Georgie Lee - A Too Convenient Marriage

‘Let him in, Netley. Mr Connor and Miss Lambert are engaged.’ Lady Rockland’s voice slid out from behind her dedicated servant, the announcement made with as much enthusiasm as if Justin had arrived to clean the chimneys.

Netley offered no congratulations, but grudgingly stepped aside to allow Justin entrance.

Justin dismissed the overly pompous fop whose pedigree was probably no better than his and approached the duchess. She stood on the landing in the middle of the grand marble staircase like a crow on a gable, her dark dress as thin as the risers were high. ‘Your Grace.’

He swept off his hat and bent into a deep, well-executed bow. When he straightened, she arched one eyebrow at him, betraying her surprise at his manners. More than likely she’d expected to find a lout with the grease of his cart and the smell of fish clinging to his coat. Ah, the better sort were such a charming lot. ‘I’ve come to take Miss Lambert for a drive.’

The woman’s gaze shifted from Justin to the large windows on either side of the door. Outside sat Philip’s curricle with the hood down, the chestnut horse pulling it held by a well-tipped boy. There was nothing about the vehicle to bring down the tone of the house or the occupants. Again Lady Rockland’s eyebrow twitched and Justin wondered if she’d swoon from the shock of having her lowered expectations so utterly confounded. An examination of the tall woman with the rigid back, square chin set in a long face and hair arranged in tight rows of curls against the front of her head told him she wasn’t a swooner, but a silent striker. Like a snake, this lady would take a quick bite, then slither off to let her wounded victim suffer a slow death. A most charming woman.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Connor.’ A more melodious voice carried over the crow’s stony silence as Miss Lambert came down the stairs. The pale blue muslin swung about her thighs as she moved and the pastel colour heightened the subtle hue kissing her cheeks. Pert breasts gave shape to the fitted bodice of a matching blue spencer which was cut away at the chest before dipping in to fasten just under those tantalisingly full mounds. Elegance marked her movements, but something of Lady Rockland’s lineage was missing, betraying a childhood spent among more humble people, her airs and graces learned too late to make them completely natural. Still they captivated Justin, weaving a spell around him which took away his speech and all awareness of Lady Rockland eyeing him as though he were a rat about to be smacked with a broom.

‘Miss Lambert.’ Justin bowed again, but more shallowly this time, unwilling to cease watching her.

She paused and reached for the banister as if to brace herself before she pulled back her hand and resumed her steady descent. With each drop to the next step, the curls along the arch of her neck just peeking out from beneath her bonnet shivered and he flexed his fingers, envious of the way the locks brushed her smooth skin.

Lady Rockland was not so enamoured of her ward’s regal entrance and scowled at her as Miss Lambert passed by on the way down. Miss Lambert met the woman’s contemptuous sneer with a challenging glance of her own. To Justin’s astonishment, it was the duchess who flinched first.

Justin nodded his silent congratulations to Miss Lambert. She lifted her chin a touch, taking on an air of confidence, but the shift of her green eyes betrayed the vulnerability he’d caught in his conversation with her earlier. In a flash, compassion rose up to overwhelm his desire. He’d been like her once, trying to appear brave while struggling to stand firm against those who wanted to tear him down, especially his father.

‘Shall we?’ Justin proffered his elbow when she reached him.

‘Please.’ Miss Lambert laid a gloved hand on his arm, the expectation in her wide eyes helping him to dismiss his sour memories. He’d learned long ago to laugh and not care what others thought.

‘Try not to embarrass the family while you’re out,’ Lady Rockland warned as she snatched up the edge of her skirt, flung it behind her and flitted off to whatever business consumed her day.

‘I’m sorry,’ Susanna mumbled, the excitement fading from her bright eyes as they left the house. The door nearly slammed shut behind them, Netley clearly as eager as his employer to see the back of them.

‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault her curls are too tight.’

Miss Lambert hid a subdued laugh behind one gloved hand and Justin was heartened by the return of her cheer. Whatever her treatment at the Rocklands’ hands, it hadn’t destroyed her spirit, or her sense of humour. It would be an interesting challenge to draw it out fully, as intriguing as the promise of her alluring curves beneath the straight dress.

* * *

The sunshine piercing the trees along the front path spread over Susanna, melting away the chill of the Rockland house. Despite having more fireplaces than servants, the stone mausoleum was never warm and neither was the company it kept. In the fresh air, Susanna felt as if she could breathe at long last, though Mr Connor’s arm beneath her hand and his tall figure beside her made each breath shallow and unsteady.

‘Lady Rockland is quite the charming lady,’ Mr Connor remarked as he helped Susanna into the vehicle.

She gripped his hand tightly, more to steady herself from the surprise rocking of her body in his presence than at the twitching springs of the chaise. ‘She was practically polite today, though once we’re wed, I don’t think we’ll have many dealings with her.’

If it wasn’t for the promise she’d extracted from her father to help Mr Connor, she doubted she’d ever see her father again after the wedding. It wouldn’t surprise her. Her grandfather and uncle had breathed a sigh of relief when Lord Rockland had arrived to take her away the day after her mother’s funeral. They’d washed their hands of her, just as Lady Rockland would. Susanna didn’t give a fig about the duchess, but her grandfather and uncle’s utter rejection, after she’d been raised in their presence, had nearly shattered her already mourning heart.

‘I assume, then, we won’t have to entertain august guests at Christmas?’ Mr Connor climbed in beside her, raising her mood despite the old pain biting at her. It felt good to laugh with someone who wasn’t afraid to poke fun at her dour relations. It was a refreshing change to the parade of sycophants who usually wandered into the house.

‘I don’t think we’ll tarnish our dining room with their company.’

‘Good, because I hadn’t intended on purchasing a new dinner service this year.’

He winked at her, then snapped the reins over the horse’s back, urging the fine animal into motion. While he focused on the traffic filling the street, she studied him. A fawn-coloured coat and matching hat set off those teasing brown eyes which had nearly made her stumble on the marble staircase. However, it was the approving nod he’d tossed at her when she’d silently challenged Lady Rockland’s sneer which had filled her with more delight than the sight of his light grey breeches stretching over his strapping thighs. This near-stranger had supported her more in one moment than anyone had in the seven years she’d lived with the Rocklands. She drew her spencer a little tighter over her chest, chilled to realise how narrowly she’d missed being tethered to Lord Howsham, who held as little regard for her as anyone else in her life. The promise of freedom from the Rocklands must have been overwhelming to make Susanna ignore all of Lord Howsham’s faults. Hopefully, it wasn’t blinding her to Mr Connor’s.

‘Speaking of dining, my friends, the Rathbones, have offered to host the wedding breakfast. We’re to join them for supper tomorrow night. They’re eager to meet you.’