Despite these mental reassurances, she felt ill and weepy, and her chest ached badly. The thought of facing Marcus nauseated her. When she finished with her toilette, she looked in the mirror, further distraught to see the faint shadows under her eyes that betrayed her lack of sleep and hours spent crying. It was best she leave the house for a while. This was not home yet, it was very much Marcus’s bastion, and the memories she’d made in her history with the house were not pleasant. She took a deep breath and headed down to the foyer.
Passing through the hall, she looked at the clock and saw it was still early morning. Because of the hour, she was surprised to find Marcus’s family at breakfast. She felt dwarfed as her tall brothers-in-law rose at her entry. They were a pleasant lot, the Ashfords, but at the moment she wished only to be alone to lick her wounds.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” greeted the lovely Dowager Countess of Westfield.
“Good morning,” she returned with the best smile she could manage.
Elaine Ashford was a beautiful and gracious woman with golden hair the color of fresh butter and eyes of emerald green that became translucent when she smiled. “You are up early this morning.”
Paul grinned. “Is Marcus still abed?” When Elizabeth nodded, he tossed his head back and laughed aloud. “He’s upstairs sleeping off his wedding night, and you are down here dressed flawlessly and ready to go out, unless I miss my guess.”
Elizabeth blushed and smoothed her skirts.
Smiling affectionately, Paul said, “Now we see how our beautiful new sister has led our bachelor brother to the altar. Twice.”
Robert choked on his eggs.
“Paul,” Elaine admonished, her eyes lit with reluctant amusement. “You are embarrassing Elizabeth.”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth was unable to hide her smile. Due to her injury, and the need to hide the knowledge of it, she’d had precious little time to become reacquainted with Marcus’s family. But she knew from her earlier association that they were a light-hearted, mirthful group with a wicked sense of humor, due considerably to Paul’s penchant for good-natured teasing. That he chose to tease her so informally made her feel accepted into their tight circle, and relieved some of the tension that made her shoulders ache.
Although physically of the same height and breadth of shoulder as Marcus, Paul had black hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes. Three years younger than Marcus and equally handsome, Paul could take Society, and its eager debutantes, by storm if he wished, which he didn’t. Instead, he preferred to remain in Westfield. Elizabeth had yet to discern why he chose to isolate himself in the country, but it was a mystery she intended to unravel at some point.
Robert, the youngest, was nearly the spitting image of Marcus with the same rich sable hair and emerald green eyes, which were charmingly enhanced by spectacles. He was an extremely quiet and studious fellow, physically just as tall as his brothers, but much leaner and less muscular due to his bookish nature. Robert was interested in all things scientific and mechanical. He could wax poetic about any number of dull and boring topics, but all of the Ashfords indulged him when he took his nose out of his books and deigned to speak with them. At the present moment, that nose was buried in the newspaper.
Paul stood. “If you will excuse me, ladies. I have an appointment with the tailor this morn. Since I rarely come to Town, I must exploit the opportunity to keep abreast of the latest fashions.” He glanced at Robert, still engrossed in the paper. “Robert. Come along. You require new clothes more than I.”
Robert glanced up, eyes blinking. “For what purpose would I dress in the latest fashions?”
Shaking his head, Paul muttered, “Never met a more handsome chap who could care less about his appearance.” He walked over to Robert’s chair and slid it back easily. “You are coming with me, brother, whether you like it or not.”
With a long suffering sigh and a covetous glance at the newspaper, Robert followed Paul out of the house.
Elizabeth watched the exchange with affectionate amusement, liking both of her new brothers immensely.
Elaine arched her brows as she lifted her teacup. “Don’t let his surliness disturb you overmuch.”
“Paul’s?”
“No, Marcus’s. Marriage is an adjustment, that’s all. I still wish you would consider going away. Allow yourselves to settle in without the pressures you’ll find here in Town.”
“We intend to, once the Parliamentary session is over.” It was the excuse Marcus had suggested they supply. With the journal a hanging weight over her head, they couldn’t afford to leave London. Waiting until the end of the Season seemed the reply least likely to raise suspicion.
“But you are unhappy with this decision, are you not?”
“Why would you say that?”
Offering a sad smile, Elaine said, “You’ve been crying.”
Aghast to have her torment known, Elizabeth took a step back. “A bit tired, but I’m certain a drive in the crisp morning air will cure that.”
“A lovely idea. I’ll join you.” Elaine pushed back from the table.
Stuck in a position where refusal would be rude, Elizabeth released a deep breath and nodded. With a strict warning to the staff to leave the lord of the house undisturbed, Elizabeth and Elaine departed.
As the town coach lurched into motion, Elaine noted, “You have a fair number of outriders to accompany you. I believe you are more heavily guarded than the king.”
“Westfield is a bit overprotective.”
“How like him to be so concerned.”
Elizabeth seized the opportunity to learn more about her husband. “I’ve wondered, is Marcus much like his father?”
“No. Paul is most like the late earl, in appearance and disposition. Robert is a bit of an anomaly, God love him. And Marcus is by far the most charming, but the more reserved of the lot. Always has been difficult to collect his aim until after he’s achieved it. He hides his thoughts well behind that polished façade. I’ve yet to witness him losing his temper, but he has one I’m certain. He is, after all, his father’s son and Westfield was a man of high passion.”
Sighing inwardly, Elizabeth acknowledged the truth in the words spoken to her. Despite hours of physical intimacy, she knew little about the man she’d wed, an exquisite creature who drawled when he spoke and shared few of his thoughts. Only when they were alone did she see the passion in him, both his fury and desire. In her own way, she felt blessed to know those sides of him, when his beloved family did not.
Elaine leaned across the carriage and captured one of Elizabeth’s hands with her own. “I knew the moment I saw you together how perfect you would be for him. Marcus has never appeared so engaged.”
Elizabeth flushed. “I would not have thought you would endorse me after what transpired four years ago.”
“I subscribe to the ‘reason for everything’ school of thought, my dear. Life has always come too easily for Marcus. I’d prefer to think your … delay contributed to his grounding these last few years.”
“You are too kind.”
“You wouldn’t think so if you knew the things I said about you four years ago. When Marcus left the country I was devastated.”
Riddled with guilt, Elizabeth squeezed Elaine’s hand and was touched when her hand was squeezed in return.
“Yet you married him anyway and he has grown much from the man who first offered for you. I hold no ill will toward you, Elizabeth, none at all.”
I wish Marcus felt the same, Elizabeth thought silently, and not a little sadly.
The coach slowed to a halt. Before they had the opportunity to alight from the carriage, the employees of the shops lined the curb to greet them. Having spied the crest emblazoned on the door, they were anxious to assist the new Countess of Westfield and reap the rewards of her husband’s largesse.