Page 15 of A Lyon for Luck
“Indeed. We are quite eager,” Fletcher insisted. “We cannot wait another moment.”
The cleric looked to Daphne. “Are you wishing to proceed with such haste as well, Miss Acres?”
“Most assuredly yes,” she said. “I would that we could have been married yesterday, in truth.”
Fletcher bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. She hadn’t lied. She hadn’t offered an explanation for that fond hope of hers, but she had not lied. Whatever romantic notion the good reverend took from that was solely on his own interpretation.
“Well, do you have a ring?”
No. No, he didn’t. He’d planned to obtain one at Avelynd but they had not yet made it there. But before he could explain that, Daphne reached up and removed a simple chain from about her neck. On it was a narrow gold band. “It was my mother’s… my actual mother. Not my stepmother,” she said. “Though I’ve never made the distinction, really. My own mother died in childbirth and my father married my stepmother before I was a year old. I’ve never known anyone but her.”
“Then you’ve been doubly cheated, I’m afraid,” Fletcher mused. Nonetheless, he accepted the ring and presented it to the bishop. “Will this do?”
“Just so, my lord.”
The ceremony was painfully quick. In truth, it all seemed to pass in a blur. But at the end, the bishop pronounced them husband and wife. They signed the register and then it was simply done. They were wed. One hurdle had been crossed. Others yet remained. But for that, he wanted to be at Avelynd, to be at the place they would likely call home. And, if their luck continued to hold, a place where her father and Pozenby would have no inkling to look for them.
Chapter Eleven
Fletcher and Daphnehad traveled by the most expedient route from Nottingham proper to the smaller outlying community that was closest to Avelynd which was Radcliff on Trent. They’d been lucky enough to watch the sunset over the Radcliff lagoons, though the enjoyment had been much limited by the unrelenting cold. A few snowflakes had begun to fall, and the leaden sky had only promised more. By the time they walked the remaining distance to Avelynd, it was full dark, not even a sliver of moon above. Were it not for the pale ribbon of the road and the tall hedgerows on either side, they’d have been hopelessly lost. When the hedgerows broke, the dark and hulking shapes of large brick columns marking the entrance were barely visible.
As the house was entirely uninhabited at the moment, with only a groundskeeper on premises, there was no food to be found within. In light of that, they had procured some basics at the public house in Radcliff on Trent such as bread, cheese, and wine, along with a pair of wizened apples.
“I wish I could see the house,” she said softly. “I have never spent much time in the countryside. I’ve only ever been in London, really. Ididn’t know how truly black the night could be.”
“And on your last supposed elopement, you didn’t see any of the countryside then?”
She shook her head. “I saw nothing. Once I was dragged into the carriage, a hood was placed over my head and my hands were bound. The only reason I know we left the city at all was the lack of noise. London is never quiet.”
Daphne had taken several steps before she realized that he was no longer beside her. He’d simply stopped in his tracks, clearly taken aback by her matter-of-fact description of those past events. “You must have been terrified,” he finally said.
“I was very frightened. But I thought the viscount would surely come to my rescue. Little did I know that rumors and lies had been put about that my departure was a willing one. Then one day, my abductor walked in, removed the bonds from my hands, and instructed me to count to five hundred before removing my hood. Once I had done so, I realized I was alone. I had no notion of where I was. But I walked until I found a small parish church and a kindly vicar aided me.”
She had never spoken in any detail about those events. The only person she’d ever talked to about them at all was the Viscountess Lynley. But even then, much of it had been in only vague terms as they tried to determine if the same man was responsible for all of their misfortunes. Whatever had become of Phillip Dorchester, it was not punishment enough.
Now that she considered it, Daphne was forced to realize no one had really been concerned for her. Their only concerns had been for how what had happened to her might impact them. The weight of that realization, of just how few people actually had any care for her at all, might have been staggering, but for one thing. This man—her husband who was practically a stranger to her—was incensed on her behalf. Anger, worry, compassion. He’d shown her all of those thingswhen no one else in her life had.
The wind picked up in that moment, prompting her to shiver even as she attempted to shake off the almost morose nature of her thoughts. She was not dressed for the elements so far north and she was certainly not dressed to be out walking in the night when the air was so chilled. That spurred Fletcher into action. He stepped forward, removing his coat and placing it around her shoulders.
“Let’s get you inside. I have no servants, but I am more than capable of lighting a fire to keep you warm.”
Daphne only nodded. It wasn’t the fire that would keep her warm. She’d made a decision while they bounced around the interior of the coach that morning and again when they’d been huddled together for warmth on the barge across the river. Whatever happened with her father and Lord Cecil Pozenby, whether they were discovered or not, she meant to become Fletcher’s wife in every way.
It wasn’t only about her need to be certain others could not interfere. It had just as much to do with the drugging kisses they had shared and her certainty that he could make the experience one worthy of being remembered. And possibly an experience that would sustain her through what was to come should her father succeed in forcing her back to London. Even being more hopeful than she had been before, there was still the possibility they would be discovered.
As they reached the house, he opened the door and ushered her inside. Everything was shrouded in holland cloths, and it was clear that the house had suffered from some neglect. The details of it were hidden, but some things even the night could not conceal. Marble floors and a sweeping staircase in the center hall along with high ceilings and carved archways marked the house as something well worthy of restoration. But it was still beautiful, grand even in its air of neglect and abandonment.
“I apologize for the inhospitable surroundings,” he said, ushering her into a drawing room where he whipped the dustcover from asettee. “But the fireplaces are all in working order as I stopped here only a month ago. I’ll have a fire going soon and you can warm up before it while we have a bite to eat.”
“That all sounds lovely,” Daphne agreed as she seated herself. “Just being still for a moment sounds wonderful.”
“Sit. I’ll return momentarily.”
While he was gone, Daphne did her best to restore some semblance of order to her appearance. She’d braided her hair and repinned it that morning. Plucking the pins from it, she freed the plait and combed through it with her fingers. The heavenly sensation of the blood rushing to her scalp where the weight of her hair and the pins had dug in sharply prompted a sigh of relief from her.
A moment later, Fletcher returned carrying wood for the fire. He made short work of building a cheery blaze in the fireplace only to disappear again. When he returned that time, after a much longer absence, he carried a small basket in one hand that held their foodstuffs from the inn. In his other hand, he carried a large ewer of water which he placed near the fire to warm. Draped over his arm was a dressing gown. “It’s hardly a luxurious bath, but I know you will be glad to wash away the dust of the road. The dressing gown is my own and will likely be far too large for you, but it’s at least clean until we can scour the wardrobes in the morning for something of my aunt’s that you might be able to wear.”
“I am not sure which I wish to do first… eat or wash. But I think washing should take precedence.”
