“An hour?” Hughes echoed, his uncommonly bushy eyebrows that resembled twin caterpillars knitting together between his eyes. “But I thought we were to go straight there for the wedding breakfast.”
Damn and blast! He’d completely forgotten about the numerous guests who were to report to his estate for the confounded wedding breakfast. He may have been able to get away with a quiet wedding in the country without having to invite guests of every station, but his daughters had most vehemently insisted he keep to tradition and at least host a wedding breakfast. Seeing no harm in it, he had agreed. Now he wished he hadn’t. He balled his hands into two tight fists, squeezing so hard his fingernails bit into his palms.
“Fine,” he ground out. “But following the breakfast, we have an important matter to discuss.”
Hughes blinked. “We do?”
“Yes. We do,” Patrick confirmed in what he knew to be his most superior-sounding voice. The churchyard was not the place to confront the man. His private study was. The only problem was keeping himself calm in the interim.
“Papa! Papa!” chorused one of his girls.
A sharp pain in the region of Patrick’s heart suddenly developed. How disappointed the girls were going to be when they found out the woman they thought was to be their new motherness―a term he’d coined to explain Miss Hughes’ new role as their mother and governess―was not the one in the carriage.
“Are you girls ready to go home?” he asked quietly.
Three heads adorned with beautiful raven curls bobbed up and down excitedly. “Can we ride with you?” Celia asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Patrick lied. He could see plenty of reasons why they shouldn’t. The biggest being they were about to have their little hearts crushed once they climbed up into the carriage and saw who was waiting inside. Of course he could always ride with the girls in his second carriage, the one he’d lent the Hughes this morning. But for the sake of appearances, it wouldn’t do for him and his new “wife” to be seen leaving their wedding separately.
With a sigh, he helped the three girls up and whispered to each of them that they needed to be quiet in the carriage. He hoped that would both stem their questions and keep them from vocalizing their disappointment about this unfortunate situation.
He twisted his lips in disgust as he climbed the stairs. Mr. Hughes may have thought to trick him, but Mr. Hughes and his daughters were in for quite a surprise. He may be a lord, but he didn’t give a pence about his reputation among society. He might have at one time, but having a family had taught him there were far more important things than gossip to worry about. One of those more important things was that his girls had a mother. Another was that they had a suitable governess. That, however, did not mean he’d turn a blind eye to this deception. No, not at all. He’d get this marriage annulled on the basis of fraud, then pay a Bow Street Runner to scout out the best governess in England and offer to double her wages.
Silence filled the carriage as it bumped down the road. Glancing over at his three girls, Patrick’s chest puffed with pride at the way his daughters had obeyed his command for silence and hadn’t humiliated Miss Hughes…er…the current Lady Drakely, soon-to-be Miss Hughes again, by making an unflattering comment about her being the wrong motherness. At the same time, his heart constricted with the slightest hints of sympathy and guilt.
He turned his eyes back to his wife, and stared at her. Most considered it rude to stare. He didn’t care. Some even tried to hide their staring by lowering their lashes. He didn’t bother. There was no need to mask his curiosity. Whether she thought him rude or not, he didn’t give a fig. Besides, staring was the least rude behavior he could be expressing at present.
Before they’d climbed into the carriage, she’d said she’d been duped, and the look on her face both then and now made him want to believe her in the worst way. Perhaps she really hadn’t been a part of this, or at least hadn’t been given a choice in any of this. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl imaginable with her thick mess of brownish-blonde hair, stone grey eyes that appeared positively gigantic due to her excessively thick spectacle lenses, and her attractive but not beautiful face. Perhaps her father saw an opportunity to give her what she’d never have a chance at otherwise, and forced her to play the role. She didn’t strike him as the sort to deliberately take advantage of a situation. That much he could tell just by looking at her, and that’s why he suddenly felt a tinge of sympathy and guilt. Perhaps he should have treated her a bit better in the churchyard.