I resist the urge to scowl at her, not wishing to start our new familial relationship with poor behaviour on my part, especially when she already seems to dislike me.
"Just one moment," he says.
"The carriage is already waiting. Or are you expecting your bride to walk back to the house?" she responds.
Displeasure flits across Lord Cygnus' face, but he gives a resigned nod and offers me his arm.
I slip my own through his, trying to ignore the nerves within me. They're different from the ones I felt before I entered the church, but somehow, I'm certain that these nerves are going to be more difficult to get rid of.
Especially if the Countess has anything to do with it.
Eight
Philip
The carriage rideback to our townhouse is tenser than I would wish it to be. If it were just myself and Miss Swanley alone, then I would offer her some words of encouragement in the hope that she might feel more at ease. Alas, Mother's steely gaze puts paid to that. I know she is displeased about how the wedding came to be, but she has had time to get to know my new wife, and hasn't made any effort to.
I focus on the beautiful woman to my side, admiring the restraint Miss Swanley is showing inthe face of someone who clearly dislikes her. Except that I should not be thinking of her as Miss Swanley any longer. Nor does Lady Cygnus seem to fit her properly yet. Then again, I suppose she has asked me to call her Letitia in the past, her given name should be appropriate given the situation.
The carriage pulls to a stop and I hurry to open the door so I can help Letitia out. We may both have expressed our wishes to not marry, but now that we have, I wish to prove to her that I will be a worthy husband, no matter what that takes.
I hold out my hand for her to take, the grateful smile I receive in response making my heart lift.
"Thank you, My Lord."
"I think Philip will suffice while we are amongst family," I say softly.
"Thank you, Philip," she corrects herself.
A smile graces my lips at the sound of my name on hers. I should have asked her to use it before, but I feel that would have involved accepting that I felt more than fleeting attraction to her in the first place.
Mother dismounts the carriage, throwing a disgruntled look at Letitia for no reason.
I offer my arm to my new wife, somewhat relieved when she takes it.
"Would you do me the honour of joining me fora private dinner this evening?" I ask her as we make our way through the grand doors that lead into our London home.
"I..."
"You are escorting me to the Duke of Wentworth's soirée this evening," Mother cuts in. "You promised a month ago."
"Is that tonight? I had not realised. I am sure His Grace will accept my apologies given the situation."
"He might, but I will not," Mother responds.
Letitia reaches out and places a hand on my arm. "We can have dinner another night."
"There is no invitation of the Duke's soirée for you," Mother cuts in.
Letitia attempts to smile, but doesn't quite manage. "I did not expect one, Lady Swancove. I am aware that invitations go out weeks in advance and he wasn't to know that we would be married before that point."
"I can send the Duke a note, I am sure there is room for one more."
"You will do no such thing," Mother says. "It is the height of rudeness. Your new wife should use the time to get used to her new home."
I look between the two ladies, trying to ascertainwho it would be best to please in this situation. Though Letitia has not stated that she wants anything in particular, I do not wish to start our marriage off by abandoning her on our wedding night.
"That is an excellent idea, Lady Swancove, I appreciate your thoughtfulness," she says with a hint of determination in her voice that makes me admire her. I don't need to ask her what she's attempting to do in order to know she's trying to diffuse the situation by making it seem as if she's agreeing.