Page 34 of Maid for the Marquess

“I’m so pleased you asked. I would dearly love to hear ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ spoken aloud,” the viscountess countered.

“Whatever my dear wife commands of me,” her husband returned with a grimace that made it apparent he had no wish to recite the poem in question.

At my side, Wheaton chuckled. “Perhaps you ought to read it to us all now, Beckett. I’m certain I must have a volume of Lyrical Ballads about somewhere. I shall go and fetch it.”

Beckett shook his head. “Ha! Do not, I beg, go looking for it on my account.”

I watched the lively interactions between the three in the room with great interest. They were clearly at ease with one another, and the friendship between Wheaton and Beckett was an old and solid one. I felt at once quite fortunate to be included in this charmed little circle. To feel, for the first time, as if there were truly a place where I belonged.

“What do you say, Miss Smythe?” Wheaton asked, his keen, intelligent eyes upon me once more. “Shall I go on a quest to find the Coleridge and Wordsworth book? Do you also harbor a yearning to hear Lord Beckett regale us with verse?”

His regard sent a new wave of heat over me. I liked the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me, with reverence and respect.

I smiled. “Perhaps his lordship might be spared this evening.”

“My dear Miss Smythe, I am forever indebted to you,” Beckett said with a dramatic flourish. “Only see how quick these two were to make a minstrel of me.”

I couldn’t contain my laughter. The other three joined in, and we spent the rest of the evening in pleasant banter until we at last retired. As I made my way to my bedchamber, my spirits were lighter than they had been in as long as I could recall.

I had begun to feel as if I had truly escaped my father.

Forever.

CHAPTER 12

MADELEINE

“How does it feel to be the Marchioness of Wheaton?” Lydia asked me as she pulled the pins from my hair, preparing me for my wedding night.

“Exhausting,” I answered honestly.

The last two days had been a whirlwind. This morning, Lord and Lady Beckett, along with Mr. Warwick, had been witnesses in the parish church as the marquess and I married. Afterward, we had returned to Wheaton for an extravagant wedding breakfast I had scarcely been able to consume.

“I expect it was a rather long day for you,” Lydia commented, unwinding a plait with gentle, efficient motions. “First your wedding, then the wedding breakfast, and of course, seeing Lord and Lady Beckett off this afternoon.”

The viscount and his wife had taken their leave, having had plans to visit friends several hours north. I had enjoyed their company thoroughly, and I was especially grateful for the new friendship I had forged with Lady Beckett. I would miss them, but they had been insistent upon the need to allow Lord Wheaton and me to have some time to grow accustomed to married life.

As Constance had said when she embraced me, “We shall leave the two of you to enjoy your wedded bliss.”

I hadn’t been sure what she meant, though I had flushed as red as an apple, I was sure of it. I still wasn’t entirely certain, although I had a suspicion.

“It has been a great deal of change in a short time,” I agreed, meeting Lydia’s gaze in the looking glass. “I do so wish you would have joined us at the wedding breakfast, if not the church, however.”

“Your situation has changed greatly, and whilst mine has as well, I am still a humble lady’s maid,” Lydia said, plucking the last of the pins free and allowing my hair to fall in heavy waves down my back. “I must remember my position here at Wheaton and not reach above myself.”

“It isn’t reaching when you are invited to do so,” I pointed out. “You are my oldest, dearest friend, Lydia.”

“And you are mine, but you are also my employer now. We aren’t chambermaids sleeping in a dreary attic garret any longer.” Lydia had taken up a comb and was working it through the ends of my hair.

“I am your friend above all else,” I countered sternly. “Perhaps if you would allow me to speak with Lord Wheaton on your behalf, we could arrange for you to find a husband of your own. I could find a different lady’s maid to assist me.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Lydia laid down the comb, frowning at me. “His lordship has already been far too generous, taking me into his household and giving me this situation after I stole away from Cliffwood.”

She was not wrong; the marquess had exhibited a munificence that I was certain no lord would show a mere maid. But he had done so because of my affection for Lydia and because he was an honorable man who genuinely cared in a way that few others did.

Still, though I was more than familiar with the fierce boundaries of our world, I couldn’t help but to find it unjust that my dear friend should be my lady’s maid while I became a marchioness. During our many nights in the garret room, Lydia and I had shared our hopes and wishes for our futures. I knew she wished for a husband and family of her own just as I had, and I also understood how impossible it would be for her to achieve if she remained my lady’s maid.

I sighed. “I don’t like it, Lydia. Why should I be a marchioness whilst you remain a servant?”