The Earl's Countess Of Convenience

How many hours was it since she had bid them all goodbye? Her sisters had been so dejected at first, to be missing out on the wedding ceremony, but Eloise’s anxious pleas, endorsed by Kate, to be allowed to focus entirely on establishing herself as Lady Fearnoch without either the distraction of their presence or risk that they might give the game away, had reconciled them. Though at this moment, with the carriage drawing up in front of a church, she’d give a great deal to have them here in person to give her a hug and tell her that she was going to be the best Lady Fearnoch imaginable.

It must be late afternoon. The church, she knew from one of Alexander’s flurry of missives, was St Mary-le-Bow in Cheapside. A sudden squall of rain spattered the window pane, and Eloise shivered. Panic kept her in her seat as the carriage door was opened, the steps lowered. It was one thing to agree to a very convenient marriage, another to actually go through with it. Though there had been any number of letters, she had not seen Alexander since accepting his proposal. Was she really going to marry him?

Knees shaking, Eloise stepped out of the carriage and into the shelter of the portico where Alexander was waiting patiently, dressed in a navy-blue coat, fawn pantaloons and polished Hessian boots. He was carrying a hat and gloves. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered. This man was about to become her husband! Her heart lurched, thudded, raced.

‘Are you sure about this? There is still time to change your mind.’

Nausea gave way to excitement as she met his gaze. She was terrified, and at the same time oddly exhilarated, as if she had climbed the highest tree and was looking down, astonished at her feat and afraid that she might fall. ‘I don’t want to change my mind.’

‘Good.’ His mouth relaxed into a smile. ‘Shall we?’

She preceded him through the door. The interior of Wren’s church was beautiful in its simplicity, with arched recesses on either side of the nave bounded by Corinthian columns of white Portland stone. The nave was flooded with light, the myriad colours of the stained glass reflecting on the marbled floor, making silhouettes of the two figures who would be their witnesses standing at the altar in front of the vicar. Not quite sure whether she was sleeping or awake, Eloise placed her hand on the man who would very shortly be her husband and made her way down the aisle towards them.

* * *

The vows had been solemnly made, the papers duly signed. The deed was done. She was married. Eloise stood on the steps of the church in a daze as Alexander—her husband!—thanked his witnesses. She was now Lady Eloise, Countess of Fearnoch, but she still felt remarkably like the eldest Brannagh sister.

‘The sun is shining on our nuptials,’ Alexander said, turning to her with a smile. ‘A good omen, I hope.’

‘I can’t believe we are married.’

‘I hope you’re not regretting it already.’

‘No, no, of course not, it is just—there were moments during the ceremony when I felt as I if I must be dreaming. It’s all very strange. I’ve never even been to London. I have no idea how to behave or what is expected of me or—or anything.’

‘You must be yourself, that is all I expect of you. I hope you don’t mind that our first night will be spent in a hotel. Robertson—my lawyer—tells me he has had Fearnoch House made ready for our arrival, but I reckoned that today would be momentous enough without subjecting you to the ordeal of formal introductions to the staff. Was I wrong?’

‘Good grief, no,’ Eloise exclaimed, looking horrified. ‘Is that what I must expect tomorrow?’

‘Let’s enjoy today first.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Ours is not a traditional wedding day, but there is no reason why it shouldn’t be memorable. Your carriage awaits, Lady Fearnoch.’

‘My carriage?’ She turned, just as a very elegant equipage drew up at the church steps. The body of the carriage was in the shape of a cup, painted glossy black, as were the spokes of the wheels. The hood was folded back to reveal an interior of dark-green velvet. ‘You don’t really mean that this is my carriage?’

‘I never say what I don’t mean,’ Alexander said, smiling at her. ‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it! I love it. May we go for a drive?’

‘That was my intention. Excellent timing, Bennet,’ he said to the coachman who, having secured the reins of the two lively grey horses, jumped down, doffing his cap. ‘This is Lady Fearnoch.’

‘My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I be the first to offer my congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Bennet is not a coachman by trade,’ Alexander said, as the other man opened the carriage door and let down the steps. ‘He is my personal servant. And I assure you,’ he added, pre-empting her anxious question, ‘very much in my confidence, and entirely trustworthy.’

‘Also, be assured, my lady, that I know how to handle the ribbons,’ the man said. ‘Now, if you will help her ladyship into the carriage, my lord, we can be off.’

‘My love?’ Alexander handed her, quite unnecessarily, up the steps, jumping in beside her. ‘Since this is your first day in London, and the first day of our new life together, I thought you might like a very short sightseeing drive.’

‘I would. I can’t think of anything more—it’s a wonderful idea, especially in a fine carriage such as this.’

‘It is called a barouche, and it is yours, as are the horses. There wasn’t time to have your coat of arms painted on the doors, but...’

‘I have a coat of arms?’

‘You are a countess. I am sure there must also be a cloak of ermine and a coronet somewhere, though I’m hoping that King George keeps his fragile hold on this earth for a few more years yet, and spares us the necessity of wearing either at the next coronation.’

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