‘I shall try not to be a disappointment,’ she parried without her usual sharpness. ‘Shall I go and tell my mother?’
He scanned the room and easily located the Duchess of Hampford speaking to Lady Richmond. ‘There is no need. After we leave, a waiter will give your mother a billet. I have written to inform her of our private marriage and short wedding trip.’
Frederica looked down at the green lace overlay of her dress. ‘I do think I might be a tad conspicuous in the countryside in this gown. In your plans, have you provided for proper clothing for me?’
‘Colonel Scovell’s wife saw to it,’ Samuel said, pressing his hand harder against her waist. ‘We are to be middle-class French merchants and will be dressed accordingly.’
The musicians struck the final chord. Reluctantly, Samuel dropped his hand from her waist and took her fingers in his other hand. He led her through several couples and an antechamber. Accepting his hat from the servant, he took the wrap and put it around Frederica. Then he escorted her out the door. Frederica lifted her skirt as she walked down the stairs to where a carriage waited for them. Scovell and his wife sat on the opposite seat with their backs to the driver. The couple matched each other in age and reserved countenances.
‘Good evening, Lady Stringham, Lord Pelford,’ Colonel Scovell said, bowing his head. ‘May I introduce my wife, Mrs Scovell?’
Samuel and Frederica greeted the older woman in unison: ‘How do you do?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ she said in a soft voice.
Awkward silence followed and Scovell broke it. ‘We do not have a long drive. The chapel is only a couple of streets away.’
Frederica gave a small smile, but Samuel could see that she was nervous. She kept running her right fingers up her left arm, breathing in and out abnormally fast. The coach stopped, and the Scovells exited first. Samuel followed, offering his arm to Frederica, but she leapt out of the carriage and onto the pavement. She then took his hand and they entered the church.
Several candles cast shadows in the large domed room. A man in black robes stood in front of the crucifix and beckoned them forward. Samuel took Frederica’s elbow and directed her past the wooden pews to the front of the chapel.
Nodding, Samuel told the minister to proceed.
The minister was a small man with a lined face. He smiled at Frederica and began the wedding ceremony in French. The minister’s sermon was succinct, and Samuel almost missed his cue to say ‘I will’.
Frederica said, ‘I will,’ loudly, and her voice echoed in the empty hall.
The minister then declared them man and wife. They both signed the register and then Scovell witnessed the marriage certificate. The spymaster congratulated them and said that his lodgings were only a step away and that he and his wife would walk. He assured Samuel that both of their trunks were in the carriage and explained that they had rooms booked at the Fleur Blanche Hôtel.
The ride to the inn took almost ten minutes—it was on the edge of the city. Neither Samuel nor Frederica attempted to make conversation. His bride appeared just as nervous as he was and not nearly as excited. He swallowed, his mouth dry.
Samuel stepped out of the carriage first. ‘I would hate for you to sprain your ankle before your first adventure.’
Clasping his hands around her narrow waist, he helped her down. He could hardly wait to get her into his arms again.
He directed the coachman to bring in the saddlebags and he opened the door into the inn. The Fleur Blanche Hôtel was a modern building of three stories with an elegant exterior of the palest blue. They were ushered in by a landlord impeccably dressed in a simple suit of black. The landlord looked to be at least seventy years old. His hair was white and thin, but worn to his shoulders. His face was wrinkled, but his figure did not slump. He whistled for a servant to carry the luggage, and he begged Samuel and Frederica to follow him.
The proprietor took them to a second-floor room that was richly furnished in shades of gold. A large four-poster bed with gold bed hangings took up most of the room. A bottle of champagne and two goblets were on a small round dining table. The landlord gave them a knowing smile and wished the new couple a happy marriage. The servant placed the saddlebags near the door, before shutting it behind him.
Frederica walked around the room. ‘What a charming apartment. I have never stayed in a hotel so fine.’
It was obvious by the way she chattered that she felt ill at ease.
Samuel coloured with embarrassment and disappointment as he sputtered, ‘I did not realise that they would only reserve one room. I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable.’
Frederica’s neck and face were flushed, but she looked him directly in the eyes. ‘We are married after all—to each other. Will you turn around whilst I change my clothes?’
He would have dearly liked to watch, but did as she requested. He had not considered that shyness could be a hidden quality of his bride. She had certainly never been shy before and he found that he did not particularly like it. He wished for his brazen betrothed.
Samuel felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.
‘Would you undo my buttons?’ Frederica asked, her neck as red as her cheeks. ‘I cannot reach them.’
She turned away from him.
Lifting a curl off her back, he placed it on her shoulder. He breathed heavily as he fiddled with the small ornate buttons. His heart beat furiously in his chest as though he were in a battle for his life. He felt a frantic heat course through his veins. Frederica turned to look at him and took off her dress, leaving only her shift and corset on. She carelessly tossed it to the ground. Like all aristocratic ladies, she was used to being waited on.
‘Could you untie my corset, as well?’ Frederica asked, and again turned her beautiful back towards him.