out a handkerchief to wipe Lee’s dribbling nose. “Or everyone will think this is your way of objecting to the marriage.”
As the vicar and their witnesses chuckled at the quip, Lee tried to avoid his uncle’s handkerchief by turning his face toward his aunt. Mr. Northmore refused to give up, slipping his hand between the child’s wet face and the bust of Artemis’s gown. While he made a thorough job of mopping Lee’s nose, the back of his hand brushed repeatedly against her bosom.
Artemis barely stifled a squeak of alarm. Or was it something else? Rather than shrinking from the casual friction of his touch, her nipples thrust out against her muslin bodice as if straining toward his hand, inviting the fevered chill he kindled in her flesh. By the time he drew back, Artemis was left shaken and breathless.
Fortunately no one else seemed to notice, Mr. Northmore least of all.
“That did the trick.” He nodded toward Lee, quietly sucking on his thumb. “Now that we can hear ourselves again, what comes next, Vicar? Are we finished yet?”
“Only a little more.” The vicar said a brief prayer, then pronounced them man and wife. “Once we have all signed the parish register, you are free to be on your way.”
Hard as she tried, Artemis could not keep her hand from trembling when she signed her name. The enormity of what she had just done threatened to overwhelm her. She desperately needed a few minutes to marshal her composure before she was forced to share close quarters in the post chaise with her new husband.
Mr. Northmore did not appear inclined to linger after he had given the vicar and their witnesses each a generous present of money.
“You go ahead.” Artemis searched for a plausible delay. “Lee and I will be along in a moment. There is something I would like to say to Miss Curtis.”
At the moment she had no idea what, but surely she would think of something.
“As you wish.” Mr. Northmore gave a brusque nod. “I’ll go tell the post boy to make ready for our journey.”
Journey? The word made Artemis even more uneasy. Where were they to go? She’d assumed they would stay at the local inn for tonight, at least, while discussing their plans for the future. Evidently, her new husband felt no need to consult her before making such decisions.
Had she made a grave mistake by placing her future, and Lee’s, into Hadrian Northmore’s powerful hands?
What sort of woman had he let into his life? Hadrian wondered as he strode out of St. Botolph’s. All his instincts assured him his bride had not really wanted to speak with Miss Curtis. How could he have wed a woman who would lie about something so trivial? Even if their marriage was only a convenient arrangement, he should not have rushed into it so blindly.
As he stalked through the churchyard trying to calm his doubts, a pretty young lady with red-gold hair came flying toward him.
“I’m too late, aren’t I?” She stopped in front of Hadrian, gasping for breath. “I’ve missed the wedding?”
“It just got over, I’m afraid. Are you a friend of the bride?”
“You might say that.” The girl fanned her flushed face with her hand. “Her sister was my best friend in the world. When I heard from the servants that she was to be married today, I felt I must come. Are you Mr. Northmore?”
“I am.” Hadrian gave a stiff, wary bow. “And you are…?”
“Susannah Penrose.” She curtsied. “Lady Kingsfold’s sister. I am sorry we did not get an opportunity to meet the other day when you called at Hawkesbourne.”
“Of course. I see the resemblance now.” Had the Dearing sisters looked alike, too? Hadrian found himself suddenly curious about the girl who had been his brother’s downfall. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, Miss Penrose. If I’d known you wished to attend the ceremony, I would have asked the vicar to wait.”
“That was not my only reason for coming here this morning.” Miss Penrose hesitated, as if gathering her courage. “I know you are angry with Ford over what happened to your brother, but please do not blame him! He tried to talk sense to the Dearings, but they refused to listen. That was the day Mama died and Ford had to go all the way to Brighton to fetch Binny and Sidney home. Then—”
“Talk sense to the Dearings about what?” Hadrian demanded as soon as he could squeeze a word in.
“About allowing your brother to court Daphne. Laura told me what happened. Lord Henry was furious with them for interfering and said some beastly rude things.”
Her words rocked Hadrian. “Are you saying my brother wanted to court Lady Daphne…to marry her?”
He’d assumed the marquis had called Julian out for refusing to marry the lass after he’d bedded her. Even if that had been the case, Hadrian still considered death far too harsh a penalty. But if Julian had been killed simply because he’d aspired to a lady above his station…
Susannah Penrose bit her full lower lip. “I cannot say for certain if he meant to marry her. I do know he admired her a great deal and she was madly in love with him. When we first met your brother, I was quite envious of his interest in Daphne. It is my fault her sister found out she’d gone to meet him in secret. I never meant any harm, I swear! If she’d only confided in me, I would have kept her secret to my grave.”
The young lady’s pretty features crumpled, making her look like a tearful child. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began to wipe her eyes.
“Do not blame yourself, Miss Penrose.” Hadrian struggled to relax his stiff scowl. “It is clear where the responsibility for my brother’s death lies. I wish Julian had set his sights on you rather than your friend.”
Would Julian have known that? A spasm of guilt gripped Hadrian as he recalled the advice he’d asked Ford to convey to his brother, about the sort of wife he should seek. One with good breeding and useful connections who can help the lad continue his rise in the world.
Had Julian pursued Lady Daphne in a misguided effort to please him?
“Forgive me.” Miss Penrose contorted her lips into a feeble smile. “I did not mean to stir up painful memories. I only wanted to say a few words in Ford’s defense and beg you to make up your quarrel with him.”
Hadrian hated to disappoint the girl, but he was still not convinced Ford had done all he might to avert this tragedy.
Miss Penrose clearly sensed his reluctance. “Surely you can forgive Ford if you could forgive Lady Artemis enough to marry her.”
“Our marriage has nothing to do with forgiveness.” Especially now that he had a clearer understanding of what had happened. “It is only for the sake of the child.”
“I was certain it must be.” Susannah Penrose stuffed her damp handkerchief back in her reticule. “It is very good of you to rescue the poor babe from that cold, crumbling old mansion. It grieved me to think of him growing up in such a place. Daphne hated it. She used to say genteel poverty was the worst kind. It must have been a wrench for Lady Artemis to leave, though. She was devoted to the horrid old place.”
“Genteel poverty?” Hadrian gave a harsh, mirthless chuckle. “What is that—having only five carriages instead of ten?”
“There may be a dozen carriages at Bramberley,” Miss Penrose replied, “but that hardly signifies if they are too old to be of use and there is only a single pair of horses to pull them. Ask Ford if you do not believe me. He says all the Dearings’ income goes to keep up appearances and prevent Bramberley from falling into total ruin. Lady Artemis and the child will be far better off with you.”
As the girl’s words sank in, a fever of rage swept through Hadrian. No wonder Artemis Dearing had been willing to wed him in spite of her obvious aversion. The wretched manipulator, pretending their marriage was for her nephew’s sake when she had