of this family. It is high time you realized it, I think! Why, Madame Mother, in less than a half hour I could pay five doctors enough money to put you away and out of my sight forever; and under conditions you’d hardly enjoy. And...” As he twisted one end of the cane the silver knob came off, and he shook free five leather thongs that were knotted along their length and held them over her face while he said: “Do you see my little toy? It would give me pleasure to use it on you while I think of all your vicious meddling and the havoc it has caused in so many lives. Who would know? Who would care? You are not loved, Belle-Mere. You were feared once, perhaps, but no longer, no longer! No more intriguing—I’m seeing to it that in future you’ll have to beg me for every penny I allow you, if I choose to. The spies you employ are to be paid off immediately, and it is you who will be watched and guarded from now on. Think on it, and remember that at any time I please I can turn this pleasant life of luxury you lead into an unpleasant nightmare! For I happen to be spawned by you and am what you turned me and twisted me into! Be warned, therefore, and do nothing to thwart or annoy me!” For long after her son had left her the Marchioness sat in her chair trembling as if she had the ague and was ashamed to ring for her maid because of it. And for the first time in her life she felt helpless and afraid and wholly at the mercy of another person. Why did it have to happen? Why to her? “The Queen is dead!” she suddenly remembered that strong voice saying. “Long live the Queen!” And so power passed, and now it was the young Queen who had it. But for how long? And how and to what end would she use it?

Chapter 49

Most of the fashionable town houses in London had been closed up when the season ended, but almost as many had been reopened again during the last week in October for the Wedding. After all, it was the most intriguing and unexpected event of the year, and there were so many questions that no one seemed to know the answers to.

“Adelina is actually sponsoring her, my dear; and they say that Newbury of all people is to give her away. I wonder how it all came about so suddenly? And what happened to poor Deering?”

“What I wonder is where Embry has been hiding himself all this time—and if this sudden change of heart has anything to do with the fact that Helen jilted him.”

“But didn’t you hear the whispers that were going the rounds just before we left London? Something to do with Embry abducting her for a reckless, stolen night, while all the time they were both engaged to other people.”

“I fear you have a far too romantic turn of mind, love. Reckless, stolen night indeed! You’re too young to know about such things, even if they did happen. I’m going to this wedding out of pure curiosity; because I don’t know why or how it came about and I’d like to.”

* * *

“I never wanted this kind of a wedding. How did it all come about? They’re all coming because they’re curious, that’s all. And my grandmother has been like a crocodile, all smiles. I do not trust her like that. I am no longer sure of anything, not even myself. Ah, it was so easy to be bold that night when I was desperate and it was the only course left to me. I knew what I wanted then and I was determined to have it too, and that helped. But now... Do you understand what I am saying? Now I feel as if everything is being decided for me and I’m helpless. And vulnerable too, because I have thrown all my javelins and have no more weapons left to lose. Lose! Did you hear what I said? ‘Lose’ instead of ‘use.’ Does that mean...why am I suddenly so nervous and afraid? I wish I had been more firm about not wearing a wedding gown and about not being married in a church. I wish that this ivory lace and satin was not so close to white as to almost be a travesty. I wish...”

“Well, my dear,” Lady Margery said mildly as Alexa took her third or fourth turn about the room with her voluminous skirts held up almost as high as her knees, “I must only hope for your sake then that you are not like some people, who do not want what they have wished for once they are sure of getting it, and that you are marrying this time for love and for no other reason.”

There were some things she could not bear to speak about even with as dear and as close a friend as Margery had become. How could she say: “I am afraid of love because I’ve seen and felt how it, or even the lack of it, can hurt. What good will it do me to admit I’m marrying for love if the man I’m marrying does not love me?” Alexa had always suffered from an excess of pride; and so she managed a smile and a noncommittal apology for her silly attack of nerves and appeared quite calm by the time Bridget came up to tell her that the carriages were ready and the Marquess of Newbury and his mother both awaited her downstairs.

“My love, you have nothing to worry about,” Lady Margery said reassuringly when she caught the suddenly unguarded expression on Alexa’s face. “You look perfectly lovely, and your bridal gown is the most exquisite creation in the world. Your...Newbury was quite right to insist that this must be a formal and very public wedding, you know. Edwin explained it all to me! They’ll all come to look and of course they’ll speculate, but that will be all, since you’ll have faced them down—all of you. And just think, within an hour or two you will have your rightful name to keep. You will be Lady Alexa Dameron, Viscountess Embry, and some day you will be the Marchioness of Newbury. I’m so glad everything turned out so perfectly this way, and you did not feel obliged to...well, that no innocent persons are being hurt. And it was almost too generous of you to make such a very large settlement on Lord Deering to pay his debts and keep him comfortably off just because you might have injured his feelings. Edwin didn’t approve of it, of course, but I reminded him that females are naturally more sensitive than men are, and that it is still your money after all. Oh, dear! I didn’t mean to keep you here listening to my chattering...!”

Everything taken care of—Alexa had an excuse to remain silent behin

d her Mechlin lace veil, which was embroidered with seed pearls to match her headdress. And time to think, before they had reached the church; although perhaps trying not to think would be not only preferable but wiser if she wished to retain her composure.

They were all silent. The Marquess and Alexa in one carriage, and the Dowager Marchioness and Lady Margery in another.

It was clever of her to choose Embry over Charles in the end, Adelina thought. The chit was quite clever after all. Power, she had said. But the old queen wasn’t dead yet and they needed her support. It had been her clever suggestion that Alexa should settle an income on Charles to keep him quiet as well as indebted. And at least the girl had brains enough to realize she needed advice as well as public backing in order to build up a facade of respectability. Power by proxy—why not? She could make her help and her guidance more and more necessary until in the end it would be her influence that would prevail. And sooner or later she would see to it that the incongruous friendship Alexa had formed with Lady Margery would dwindle off into a casual acquaintance.

The Dowager straightened her back and pretended to adjust the plumes on her elegant bonnet. Most important of all, she must try to make sure that Alexa never became weak enough to be influenced or ruled by her husband; and being a woman of decision, the Marchioness had already taken several steps in that direction without letting Newbury know anything about it. Oh no—he might have frightened her with his threats in the beginning, but she was far from finished yet!

“And here we are!” Lady Margery said with forced brightness, for she had never trusted nor cared for Adelina. “Goodness, it seems as if we’re back at the height of the season, doesn’t it? All the carriages!”

There was a larger crowd of hangers-on than usual waiting to see the bride, perhaps because it had turned out to be such a surprisingly clear and balmy day for late autumn. A ragged cheer went up when a splendid-looking equipage finally came to a smart halt; and again when the bride herself appeared. “Coo, ain’t she a beauty!” “Did you get to see her face, Jenny?” “Never saw such a pretty dress in all my life, I’m sure!”

Alexa heard the comments without knowing what she heard. Under her short white kid gloves her hands felt frozen. I’m afraid...I’m afraid...thoughts beating like live wings against the surface of her mind. What am I doing here? Why? He’s a stranger, and I’m a damned fool to give myself to him, to offer myself to him, in fact. Will he be here? How unreal...! I have not even seen him since that night...

That night still haunted her memory. Lamplight and candlelight and red glow of coals from a brazier one of the men had brought in for warmth. “You had best be married as soon as possible, in case...” “Only to the man I choose.” Had she chosen only because she continued to believe she had been chosen? Or because she was too prideful and too stubborn to admit defeat?

“You will find it easier to walk down the aisle holding my arm, I think,” the Marquess of Newbury reminded her drily, and puppetlike, Alexa obeyed his suggestion. The aisle stretched endlessly before her, and each step she took was punctuated by faces turning—a sea of faces on either side of her, parting like the Red Sea. A blur of candlelight waited ahead of her. There was even an organ playing loudly enough to drown out all the whispers that arose like leaves rustling in a sharp breeze; but not loud enough to drown the remembered half-tone of his voice saying huskily, “You can make a better choice than the dregs of me, sweet clever Alexa! I admire your sense of drama and timing exceedingly, of course, but not strongly enough for marriage—and its duties....” Duties? And yet he had sent her, some days later, a short and rather stilted letter containing a formal proposal of marriage and asking that his absence while he recovered from an illness be excused.

Had she been relieved or not? How did she feel now when there was no turning back? Afraid? No! This had been her choice and her decision and his also in the beginning, and...

Holding her head higher above the leaf-rustling, Alexa could see now that he was waiting for her, his thick, dark hair catching some of the candlelight. He had grown a mustache that made his dark face look harder and more like that of a stranger; and even when she came up close and was standing beside him, there was nothing to be read in his eyes, which merely seemed to watch her instead of feeling her in the way she remembered.

She must have made the correct responses, although afterwards Alexa could not recall having done so. At some point during the ceremony Nicholas took off her glove and put a ring on her finger, and she knew they had knelt side by side only because he took her hand again to help her rise. What brought her back to the consciousness of sharpedged reality was perhaps the perfunctory brush of his lips at the corner of her mouth before he lifted his head again and asked her politely if she was ready for the crowds once more; proffering his arm in the same formally polite manner. The organ sounds swelled again, and this time there were voices and words to acknowledge until her lips felt tired from smiling and her neck ached from nodding.

“I believe we are supposed to go from here into the vestry and sign our names in a book to make it all completely legal.” Nicholas had bent his dark head down to hers as if he meant to whisper some love words in her ear; and it was foolish of her to expect anything of the kind, because he, Alexa realized, must be just as tense as she was. It was the strangeness of everything, the newness, that made them both so awkward with each other.

“You will not do her any injury,” the Marquess stated softly at Nicholas’s side while they both stood and watched Alexa’s bent bronze head as she signed the register.

“If it would please you better I can give you my word that I won’t so much as lay a finger on your daughter my wife, sir.” The Viscount Embry’s twisted smile met Newbury’s cold eyes; and Adelina, catching that small piece of byplay between the two, stored what she had heard in her mind until she could consider how it might be used by her later.

“We...that is, Margery and Edwin Jarvis wanted to hold a small and very private reception for us afterwards, but since their house is so small I offered...Nicholas, you do not mind? I sent you a letter asking what you thought of the idea, but when I did not hear, I had to make some decision on my own.” Was it only her imagination or had he actually winced slightly when he gave her that indifferent shrug?