There followed prayers and a sermon and psalms and communion and the signing of the register, and she went through them all in a daze, making all the right responses but all the time one thought ringing in her brain:I am married. I am Lord Ashendon’s wife.
***
The wedding breakfast was, Emm supposed, a rousing success as far as Miss Mallard was concerned. As well as Lord Ashendon’s family and a few friends, mostly of his aunt, Emm had a bare handful of her own friends attending, and some acquaintances from church.
The rest had been invited by Miss Mallard, apparently with a view to highlighting what she’d come to regard as her own personal triumph.“...three duchesses, two marchionesses, five countesses, six viscountesses.... and now our beloved Miss Westwood has become the Countess of Ashendon!”If Emm heard her say it once, she heard it a dozen times. And guess who was the partridge in the pear tree?
Emm talked to everyone, acting much as if this were one of the usual school events involving prospective parents. Lord Ashendon introduced her to his best man, Mr. Galbraith, and a couple of distant cousins who had traveled from adjacent counties to attend the wedding.
Her bridal attendants, Rose and Lily and Georgiana, who’d muttered that she only answered to George, looked fresh and young and lovely in varying shades of pink to palest lilac—the first time in forever, Rose told her, that they’d been allowed to wear colors.
Lady Dorothea, dressed in deep purple, was busy explaining to everyone that it was her late nephew’s desire, expressed in the Strongest Possible Terms in his will, that nobody should wear mourning for him. And that Ashendon, as the Head of the Family, had made it An Order.
“You’ll meet most of my relations when we go to London,” Lord Ashendon murmured in her ear, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. She jumped.
“And when shall that be?” Emm asked, realizing she had no idea where she was going next—not even where she would spend the night tonight. Her wedding night.
She was wholly in her husband’s control now.
“Soon,” he told her. “I need to attend to a few matters at Ashendon Court, my principal estate, first.”
“And where is Ashendon Court, my lord?”
He said, as if he expected her to know, “In Oxfordshire.” And when she continued to regard him with a faintly quizzical air, he added, “Not far from Stanford-in-the-Vale. You’ll see it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, it will be too dark to see anything by the time we arrive tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.” He glanced at a clock on the overmantel. “We leave in half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” she echoed, feeling somewhat like a parrot. “But I haven’t...”
“Haven’t what? Packed?” His brows drew together. “Surely you anticipated a bridal trip.”
“I did, of course,” she told him. “Foolish of me, no doubt, but I assumed I would be consulted on the matter. And at least asked whether I would wish to undertake a long journey by carriage on my wedding day.” She gave him a cool smile and went to begin saying her good-byes, a little knot of irritation stiffening her spine.
She supposed an earl would be naturally autocratic, especially one who’d been an officer for most of his adult life. But she didn’t have to like being ordered about like one of his soldiers.
She’d assumed he would have engaged a suite at York House or one of the other premier hotels in Bath. Or that they would spend a few days at some grand home belonging to one of his friends or relations. It had even occurred to her that they might sleep the night at Lady Dorothea’s—though that was not ideal.
She would rather have as much privacy as possible for her wedding night.
Because that was a hurdle yet to come.
***
The carriage pulled away to a chorus of good-byes and well-wishes, some of them surprisingly tearful. Emm waved through the carriage window until the school wasout of sight. Battling with unexpected emotion herself, she sat back against the well-padded leather seats and found Lord Ashendon’s hard gray eyes observing her closely.
Without a word, he handed her a large white handkerchief.
She took it and wiped away the few tears that dampened her cheeks.
“You are sad to leave?”
She thought about it. “Not really, but I’ve lived there for most of my life—pupil and teacher, and... I have friends there.”
