Lord Harrington nodded, knowing his friends' vagaries very well. None of them had truly expected Edwin's parents to leave their estate, not even to meet his new bride. If they'd had enough advance notice of the wedding, they would have come, but once the deed was done - and to a young woman that they knew quite well - they'd be content to wait for him to come home.
"Penelope and I will be in Bath for another week before we leave for Stonehaven. After that, we've been invited to come stay at the Manse."
"I'm sure Eleanor will be particularly glad of her Mother's company by then," Edwin murmured, careful to keep his voice low. They hadn't announced her condition yet, and they wouldn't until they were ready to leave Bath, but he knew that she was going to tell her mother sometime today or tomorrow. Dropping a discreet hint to her father wouldn't ruin that. "I hope you plan to stay for
a while."
The sharp-eyed Earl looked down at his daughter and then back up at Edwin and grinned, making him look years younger. "I'm sure that can be arranged. Penelope will probably insist."
"So will Eleanor." Truthfully, Edwin would be grateful to have Lord Harrington there as well. While his own father was a good man, he could also be rather absent-minded and unreliable. Lord Harrington was like a bulwark of paternal strength to lean on, whereas the Earl of Clarendon was just as likely to be buried in the library with his research as he was to be attending to his parental duties. It wasn't that he meant to be distracted, but Edwin was still glad that Lord Harrington would be there to help as well.
Sometimes he wondered if the reason they kept putting off announcing Eleanor's condition was because he found the reality utterly terrifying. He'd told his closest friends, of course, in the first rush of excitement, but with every day that went by he found himself less excited and more overwhelmed by the impending life that was growing in his wife's belly. To the best of his ability he would keep Eleanor safe and healthy, but the dangers of childbirth were unavoidable. Only so many factors were within his control.
Then once his son or daughter was born... would he be a good father? Would he be able to keep his sons from running wild? Instill in his heir the right amount of responsibility? Teach his other sons that they mattered, even though they weren't the heir? He certainly didn't want them to feel the way Wesley's younger brothers had felt under their father's iron fist. Then again, he didn't want to be like Wesley's father at all. What if it was a daughter? What would he do with a daughter?
A hand on his arm jerked him out of the spiral of thoughts that seemed to engulf him whenever he started to think about his future progeny. Lord Harrington's clear blue eyes were filled with fellow feeling and understanding. He clapped Edwin on the shoulder.
"You'll be just fine, son. Just fine."
Simple words really, and yet they brought Edwin a large measure of relief. After all, Lord Harrington was the man he looked up to the most when it came to fatherhood. If he believed in Edwin, then maybe Edwin could as well.
Chapter 12
Enough was enough. The inane social niceties were driving Wesley absolutely up the wall. Normally he eschewed conversing when he was out in Society, unless it was with a particular man or woman that he actually wished to speak with. Being trapped in a room filled with gawkers who wanted to congratulate, gossip about, or seduce him and his new wife made his skin crawl.
The disappointed women were the worst. Their underhanded, catty comments seemed to slide right off of Cynthia, but they were infuriating Wesley. Worse, there wasn't much he could do about them, other than remain glued to his bride's side and do his best to deflect. If they were men, he could call them out. Then again, if they were men, they'd be direct instead of backbiting.
"It's too bad the Countess didn't bring you to London," a beautiful young matron was saying to Cynthia. Wesley couldn't remember her name. She was beautiful, but obviously spiteful. The man she'd come in with, whom he assumed was her husband, was talking with a different buxom beauty across the room. "A little bit of town bronze is always helpful when it comes to marriage. So many poor young women from the country become married without truly understanding Society... it leads to so much disappointment on their part when their husbands don't behave as they expected once back in Society."
The flirtatious glance she gave him made it clear what she meant. The invitation in her eyes did not appeal to him at all. It just made him furious that she was implying to Cynthia - on her wedding day - that Wesley would not remain faithful and that she shouldn't expect him to. Even if he and Cynthia hadn't made their deal, he would have been furious. Cynthia was worthy of more than a husband who chased other women. Wesley was that worthier husband and he didn't like that the woman was implying he wouldn't be. Especially because he certainly didn't need his bride getting any bright ideas about the sincerity of his promise to her - the little minx would certainly retaliate and then Wesley would have to kill someone.
"Oh, the Countess was too afraid to bring me to London," Cynthia said brightly, stealing the woman's attention back to herself before Wesley could completely lose his temper and tell her exactly what he thought about her brazen blandishments. "I'm sure I would have created quite the scandal... I have the most awful manners. Especially when it comes to things I consider mine. Why, I tried to stab her son Matthew with a fork when he poached one of my potatoes at dinner." She giggled and batted her eyes, making Wesley practically choke. "Imagine if I'd done that at a dinner party to a Duke!"
His unapologetic hussy of a wife pressed against him, beaming at the other woman, but Wesley could see the hard look in her eyes, despite the silliness of her demeanor. The message had gotten across, making the young matron look a bit leery. After all, this country girl had not only understood exactly what she'd been saying, but had indicated a penchant for violence!
"Yes... that would have been quite unfortunate," she said, rallying, although she still eyed Cynthia warily. "Excuse me... I ah, see my friend needs me."
Wesley forced his face to a stern countenance, hiding his mirth, as the woman hurried away. He bent his head slightly, his arm wrapped around Cynthia's hips, giving the impression that he was saying sweet nothings in her ear. The image wouldn't hurt, and perhaps it would help keep more of the harpies away.
"That wasn't well done, baggage, what if she gossips? My mother will be horrified."
"I'd rather horrify your mother than have to deal with any more women like Lady Vetch," Cynthia said tartly, turning up her cute little nose. Wesley had the most insane urge to kiss it. Marriage was getting to his head. "If she tries to poach you, I will use something much sharper than a fork."
"It doesn't matter if she wants to poach me," he replied, trying not to think about how adorable her possessive jealousy was. "What matters is that I have no interest in anyone but you. She can want whatever she likes, it makes no difference to me."
"Well it does to me." Cynthia scowled at him. "I'm a Countess now. They'll respect me."
"Or you'll stab them with a fork?"
"Exactly."
The worst part was, he wasn't quite sure whether or not she was serious, and he was definitely sure that he didn't care. In fact, part of him was highly amused by the idea of a fork-wielding Cynthia, chasing away amorous would-be paramours.
Staring up at her new husband, Cynthia had to admit, she hadn't been expecting the twinkling amusement in his eyes. While he was wildly exciting when it came to amorous pursuits, and she was incredibly attracted to his dominating authority over her, she'd honestly thought that she'd set herself up for a wedding day spanking. Not that she wanted one, but she wouldn't have regretted it for a moment. Lady Vetch had been the most recent in a long line of women hinting to her that she shouldn't be upset if her new husband chose one of them as his lover. If the woman gossiped and it kept any more hussies from appearing on the scene, all the better.
Cynthia hadn't even been deflowered yet, she was certainly not sharing her husband. She would keep him busy enough in the bedroom. There were so many things she wanted to learn! He wasn't going to have time to attend to any other lady's desires.
Not that he'd seemed all that interested in any of the importuning women, but still. If Cynthia had to put up with his stuffed-shirt ways and wicked punishments, she was certainly going to reap the benefits of being married to him as well. She hadn't wanted another spanking over top the welts that decorated her bottom, but it had been worth the risk. Especially since he seemed more amused than anything else, which was a relief for her poor bum.