Stephanie Laurens - The Elusive Bride

Five minutes later, they were on the road, riding hard for London.

16th December, 1822

Morning

My bedchamber at Mallingham Manor

Dear Diary,

Fate has been kind. Today is shaping up to be a perfect opportunity to examine the ins and outs of what might well be the perfect sort of marriage for Gareth and me.

It took mere minutes of conversation with Leonora and Clarice to realize that they have similar views of life, and gentlemen, as I do. And from what I observed last night, their marriages, at least on the surface, appear to hold all the elements, and offer all the comforts, that I would wish of mine. Consequently, I plan to devote today to learning all I can from them.

Apropos of my aim, it has snowed heavily. We could not continue on, even had that been our plan, and we will all be spending today indoors.

In my case, subtly inquiring.

E.

B y late afternoon, when she, Leonora, and Clarice slipped into the smaller parlor and, laughing, collapsed on the sofas, Emily had learned all she wished and more.

“Your children are delightful.” Lifting her head, she beamed at Clarice and Leonora. “Even the tiny ones are perfect.”

Leonora smiled fondly. “You’ll get no argument from us, but we’re biased, of course. Still, I’m glad they behaved.”

Clarice waved a languid hand. “All you needed to enchant them was to speak of monkeys. Caleb and Robert are already planning how to persuade Jack to let them have one.” She frowned. “I must remember to mention to my other half that I have no wish to have a monkey in our house.”

“No, indeed!” Leonora agreed. “But then I already have three.” She glanced at Emily. “Have you and Gareth spoken of children-of how many you might like?”

Emily nodded. “I said lots -I come from a big family.” Then she frowned. “However, Gareth doesn’t. He was very much an only child.”

“That means little,” Leonora said. “Tristan was an only child, too, but his attitude is that we should have as many as possible-I think to fill the void as the old ladies pass on. He’d be lost if any of his houses were quiet.”

Clarice was nodding. “I have three brothers, and I did wonder how Jack would manage with the unaccustomed noise, but he seems to thrive on it-apparently, if it’s his offspring making it, it’s music to his ears.”

They laughed and continued to talk of this and that, sharing experiences, inquiring as to Emily and Gareth’s relationship, and touching on what she expected of their marriage. This was exactly the type of feminine discussion she’d wanted and needed.

By the time the first gong sounded, and the three of them climbed the stairs and parted to go to their rooms to dress for dinner, she had a much firmer grasp of the dynamics of married life-specifically the sort of married life she wanted. With the help of the other two, she’d defined her holy grail-the vital elements that, if they were present between her and Gareth, would guarantee the type of future she wanted.

Gentlemen, as her hours with Leonora and Clarice had confirmed, could not be expected to achieve this shining goal alone, by themselves. They needed help in emotional matters, guidance. She would need to steer and prod and nudge, but she was sure that Gareth would, indeed, want the same style of marriage she had set her heart upon.

Entering her room, she found Dorcas laying out her other evening gown. While she dressed, they chatted of household matters. When she sat on the dressing stool and Dorcas brushed, then started pinning up her hair, they fell silent, and her mind returned to its principal preoccupation.

Perhaps that was what she sensed Gareth was still uncertain over-the specific style of marriage she wanted. Especially for a man like him, a warrior who had spent so many years out of society, he would be feeling his way. Given his background, he would have far less experience of marriages of any sort than she.

They would need to sit and talk-but when?

They might have another day here, in relative safety, yet his mission still hung over his head-and hers, too. She retained a personal interest in seeing poor MacFarlane avenged. And once they set out again…the last thing she would want was to distract Gareth, or herself, with thoughts of something so deeply absorbing as marriage.

That issue deserved, indeed demanded, their full and undivided attention.

So…not yet. She would use the time to better define her ideas and visions, and find the best words with which to describe all she now longed for, all she believed they could have.

“There.” Dorcas tapped the top of her topknot and stepped back. “You look just as you ought.” She met Emily’s gaze in the mirror. “But I warn you, if we stay here much longer, you’re going to run out of evening gowns.”

Later that night, as she climbed into her bed, Emily envisioned the reaction if she appeared clad in the begum of Tunis’s version of an evening gown.

The thought made her smile; even now she could barely believe she’d had the courage to don the scandalous outfit.

When Gareth arrived to join her, he found her in a pensive mood. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said as he climbed into the bed beside her.

She let herself roll into his arms, an action she delighted in every night-mostly because he caught her so readily, settling her against him as if she belonged there. “I was just thinking…while on our travels I did things I would never imagine doing-would never have the courage to do here, in England.” Wriggling around, leaning an elbow on his chest and rising up, she regarded him through the shadows. “Have I lost my courage, now I’m home?”

His smile was slow and infinitely warming. “No-never. Your courage is a part of you-you can’t lose it. And adjusting to social reality, knowing and understanding what you can and can’t do without risking ostracism-that’s a strength, not a weakness.”

After a moment, she smiled back. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Gareth looked into her eyes, too cloaked in the night’s shadows for him to read. This pensive mood was new to him, but only intrigued him all the more-yet another aspect of the mystery that was her. She was a many-faceted diamond, infinitely alluring. Every day, he learned something new about her-and about himself.

Like what sort of marriage he longed for, and the trials, tribulations, and difficulties inherent in attaining that. He still wasn’t sure he could manage it, much less that it was the sort of marriage-a “more”-she would accept.

Yet he thought it would suit her-a marriage like Jack’s and Clarice’s, like Tristan’s and Leonora’s. He had no real idea of the modern institution, but what he’d seen of their relationships…that would suit him, too; he doubted it would be easy, but the benefits would be great.

More, he could see himself with Emily in a relationship like that, but he didn’t know-truly had no clue-how to make it happen, what such a union was based on. What agreements were necessary to underlie the whole.

“I…” What? What could he say? I want what Jack and Clarice have?

They weren’t Jack and Clarice.

And he wasn’t sure she loved him enough. He seemed to be rushing forward, tripping over his feet in his haste to secure her, to discover the “more” he could entice her with in lieu of those three little words, but he needed to go slowly, surely, step by step.

Sliding his hand into the silken fall of her hair, he drew her down.

Arm braced on his chest, she held back. “What were you going to say?”