THE TREVORS: BOOKS I - IV

by Quinn, Ella

  A handkerchief was pushed into her hand. “No crying. All will be as it should be.”

  Less than an hour later, Anna and Quartus faced the archbishop as he began the ceremony. Barely listening, she glanced at Quartus who looked at her and smiled. Despite the attempts of his father, they would soon be man and wife.

  “Therefore”—the archbishop said—“if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him speak now, or else here after forever hold his peace.”

  “I object.” The words were spoken loudly from the back of the church and with a certain amount of pique. “Stop this service immediately.”

  Her hands began to shake as she heard Quartus groan. “I have had more than enough of my father.”

  “For what cause?” the archbishop asked in a calm tone.

  “I am Somerset. Lord Quartus Trevor is my son and I will not have him wed to that woman.”

  Anna could see the archbishop take a breath. That seemed to be the most frequent reaction to the Duke of Somerset.

  The archbishop raised a brow. “I was unaware that Lord Quartus was a minor.”

  “He is not. I have other plans for him. You will stop this wedding now.”

  “As you have not stated a valid reason. The service shall continue.” The archbishop looked at her and Quartus. “I require and charge you both that if either of you know of any impediment why yet may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye to now confess it . . .”

  “No.” Anna and Quartus said at the same time.

  “Quartus!”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He nodded, yet when they turned, the crowd of people in the church had started moving into the aisles. Somerset was still shouting, but his voice was becoming fainter as the townspeople and those from the area filled in the open areas, forcing him to move back out of the church.

  “They are protecting us,” Quartus said, his voice filled with awe.

  “I never even imagined they would do such a thing.”

  “Nor did I.”

  A soft melodic humming filled the space near the church doors drowning out the duke’s tirade.

  She and Quartus glanced at the archbishop, who smiled and said, “Shall we continue?”

  Quartus took her hands as they repeated their vows, and when the archbishop finally proclaimed them husband and wife, a large sigh filled the church as if everyone had been holding their collective breaths.

  She felt like sighing as well. They walked quickly to the register and signed their names as did their witnesses.

  “I will guard this book well, Your Grace,” Mr. Sutton said firmly. “I shall also make a copy.”

  The man was right. She would put nothing past Somerset. “Thank you.”

  “Come, my wife.” Quartus tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “There are a great many people who want to wish us happy.”

  And there were. Part of the celebration began in the Town where tables laden with food had been set up. Children were kept busy playing games that someone had organized. He did not see his father, but the magistrate lifted a mug of the ale that had been provided to them, and grinned. The footmen, grooms, and others who’d been pressed into duty as guards were present as well.

  “Are we safe now?” Anna asked.

  “Yes. He knows once the ceremony is over, he has lost. If he did anything at this point, he’d be prosecuted, Hawksworth would be named co-guardian of our children. My father will do anything to keep that from occurring.” Quartus glanced around again and noticed that they were always accompanied by at least three or four men. “Although, our people are not as sanguine.”

  “We won.”

  “We did indeed.” He began smiling broadly.

  She slid a look around and grinned. “I could not be prouder of them, and how they joined ranks against your father.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Anna, Quartus.” Meg saluted them with a glass of wine. “It is time to go home.”

  It turned out that tradition mandated they walk the mile from the village to the castle. The villagers and their other dependents following behind, singing.

  When they arrived the great hall was filled with the local gentry and their friends. Toasts were made, even Aunt Tatiana joined in, and Anna and he were led to an enormous cake.

  “Go on,” his brother instructed handing him a large knife. “You make the first cut. The rest will be handed out to everyone else.”

  Later that evening, her maid dressed her in some sort of silk gown that would most likely not last the night. Yet it had been a gift from Caro, and Anna decided to wear it.

  The door opened and Quartus, dressed in an elaborate robe, entered their bedchamber. His eyes warmed with desire as he gazed at her. “I don’t know what that is you are wearing, but it is enough to tempt a stronger man than I.”

  “Is it really?” Rising slowly so that the silk fell smoothly into place she snoodled toward him. “And what, my lord husband, do you intend to do about it.”

  He met her halfway and lifted her hair, and caressed the back of her neck. “Love you as you deserve to be loved for the rest of your life.”

  Anna thought she would be nervous, but she was not. Could it be because she was older, or was her love for Quartus deeper, more mature, than when she was younger. “I wish to love you as well.”

  He drew her carefully into his arms as if she would break if he was not careful. “You will let me know if I do anything you do not like.”

  “I will.” She slanted her head, touching her tongue to his lips and trailing it along the seam of his mouth. “Kiss me.”

  “Gladly, my love.”

  He opened to her allowing her to take control. Then the back of her legs hit the bed. Oh, the devious man. Slipping her hand inside his robe, she discovered his chest was as hard as she had hoped and was covered with soft curls. He groaned as she reached down and stroked his member, then kissed him. Over his chest, up to his neck, finally reaching his lips again.

  “I think I was the one who vowed to worship you with my body.”

  Slowly, so slowly she wanted to scream, he trailed open mouthed kisses over her chest and breasts. When he took first one furled nipple then the other in his mouth, Anna grabbed the linens, clenching them as she took a shuddery breath. Lord, she was going to expire before he finished. His fingers fluttered down her body as light as butterflies, then over her stomach, and finally dipping into the curls hiding the tiny pearl that could cause such pleasure, he rubbed softly with the heel of his hand, as he slid his finger into her passage.

  “Don’t stop.” She pressed into him wanting more. “That feels so good.”

  “Are you ready for me?” Quartus’s eyes glinted wickedly. “You must tell me before I go on.

  How could she not be? Had she ever been so wet in her life? And oh God, he was serious. “Yes, my love, yes.”

  He entered her slowly, as if she was a virgin, and he was trying to feel her responses to his invasion.

  “I need to make this right for you. Tell me if it hurts.”

  “No pain,” Anne gasped as she wrapped her legs around him pressing her heels into his bottom, urging him to go faster. Withdrawing, he plunged back into her, and the tension that had held her captive burst out like the sudden appearance of the sun after a storm.

  “Anna, Anna, my love.” As he pumped his seed into her, she continued to tremble. He held onto her, stroking her back, murmuring words of love. “Are you all right?”

  Her fingers caressed his cheek, and she pressed soft kisses over his jaw. “I have never been better.”

  Thank God. “Neither have I.”

  Epilogue

  Ten months later.

  Anna clenched her teeth as another contraction gripped her body. “Is it time yet?”

  The mid-wife lifted the sheets. “Push, Your Grace, push.”

  She bor
e down as if her life depended upon it. “Arghhh.” The pain passed. “Well?”

  Meg pressed a cold cloth on Anna’s head as she had been doing for the past eight hours. “It won’t be long now.”

  She’d been more than grateful that her sister-in-law had arrived for the birth.

  Another contraction took hold. God would this ever end? “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Again, she pushed hard.

  “That’s it, Your Grace. I see the head. Once more, and we’ll have the little mite.”

  Her womb contracted, and she could feel the child slipping from her.

  “It’s a boy!” the mid-wife cried. “The first one in a century. Well done, Your Grace!”

  “Oh, Lord. I’m glad that’s over.” Then another contraction hit. Anna tried to sit up. “What the devil?”

  “That’ll be the after birth, Your Grace. We must get it out.” The woman looked under the sheet again. “It can’t be,” she said in a hushed voice. “This has never happened before.

  “What is it?” Meg ran to the end of the bed.

  Anna pushed, and the mid-wife screamed. “Two boys, Your Grace! Two!”

  The door slammed open hitting the wall, and Quartus rushed into the room. “What is going on? Is Anna all right?”

  The mid-wife was practically dancing as she cleaned up the first one and handed the child to him. “Two boys, my lord.” She cleaned the second one, giving him that baby as well. “Now stay out of the way.”

  The afterbirth came, and then things began to happen quickly. A maid lifted Anna as they changed her bed linens. Meg and Annot helped Anna into a clean nightgown. The babies were set to nurse. Each as hungry as if they’d waited months for this moment, and perhaps they had.

  After they were satisfied, Quartus propped himself on the bed, gently caressing her face and neck. “Are you well?”

  “I am.” Sore, tired, but healthy. “Although I feel as if I’ve made up for a hundred years of male heirs.”

  “I did mention that twins run in my family, did I not.” God in Heaven. What had she got herself into? Twins ran in her family as well, although they had never appeared in the direct Wharton line.

  “In that case, Wharton will never again have a lack of male heirs, and I am not going to number them in Latin.”

  “Thank God for that.” He grinned.

  Author’s Note

  While researching peeresses in their own right, I discovered that there had, indeed, been duchesses in their own right. Granted there hadn’t been one since around the seventh century, but there could have been if lines had not been so disobliging as to die out.

  There really was a ‘Pirate Priest’ in Tortola during the Regency. He (his name has been lost to history) was the vicar of St. Michael’s church, which, sadly, no longer exists other than a ring of rubble. Earlier in his life, he was a look out for the pirates going into Cane Garden Bay. He has a much larger role in my book Enticing Miss Eugénie Villaret.

  You will notice that characters from both my series, The Marriage Game and The Worthingtons make appearances.

  I hope you enjoyed the story.

  ONE DUKE OR ANOTHER

  Book 3, of The Trevors

  Chapter 1

  The seventh of June, 1818

  My dear Somerset,

  As you may have heard, my wife had an unfortunate illness and passed away several months ago, leaving me as childless as I was before.

  I understand that your eldest daughter is of an age to wed. I would be pleased if you would consider a union between our two families.

  Yr servant,

  Bolton

  * * *

  The tenth of June, 1818

  My dear Bolton,

  You are correct in your understanding. My eldest daughter, Aglaia, is of an age to be married. Her mother, my duchess, is a good breeder. There is no reason she should disappoint you with regard to an heir.

  She will bring a sufficient dowry. However, I should like the title to the land you own that marches with my estate near Bath.

  Yr servant,

  Somerset

  * * *

  The thirteenth of June, 1818

  My dear Somerset,

  Consider it done. If you send me your requirements, I shall have my solicitor look them over.

  I would like the ceremony to be at the end of July.

  Yr servant,

  Bolton

  Lady Aglaia Trevor, eldest daughter of the Duke of Somerset, entered her father’s study and stood in front of the large, elegant, walnut burl desk. Her hands clasped, she surreptitiously took in the room she hardly ever saw as she waited for him to acknowledge her presence.

  The study itself wasn’t particularly large. Not like the drawing rooms or even the morning room. It was, however, as elegant and cold as her father.

  Ornate plaster glittering in silver surrounded colorful paintings of mythological scenes. The walls were lined with grayish-blue silk in a subtle stripe of the same color. One crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room directly behind her. Heavy, light blue, velvet curtains with silver trim framed the many windows in the room. All but the curtains directly behind the duke were open, allowing the sun to shine through. Unlike in the cozy morning room, no cat lazed in the sun’s path along the light blue and white Turkey carpets. No dust motes dared invade the space.

  Laia knew better than to speak. That would bring a sharp rebuke. Instead, she studied the man himself. Even though he was past seventy, he was still tall and broad shouldered, traits he had passed down to all of her brothers. Most of them, though, had not inherited his blade-like nose. None of them, thankfully, had his testy temperament.

  The duke’s blond hair was turning to silver, but his pale-blue eyes, the same color as the walls, were still sharp. His face was always stern. No laugh lines showed at the corners of his eyes or mouth. In all her almost one and twenty years, she had rarely seen him smile.

  She wondered why she had been summoned. She could not think of anything she had done to displease him. Then again, that was not difficult to accomplish. No matter how well educated or talented she or her brothers and sisters were, he never seemed to be happy with them. Although, he saved most of his ire for her eldest brother, the Marquis of Hawksworth. For his part, Damon did not appear to care what their father thought. He had an inheritance from his mother, the duke’s first wife, and did exactly what he pleased. Laia was tempted to sigh. To have such independence was something to which she could never aspire. At the rate she was going, she’d live and die an old maid.

  “Sit down, girl.”

  The barked command was so sudden she almost jumped.

  “Yes, Father.” Laia sank into the chair behind her, knees together, her hands folded in her lap, eyes cast modestly down.

  “I have found you a husband.”

  A shiver of trepidation slithered down her back. She was not to be a spinster after all. She should have expected it. After all, he had arranged matches for two of her brothers. Not that either Damon or Frank had wed the women Father had chosen. Still, the news was such a shock she could think of nothing to say. He had so little to do with her she had almost believed he had forgotten she existed. That he had gone out of his way and arranged a marriage for her was more than she had hoped for.

  “He is the Duke of Bolton.” Her father tapped his pen on the desk as if in a hurry. “You will be married at his estate in Hampshire in July.”

  Bolton? Wasn’t he already wed? Or had she confused him with another duke? Not that there were many of them. Yet, she must have. After all, she could not be marrying him if he already had a wife.

  Somerset speared Laia with a look reminding her that he probably wanted a response even though she could say only one thing. “Yes, Father.”

  “You may go.” He picked up a document and began to read it.

  She rose and almost fled the room. Still . . . was that all he thought she needed to know? Steeling herself for a rebuke, she asked, “
When will I met him?”

  The duke raised one thin white brow, and Laia fought the urge to escape as quickly as she could. Yet, this was the rest of her life they were discussing, and it was the nineteenth century not the fifteenth century. She would like to get to know her prospective husband before actually saying her vows. “I have arranged for a house in Bath. Your mother is convinced that you need to be in society before taking your position as the wife of a peer. If he can take the time, you will meet Bolton while you are there, I assume.”

  “Yes, Father. Thank you.”

  Skirting the chair, she walked as swiftly as she was able from the study and headed straight to the library. She had apparently forgotten who the Duke of Bolton was, but Debrett’s would answer many of her questions, and her mother the rest. Laia hoped.

  But Bath! That was above all things absolutely wonderful! It was true that Bath was no longer as popular as it once had been, but there were assemblies, and other parties, and the famous Pump Room, where people met, not only to take the waters, but to see others and be seen. Neither Laia nor her sisters had been allowed to attend even their local assemblies. The promise of Bath was wonderful indeed. And then she was to be wed! What a momentous day this was turning out to be.

  A quarter hour later, uncertain what to make of her discovery, she closed the latest copy of Debrett’s. How could the Duke of Bolton be so careless as to have lost four wives? One or two might be understandable, but four seemed a bit excessive. Particularly as he did not even have any children to show for his unions. Then again, perhaps they and their mothers had died in childbirth. Unfortunately, it happened more often than one would like. Thankfully, Laia’s mother had never had a problem in that respect. Perhaps that was the reason the duke wished to wed Laia.