The Reluctant Bride. Meg Alexander

thought that he was about to offer her money. That would be the last straw. Already she felt like some commodity in the marketplace.

      His lazy gaze rested upon her face. “No matter,” he announced. “We shall be a law unto ourselves. In this case the bride shall have her trousseau after we are wed.”

      “It will be unnecessary, sir. You have pointed out yourself that I am still in mourning.”

      It was a brutal reminder of his part in her father’s death, and Isham’s expression changed. “As you wish,” he said shortly. “Though the convention does not apply to a bride.”

      India made no reply. She thought she saw a look of impatience in his eyes, but he changed the subject.

      “I leave for London in the morning,” he announced. “I shall be away for several days. Have you any commissions for me?”

      “None, my lord, though I wish you a safe journey.”

      “Thank you, my dear.” His tone was ironic. “For that, at least, I must be grateful. India, may we not drop some of the formality? My name is Anthony.”

      “Very well, my lord…I mean, Anthony…When do you return?”

      “You will be spared my company until Thursday of next week. I have other matters to attend…”

      India guessed that these important matters most probably concerned a visit to the opera-dancer, but she thrust the thought aside. It was no concern of hers.

      “I hope to return with my half-brother, Henry,” Isham continued. “He will wish to support me at the ceremony.”

      It was an unpleasant reminder of the course to which she had committed herself, but now that the decision had been made India was resolved to play her part.

      “I look forward to meeting him,” she murmured politely. She was beginning to feel ashamed of her curt manner. Isham had done his best to treat her with civility in spite of her rudeness. On an impulse she held out her hand, but his lordship did not take it. There was something in his expression as he looked at her which she did not understand. For once his manner appeared abstracted.

      “Tell me,” he said at last. “Do you go abroad much in the evenings?”

      India stared at him. It was the oddest question.

      “No, we do not,” she replied tartly. Isham must know that Mrs Rushford was not in a position to keep horses or a carriage.

      “I believe that on occasion you have the use of Sir James’s carriage?” he persisted. “May I beg you not to use it after dusk?”

      India stiffened. She was not yet Lord Isham’s wife. Why should he think it proper to dictate to her? She would go out as she wished.

      He saw her look, smiled, and shook his head, but then his face grew grave. “There is good reason for my warning, India. You have not heard of the unrest?”

      “No,” she answered in surprise. “What is that, my lord?”

      “There is disaffection in this area, and it is growing. Certain men are banding together in large groups. They roam abroad at night, smashing machinery and burning factories.”

      “But why? Who are they?”

      “They are mostly labourers from the framework knitting industry.”

      “But why destroy their means of livelihood?”

      “That livelihood is almost non-existent now, I fear. The war with France has reduced demand for their stockings and export of Midlands cotton goods has fallen by a third. The harvest has been poor this year and food prices are extremely high. On reduced wages they cannot afford to eat. Half the local population is on public relief.”

      “Then one can hardly blame them,” India cried.

      “Their despair is understandable, my dear, but their actions cannot be condoned. The mood is ugly, they are heavily armed with muskets, pistols and hatchets. And there has been at least one death.”

      India gasped. “We have heard nothing of this,” she said slowly. “But Anthony, they could have no reason to attack a private carriage. We ourselves do not go out at night, but both our uncles come to visit us.”

      If Isham was pleased that she had used his given name of her own accord he gave no sign of it.

      “I have no wish to frighten you,” he told her gently. “Yet a mob is sometimes carried away with a strange energy of its own. It needs only a core of hotheads; even a few will serve to whip the others to a frenzy. Then the original reasons for their actions are forgotten. Anyone may become a target.”

      She shuddered, but he took her hand and pressed it. “You will be safe indoors,” he comforted. “And to date they have not ventured forth in daylight.”

      Once again he raised her fingers to his lips. And this time she did not draw away until he took a step towards her. India stood very still. Pray heaven he would not try to embrace her. He was a stranger still. She would need more time to grow accustomed to this man who had come so unexpectedly into her quiet life. Yet again his curious antennae warned him of her feelings. He merely bowed and released her hand.

      India felt like a gauche schoolgirl. Would she ever be at ease with him? He was unlike anyone she had met before. In his presence she was aware of the raw power beneath his formal manner. Charm and courtesy could not disguise it. She was about to marry a dangerous man.

      He gave her no time to ponder further. With a brief word of farewell he took his leave.

      They had expected no more visitors that day, but Isham had not been gone above an hour when Sir James Perceval arrived. He hurried into the parlour eager to hear their news.

      “Well, my dears,” he said expectantly. “How did you go on with Isham?”

      “Oh, James, such news!” Isabel Rushford could not hide her delight. “India is to wed his lordship!”

      Sir James took India in his arms and kissed her soundly. “Well done, my child! Isham is a lucky man, and as for yourself, you could not have chosen a better.”

      Forcing a smile, India thanked him. She was not surprised when he turned to her mama. “If only Hester had some of India’s good sense,” he mourned. “Now, perhaps, as India is betrothed, she will try to persuade my wilful daughter to follow her example.”

      Wisely, Isabel said nothing. There was no love lost between herself and this particular niece. India might be difficult at times, but she was a paragon of obedience compared with Hester. She considered privately that the girl had been indulged beyond reason. Now there was no controlling her.

      “Well, India, what do you say?” Sir James looked anxious. “Will you speak to her?”

      “With pleasure, Uncle, but I cannot promise that she will pay me any heed.” India smiled up at him.

      Hester was her dearest friend, but she made no secret of her views on marriage. She would be no man’s chattel. The news of India’s betrothal would bring her to Lilac Cottage at the first opportunity. India was sure of it.

      She was not mistaken. On the following morning Hester was announced and, characteristically, she did not beat about the bush.

      “What’s this I hear?” she demanded. “Father tells us that you are to be wed.”

      “It’s true!” India coloured. “Oh, Hester, I had meant to come and explain to you myself, but it wasn’t possible.”

      “I can imagine!” Hester said drily. “It came as a shock to all of us. We had no idea, you see.”

      “Nor had I.”

      Hester studied her cousin’s face intently. “Then it is as I thought? You were coerced into taking Isham?”

      “Not exactly. I made the decision myself.”

      “Helped,