Page 67 of A Portrait of Love

There had been no time to talk about why she was marrying a man her two friends did not seem to like—or at least trust.

Honey could only be glad her other friends were not here for the fiasco.

“Take lovers,” her friend Portia had once advised her female teachers, scandalizing all of them except Lorelei, who was frequently vocal about the oppression of females in marriage after reading some tract by Blake.

Of course, Portia herself had recently married and seemed to be happily in love, so presumably her advice would now be different.

Not that Honey’s marriage was even close to being a love-match.

At least not on his side …

Honey hastily pushed that thought from her mind and concentrated on Freddie and her worries. “I am happy with this marriage—thrilled, in fact.” She made herself smile.

“You don’t look happy. And I do not understand why things have proceeded with such haste? Why have you not allowed us to tell anyone? And why—”

“I’m not pleased about the speed at which things are happening, but that’s rather my fault.” The only thing she’d shared with her friends about why she was getting married—that was true—was the episode in the duke’s study and the half-dozen witnesses. Freddie, far more than Miles, understood why she must marry the man.

Her friend nodded but her cheeks developed two rather alarming red spots.

“What is it Freddie?”

“About tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, your wedding night.”

It was Honey’s turn to blush. “Oh, that.”

“Do you know what will happen?”

Honey did not tell her that nothing would happen—that this was to be a childless marriage. Instead she nodded. “I was raised around artists. They are rather indiscreet,” she said, hoping that would be enough to put an end to a topic that was mortifying them both.

Freddie took her hand in a crushing grasp. “If you find it too unbearable, just know that it does not last forever.”

Honey blinked at the loathing and passion in Freddie’s normally cool eyes. She’d heard women complain, in vague ways, about their husband’s carnal desires, but none of them had looked as horrified as her friend. Not for the first time did she wonder about the other woman’s brief marriage to the Earl of Sedgewick. Part of her wanted to ask Freddie what had happened, another part feared what she might learn.

But now was hardly the time to ask, even if her friend was willing to share.

Honey told herself that she should feel glad she would never have to worry about that part of marriage. But those two kisses—and more—with Simon made that a difficult belief to cling to. It was even more difficult to put those memories out of her mind—to put them in that locked room with all the other thoughts and emotions that were too uncomfortable to consider in the harsh light of day.

Honey looked at the watch Freddie wore pinned to the bodice of her gown and stood. “I must hurry, he will be here soon.”

***

The chaise to Brighton was not as luxurious as the one the duke had arranged for her trip to Whitcomb, but Lord Saybrook said it was the best he could find on such short notice—after she told him that she would not ride in the ducal coach he’d planned to use.

Not only was the carriage less spacious and comfortable, but this time she was not alone in it. This time her long-legged, virile, hooded-eyed husband was with her.

He had assisted Honey into the front facing seat, said a mocking goodbye to Freddie and Miles—who’d glowered at him—and hopped inside, dropping into the seat facing her before rapping on the roof.

He looked across at her as the carriage sprang into motion. “Well, Lady Saybrook.”

Honey started at the name; she had not even considered the title. She was a marchioness and would one day be a duchess. The knowledge left her cold.

She lifted her eyebrows at her husband.

“Oh come,” he said, unrepressed by her quelling look. “We are in this together now. We used to be friends,” he saw something on her face and chuckled. “Alright, amiable acquaintances? How is that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “My point is that we once got on well enough. We ought to make the best of it, don’t you think?”