~~~~
They signed the register, thanked the vicar, and as a group emerged from the church, talking, laughing and blinking in the mid-morning sunlight. It was a beautiful day, with fluffy clouds of dove gray and mauve scudding briskly across a hard, cobalt blue sky. The breeze drove bits of loose straw and debris across the cobbles, and horses, carriages, and pedestrians hurried past in both directions. They stood there on the pavement, buffeted by the wind, as Chilcot and Audlett went to get the horses.
Nobody mentioned that horrible moment when Gareth had tried to slip his ring on Juliet's finger, though Juliet knew it was on all of their minds.
"You made a right beautiful bride, if I do say so myself, Lady Gareth!"
She smiled, gamely. Lady Gareth. How strange it sounded. "Thank you, Sir Hugh. Though I'm sure the gloom of that church hid all my flaws."
"What?" piped up Chilcot. "Listen to her! Flaws!" He yanked out a quizzing glass, pretending to scrutinize her from top to toe until she smiled and turned pink with embarrassment. "I see no flaws. Do you see any flaws, Perry?"
"Not a one."
"Really," Juliet said, embarrassed.
"Leave her alone," grumbled her husband, shading his eyes from the sun. "You're overwhelming her, all of you."
He moved close to her, his arm slipping possessively around her waist. Instinctively, Juliet moved closer to him, but there was a polite formality to his gesture, nothing more, and she knew then that things could never be the same as they'd been in these last two weeks at Blackheath — when he had been her easy-going, carefree friend.
To top everything off, Charlotte was starting to cry again.
"Here, I'll take her," her husband said. He scooped the baby from Juliet's arms and cradled her to his chest. Immediately the whimpering stopped. Charlotte stared at him in wide-eyed fascination.
Juliet watched a passing carriage, too ashamed of herself, and her conflicting feelings, to meet Gareth's blue, blue eyes. "She's wet," she warned.
"Ah, well, we've got more important things to worry about than that, don't we, Charlotte?" he said lightly, adjusting the baby's frilly bonnet around her tiny face. Juliet caught the double meaning and the tension in his words, knowing well what he meant. She threw him a quick, guilty glance, but Gareth didn't see it. He was too busy ignoring her, playing with the baby, swinging her high over his head and laughing as she broke out in a smile as bright as the sunshine blazing down from above. Juliet looked on a little wistfully. What she wouldn't give to be so happy, so carefree; what she wouldn't give to be able to take back that terrible moment in the church when he'd discovered Charles's ring still on her finger. Why hadn't she removed it once and for all this morning?
She had hurt him — deeply. And she felt sick about it.
"Like that, do you?"
Charlotte chortled in glee.
"Here, let's do it again," he said cheerfully, and out of the corner of her eye, Juliet saw that Perry was watching him with those cool gray eyes of his that didn't miss a trick. Perry knew that all was not right here, and Juliet suspected he knew Lord Gareth's sudden silliness with the baby was just a cover for the pain he had to be feeling. And now her husband was swinging Charlotte up and over his head once more, making foolish faces and even more foolish noises at her until he had her shrieking in delight.
"Watch this — wheeeeeee!"
Perry, observing, just shook his head.
"If anyone knows how to act like a juvenile, it's you, Gareth."
"Yes, and the day one forgets how to be young is the day one gets old. Let's do it again, Charlie-girl. Ready, now? Here ... we ... go!"
Again he swung the infant — high, high, higher. Once more, Charlotte shrieked with glee, and even Juliet felt a reluctant smile creep over her face. Forced or not, her husband's good humor was infectious. The Den members were also grinning, elbowing each other and eyeing him as though he had lost his mind along with his bachelorhood.
"I don't believe I'm seeing this," murmured Chilcot.
"Yes, what would they say down at White's, Gareth?"
Perry was shaking his head. "Well, all I can say is that I'm exceedingly grateful I don't know anyone on this side of town," he drawled. "I daresay you are making a complete arse of yourself, Gareth."
"Yes, and enjoying it immensely. I tell you, dear fellow, someday you, too, shall make an arse of yourself over a little one, if not a woman, and then we shall all have the last laugh!"
A chorus of guffaws went through the group, and Perry, scowling, waved them off to indicate his contempt for such a preposterous idea. Juliet, however, stood quietly, watching the carefree man she had just married, who was laughing and swinging her daughter up to the sky, and wishing he was someone else. Wishing he could act more ... mature.
Like Charles.
Sudden, wretched guilt clenched her gut, and she drove her fingernails into her palms, welcoming the pain. Whether she wanted him or not, Lord Gareth de Montforte deserved better than this. He deserved better than her. He had given them his name and sacrificed his own future just so she'd have a husband and Charlotte, a father. It wasn't his fault that he was not Charles. Maybe he wasn't happy about having to marry her, either. Maybe he, too, was in love with someone else. Had she ever stopped to think of that?
God help them. What would become of them tonight, when they had to share the marital bed for the first time?
Her maudlin thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats coming up the street. Tom Audlett and Neil Chilcot, leading the horses, were just returning from the mews. As they approached, Gareth's hunter pricked up his ears, his dark, liquid eyes wide as he saw his master playing with the baby. He gave an inquisitive whinny.
Chilcot came to a stop, pulling the curious horse back with him. "Right. Now what?"
"Time to go, I think," Gareth said breezily. "But first, let's see if Charlotte's inherited the de Montforte horsiness."
"The what?" asked Chilcot.
"You know. Horsiness. I want to see what Crusader thinks of her." Still carrying Charlotte, he walked to his horse and held the baby up to the animal's soft, velvet nose. The big hunter arched his neck and blew softly, his ears and eyes on the baby. Charlotte shrieked at each tickling breath, kicking her feet in excitement. Grinning, Gareth lifted the child high and placed her in the saddle, where she sat smiling down at them like a tiny princess, safe within the cradle of his sure, strong grip.
"No!" Juliet cried, alarmed. She ran forward.
"Don't worry, I've got her," her husband said easily, his big hands firmly around Charlotte's waist.
"Take her down now! She's too little!"
"She's a de Montforte, Juliet. All de Montfortes are horse-mad; it's in the blood."
But Juliet pushed him aside and pulled the baby down even as everyone stared at her in dismay. Immediately, Charlotte screwed up her face and started crying.
Not just crying.
Screaming — fit to blow the glass out of the surrounding buildings.
Cokeham winced. "Well, I'm off to bed," he all but shouted as Juliet tried frantically to calm the howling baby. "I'll catch up to you all later!"
Audlett was moving toward his own horse, his face wearing a look of pain as Charlotte's screams grew louder. "Yes, me, too. Damned long night it was, I'm afraid! Catches up to a fellow, it does..."
"I'd best be off, too, then." Chilcot said, throwing Gareth a look of false sympathy a he all but ran to his horse and hurled himself up into the saddle. "Good day, Lord and Lady Gareth!"
"Wait!" Gareth called as Charlotte's screams began turning the heads of those passing on the street.
But his three friends were already making a hasty exit, their horses' hooves ringing on cobbles as they fled. Even Hugh made his excuses and left, until only Perry, politely pretending not to hear Charlotte's shrill screams, remained with them.
"What a fine lot of friends!" Gareth exploded angrily. "Leaving just when you need them most!"
"Well it is
your wedding night," Perry drawled. He pulled out his snuff box and took a casual pinch, acting for all the world as though he didn't hear Charlotte's frantic wailing five feet from his right ear. "Surely you don't think they're going to hang around and share a bedroom with you, now, do you?"
"Very funny. I suppose you're going to desert me, as well."
"On the contrary, my dear fellow." Perry tossed the reins over his horse's head. "You have a wife and baby to carry up there with you. If I desert you now, then who, I ask, shall take her trunk?"
"Much obliged," Gareth muttered. But Juliet, patting Charlotte's back and trying desperately to calm her, noticed that her bridegroom was looking increasingly uncomfortable. He shifted his weight, ran a nervous hand through his hair, cleared his throat.
"What is it?" Perry asked, preparing to mount his horse.
Gareth fidgeted some more. He grinned, but Juliet saw a trapped look in his eyes that belied his easy manner. "Oh, well, it's nothing, really. Does your mother still loathe the sight of me, Perry?"
"Must you even ask?" Perry narrowed his eyes. "Why, Gareth?"
Charlotte was still screaming. In vain, Juliet tried to hush her, offering a rattle to play with. Charlotte merely screamed louder and batted it away.
"Oh, well, I'm just wondering if we could stay at your townhouse." At Perry's hesitation, he quickly added, "Just for tonight, of course. Wouldn't want to upset your mother any more than I already have, what with her thinking me such a bad influence on you and all...."
Perry was clearly at a loss, and Juliet, watching this tense exchange and desperately trying to calm her shrieking daughter, felt her spirits sink like a leaf downed by a storm. It was glaringly obvious that Gareth's plan to "rescue" them stopped here at the steps of this church. She could tell by the confusion on his face, the sudden, fleeting panic in his eyes, that he had no idea what to do next, where to go — nothing.
God help them.
"What's wrong with de Montforte House?" Perry asked, raising his voice to be heard over Charlotte's ear-splitting wails. "Doesn't the duke keep his London residence staffed when he's not in town?"
"Of course he does. But we're not staying there, Perry."
"Why not? It's your home."
"No it isn't, it's Lucien's home and I'll be damned if I'll take myself or my family to live under any of his roofs ever again."
"Oh, for God's sake."
Charlotte's screams grew deafening. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her face was tomato-red from the force of her tantrum. Juliet glanced desperately at her husband, knowing that he alone could probably calm her, but he was angry now, no longer the carefree man he had been a few moments past. Perry tried to reason with him. Gareth's blue eyes blazed with fury. "Don't try to argue me into it, Perry. I said no, and by God I mean it."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"And don't you be so damned insensitive! You think I'd take advantage of my brother's so-called hospitality after he not only refused to make his own niece his ward, but allowed a young woman and a baby to leave Blackheath with no escort, no protection, nothing? By God, I'm ashamed to admit I even share the same damned blood as that monster! Forget it, Perry! Forget I even bloody asked!"
"You know what they say, Gareth. Pride goeth before a fall."
"Oh, just sod off, will you? 'Sdeath, you're no better than the rest of them. Come on, Juliet. You can ride Crusader, and I'll carry your trunk."
"Gareth —" Perry said, reaching for his friend, but Gareth threw him off.
Charlotte was still screaming, beating the air with her fists, kicking out and howling at the top of her lungs. Carriages were slowing, people leaning out of their windows and shouting for peace and quiet. Juliet glanced from the baby to the two angry men and knew she had to do something.
She touched her husband's arm. "Really, Gareth, His Grace was not unkind to me. He gave me a huge amount of money —"
"I don't care what he gave you, you traveled three thousand miles to get here, and what does he damn well do? Pays you off like some — some creditor or something! You, who ought to be treated as a member of our family, not a piece of unwanted baggage! I cannot forgive him, Juliet. Do not ask it of me!"
"I'm not asking it of you, but surely you can swallow your pride just for one night, if only for the sake of your niece."
He stared at her, furious.
"Er ... daughter," she corrected, lamely.
Through his teeth he gritted, "We are not staying at de Montforte House or Blackheath Castle or any of Lucien's other estates, and I'll hear no more about it!" He made a fist and pressed it to his forehead, trying to keep his temper under control even as Perry made a noise of impatient disgust and Charlotte's endless screaming threatened to drown out all thought, all sanity.
Perry chose the wrong moment to be sarcastic. "Well done, my friend. You have just succeeded in showing your unsuspecting bride that there is indeed another side to you. Were you beginning to think your new lord was all syrupy sweetness, Lady Gareth?"
Gareth's patience broke, and with a snarl, he went for his sword. Juliet grabbed his arm just in time.
"Stop it, the both of you! Really, Lord Brookhampton — must you antagonize him so?"
Perry tuched a forefinger to his chest. "Me?"
"Yes, you! The two of you are acting like a pair of brawling schoolboys!" She pushed Gareth's hand away from its sword hilt and faced him with flashing eyes. "Charlotte and I have had enough. Either take us to de Montforte House or wash your hands of us, but I'm not going to stand here watching you two bicker while she screams London down around our ears!"
Gareth stared at her in shock.
And Perry, raising his brows at this sudden display of fire, merely reached into his coat and pulled out his purse.
He tossed it casually to Gareth. "Here," he said. "There's enough in there to buy yourselves room and board somewhere for a week, by which time maybe you'll have come to your senses. Consider it my wedding present." He mounted his horse and touched his hat to Juliet. "Good day, Lady Gareth." He gave Gareth a look of mocking contempt. "I wish the two of you many hours of marital bliss."
And then, to Juliet's dismay, he turned and trotted off, leaving her standing on the pavement with a screaming baby and a husband who — it was growing alarmingly clear — was ill-equipped to take care of either of them.