Confessions Of A Dangerous Lord by Elisa Braden

Author:Elisa Braden
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Elisa Braden
Published: 2017-06-19T18:30:00+00:00

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Wedded bliss? Rubbish. We are all adrift on a sea of alternating misery and contentment, Eugenia. Marriage merely promises that we neither float nor drown alone.” —The Dowager Marchioness of Wallingham to Lady Eugenia Huxley upon said girl’s assertion that ivy should be incorporated into all bridal wreathes to ensure a happy marriage.

Steam chose a curling path upward from the copper tub. Tendrils of sensation took a similar route up Maureen’s spine as she brushed her hair and eyed Henry’s massive bed in the dressing table mirror.

“Hmmph,” grunted Regina, laying out towels and soap on a small table. “T’would appear Mr. Kimble manages his footmen better than he manages his duties at the front door. Never seen a bath delivered so quickly.”

A smile tugged at Maureen’s lips. “Does this mean you won’t mind being a member of the staff here at Dunston House?”

Busying herself lining up the pitchers of fresh water so that the handles all faced the same direction, Regina huffed again. “My loyalty remains with you, regardless of your new residence or new title, Lady Dunston.”

Hearing Regina refer to her in such a way was a startling jolt. Lady Dunston. She was Henry’s wife. It hardly seemed possible, let alone real.

Only two days ago, she had stood in Hyde Park, gazing up at the vexatious man she loved and agreeing to marry him. This morning, they had spoken vows in the light-filled, bowed drawing room of Dunston House. At Henry’s behest, she had worn the same canary gown she’d worn to the Holstoke ball, and Genie and Kate had woven her a crown of rosebuds, daisies, and orange blossoms for her hair. Henry had worn his best midnight-superfine tailcoat, black trousers, and a sky-blue waistcoat with silver embroidery. His sapphire cravat pin had glimmered from within the snowy folds of his cravat, but it paled in comparison with his eyes. By turns, they had sparkled with shared humor and glowed with adoration. From time to time, she thought she’d glimpsed something darker—possession, perhaps, or hard ferocity. But no sooner would she peer deeper than the light would shift, and the strange glint disappeared.

Henry had surprised her with the special license, of course, and with his insistence on marrying her as swiftly as possible. She’d felt a similar urgency, so had not demurred, but her mother had been apoplectic. It had taken the combined forces of Maureen, Jane, Genie, Kate, John, and Papa to calm Mama’s nerves.

In the end, surprisingly enough, it had been Lady Wallingham who had persuaded her that all would be well. “Oh, do calm yourself, Meredith,” the dowager had barked. “She is marrying Dunston whether you attend with a smile or lie prone and alone with only your wretched cat and your smelling salts for company. I recommend the former.”

Maureen grinned now, recalling the dumbstruck expression upon Mama’s face. She’d occasionally doubted Lady Wallingham’s power, but no longer. Clearly, the dragon was capable of magic.

Mama had dutifully attended the ceremony, sniffling softly beside Papa, John, Kate, and Genie.

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