Bought: The Penniless Lady

Wife. Until now, that word had made him think of someone quite unlike Artemis Dearing. It troubled Hadrian to find her so very alluring when she was so different from the wife he’d lost. He held her in a solemn gaze, determined to betray nothing of the wrenching memories this ceremony had revived. “I will.”

Next the vicar addressed Lady Artemis. “Wilt thou take this man to thy wedded husband?”

“I will.” She focused her attention on her small nephew, as if pledging her love and life to him instead of her bridegroom.

Stifling an unexpected pang, Hadrian reminded himself this marriage was entirely for the child’s benefit. And he would have it no other way.

Chapter Five

While Reverend Curtis read the words of the marriage ceremony, Artemis struggled to keep her attention fixed upon her nephew, so she would not be so intensely aware of Mr. Northmore’s potent presence. His relentless gray gaze seemed to measure her value as a wife and find her lacking in all respects.

The tone in which he spoke his vows made it clear he would just as soon have been marrying the vicar’s middle-aged sister as her. Then why had he pressed that unsettling kiss upon her after she’d accepted his proposal? Did he think her a pathetic, lonely spinster who needed an amorous incentive to go through with this wedding?

“Please join hands,” the vicar bid them.

“But…” Artemis shrank from the prospect of Hadrian Northmore’s touch, though a small, traitorous part of her hankered for it. “My nephew…”

“Our nephew,” he muttered.

Miss Curtis stepped forward. “I can take him. Surely he will be content to let me hold him for a few moments.”

Artemis had her doubts, but she did not want to make a scene by refusing the lady’s help. Surrendering Lee to Miss Curtis, she turned quickly back to her bridegroom. She hoped he would not mistake her impatience to get the ceremony over with for eagerness to become his wife.

She willed herself not to flinch when Mr. Northmore’s large, powerful hand enveloped her slender, waxen fingers. The heat of his touch surprised her. As he repeated his vows after the vicar, she stared down at their clasped hands, refusing to meet his forbidding gaze. She told herself she did not care if he compared her unfavorably with other women—she had no illusions about her meager charms. Daphne had been the beauty of the family. She was the sensible one, the dutiful one—content to remain in the background while her adored sister captured all hearts.

“Repeat after me,” the vicar prompted her, “I, Artemis Caroline, take thee, Hadrian Arthur, to my wedded husband.”

Lee had begun to fuss the moment Miss Curtis took him. Now he was wailing so loudly his cries echoed off the old stone walls of the sanctuary.

For once, Artemis welcomed his tearful uproar, which drowned out her insincere promises to love, cherish and obey Hadrian Northmore. She hoped God would understand why she could never love the man, any more than he could love her. The best she could truly promise, for their nephew’s sake, was that she would try not to hate him.

“Have you the ring?” the vicar asked Mr. Northmore, raising his voice to carry over Lee’s howling.

Artemis could scarcely conceal her amazement when her bridegroom fished in his pocket and pulled one out. Had he purchased it in London while waiting for the license to be issued? She hadn’t thought him the sort of man to remember such niceties. Then again, she was not well enough acquainted with Hadrian Northmore to know what sort of man he might be.

Once the ring was on her finger, Artemis turned toward the vicar’s sister with her arms outstretched. “Let me take Lee again before he deafens us all.”

Flushed and flustered, poor Miss Curtis looked relieved to hand over her small, noisy charge. “The child certainly has a healthy set of lungs.”

“Hush, now.” Artemis spoke in a half-soothing, halfchiding tone as Lee burrowed into her embrace.

“Hush is right.” Hadrian Northmore pulled out a handkerchief to wipe Lee’s dribbling nose. “Or everyone will think this is your way of objecting to the marriage.”

As the vicar and their witnesses chuckled at the quip, Lee tried to avoid his uncle’s handkerchief by turning his face toward his aunt. Mr. Northmore refused to give up, slipping his hand between the child’s wet face and the bust of Artemis’s gown. While he made a thorough job of mopping Lee’s nose, the back of his hand brushed repeatedly against her bosom.

Artemis barely stifled a squeak of alarm. Or was it something else? Rather than shrinking from the casual friction of his touch, her nipples thrust out against her muslin bodice as if straining toward his hand, inviting the fevered chill he kindled in her flesh. By the time he drew back, Artemis was left shaken and breathless.

Fortunately no one else seemed to notice, Mr. Northmore least of all.

“That did the trick.” He nodded toward Lee, quietly sucking on his thumb. “Now that we can hear ourselves again, what comes next, Vicar? Are we finished yet?”

“Only a little more.” The vicar said a brief prayer, then pronounced them man and wife. “Once we have all signed the parish register, you are free to be on your way.”

Hard as she tried, Artemis could not keep her hand from trembling when she signed her name. The enormity of what she had just done threatened to overwhelm her. She desperately needed a few minutes to marshal her composure before she was forced to share close quarters in the post chaise with her new husband.

Mr. Northmore did not appear inclined to linger after he had given the vicar and their witnesses each a generous present of money.

“You go ahead.” Artemis searched for a plausible delay. “Lee and I will be along in a moment. There is something I would like to say to Miss Curtis.”

At the moment she had no idea what, but surely she would think of something.

“As you wish.” Mr. Northmore gave a brusque nod. “I’ll go tell the post boy to make ready for our journey.”

Journey? The word made Artemis even more uneasy. Where were they to go? She’d assumed they would stay at the local inn for tonight, at least, while discussing their plans for the future. Evidently, her new husband felt no need to consult her before making such decisions.

Had she made a grave mistake by placing her future, and Lee’s, into Hadrian Northmore’s powerful hands?

What sort of woman had he let into his life? Hadrian wondered as he strode out of St. Botolph’s. All his instincts assured him his bride had not really wanted to speak with Miss Curtis. How could he have wed a woman who would lie about something so trivial? Even if their marriage was only a convenient arrangement, he should not have rushed into it so blindly.

As he stalked through the churchyard trying to calm his doubts, a pretty young lady with red-gold hair came flying toward him.

“I’m too late, aren’t I?” She stopped in front of Hadrian, gasping for breath. “I’ve missed the wedding?”

“It just got over, I’m afraid. Are you a friend of the bride?”

“You might say that.” The girl fanned her flushed face with her hand. “Her sister was my best friend in the world. When I heard from the servants that she was to be married today, I felt I must come. Are you Mr. Northmore?”

“I am.” Hadrian gave a stiff, wary bow. “And you are…?”

“Susannah Penrose.” She curtsied. “Lady Kingsfold’s sister. I am sorry we did not get an opportunity to meet the other day when you called at Hawkesbourne.”

“Of course. I see the resemblance now.” Had the Dearing sisters looked alike, too? Hadrian found himself suddenly curious about the girl who had been his brother’s downfall. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, Miss Penrose. If I’d known you wished to attend the ceremony, I would have asked the vicar to wait.”

“That was not my only reason for coming here this morning.” Miss Penrose hesitated, as if gathering her courage. “I know you are angry with Ford over what happened to your brother, but please do not blame him! He tried to talk sense to the Dearings, but they refused to listen. That was the day Mama died and Ford had to go all the way to Brighton to fetch Binny and Sidney home. Then—”

“Talk sense to the Dearings about what?” Hadrian demanded as soon as he could squeeze a word in.

“About allowing your brother to court Daphne. Laura told me what happened. Lord Henry was furious with them for interfering and said some beastly rude things.”

Her words rocked Hadrian. “Are you saying my brother wanted to court Lady Daphne…to marry her?”

He’d assumed the marquis had called Julian out for refusing to marry the lass after he’d bedded her. Even if that had been the case, Hadrian still considered death far too harsh a penalty. But if Julian had been killed simply because he’d aspired to a lady above his station…

Susannah Penrose bit her full lower lip. “I cannot say for certain if he meant to marry her. I do know he admired her a great deal and she was madly in love with him. When we first met your brother, I was quite envious of his interest in Daphne. It is my fault her sister found out she’d gone to meet him in secret. I never meant any harm, I swear! If she’d only confided in me, I would have kept her secret to my grave.”

The young lady’s pretty features crumpled, making her look like a tearful child. She pulled a handkerchief from her reticule and began to wipe her eyes.

“Do not blame yourself, Miss Penrose.” Hadrian struggled to relax his stiff scowl. “It is clear where the responsibility for my brother’s death lies. I wish Julian had set his sights on you rather than your friend.”