Sometimes a Rogue

by Mary Jo Putney

  There was, but they found something even better in a back attic: two sets of light, elegant Sheraton bedroom furnishings. Sarah pulled the holland cover from an end table and ran her fingertips over the delicate satinwood inlays. “This furniture is beautiful! It must be what was removed when the old earl’s first wife went mad for the Gothic style. I wonder if there are draperies and hangings as well.”

  Mariah slid behind a wardrobe into the corner. “There are two large trunks here that look promising. Bring the lantern back so we can look.”

  By the time Sarah reached her sister, Mariah had opened the first trunk. The tang of lavender wafted out from the sachets of herbal preservatives. She raised the lantern as her sister lifted the first fold of fabric. A floral motif in shades of rose and burgundy was set against a background of ivory brocade. “Lovely! They must be the draperies for the countess’s room. Let’s see what’s in the other trunk.”

  Mariah raised the lid to reveal a similar brocade, only with the pattern in shades of blue. “This must be for the earl’s room. You’ve struck gold here!”

  Sarah grinned. “That makes it worth the fact that we both look like rag pickers. The master’s rooms will look very different and much better.”

  Mariah nodded. “Now it’s time to put every maid and footman to work refurbishing the suite for your wedding night!”

  Sarah blushed, glad the dim lighting concealed her reaction. Despite all the wedding preparations, the idea that she would be married in a few days was somewhat unreal. Reminding herself that women had been marrying from time immemorial, she closed the trunk.

  Take it all one step at a time.

  Sarah and Mariah were about to return to their respective bedrooms to change into clean clothing when they passed the staircase that swept down to the ground floor. “This place is like a London coaching inn,” Sarah said as she looked over the railing into the front hall. “So much coming and going! Some is because of Rob’s inheriting the title and some is wedding related. But more is permanent, I fear.”

  Mariah nodded. “A great house is a buzzing hive of people. When I was plain Mariah Clarke, it was easy to be private, but it’s different for a duchess. I learned from Adam how to draw boundaries to protect myself.”

  “I suppose I must learn how to do that, too,” Sarah said without enthusiasm. “Staying a spinster aunt would have been easier than becoming a countess.”

  “Marriage isn’t about becoming a grand lady. It’s about being with the one you love,” Mariah said quietly.

  Her sister’s searching gaze made Sarah want to change the subject. She’d already explained how the relationship between her and Rob was different from that of Mariah and Adam. It was not a topic she wanted to return to.

  She was about to continue on to her room when the knocker banged on the front door. Who was it this time? She and Mariah paused to see. A footman crossed the hall and opened the door to reveal a couple standing on the front steps.

  “It’s Mr. Crowell and Sally Hunt here from Ralston Abbey!” Mariah said excitedly. “And none too soon.”

  She scampered down the steps to greet the new temporary employees. Sarah followed, giving thanks for the extra help. Any steward or housekeeper trained in the Ashton household would surely be well skilled.

  Sarah recognized Sally Hunt from Ralston Abbey. She was a neatly put together young woman in her late twenties. Interestingly, she’d donned a subtle air of authority. Instead of a senior housemaid, she now looked like a housekeeper, a woman of high responsibility in a large household.

  If Sally could change her demeanor, so could Sarah. Speaking as lady of the house to her housekeeper, she said with a smile, “Miss Hunt, welcome. I’m so very glad you’ve arrived.” Her gaze shifted to the steward. “Mr. Crowell. We’ve not met, but you come highly recommended.”

  He bowed. “I look forward to the opportunity to serve Kellington.”

  Like Sally Hunt, he carried himself like an intelligent, ambitious person who appreciated the opportunity to reach a high position at a relatively young age. Both of them would work hard to prove themselves capable.

  “Mariah, could you take charge of Miss Hunt? Show her to her quarters and introduce her to the senior staff members.” She smiled wickedly. “And get her started on that project you and I were discussing. I’ll take Mr. Crowell to meet Lord Kellington.”

  The new employees exchanged a glance. Yes, they were a couple. If the positions here worked out, they’d surely be wed within the next year.

  Now to put them to work!

  Chapter 32

  Today is my wedding day. Sarah’s fingers were shaking so badly that she couldn’t get the wires of her earrings into her ears.

  “I’ll take care of your earrings, my lady,” Francie said in a soothing voice.

  “I’m not ‘my lady’ yet,” Sarah pointed out as she gratefully handed the golden hoops to her maid.

  “It won’t hurt me to practice so I’ll be ready when you become the countess.” Francie deftly inserted the wires in Sarah’s ears. Tiny gold spirals hung from the main hoops and they captured the light whenever Sarah’s head moved. The gold emphasized her golden underskirt and lace. Her face might look like a wax work death mask, but at least she glittered.

  “Sister Sarah, you look so stunning that Rob will keel over when he sees you coming down the aisle.” Mariah, lovely in a pale peach gown, entered the bedroom. She was trying to look understated so as not to draw attention from the bride, but Mariah couldn’t help but look beautiful. Sarah didn’t mind.

  “Give the credit to your duchess gown.” She hugged her sister, then Bree, who was following. Rob’s daughter looked excited but demure in her white gown with gold lace trim. It was hard to remember the ragged urchin who’d been delivered to the castle.

  “You both look marvelous!” Sarah exclaimed. “Are you prepared to fight off any abduction attempts on me? Lady Kellington said that was the original purpose of bridal attendants. To protect the bride from being stolen away.”

  “I’ll fight for you!” Bree said, looking more like the fierce urchin she’d been.

  “I’ll help defend you, too,” Francie offered, eyes twinkling.

  “Let’s skip that part since you actually were abducted not so very long ago,” Mariah said with a shudder. “Are you ready? It’s time to leave for the church.”

  “I’m in a flat panic.” Sarah dabbed on the daytime perfume sent by her friend Lady Kiri, who was Adam’s sister and a brilliant perfumer. “Otherwise all is well.”

  “It’s normal to feel nervous.” Like Francie, Mariah was using the soothing voice designed to keep anxious brides from strong hysterics.

  “I don’t recall you being this nervous,” Sarah said as she stepped into her slippers. The gold kid and crystal beads looked like fairy footwear, and she liked the two inches of height she gained.

  “I was marrying Adam, so of course I wasn’t nervous.” A furrow formed between Mariah’s eyes. “Are you having doubts about marrying Rob? It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  Sarah made herself think seriously about Mariah’s question. Yes, she was panicked, but Rob was the most interesting man she’d ever met as well as the most attractive. Together, God willing, they could rebuild Kellington and have fine, handsome children. She hoped any offspring would get Rob’s height, not hers. “Rob is excellent husband material. I’m just . . . nervous. As you say, that’s common.”

  “Here’s your hat, Sarah.” Bree opened the hatbox she’d brought and reverently lifted out the redesigned hat.

  “Oh, Bree, your embroidery is exquisite!” Sarah traced the finely stitched blossoms with one fingertip. “Did you have to work late every night to get this done?”

  Bree nodded, but her eyes were shining. Sarah had a brief mental image of the girl someday wearing the hat to her own wedding.

  She turned to the mirror and set the hat on her sleek blond hair. The band of embroidery secured the creamy lace of Lady Kellington’s ve
il, which swept over the crown to fall back past Sarah’s shoulders. Now she looked like a bride, not a duchess.

  Francie tweaked the position of the hat. “Last of all, a bit of color.” She wielded a hare’s foot to brush a hint of pink onto Sarah’s cheeks. “And this lip salve.” The salve was also colored pink.

  Francie’s deft application of cosmetics made Sarah look natural and healthy rather than like death walking. Sarah said in a less than steady voice, “I look as good as I’m going to, so it’s time to get married.”

  Bree led the procession down the stairs and out the front door to the waiting flower-bedecked carriage. Sarah’s parents and uncle and the dowager countess had left earlier in another coach. Most of the servants were already at the church as well. Two or three had stayed behind so the house wouldn’t be completely empty.

  Hector himself helped the four females into the coach, a slight but actual smile on his face. When they were settled and on their way, Sarah said, “When we get there, remind me which one is Rob. We’ve both been so busy I’ve hardly seen him in days.”

  Mariah patted her hand. “That’s why you’re so nervous. You’d feel better if you’d spent more time together. But you’ve used these days well. The master suite is splendid, and even that dull little study is much improved.”

  All true. The new housekeeper was a gem, and the people of Kellington were excited and optimistic about the future. It had been easy to hire extra help from the village to clean and rearrange. The castle was starting to look like a home.

  All too soon they arrived at the church. Sarah felt numb when she climbed from the carriage. Francie was carrying the flowers in a basket, so she produced Sarah’s nosegay. “Here you are, my lady. Those bright yellow daffs are as pretty as sunshine.”

  As Francie gave flowers to Mariah and Bree, Mariah said, “Don’t hold the flowers so high, Sarah. Keep them at waist level. Now onward, favorite sister!”

  “I’m your only sister,” Sarah pointed out as she lowered the nosegay to her waist.

  “So you have no reason to doubt you’re the favorite!”

  The footman opened the church door for the bridal party, and rich organ music poured out. Uncle Peter waited in the vestibule. He beamed at Sarah as she entered. “Aren’t you the prettiest sight!” He held out his arm. In a lower voice, he said, “I’m so glad I’ve had you as a daughter even though you weren’t.”

  His words almost started her crying. Taking his arm, Sarah said, “You were all the father I needed.”

  At that, he looked teary as well. While they talked, Francie lined up Bree and Mariah, then cracked the door to the sanctuary. “All is in order,” she whispered. “Miss Bree, you first. Remember to walk slowly so everyone can admire how pretty you look.”

  Expression determined, Bree clutched her nosegay at waist level while Francie signaled the organist to start the processional music. Mrs. Holt performed an expert transition that moved into a solemn march.

  Francie swung the door all the way open and Bree stepped out into the aisle. Her head was high and she seemed nervous but happy.

  Then Mariah, looking serene and lovely, and probably confusing anyone who didn’t know Sarah had a twin.

  “Your turn, pet,” Uncle Peter murmured. “He’s a fine man. You’ve chosen well.”

  Had Sarah really chosen Rob? Or was this a marriage of convenience and proximity? Frantically reminding herself to carry the nosegay low, she stepped through the door into the sanctuary, glad she had her uncle to steady her. The church was full to overflowing, and there was an audible gasp of admiration when she appeared. Mariah’s duchess gown was doing the job.

  Sarah’s gaze locked on Rob, who stood in front of the altar with Adam beside him. Her breathing was swift and shallow as her uncle escorted her down, then stepped back to sit beside Sarah’s parents.

  Rob was all lean, broad-shouldered strength. But as she approached, he looked cold, so cold. His handsome features were still as marble and his clear light eyes were ice. Could he be regretting this marriage?

  Even if he did, he was too honorable to walk away. If anyone was to stop this ceremony, it would have to be Sarah.

  “Dearly beloved,” the vicar intoned, beginning the familiar service in a rich, deep voice, “we are gathered together here . . .”

  If Sarah didn’t marry him, what would her life be like? Living with her parents in the far, cold north? Becoming a permanent spinster aunt in her sister’s home? Live at Babcock Hall as a spinster cousin?

  While her chaotic thoughts stampeded through her mind, the vicar continued through the service. She was dimly aware when Rob expressed his willingness to have her as his wedded wife with a firm, clear, “I will.”

  Then Mr. Holt turned to Sarah. The words floated past her until he said, “. . . forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

  As long as you both shall live! Sarah sucked in her breath. The words sounded as final and deadly as a falling guillotine blade. Her gaze flashed up to Rob’s face. His expression was intense, unreadable.

  She was ready to bolt when he took her right hand, raised it to his lips, and brushed the lightest of kisses across the back of her gloved fingers. His gaze held hers, and with a jolt she recognized that he was nervous, too. Did he know how close she was to leaving him at the altar? Probably; the damned man was entirely too perceptive.

  Memories flooded her mind. So many memories for such a few weeks. He’d saved her and protected her, warmed her by night, and laughed with her by day. With his new rank, now he needed her help. They might not love the way Mariah and Adam did, but together they were stronger than they were separately. Surely that would be enough.

  Her silence had lasted so long that people were starting to shift in their seats. She squeezed Rob’s hand and gave him a tremulous smile. “I will.”

  He smiled back with a warmth that started to dissipate the chill in her bones. The rest of the service passed in a blur. She became aware when Rob slid a plain gold band on her third finger, left hand.

  “What God hath joined, let no man put asunder!” made her flinch again. It sounded so very, very permanent.

  Because it was. Divorce was virtually impossible, so these vows they took today would bind them for as long as they both lived.

  Too late to worry now. The vicar pronounced them man and wife, and the organ filled the church with a river of joyous music. Holding Sarah’s hand firmly, Rob turned them and led her up the aisle and onto the porch as the organ music was joined by the jubilation of the church bells ringing with a force that saturated all Kellington.

  On the porch, she said apologetically, “I’m so glad that’s over!”

  His smile was full of relief. “So am I.”

  Within moments, they were surrounded by well-wishers offering congratulations as the whole community celebrated. Their marriage was a pledge to the future.

  Her mother’s hug came with happy tears while her father beamed with pride. Jonas shook Rob’s hand with the approval of a long-married man, and Father Patrick gave both of them exuberant hugs and Catholic blessings. Mr. Crowell and Miss Hunt stood side by side, discreetly holding hands. There were faces she recognized from riding the estate with Rob, though she couldn’t put a name to them.

  And—Lord Kirkland? One of Rob’s close friends and partners in covert missions. He looked travel weary, as if he’d just arrived, but he bowed graciously when her gaze caught his.

  Now that she was officially a wife—and Countess of Kellington!—there was no going back. So she might as well enjoy the celebrations!

  Chapter 33

  Rob felt a rush of relief when the wedding service was over and Sarah was officially his wife. She’d looked shatteringly beautiful when she entered the church in a swirl of ivory and gold like an angel come to earth. But the nearer she drew, the more terrified she looked. Surely he’d given her no reason to be afraid of him?

  There had been one truly dreadful moment during the
ceremony when he was sure she was going to pivot and bolt up the aisle, flowers flying. Then he realized how natural her nerves were. When he’d proposed to Bryony at eighteen, he had no real understanding of the enormous, life-changing commitment he was making. Neither had Bryony. All they’d known was that they’d wanted to be together.

  This time he had a much better understanding of how profound and life changing marriage was. But unlike Sarah, he wasn’t terrified. Sobered by the vows he was taking, yes, but he had no doubts. He and Sarah would suit very well.

  As they greeted people on the porch of the church, she seemed to have recovered completely from her attack of nerves. After the last person had offered good wishes, he wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist and tucked her close to his side. “Even with the extra inches of those charming slippers, you’re just a little bit of a thing,” he said fondly.

  She looked up at him with a laugh, golden tendrils of hair curling from under her festive hat. “Perhaps the trouble is that you’re too tall.”

  She looked so alluring that he couldn’t resist bending to give her a kiss. She responded with enthusiasm, which provoked a chorus of cheers and hoots from the viewers. There was nothing like a wedding to put people in a jolly mood.

  She emerged from the kiss flushed and laughing. “Time to return to the castle. I couldn’t swallow anything more than tea this morning, and now I’m ravenous.”

  “I suspect that the wedding feast the Ashtons have organized has enough food to provide for the whole of Somerset. Shall we find out?”

  She took his arm and they climbed into the open, lavishly decorated carriage waiting to carry them up to the castle. By prearrangement, inside the carriage was a sizable bag of shiny new sixpences. Rob stayed on his feet and called, “Thank you for joining our celebration!”

  Then he tossed handfuls of glittering coins high in the air to shower down into eagerly waiting hands. Tomorrow he’d feel poor again, but at least this wedding was happening in proper style, thanks to their friends.

  He settled beside Sarah and gave orders to the driver to head up to the castle, then handed her the last bright sixpence. “For luck, my lady.”