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“I said—I dislike having my bride address me as sir.” He gave her a level look. “You did agree to call me by my given name.”
“So I did.” She managed a shaky smile. “Please forgive me. I forgot.”
“Forgot what? My name? That you agreed? Or that we are married?”
“That I agreed.” Elizabeth couldn’t keep the touch of asperity out of her voice. Justin Randolph had an irritating habit of ignoring small politenesses, such as apologies. “I could hardly forget about our…our…”
“Marriage?”
“Yes.” Why couldn’t she say the word? Embarrassed color warmed Elizabeth’s cheeks. She stopped shivering.
“Perhaps, under the circumstances, Elizabeth, it would not be outside the realm of propriety for me to tell you that your blush is most becoming.”
“Thank you.” Fear coiled in her stomach. Maybe she wasn’t safe! She stared at Justin, taken aback by the personal remark, then leaned forward to tuck the lap robe more closely around her cold feet. Tears stung her eyes at the memory of her father taking her boots and shoes with him when he left her room. She blinked the tears away, straightened, and leaned her head back against the padded seat. That was in the past—it was the present she must concern herself with now. She stared at a small, repaired rent in the fabric of the carriage wall opposite her as she considered the circumstances that had been thrust upon her. Everything was so strange and troublesome. On the one hand, every mile they traveled brought tremendous relief for it was a mile farther away from the danger and painful memories she desired to leave behind. But it was also a mile closer to the new life she was beginning as wife to this man—as his partner in this marriage of convenience.
Elizabeth sighed. What would her role be? What would he expect of her? And what of the children the judge had mentioned? Would she be responsible for their care? Oh, dear Lord, help! I have no experience at rearing children. I—
“Elizabeth?”
She started and glanced over at Justin. “Yes?”
“If I may intrude upon your thoughts—we have many matters to discuss concerning our relationship.”
“Yes, of course.” The implied rebuke stung. Elizabeth lifted her chin. “But I assure you, Mr. Randolph, it is no intrusion. It is the very thing I was pondering.”
“How fortunate. Please be more specific.”
“Very well.” Elizabeth ignored his sarcastic, disbelieving tone. “I was wondering—as I am unfamiliar with relationships of this nature—what my position will be.”
“I suspect it will be as you expected.”
The coldness in his voice could have frozen a pond. There was open dislike in his eyes. Elizabeth relaxed a little.
“I am a wealthy man. And, as such, I hold positions of importance in the social and business communities. As my wife you will, of course, share in those positions.”
“I understand.” Elizabeth struggled to maintain her poise in the face of Justin Randolph’s seeming animosity. “I shall endeavor to be a credit to you—in society, and with your business associates.” She fingered the ring making a bulge in her kid glove. “And as to my position and duties in your home?”
“In my home, it will be as the paper you signed stated. You will perform as my wife, caring for my home and the children, fulfilling social obligations, seeing to my needs as any wife is expected to do, except—” the harshly spoken word made Elizabeth flinch “—for those of a personal nature. There will be no personal involvement between us. However—” He held up a hand as she started to speak. “I expect you to play to perfection the part of a loving bride and doting wife in front of others. The truth of our relationship is to remain confidential. You are to tell no one!” He gave her a cool, distant smile and Elizabeth cringed. It was not pleasant to be so completely and coldly rejected. “It will, of course, be to your advantage to play your role well. As the ‘loving’ and ‘loved’ wife of a wealthy man there is little that will be denied you. But—” his voice took on an ominous tone “—as the faithless wife of a wealthy and powerful man, there is little that could save you.”
A flame of resentment kindled in Elizabeth. How dare he speak to her as if she were a harlot! Yet, what else would a man think of a woman that married someone under these conditions? What else could he think? Elizabeth’s honesty smothered the flaring indignation as her thoughts raced on. She could not tell him what had happened—she could never tell anyone that—but she had to try to make him understand that she was not what he thought her to be. She drew a deep breath and plunged into speech.
“Mr. Randolph, I realize that you know nothing of me. You know nothing of my character, or of the—the circumstances that placed me here. I know, also, that you spoke out of that ignorance.” She lifted her head and met Justin Randolph’s shocked, angry gaze head-on. “I’m sorry I’ve made such a poor impression you felt it necessary to speak as you did. But I assure you, sir, you have no need to bribe—”
Justin’s straight brown eyebrows shot skyward, then lowered in a deep scowl.
Elizabeth faltered, gathered her courage and finished. “Or to threaten me. I am aware of the seriousness of the vows I made to you before God, and I intend to fulfill them all—within the conditions set forth in our agreement, of course.” She gave him a small, polite smile as cool and distant as the one he had given her. “It will be easier now that I know exactly what you require of me. I am determined, sir, that you shall not be sorry for our…our…alliance.”
A heavy silence descended when she finished speaking. Had she gone too far? She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Something flashed in the depths of Justin’s eyes, but before she could identify it, he dipped his dark, handsome head in a small, mocking bow.
“A very pretty speech, madam.” Sarcasm tainted his every word. His gaze locked on hers. “However, I put little faith in a woman’s words.”
“Nor I in a man’s, sir!” Tears sprang into Elizabeth’s eyes. She turned her head aside and blinked them away.
With child…with child…with child… The words rang through Justin’s head in time with the steady, rhythmic clop of the horse’s hoofs against the hard, cold earth. He raked his hand through his hair, then leaned back in his seat and studied the young woman he had married. So she had no faith in a man’s words. Obviously, the doctor was wrong. It sounded as if some man had sweet-talked her into an immoral liaison and then reneged on his word. It happened. His facial muscles tightened as he lowered his gaze to Elizabeth’s swollen, discolored jaw. Probably her father had lost his temper when he learned of her dishonor. Yes, that would explain the bruises. It would also explain why someone of her obvious breeding would be forced to marry under the conditions he had offered. He slid his gaze down the expensive cloak draping Elizabeth’s shoulders and rested it on the fur robe that covered her lap. There would be the need for haste if she was not to be branded a loose woman—if the child she carried was to have a name. He knit his brows in a deep frown. And then there was the money. There would be no chance for a good marriage in her future.
Justin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. He had been prepared to accept a woman that openly married him for his money and the comforts he could provide—but he had wanted honesty in return. What he had received was this deception! She was the same as the others. And he had made it so easy for her. He curved his lips in a small, cynical smile. Only a few little lies in the letter she had written in reply to his article and—
Justin jerked upright and stared hard at Elizabeth. That’s what had been nagging at him—her letter! There was something about her letter. But what?
Silence prevailed. The weather continued to deteriorate until the fur robe that covered Elizabeth’s lap could not keep out the biting, frigid air. Every lurch or jolt of the carriage caused shivers to run down her spine. Small gray clouds of warmth burst from her nostrils into the confined space of the carriage as she breathed. Her teeth began to chatter. Her feet burned with the cold. She wiggled her toes, biting back a moan at the prickles that shot through them. Thank heaven she was not still walking!
Justin pulled up the collar of his great coat, rubbed his hands together, and glanced over at Elizabeth. “I’m sorry for the discomfort. These hired carriages leave much to be desired. I hope you are not too uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth shook her head, then quickly readjusted her hood as the cold nipped at her ears. “In truth, I was thinking how fortunate I am to be in this carriage protected from the freezing rain and howling wind.” She gave him a small, grateful smile. If not for him she might well be out in the cold, wet storm. “You have provided everything possible for comfort, Mr. Ran—Justin.” She looked down at the smooth, dark fur that covered her lap to avoid his suddenly intent gaze. “And, of course, you are not responsible for the weather.”
“That’s true. Yet, I know some who would hold me accountable nonetheless. And they would feel no reluctance in telling me so—especially now.” He reached over and pulled aside the curtain covering the window at her side. “It’s beginning to snow.”
Elizabeth glanced out the window, then over at the dark, closed face of the man she had married. Would he ever relax that air of wary suspicion with which he regarded her? “I like snow.”
“As do I.” Justin let the curtain fall back in place, sacrificing the dim, gray light of the late afternoon to its scant protection from the cold air. “But not when I am traveling in the company of a young woman. Red noses are very unattractive.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth clapped a cold hand over her nose.
Justin laughed. “Not your nose, Elizabeth—mine! You have a most attractive nose—red, or otherwise.”
Elizabeth looked at him over the top of the covering hand. He had a nice laugh. It made him seem almost human! “I’m certain there is more gallantry than truth in that statement, sir. However, under the circumstances, I shall accept it at face value.”
“Face value?” Justin stared at her a moment, then, again, burst into laughter. “An excellent pun, Elizabeth—excellent!” He leaned back in his seat and studied her. “So, you have a sense of humor.” The laughter lent warmth to his voice. “A quick mind, and a sense of humor. I find that a pleasing combination.”
“Thank you.” The sudden praise was disconcerting—she did not want any personal observations from this man. Still…it pleased her that she had made him laugh when he seemed so cold and somber. Elizabeth pushed the window curtain open a tiny crack and watched the large, fluffy, white snowflakes dance their way to the ground. Perhaps she had something to offer this strange relationship after all. The thought was comforting to dwell on.
Chapter Seven
T he hour was late when they arrived at their lodging place for the evening. Large, fluffy snowflakes fell from the dark night sky, each one touched by the shimmering radiance of silver moonlight that caused them to sparkle like diamonds. With careless largesse they piled their lustrous splendor against fences and walls, clustered in glittering brilliance on trees, buildings, and bushes. Elizabeth gave a soft exclamation of pleasure at the beauty of it all as Justin opened the door and stepped down from the carriage. Steeling herself against his touch, she took his politely offered hand, stretched her foot forward and ducked through the door.
“What is that?”
Elizabeth jerked to a stop on the carriage step and dropped her gaze from the beauty of the snow-covered landscape to Justin’s dark, scowling face. He was staring at the cream-colored satin slipper no longer hidden by her long skirts. “My shoe?”
“That may be a shoe in a ballroom—in this snow it is a piece of nonsense!”
Elizabeth winced at the disgust in his voice and pulled her foot back to hide the offending shoe under her skirt.
“Put your arms around my neck.”
“Wh-what?”
“Put your arms around my neck! You cannot walk through this snow in those shoes. I shall have to carry you.”
“No!”
Justin’s brows shot skyward.
“I—I mean—please don’t bother.” Elizabeth shrank back against the carriage as he stepped closer. His grip tightened on her hand. “Please. You mustn’t…” She tried, frantically, to pull her hand free from his grasp. “I can walk. I don’t mind. I— Oh!” She gasped as Justin scooped her into his arms. “Put me down!” She pushed against his chest, twisting her body away and kicking her legs trying to get free. His arms tightened. “Are you mad? Stop struggling! You’ll make me drop you.”
The snarled words penetrated Elizabeth’s fear and she became suddenly aware of her actions. A new, terrible fright assailed her. Was she mad? Was that why she was acting this way? She forced herself to relax in his arms.
“That’s better.” He adjusted his grip and headed for the inn. “I’ll thank you to remember you are supposed to be my loving bride—and to conduct yourself accordingly. I do not appreciate being made to look a fool.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and nodded.
The snow crunched under Justin’s feet. Fleecy piles of it formed on his broad shoulders and filled the pocket made by her folded body. Its beauty was lost to Elizabeth. She concentrated all her attention on fighting the terror that was building in intensity at the feel of Justin’s arms holding her. Just when she thought she could bear it no longer his foot thudded against the door. She glanced up, and drew breath to ask him to put her down just as the door opened. His arms tightened, pulling her more closely against his hard chest. She bit back a scream.
“Hey, Mr. Randolph!” A young towheaded boy pushed the door wide and stepped aside for them to enter. “We was beginnin’ to wonder would you make it, what with the storm an’ all.” He slammed the door shut, then turned a frankly curious gaze on Elizabeth as the candlelight, flickering from the draft, steadied and poured its warm light over her. “That your bride?”
Justin glanced at her and his face went taut. “Yes, Lem. This is my bride. Is the room ready?”
“Yes, sir! She’s all cleaned up an’ fit to shine—just like you asked.” The boy turned and headed toward a door on the other side of the smoky, patron-filled room. “Dan’l brung your carriage, Mr. Randolph.” The towhead looked over his shoulder with pleading eyes. “Can I ride on the box when you’re fixin’ to leave?”
Justin nodded. “As far as the lightning-blasted oak. Now, go tell your father I want some hot mulled cider and tea brought to the room immediately.” He shouldered open the door in front of them, stepped into a tiny room and gave a swift, backward kick that closed the door with a loud bang. Elizabeth jerked. He gave her a disgusted glance and headed for the bed. “This is getting to be a habit. Tell me, Elizabeth, do you ever walk into an inn, or is this a pleasure I may look forward to from now on?”
“Oh!” Elizabeth pushed uselessly against his chest to free herself. “I asked you not to carry me! I told you I—” She bit off the words as a sharp rap sounded on the door. “Put me down!”
“As you wish.” Justin released his grip.
Elizabeth let out a startled squeal as she dropped to the center of the bed.
“Come in!”
She struggled to a sitting position as the door opened. The sweet odor of clean, fresh hay from the newly filled mattress rose in a cloud around her. It did little to reduce her vexation over Justin’s cavalier treatment—nor did his amused glance. She lifted her chin and glared at him.
Justin grinned and stepped to the end of the bed to take the hot cider the innkeeper was carrying. “Ah! Just the thing to chase away the chill.”
“Yeah.” The man slid his gaze to Elizabeth’s flushed face and his thick lips split his beard in a sly smirk. “Along with other things.”
Justin stiffened. “You forget yourself, Johnson—and to whom you are speaking.”
The innkeeper flushed a dull red and lifted an angry gaze to Justin’s face. “An’ you—” He stopped abruptly as he met Justin’s steady, icy gaze. He uncurled the fingers he had tightened into fists and looked away. “I meant no disrespect to you, or your wife.” The sullen words had barely left his mouth when there was a soft tap on the door and an Indian woman entered the room. He spun about. “You standin’ outside that door listenin’ to your betters?” He pointed toward a small table. “Set that down ’n’ git outta here!” He turned back to Justin as the woman moved to obey.
“Little Fawn’s brung your tea. Is there anythin’ else you’ll be wantin’?” He slid his gaze toward the bed.
“A meal.” Justin moved forward to block Elizabeth from the man’s view. “Venison stew will do.”
The innkeeper’s face tightened. “I’ll fetch it.”
“Little Fawn will bring the food.” Justin’s low voice was frigid. “You stay out of this room.”
The man opened his mouth to speak, looked into Justin’s cold, still eyes, and closed it again. With a muttered oath, he spun on his heel, gave the Indian woman a sharp shove toward the door, and stomped out of the room after her. Justin watched until the door latch clicked into place, then lifted the cider to his lips and took a swallow. “I’m sorry for that unpleasantness, Elizabeth. The man’s a lout.” He turned to face her, and frowned. She was shivering.
“You have taken a chill.” His voice held both disgust and sympathy. “I’ll get you some tea.”
“No! I mean…certainly not.” Elizabeth scrambled for the side of the bed, ready to fight, or flee, should he come near. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring for myself. It was only a—a temporary aberration.” She brushed a curl back behind her ear. “I repeat, sir, I am neither weak nor sickly. And I do not take a chill easily.”
Justin quirked his left eyebrow.
It was clear he did not believe her. Anger surged through Elizabeth, steadying her, driving away the fear engendered by Justin’s arms and the leering glances of the innkeeper. With what she hoped was a haughty glance, she turned her back on Justin, removed her cloak and walked to the table to pour herself a cup of tea.
Justin leaned against the mantel and watched Elizabeth. She seemed fascinated by the Indian woman, who was shuffling about placing steaming plates of stew upon the table. For the first time she seemed unaware of him and he took advantage of the opportunity to study her closely. There was something about her—something that gnawed at the edge of his mind whenever he looked at her. What was it?
The thought eluded him. Justin turned away in disgust, then, abruptly, turned back again. He searched her face, taking note of the delicate bone structure, the exquisitely arched brows, the long, curling lashes that threw sooty shadows across her pink tinged cheeks. An ache began deep inside him and spread throughout his whole being. How lovely she was. How—
The door closed behind Little Fawn interrupting his thoughts. Just as well. The thought was a sour one. Justin looked down at the glass in his hand—the cider tasted sour, too. Everything was sour lately! He scowled and set the glass on the mantel. Silence filled the room.
Elizabeth took a sip of her tea and risked a quick glance at Justin from under her lowered lashes. He looked as grouchy as a bear with a sore tooth! Why didn’t he say something? With a hand that was not quite steady she placed her empty cup back on its saucer. Maybe he was waiting for her to say something. But what? She groped around for a suitable topic of conversation but her mind seemed to have turned to mush. “Thank you, Miss Pettigrew.” She muttered the disgusted words under her breath and reached for the pewter pot to pour herself another cup of tea.
“I beg your pardon.”
Elizabeth jerked her gaze to Justin’s face.
“Did I hear correctly? Did you say, ‘Thank you, Miss Pettigrew’?”
“No.” There went that eyebrow again. The man must have the hearing of a cat! Elizabeth felt her face flush. “That is—yes. But not really.”
“Well, which is it?” Justin gave her a cool look. “It can’t be both.”
Elizabeth put the teapot down. “I did make the remark. I suddenly thought of Miss Pettigrew, and her name…slipped out.” She gave him look for look, though her cheeks were burning. “I said, no, because the remark was not meant for your ears.” There! That should put Mr. Justin Randolph in his place.
Elizabeth rose to her feet and made a small business of brushing at some imaginary lint on her skirt while she composed herself. She had no intention of telling him why she had suddenly thought of— A deep-throated chuckle froze her in midmotion.
“Miss Pettigrew. Yes, of course—Miss Pettigrew! I understand now.” Justin’s chuckle turned to full-blown laughter.
Elizabeth gaped at him. “You know of her?”
“Oh, yes indeed.” He grinned down at her. “Miss Pettigrew was the bane of my sister Laina’s school years. Let me see now…how did that go? Oh, yes.” He squared his shoulders and held his hands rigidly at his sides. “‘Miss Pettigrew’s Academy for Young Ladies. Proper deportment and appropriate conversation for all occasions.’” He relaxed his stance and chuckled. “Did I get it right?”
“Yes!” Elizabeth fairly snapped the answer. It wasn’t that amusing!
“And you feel that Miss Pettigrew was somewhat…er…lax in covering this particular situation in her teaching. Is that it?”
Elizabeth stuck her chin into the air at his teasing tone and turned to the table. “I think remiss would be a better word! I certainly could not recall one gambit from her ‘Appropriate Conversation’ class…though I tried.”
Justin laughed and walked over to hold her chair. “Do not judge Miss Pettigrew too harshly, Elizabeth. After all, this is an unusual occasion. And she did come to your conversational rescue in the end.”
The starch went out of Elizabeth. Her lips twitched, then curved into a smile. “She truly did—though certainly not in the way that she intended.” She tilted her head back and looked up at Justin. He turned away and seated himself.
“No, not in the way that she intended.” Justin picked up his fork, stabbed a piece of venison and lifted it in mock salute. “Nonetheless…to Miss Pettigrew.” He looked across the table at Elizabeth. “May she forgive us for the black eye.”
Elizabeth laughed, picked up her fork and joined him in the foolish toast. “To Miss Pettigrew…may she never know!”
