The Marquess Tames His Bride

She grew a little indignant at his dismissal of what appeared, to her, to be a perfectly charming little place. ‘So, why have you brought me here? Oh.’ She flinched as one reason struck her very forcibly. She wasn’t up to snuff. She wasn’t fit to be seen upon his arm anywhere like Almack’s, for example.

Although…no, that couldn’t be right. He’d wanted her to step straight into London society and ignore whatever anyone might say or think about her. He’d only relented because she’d asked him—no, thrown a tantrum at the prospect of mingling with titled people.

Was this his idea of the kind of place where she’d be content? Mingling with the merchant classes? Or, at least, the kind of people who relied on the merchant classes in the high season?

He glanced down at her.

‘I don’t know what you are thinking, but to judge from the various expressions flitting across your face, you have not as yet correctly deduced why we are here, precisely.’

‘Well, no, I can’t say that I have. Though it is a very lovely town,’ she said, waving with her free arm at the street along which they were strolling and the bow windows of the various shops they were passing. ‘It appears to have more, and better, shops than Watling Minor.’

‘That is hardly difficult,’ he said scathingly.

‘No, but even if the harbour is a bit pungent, I am sure I shall enjoy sitting and watching the comings and goings from my window. I noticed someone had set a chair there. I expect other visitors have done the same as I plan to do.’

‘Yes,’ he said shortly. ‘The fact is…’ he said and then took a breath. His hesitation was so uncharacteristic that she darted a look at his face and caught what appeared to be a troubled frown on his brow. ‘The reason I picked this particular fishing village, out of all the others I might have taken you to, is that,’ he said, pausing to clench his jaw, ‘it is so very close to Lesser Peeving.’

‘What?’ Lesser Peeving? The village where Clement now lived? The place her brother had described as the back of beyond?

‘Yes,’ he continued in a lazy drawl. ‘I thought you would be pleased. I have already made arrangements for us to visit your brother, in a day or so.’

‘But, but, you…you…’ He disliked Clement. And the feeling was mutual. ‘Why?’

He gave a shrug with one shoulder, as though the animosity which had festered between the two men for so many years was of no account.

‘He is the only one of your brothers who actually did anything for you, when you were left in such a vulnerable position, after your father’s demise. For that reason, do you not think that I ought to make an attempt to…ah…go and thank him? On your behalf? And explain why it is that you have not, in fact, taken up the post he arranged for you? I am sure that there were questions arising from your apparent disappearance.’

‘Oh, I thought of that and wrote to explain what had happened straight away, so that he wouldn’t worry.’

‘You did?’ He went very still. ‘When, precisely?’

‘Oh, as soon as Lady Harriet could spare me and I could get my hands on some paper.’

‘Has he replied to that missive?’

‘Well, no, but then none of my brothers is very good at replying to any of the letters I write to them. They are all very busy men.’ She paused, as a vision of her husband wading through his immense pile of correspondence flashed into her mind, along with the certainty that none of her brothers ever had to deal with a fraction of the amount of work he did. ‘And besides, he may very well be…’ She trailed off, biting her lip. Knowing Clement, he would be mad as fire with her for getting into such a serious scrape she had ended up having to get married. And, what was worse, to a man he heartily detested.

‘You expect him to be displeased with you.’

She nodded.

‘Then it is as well I have taken steps to…mend fences with him, is it not?’

‘You…you have truly come all the way down here, just so that we can…’ Her vision blurred as emotion moistened her eyes. ‘You have deliberately exposed yourself to…the kind of attention you particularly dislike, from people you consider vulgar, for…for my sake?’ She recalled the way he’d wrinkled his nose before pressing the handkerchief to it, the disdain in his eyes as she’d rhapsodised about the shops, the assembly rooms, the chances of hearing a concert. ‘Oh, R-Rawcliffe, that is, truly, the most…’ And then words failed her. This proud, proud man had taken the first step to restoring links to her brothers which had looked precariously as though they might have been sundered completely, given the way they felt about him. A huge rush of emotion flattened her inhibitions. She couldn’t help flinging her arms about him and giving him a hug.