Virtue's Reward by Jean R. Ewing Read Free Book Online

no, after all? Where could she go?
    In the next moment, she was able to breathe again.
    “Of course, or I would never have suggested it. Miss Trethaerin, we are both rational people. We expect nothing more from each other than courtesy. It seems to me to be a far sounder basis for a marriage than blind passion. You’re the one who has second thoughts. Very well, sleep on it. We can be wed in the morning, but if you truly can’t go through with it, I shall send you back with the chaise to Trethaerin.”
    And Nigel Garthwood.
    * * *
    The following morning Helena dressed in her best blue-and-white sprigged muslin, and married Captain Richard Acton in St. George’s church, with strangers as witnesses. As soon as the vicar finished the simple service, her new husband led her out onto the porch.
    She turned to him and held out her hand.
    “I feel that I should at least offer you some acknowledgment, sir, for rescuing me from the lion’s den.”
    “It is more customary, my dear, to kiss the bride, than it is to shake hands.”
    Very gently he pulled her to him and cupped her chin in his fingers. His thumb traced the line of her upper lip before he lowered his mouth and let his lips move briefly against hers. The touch was fleeting, courteous, and flooded her body with honey. She had never felt anything like it before.
    Oh, Lord! She had been more than naïve.
    It had not occurred to her until that instant that he might expect her to be more than a platonic companion. But of course he would require her to do her duty in the marriage bed and provide him with children. Helena had little idea what such duties entailed, but she knew they were supposed to be unpleasant. How could she have been so foolish as to not get this delicate issue clear?
    Now it was too late. They were man and wife.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Nigel Garthwood leaned back in the comfortable chair by the fireplace at Friarswell and gazed up at a portrait on the wall. It was that of a certain Sir Edmund Blake, grandfather of the late Edward and brother to his own grandmother, Clara. When Miss Blake had run off with John Garthwood, Sir Edmund had struck her name from the family Bible. There was not a portrait of her in the house. Yet their marriage had been legitimate and the laws of inheritance still held.
    “Well, Sir Edmund,” he said aloud with a smile. “The Garthwoods have their own back. It is Clara’s progeny who rules the roost now. A toast to Clara and John Garthwood!”
    It had been a younger sister who had married a Trethaerin and thus Helena had lost out. He thought about her fleetingly. It had both surprised and annoyed him when she had announced her intention to marry that Acton fellow, who had sprung apparently from nowhere, but he was not unduly distressed.
    In fact, it was perhaps more convenient than marrying her himself. Either way, she was now out of his way at Trethaerin House and he could pursue his own plans for the place.
    He turned the glass of fine French brandy in his hand and smiled. Yes, it was undoubtedly better this way. Helena Trethaerin had possessed far too sharp a tongue and too precious a sensibility. She would have been appalled to find out how he intended to use her childhood home.
    Nigel Garthwood took a long swallow of brandy and winked crudely at the portrait.
    * * *
    Helena looked at the well-sprung curricle in amazement. A pair of perfectly matched grays stood harnessed and ready to go. From somewhere, two tigers had been hired. One stood at the horses’ heads and the other was standing at attention, ready to let down the steps for her.
    “Where did all this come from?” she asked.
    Richard looked at her and raised a brow. “I bought it.”
    “You bought it? But how?”
    “With money, dear wife. I can hardly bring you to King’s Acton in a hired chaise with job horses.”
    She blushed uncomfortably. “King’s Acton?”
    “My father’s place. It’s on our way. We should stop there and pay our respects, don’t