Page 49 of Venus in Disguise

Narcissa said nothing, remembering all the things she had heard about Mr Anson. Everyone knew he was popular with the ladies, his affairs being as numerous as they were varied. It was said he was sought after not only for his prowess but for the tact and discretion he was capable of, an indispensable skill when many of the ladies had husbands to manage. The memory made Narcissa suddenly feel anxious and profoundly sad. She had never expected to marry for love and the chance she had now to marry a man she not only desired, but esteemed—one she knew she was close to falling hard for already—had seemed like a dream. But what if those feelings were never reciprocated? What if she fell desperately in love with him, and he carried on having affairs? Her heart lurched at the idea.

“Come now, eat up,” Mrs Fenchurch scolded her, upon discovering Narcissa sitting with a spoonful of egg suspended between the dish and her mouth. “Mr Anson told me you must be ready to leave by eight, so that doesn’t give us much time.”

“Eight!” Narcissa exclaimed, setting the spoon down with a clatter and moving to set the tray aside.

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving this house without a proper breakfast after what you’ve been through the past days. Not when you’ve a marriage ceremony to get through and then… well, you’re not, that’s all. And whilst I think about it, I suppose I ought to give you a bit of advice about what to expect on your wedding night. Seeing as you’ve no mama to do that for you. So eat up, for we’ve a lot to do.”

The housekeeper’s colour heightened, but she folded her arms, looking quite as though she would wrestle Narcissa into submission if she did not comply.

Meekly, Narcissa picked up the spoon and forced herself to finish her eggs and a slice of toast, wondering what on earth Mrs Fenchurch would consider good advice.

“One more slice of toast and a cup of tea, if you please, my lady,” Mrs Fenchurch said inexorably.

Sighing, Narcissa did as she was bid, though the toast stuck in her throat as she wondered how long it would be before her father arrived on their doorstep. Hopefully, he did not know where Ash lived, but she doubted it would take long to discover the information. The disappearance of Fidelia and Mr De Beauvoir, and Alex, all on the same day, must have confused matters, possibly enough that it had taken him some time to discover what precisely had happened, or even that she had gone at all. When she had left, the house had been in uproar, so she very much doubted anyone would have realised she was missing until the next morning at the earliest.

Once Mrs Fenchurch was satisfied, she proved herself to be a dab hand with arranging hair and, whilst she brushed and pinned Narcissa’s long tresses into an elegant chignon, the warm-hearted, if no-nonsense lady explained what she thought Narcissa ought to know about her wedding night. The description was brief and somewhat mechanical, and by the end of the recitation, Narcissa’s eyes were wide and her cheeks very pink. Though she was grateful to the lady for her kindness, the explanation had been rather mortifying to listen to.

“Any questions?” Mrs Fenchurch asked, her ruddy face glowing more than usual and looking as though she was praying there would not be.

Narcissa shook her head, for she had not been entirely ignorant—one saw animals in the countryside, after all. Visibly relieved, Mrs Fenchurch then helped Narcissa into the borrowed gown. It was far too long, but some quickly made alterations to the hem fixed the problem without too much difficulty, and a few hasty adjustments did wonders with the waistline. All things considered, the effect was not displeasing, and Narcissa hoped her husband-to-be would find nothing to be ashamed of in her appearance. She made a mental note to call on Lady Latimer as soon as she was able, to thank her for her kindness, for with the gown and the pardessus had come matching gloves, an adorable hat trimmed with swansdown like the coat, and lovely little calfskin half boots which were sadly too big. The redoubtable Mrs Fenchurch stuffed the toes with cotton wool, however, so they might serve for the time being.

A peremptory knock sounded before Ash strode in, staring at his pocket watch.

“Tell me you are ready, for we really ought…” He trailed off as he caught sight of her, his expression changing from one of mild irritation to something she could not read.

Mrs Fenchurch gave Narcissa a quick grin, winking at her before she gathered the remnants of the breakfast tray. “If you’ll excuse me, sir. My lady is ready as you asked and the hour only just about to strike too,” she said with undisguised satisfaction.

Ash said nothing, his gaze moving over Narcissa in a way that made her feel strangely hot all over, as if she’d been caught adjusting her garters in public.

“Do I look quite as I ought?” Narcissa asked hesitantly, not wishing him to think she was fishing for compliments, but feeling so anxious a little reassurance would not go amiss. Whilst she was used to being considered a beautiful girl, she had never wished so desperately to please a man before, and the knowledge that she was wearing a borrowed gown and boots that did not fit her was not helping her confidence.

There was a charged silence whilst Ash studied her.

“Quite,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity. “Certainly you do.”

“Oh,” she said with relief, though it was hardly a fulsome compliment, but she was relieved he thought nothing was amiss. “Thank you.”

He let out a breath of laughter and shook his head. “You are a picture, my lady, as you always are,” he said, his voice smoother now as he offered her his arm. “Come.”

Smiling happily at his words, Narcissa allowed herself to relax a little. She was to be married this morning, to a man who was uncertain he wished to marry her, and she had no idea what the future held, but she meant to do all in her power to see he never regretted his actions.

For now, though, she was content for fate to lead her where it would. It had brought her here after all, and so far, that was the greatest good fortune she could imagine receiving.

Chapter 14

Dear Ma and Pa,

I’m afraid I’m about to do something you may not approve of. At least you may not approve of the manner in which I am doing it, but I have no choice.

This morning, I will wed the Lady Narcissa Ponsonby. I suspect her father will make an unpleasant scene on your doorstep in his effort to track me down. I am sorry for it, but it can’t be helped.

Please forgive me. I know you will like Narcissa very much, for she is a dear creature, and nothing like her vile parent. I beg you will save any recriminations for me alone and make her welcome once I am able to make her known to you.

―Excerpt of a letter from The Hon’ble Ashton Anson to his parents, The Right Hon’ble Silas and Aashini Anson, The Viscount and Viscountess Cavendish.

15th March 1850, Albany Street, Regent’s Park, London.

Ash led Narcissa down the stairs to the entrance hall, his guts seething with an uncertain mixture of hope, anticipation, and doubt. The sensation had assailed him the moment he had woken to find Narcissa in his arms. The feeling that had risen in his chest at finding her beside him had been one of such pleasure and possessive pride, it had shocked him. He kept telling himself that he did not know her, that he could not trust her—not yet, at least—but it was getting harder to remember that.