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Three days later, Marti pulled on his new suit for today’s Sunday service where the first reading of the banns would occur. He’d kept the servants away for his own privacy, although he did appreciate the assistance with tying his cravat, which was a rather complicated process. He’d barely seen Linda since the announcement at the family dinner table that they were engaged; she’d been busy keeping him busy by ensuring that he had what she’d deemed an appropriate wardrobe. The process of being measured was a stressful one; the tailor’s touch had been more intimate than he’d been comfortable with but apparently his binding and packing had passed muster so his identity as a man was safe.
He straightened his collar, reaching up to fuss with his collar but stopping himself from fiddling with it and making a mess of the folded material. With his hands loosely held in fists at his side, he walked down the hall to the drawing room.
“Mr Babbitt. The cut of that wool and that navy blue looks fabulous on you.” Miss Dexington, Linda, stroked her hand over the fabric on his bicep and he felt the touch all the way into his soul. All her hair was tucked away under a straw bonnet, hiding its vibrancy, and her ensemble was paired with a light blue ribbon tied under her chin. Had she chosen her dress to match his suit?
He wanted to say something clever about how stunning she looked. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and show the world how lucky he was to be the one who would stand beside her in a church and say those words about commitment; words that he would have to learn so he didn’t stand there like a dead fish with blank eyes and gaping mouth.
“Mr Babbitt?”
“Yes?”
“Are you well?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. You are beautiful.”
A light pink flush spread over her cheeks, making her freckles stand out, and he had the urge to kiss every single one of them. She deserved someone who would take their time with her and show her how adored she was.
“Truly.” His voice crackled.
“Thank you.” A slow smile spread on her lips; he really was the luckiest man in the world to stand beside her as she shone so brightly. From the age of fifteen, he’d worked in Aunt Doris’ inn and had seen every way that humans interacted with each other. He’d seen spinster best friends book rooms together, and once—on a memorable evening—he’d accidently walked in on three men engaged in sexual intercourse in the hay loft above the stables. He seen everything, or so he’d thought, until today when he stood in awe of the most beautiful woman in the world and made himself ready to stand beside her in a church as the banns were read. He wanted to kiss her and explore her and make her sigh and scream his name, like those two spinsters had done. They hadn’t even bothered to try and keep their relationship a secret, not in a small country inn like the Public Arms. The inn was close enough to Manchester to earn enough to keep the inn afloat—mostly—and far enough that people felt safe enough to be themselves. His occasional work as a highwayman supplemented the inn’s income during slow times.
“Mr Babbitt.” Her fingers squeezed his forearm. “Marti.”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“We need to go now.”
He nodded and let her lead him away; still stunned by her presence, as if the sun itself had come down from heaven and punched him in the face, leaving him reeling.
Two boring hours of sermon and formalities later, Marti stepped out of the church to the well-wishers of many people. A swarm of voices thronged around until the buzz had no meaning. He smiled and nodded and hoped no one wondered why Linda had picked him. He knew he looked good in his suit, and he wasn’t the only slender medium heighted man in the crowd, but he kept his distance from habit and necessity. She flitted through the crowd, smiling and laughing with everyone, and every time she reached out and lightly touched someone on the arm or elbow or hand, his stomach twisted, even though she was only being friendly.
“Mr Babbitt. Shall we go?” She hooked her hand around his arm, leaning lightly against him, and it was so much more intimate than she’d been with everyone else.
“Yes.” His husky response led him to clear his throat.
“Come along. Before we go, we need to thank the Vicar Green.”
He swallowed and led her towards the Vicar; finally, belatedly, remembering all the manners he’d had drilled into him as a child. Performing it from the other side created a small challenge, especially as it was against his nature to be outgoing. He liked being a highwayman, working alone and not having to talk to people, but it wouldn’t do to let Linda cart him around the place. It wouldn’t be good for her reputation as much as for his, to be seen as someone who would run roughshod over her future husband, especially not with Sir Bartleby still on the scene.
“At least Sir Bartleby has not attended church.”
Linda turned to him with a smile that almost knocked him over. “It has been exceedingly pleasant to spend the morning without his disturbing presence.” Her giggle was as refreshing as a splash of cool water on a hot day.
“People are looking at you.”
She bestowed another smile on him; he was going to collect these smiles for as long as he could. “They are looking at us. We are the most exciting thing that has happened today.”
“Why?”
“Our banns were read today. And it’s all the more intriguing for the gossip-mongers because Sir Bartleby came to church with our family a few times before ... you know. Some people will have decided that there’s a deeper story but they don’t know any details so have to be vague. It’s that potential for gossip that has everyone desperate for details.”
“You don’t seem bothered by that.”
“People love to talk. It means nothing unless we let it mean something.” She kept that smile on her face, but it lost a little piece of the shine.
“You are good at this.” He realised that he couldn’t ask her to live quietly in a cottage, like he’d prefer, because she thrived on being in a crowd. She loved talking to people and he didn’t want to take any pleasure away from her. He’d just have to learn to cope. Somehow. He would have to figure that out later as their walk had led them to their destination.
“Vicar Green. Thank you for the first reading of the banns today.” He managed to remember the politeness he’d been taught as a child, while his mind spun on the possibilities of a future surrounded by people. The risks for him weren’t insignificant.
“I must say I was surprised when Mr Dexington asked me to do this. I was under the impression that Miss Dexington was being courted by Sir Bartleby de Muis.”
Linda’s light smile was a sight to behold. “There is a vast difference between being courted and consenting to an engagement.”
“But to now be engaged to this Mr Babbitt?”
“Mr Babbitt is more than twice the gentleman Sir Bartleby will ever be. His consideration of my needs and well-being far exceeds any of the ... well, let’s just say Sir Bartleby’s behaviour hasn’t been all above board in this manner.”
Vicar Green gasped. “Goodness, that is very blunt of you.”
Marti sucked in a breath between his teeth; how dare Vicar Green criticise Linda. “Miss Dexington has made her decision and Mr Dexington approves.”
“Far be it for me to cast doubt on any decision made by Mr Dexington,” Vicar Green said.
Linda smirked. “I believe my father has recently fixed the roof on your cottage. Remind me exactly how much Sir Bartleby has donated to the church?”
Marti adored this woman and her unsubtle ways of reminded people where their allegiances should lie.
Vicar Green made an uncomfortable coughing noise. “That’s all well and good, however, Mr Babbitt here is a nobody.”
“I’d much rather spend my life with a kind nobody than a fortune hunting charmer, Vicar Green.” Linda squared her shoulders. “Take care. My father is always interested to know if his support is valued.”
“Is that a threat, Miss Dexington?”
She giggled. “Of course not. I wouldn’t be so crass. We will see you next Sunday for the second reading of the banns.”
“Vicar Green.” Marti nodded to the man, then left with Linda. They made it all the way to their carriage before she breathed out heavily. She sat on the rear facing seat with two of her sisters opposite, leaving him only one space; beside her.
“Oh that frustrating man. I can’t believe he thinks I should’ve married Sir Bartleby.”
“He is a baron. People are swayed by titles,” said Linda’s sister, Jacinda.
“They ought not to be. Sir Bartleby is a man with no character, a weasel who only wanted my father’s money. I’m glad Father saw through that, and I’m thankful that Mr Babbitt was there to help me escape him.”
He smiled. “I thought you escaped all on your own.”
“I did.” She twisted, leaning towards him, and his lips parted, hopeful for a kiss, but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t, she was a well-raised wealthy young woman in the company of her sisters. “I had a little help from a wonderful man and his horse, though.”
“Stop it, you two. At least wait until the banns are read.” Jacinda rolled her eyes and Linda, sadly, sat up straight and stared at her sister.
“Mrs Marchant asked me a curious question.” Elspeth joined the conversation.
“Oh?”
“She remembered the Babbitt family who lived next to us when we were children.”
Marti’s heart sunk, his worse fear hung in the air, and he grabbed the seat to anchor himself to the world.
Linda waved her hand in the air. “Isn’t it such a coincidence! Mr Babbitt is a distance cousin of them. Don’t you think he has the look of Martha?” She touched a finger to his chin and it seared him in a way that he couldn’t understand; wanting more and not being able to quite figure out what she meant. Why would she draw attention to that?
“He does. I wonder what happened to Martha after her parent’s sad death.” Elspeth was a year older than him and she had an astute look about her that worried him.
“Marti?”
Dear holy goodness, he was supposed to come up with something that his distant cousin had done. His head swayed and he wondered if he might topple off the seat.
“There are a lot of Babbitt’s, I haven’t quite figured out all of them yet.” Linda saved the day with a vague explanation, and he swallowed, finally remembering the excuse Doris and Edwin had concocted years ago.
“Yes. My Aunt Doris took her in for a while with me, and then she had an opportunity to be a governess with a family moving to the Americas. It’s been a long time since I had a letter from her.”
“It’s so hard to keep in contact over the seas. One never knows if a letter has been lost on a ship, or if it were never sent at all,” Elspeth said.
He nodded. There was nothing much else to say, except to stew over the fact that he’d been stressed about everyone finding out his secret to the point where he’d forgotten that he had a perfectly good excuse. It’d been years since ‘Martha’ had gone to the Americas and years since he’d had to mention it. Thankfully the conversation moved on to someone’s dress and speculation over the source of the fabric, and he slowly let himself breathe again. Once they were married, they’d have to move away from anyone who ever knew a Babbitt. Perhaps to the Americas where it wouldn’t be a lie anymore...