moment of panic and she almost told him she
had changed her mind.
But then he said, ‘Not everything. You will be free to
organise your own time in Yorkshire , I promise you. I will be busy with the estate, and it will be up
to you to do as much or as little as you wish. You don’t need to be
apprehensive about the coming months, Madeline. You have nothing to fear.’
Except the way I feel every time you touch me, thought
Madeline with a strange shiver.
But she kept that thought to herself.
Chapter Four
The
day of the wedding was cold and wet. The summer sunshine had given way to a
spell of unsettled weather. It matched Madeline’s unsettled feelings. She felt
relief at having escaped from her uncle on the one hand, but wary of the coming
six months on the other. Because despite Jenny’s arguments in his favour, and
despite the things she herself had seen, she still knew very little about the
Earl and she was determined to be on her guard.
As she walked down the aisle on Jason Fellows’ arm she
saw Philip waiting at the altar for her. He was looking imposing in a blue
tailcoat, pale blue waistcoat and cream breeches. His dark hair was brushed à
la Brutus, and his amber eyes were glowing brightly in the red and gold
light that fell through the stained glass windows.
There were few other people at the ceremony. Young Mr
Murgo was there at the front of the church, standing beside Philip, together
with a clergyman.
Sitting in the pews at the left-hand side of the church
were a well-dressed gentleman, an extremely elegant young lady and an elderly
woman of mousy appearance who was evidently her companion.
The young woman - young still, though she was a good
five or six years older than Madeline - was expensively dressed and had an air
of consequence about her, as though she knew her own place in the world, and as
though that place was an exalted one. Her hair was a rich chestnut colour, and
she was very beautiful. She gave an arch smile as Madeline walked past her, but
Madeline had no time to wonder who she might be as another few steps took her
to the altar, where Philip was waiting for her.
The ceremony began. It was a brief, formal affair. There
were no hymns or readings, just an agreement by Madeline and Philip to take
each other as husband and wife; a joining of hands; and a pronouncement by the
clergyman that they were man and wife.
And then it was over. For good or ill, Madeline was no
longer a spinster. She was Philip’s wife.
A brief picture of her mother flashed before her eyes,
but fortunately she had no time to think about her mother’s unhappy fate as the
elegant young woman immediately rose in a cloud of expensive scent and went
over to Philip, taking his arm with a proprietorial air. ‘Philip.’ She turned
her face up to his in the most charming manner. ‘I am so glad you are married,’
she purred.
‘Madeline, may I present Miss Bligh?’ asked Philip,
turning to Madeline.
Of course! That was who the elegant young woman was.
Miss Bligh, Philip’s intended bride.
She was undeniably beautiful, and extremely elegant. She
carried herself like a countess already, her tall, willowy figure showing off
her expensive and fashionable clothes to great advantage. Even so, Madeline
could not help being surprised at Philip’s choice. For all her beauty and
elegance, there was a hardness in Letitia’s eyes that spoke of a selfish
nature, and a curl of her mouth that suggested disdain. However, Philip’s
choice of a bride was not her concern, and so she reminded herself.
‘What a clever idea to hold the wedding here,’ said
Letitia, looking round the small church with a patronising air. ‘It would have
been dreadful to hold it in town, with a horde of people gawping at you. It is
so cosy here. So . . . obscure.’
She gave a smug smile, as though contrasting the small
church with the splendid church in which she herself intended to be married.
‘But Philip, do tell me when you are leaving
had changed her mind.
But then he said, ‘Not everything. You will be free to
organise your own time in Yorkshire , I promise you. I will be busy with the estate, and it will be up
to you to do as much or as little as you wish. You don’t need to be
apprehensive about the coming months, Madeline. You have nothing to fear.’
Except the way I feel every time you touch me, thought
Madeline with a strange shiver.
But she kept that thought to herself.
Chapter Four
The
day of the wedding was cold and wet. The summer sunshine had given way to a
spell of unsettled weather. It matched Madeline’s unsettled feelings. She felt
relief at having escaped from her uncle on the one hand, but wary of the coming
six months on the other. Because despite Jenny’s arguments in his favour, and
despite the things she herself had seen, she still knew very little about the
Earl and she was determined to be on her guard.
As she walked down the aisle on Jason Fellows’ arm she
saw Philip waiting at the altar for her. He was looking imposing in a blue
tailcoat, pale blue waistcoat and cream breeches. His dark hair was brushed à
la Brutus, and his amber eyes were glowing brightly in the red and gold
light that fell through the stained glass windows.
There were few other people at the ceremony. Young Mr
Murgo was there at the front of the church, standing beside Philip, together
with a clergyman.
Sitting in the pews at the left-hand side of the church
were a well-dressed gentleman, an extremely elegant young lady and an elderly
woman of mousy appearance who was evidently her companion.
The young woman - young still, though she was a good
five or six years older than Madeline - was expensively dressed and had an air
of consequence about her, as though she knew her own place in the world, and as
though that place was an exalted one. Her hair was a rich chestnut colour, and
she was very beautiful. She gave an arch smile as Madeline walked past her, but
Madeline had no time to wonder who she might be as another few steps took her
to the altar, where Philip was waiting for her.
The ceremony began. It was a brief, formal affair. There
were no hymns or readings, just an agreement by Madeline and Philip to take
each other as husband and wife; a joining of hands; and a pronouncement by the
clergyman that they were man and wife.
And then it was over. For good or ill, Madeline was no
longer a spinster. She was Philip’s wife.
A brief picture of her mother flashed before her eyes,
but fortunately she had no time to think about her mother’s unhappy fate as the
elegant young woman immediately rose in a cloud of expensive scent and went
over to Philip, taking his arm with a proprietorial air. ‘Philip.’ She turned
her face up to his in the most charming manner. ‘I am so glad you are married,’
she purred.
‘Madeline, may I present Miss Bligh?’ asked Philip,
turning to Madeline.
Of course! That was who the elegant young woman was.
Miss Bligh, Philip’s intended bride.
She was undeniably beautiful, and extremely elegant. She
carried herself like a countess already, her tall, willowy figure showing off
her expensive and fashionable clothes to great advantage. Even so, Madeline
could not help being surprised at Philip’s choice. For all her beauty and
elegance, there was a hardness in Letitia’s eyes that spoke of a selfish
nature, and a curl of her mouth that suggested disdain. However, Philip’s
choice of a bride was not her concern, and so she reminded herself.
‘What a clever idea to hold the wedding here,’ said
Letitia, looking round the small church with a patronising air. ‘It would have
been dreadful to hold it in town, with a horde of people gawping at you. It is
so cosy here. So . . . obscure.’
She gave a smug smile, as though contrasting the small
church with the splendid church in which she herself intended to be married.
‘But Philip, do tell me when you are leaving
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