29 December, 1822
In spite of the chill that December morning, parishioners lingered outside offering well-wishes to Lord Loughton and his new lady.
“You’ve surprised us all, miss—I mean, my lady,” Jilly Cruikwork said. All the members of the Cruikwork family had been in attendance.
“Apologies for the trouble yesterday,” Jem said. “I’d no idea today was to be your wedding.”
Mel shared a smile with Fitz. The banns were not yet void, and the vicar had been only too happy to marry them, and with her mother and Lord Starling still tucked away at the Royal Swan, when the Vicar asked for objections, no one spoke up.
“We decided there should be no more delays,” Fitz said.
Jilly and Jem shared a smile and wished them much happiness.
After accepting more congratulations and good wishes, Fitz escorted Mel to the Royal Swan, where the landlord welcomed them into a private dining room, and sent a maid off with a note inviting the Starlings to breakfast with them.
Fitz had visited the inn the night before, returning to Loughton Manor with a hastily dressed Mr. Smith. Lord and Lady Starling had fortunately retired early to their rooms. Fitz said that while Smith was packing his things, he’d encountered Mr. Franklin Starling in the tap room. Mr. Starling claimed he’d been misled about Mel’s interest in marrying him. He’d bought Fitz a pint and declared his intention to depart at first light.
When Fitz and Mr. Smith returned, there’d been no time for romance, only practicalities that stretched to the wee hours, preparing their marriage agreement and planning this morning’s meeting at the Royal Swan.
They were on their second pot of tea when their guests appeared.
“What is this?” Mother said. “What are you up to, Mary Elizabeth?”
Her insides quivered, as they always did when she was dealing with Mother. Surprisingly though, this wasn’t the morning sickness. That hadn’t troubled her at all this day.
Fitz squeezed her hand, encouragingly. “Mel has something to tell you.”
The serving girl appeared with a tray, and they waited as she set out dishes of bacon, sausage, eggs, and breads, as well as a fresh pot of tea and another of coffee. Not that she’d be able to eat anything now that Mother was here.
When the door closed on the servant, Mel glanced at Fitz again. He nodded.
“Lord Loughton and I were married this morning.”
Mother shot out of her seat. “No. You’re to marry Franklin.”
Lord Starling looked up from his sausages. “Franklin’s out of it, Gwen. Left me a note. Departed this morning for London.”
Mother’s eyes darted around the room and then settled on Mel in a challenging glare that soon softened into a wheedling pout.
Over and over, her mother had plied her wiles, bullying and then pleading; nagging, and then begging. She’d run off, and come back, and then expect to be treated with love and sympathy and a respect that she’d never earned.
Fitz squeezed her hand again, reminding her she wasn’t alone. “How much, Mother?”
Mother’s expressive face went through another series of changes. Confusion gave way to astonishment, then to understanding, and then to the sharp glint of greed. “He left you his money.”
Starling’s hands stilled around his knife and fork.
Mother beamed a seductive smile at Fitz. “You were a wealthy man before, Lord Loughton, but now you’re as rich as Croesus. I wondered how my plain daughter snared you.”
“Plain? Forgive me, but your vision must be failing. My bride is beautiful, inside and out, and very wise.” He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope. “Shall I, my love?”
Their plan to dispose of the Starlings included allowing them to believe Fitz had control, yet he offered her this display of respect.
Heart swelling, she smiled. “Yes please, Fitz.”
Fitz passed the envelope to Starling. When Mother snatched it from his hand, Starling shrugged and went back to sawing his sausages.
Hands shaking, Mother unfolded the document and read, a small smile quickly squashed. “This won’t cover half my debts.”
As Fitz had said, Grandfather had kept himself informed. “It will cover your debts twice over, and the income will add to what Papa left as your dower. You may leave Starling when you’re bored with him and still live quite comfortably.”
Mother’s hand hit the table, rattling the dishes. “It’s not fair. I was his daughter, and he never gave me anything.”
“I was your daughter, and you never gave me anything.”
Fitz pushed back his chair and stood, drawing her up with him. “If you decide to sign the document, leave it with the innkeeper,” he said, all disarming affability. “He’ll see that Mr. Sawley’s man gets it and then your creditors will be paid and the income disbursed.”
Mel took his arm. “Goodbye. Safe journeys.”
While Mother spluttered, Mel kept her touch on Fitz’s arm light and refused to look back. By the time they reached their carriage, she was shaking.
He handed her in and drew her into his arms. “You did very well, Lady Loughton. I imagine this interview was far more unpleasant than anything you’ll face with the bank’s board members.”
“Do you think so? Oh, you must be right. I hope we are finished with her. I hope Starling keeps her. I dread the thought of her turning up on your doorstep.”
“On our doorstep. And we’ll let tomorrow see to tomorrow.” He pulled her onto his lap. “I intend to see to today, Lady Loughton.”
Fitz’s mother’s plans for the celebration of their nuptials had included not just a wedding breakfast but a hastily organized celebration with neighbors, tenants and their families, one that included a rousing game of Snapdragon. It seemed forever before they closed the door on the last guest and Mel and Fitz tucked Mary into bed.
“I fear she’ll expect us both to attend her every night from now on,” he said, leading Mel out of the nursery and down the stairs.
“Well, what else shall we do at night?” she teased.
He paused on the landing just under the mistletoe. “Minx. This, for starters.” He kissed her thoroughly, making her insides melt in anticipation, and then hurried her along the corridor—to his bedchamber.
“Your mother said Maggie would be waiting for me next door.”
“You don’t need a maid.” He turned her around and went to work on her hooks. “You have me.”
The dress fell about her and she stepped out of it and into his arms.
“Now and forever, Mel.”
“Yes,” she said. “Oh yes.”