Mutual Consent by Gayle Buck

stranger to her. Moreover, he was a gentleman outside her ken, whose morals and manner of life were far removed from her own ideals. She decided that she could not sensibly expect even a marriage of convenience between them to be anything but unhappy for herself and a source of irritation for his lordship.
    After a particularly unpleasant interview with her father, who had indeed been enraged to learn that the wedding was to be that same week, she had realized with resignation and despair that her only true recourse was to go through with the sham of marriage. Lady Azaela had interrupted that same confrontation before its ending and had sharply recommended her brother-in-law to take a powder. She would deal with Babs, she said.
    Lady Azaela was wise enough to perceive much of the turmoil that stirred her niece’s unhappiness. She had taken it upon herself to deliver a short lecture. “I shall not point out the social advantages, Babs, for I know that weighs very little with you. However, you must consider that as the wife of a peer you will not be constrained to endure your father’s unwelcome meddling in your life.”
    “Yes, there is that,” Babs had agreed with a somewhat hollow laugh. It was as much Lady Azaela’s persuasions as her own good sense that had finally convinced Babs of the continued wisdom of her original decision to throw in her lot with the Earl of Chatworth.
    And so it was that she found herself elegantly coiffed and gowned in shimmering satin and fragile lace, standing beside a man utterly unknown to her with her fingers held captive in his firm clasp, while her body was shaken by uncontrollable shivers.
    As the marriage vows were exchanged, her responses sounded mechanical and strained in contrast to the earl’s firm voice.
    When her new husband lifted her veil, she was white-faced. As custom demanded, the earl bent to kiss her. Her lips were cold as ice, but if he noticed anything amiss in her lack of response, he did not acknowledge it publicly by either word or expression.
    Babs’ eyes lifted fleetingly to meet his. He gave her only a swift, penetrating glance from his remote hard eyes before he offered his elbow to her. She placed her hand on his velvet-clad arm. A wink of gold caught her eyes and she stared at the narrow gold band on her finger. Feeling herself under observation, she looked up quickly to meet the earl’s inscrutable gaze.
    “An odd feeling, is it not?” he said, too quietly for any but herself to hear. He did not seem to require an answer, and she was glad of it.
    They walked out of the church sanctuary and passed through the outer doors to the street. Amid the shouted well-wishers and pelting rice, the earl and Barbara hurried down the steps and immediately got into the crested carriage that awaited them at the curb.
    The earl had chosen to eschew a reception, again with Babs’ complete concurrence, and so there was nothing to hold them back from their departure. It was time to embark on their married venture. Barbara shivered slightly as she took her seat.
    The earl shut the carriage door firmly and without a glance for her settled himself on the seat. The well-sprung vehicle started with a jerk, to rattle over the cobbles with a dismaying sound of finality. The bridal couple, at last free of the eyes of the curious, were able to contemplate their fate.
    Babs knew the moment that the earl turned his eyes on her, but she pretended not to notice. She carefully smoothed her gloves over her wrists and even reached up to adjust her veil more smoothly over the brim of her bonnet in order to avoid his gaze. She knew that she was acting in a cowardly fashion, but she could not seem to help herself. It had been terrifying to contemplate marriage, but what she now felt made that emotion pale by comparison. She had finally and irrevocably taken the step that bound her to the gentleman seated beside her.
    As though he had read something of her tumbling thoughts, the earl said,