The Bittersweet Bride

by Vanessa Riley

  The music played but not louder than his heart. It thudded against his sore ribs, “My mind, my soul, neither has moved from that day you said you loved me. It’s been that way since I saw you in the fields. Since you listened to my foolish dreams. If you are saying we are done, release me with one kiss.”

  She slipped her hands about the revers of his nightshirt. “One kiss good-bye?”

  Maybe she was reaching up to kiss his cheek, but he intercepted the offering and tasted her lips. She was delicate and sweet like cloves. So vulnerable, in ways he’d never imagined. It made him want to bundle her up and hide her safely in his chest.

  Pushing away, she took a half step but was still in the circle of his arms. “This must stop. You can’t haunt me anymore. No more trying to get back to what could’ve been.”

  “I don’t know how to rid myself of you. Teach me.” He dipped his head to hers again and whispered good-bye across her mouth.

  Like a wildflower, she bloomed. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him. The passion was light, safe. If that was all she could give, he was prepared to accept, but then his Theo returned.

  She grabbed hold of his collar and kissed him more deeply, demanding to cross the invisible line he’d allowed her to erect.

  Her hands clasped about his neck. She held him tightly and searched him. She needed to find in him whatever she needed.

  He clung to the curves that burned his soul.

  Nothing tentative, nothing reserved in her response to him.

  He cocked her head back and tasted her jaw, nibbling along her throat, the tender flesh exposed above her pearl necklace. “I love you, Theodosia.”

  He held his gaze upon irises so dark, so large and wonderful. “I have always loved you, always will.”

  She leaned up and took his kiss again.

  Arms tightening, he lifted his chin above her head. He had to get this right. “Marry me, Theodosia. Let’s take Philip and go to Scotland tonight.”

  Stumbling backward, she tore away and began righting the pins in her bun. “That kiss was good-bye.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Unless you are sending me to war again. That kiss said ‘marry me and have at me’…in that order.”

  She dropped her head in her hands. “You make me out of control. I won’t do the wrong thing for Philip.”

  “You know I’d never harm him. I would die before that happened.”

  She drew her arms about herself. “Mathew taught me to reason. There is nothing that tells me this time will be different. Your mother and father will never change. I accepted my squire’s proposal tonight. We are engaged. Once the banns are read, we will marry. You and I will be formally done. Mathew would approve of him, and he has no family to please.”

  He saw it now as clear as the night sky. Theo was afraid and used the memory of her late husband as a shield. “Theodosia, there is still a ghost haunting you. Mathew Cecil. Do you think if you choose me, he’ll disapprove from the grave? You’re still in half-mourning garb, when your time has passed. He’s not coming back. You can’t earn his approval.”

  “He was a great man.”

  “He was much better than I. But he wouldn’t want the woman he loved to live in fear.”

  Theo patted her lips, then smoothed her gloves. “You do. You want me to live in fear. How long before your father makes a new ultimatum, or how will you deal with a snub at one of your mother’s parties, that is, if she even dared to invite me. I can’t go back to that. I won’t. Yes, let Mathew haunt me. I have to keep Philip as safe as he would want, and I hate to have to bear another name than Cecil to do it. Lester is Philip’s guardian. Only a man, a new husband, will be someone the Court of Chancery will respect, and the Fitzwilliams won’t be able to hurt us again.”

  It was suddenly very hard to breathe. Her truth had sapped his strength, made everything heavy.

  “I can live without Lord Crisdon’s blessings,” he heaved. “But not your touch. I won’t convince you. You have to see we’ve both changed, enough to make the love last this time.”

  He started back into the shadows, but turned and took a final look back.

  She brushed at her face. Maybe she even cried a little for their loss. “Good evening, Cousin Ewan. I wish you happiness.”

  “If you truly did, you’d marry me.”

  He trudged back to the side door. He’d had that type of trepidation six years ago when his father had caught them in the carriage house. Being a soldier had given him the time to become brave, to learn how to live without Crisdon’s blessing. But how could he live without Theo? Was there a way to change the family she feared? Well, he must work fast. Banns only took a few Sundays, then there would be no more time for Ewan and Theodosia.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Unveiling Truth

  Ewan let Jasper help him down from their carriage as they arrived at Grandbole. Convincing his brother to leave Tradenwood seemed a more difficult task. Perhaps, he enjoyed the short holiday away from the girls, with them staying in Town with Mother.

  Jasper held up his arm, though he didn’t need it. Ewan was determined to leave the place as soon as possible. “You’re very quiet. Not jealous of Mrs. Cecil’s new company?”

  “I am jealous. That is her fiancé.”

  His brother stopped halfway up the stairs. “Did you ask her to marry you?”

  Ewan heaved heavily as he took another step. “Yes. I laid out my hopes and she trampled them like the runaway dray.”

  “No wonder you’ve been out of sorts since the good widow had that squire to dinner. You want to go back and put up a fight. I’ll get my sword.”

  Even if he wanted to watch his brother change from his normal lumbering self to a fleet swordsman, how could Ewan spend another minute witnessing Theo accept another man, and a stiff colorless one, at that. One who probably did not see her beauty or humor. One who wouldn’t appreciate her number calculations or her biting wit, though he would taste that tender lip she bit when nervous. “She doesn’t trust that I will protect her or the boy’s interests. She thinks they will become Fitzwilliam pawns. I haven’t figured out how to convince her otherwise. Would Father swearing an oath to her help?”

  Jasper nodded. “Father swears a great deal sometimes, but I doubt Mrs. Cecil would want to hear that. Maria weathered everything with grace. I hadn’t thought of how his attitude would make things difficult.”

  As the footman opened Grandbole’s door, Hartwell walked in first, tossing his hat and coat on the side table. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”

  Ewan didn’t even know what happened to his hat. Being laid up in Tradenwood, he hadn’t even thought of it. Theo would think of the cost of it. “It’s done for now.”

  “Done?” Lord Crisdon stood at the center of the hall. “What is done? Did you secure the lease or something more?”

  Bracing his weight on the show table, Ewan shrugged. “Nothing was accomplished.”

  Jasper tugged off his gloves. “Well, Widow Cecil did assure me she will sign our lease. We won’t run out of water.”

  His father harrumphed and strutted past a portmanteau. It sat alone near the end of the stairs. He must’ve returned from town. Yet with no sign of large ones or lots of maids, it meant his mother hadn’t returned. Lord Crisdon had failed to convince her. “Mother’s staying in Town?”

  “She has other ideas and is trying to reform the granddaughters.”

  His voice sounded sad, sadder than he’d ever noticed. Ewan had sympathy for him. Trying to convince a woman to trust you after disappointing her was a hard task. Theo would marry someone else while he stood by, alive, desperately in want of her.

  “Why the delay in signing? You two have been down at Tradenwood for two weeks. Lying about?”

  Ewan looked at Jasper, hoping his brother had something to say to stop the earl’s accusations.

  His brother only chuckled. Then with a fold of his hands, he launched into a Cheshire cat-sized grin. “Well, Widow Cecil is busy preparing for a wedding
.”

  Lord Crisdon rubbed his chin as a smile of half-scrunched lips erupted on his face. “So you got the Blackamoor to agree. I suppose I’m happy. Not that my son will marry her, but that Tradenwood will be back in our control. Oh, the sacrifices.”

  Anger and humor bubbled up from Ewan’s gut, threatening the air in his lungs. “I’m not the one she’s marrying. She doesn’t want the sacrifice of being a Fitzwilliam. We are beneath her.”

  His father blanched. All the color drained from his disapproving cheekbones. “You’re not engaged to her?”

  “No.” Tiring, Ewan headed to escape up the stairs.

  “Wait.” Crisdon stormed ahead and planted a foot on the first step. “That goat Lester beat you to her bed this time?”

  Gripping the banister, as if he could wring it like a neck, Ewan glared at the man. “No one’s in her bed. She’s an honorable woman who has accepted an honorable proposal.”

  “Son, you were under her roof and couldn’t entice her. You did a better job six years ago with the harlot.”

  Not wanting to fight, Ewan swallowed the itch in his throat, the gall of the fool. “Pretty hard to be seductive while ill and fighting to breathe. I’m better. Thanks for asking.”

  The man paced back and forth. He seemed unhinged. “So someone else will get her fortune. Why on earth did I put faith in you?”

  That statement hit Ewan worse than the wagon, maybe even worse than receiving his father’s letter so many years ago about Theo taking up with another man. “You brought me out here as bait. It wasn’t about being a family. It was about a chance at reclaiming Cecil’s land.”

  “If your uncle hadn’t thought you dead, Tradenwood would’ve been yours. Your mother won’t come back here until I get back what’s ours.”

  “Ours? You mean yours. Everything is about you. If I had gone through with my original plans to elope, instead of taking up your bargain…maybe Tradenwood would be mine, but I’d have a wife and a son—”

  “So now you’ll let another man play father to the boy?”

  He knew. The earl had known. Every last illusion in his head broke, ripped and tossed like edits to the page. Ewan grabbed the man by his coat. “You turned her away when she came for help. You could’ve saved my son such pain.”

  “Ewan,” his brother said. “Let it go. It’s done. Six years done.”

  Jasper’s hands were on Ewan’s trying to break his grip, but nothing could stop him from shaking the truth out of Lord Crisdon.

  “I need you, Father, to say it. To be a man like you’ve called me to be. Say you tried to kill my flesh. That your hate made my boy go deaf.”

  Jasper let go and stepped down. “No. Father, tell him no.”

  Crisdon struggled but he couldn’t break free. He caught Ewan’s gaze. “Yes, I knew. Your mother told me. She wanted her run off, and I did what she wanted, everything she wanted.”

  Ewan tossed the man back. His hands shook with unspent anger.

  A sneer started in Lord Crisdon’s eyes and trembled down to his drawn mouth. “I didn’t think you had it in you to finish me.” He rubbed at his neck. “I don’t target women, but your mother insisted on getting rid of her. I had to make it up to Lady Crisdon for sending you away. She virtually left me when the harlot got the benefit of her family’s wealth. She won’t come back until it’s fixed.”

  “That’s a lie, old man. Mother is not like you.”

  Lord Crisdon chuckled and righted his emerald-blue waistcoat, his freshly tailored coat. “We were united in getting it back at any cost, even sacrificing you for her Tradenwood.”

  Was Mother guilty, too? No, this had to be another convenient lie. He rubbed at the pain in his neck and moved to the door. “The bait failed. I’ll tell Mother myself about failing tonight. Oh, and Mrs. Cecil wants twenty thousand pounds a year for the rights to water. Have fun paying that. I’m done with you.”

  Ewan couldn’t tell if it was the absurdity of the number or the fact that he mentioned going to Mother’s, which sobered the man, but Lord Crisdon ran to him, sputtering no.

  Ewan turned his back on his father. “Jasper, I’m taking your carriage indefinitely. I’m going back to Town.”

  “No, Fitzwilliam,” Crisdon said, “Stay. Your mother might come back to Grandbole, if you lived here.”

  He leaned upon the door and stuffed his shaky hands into his pockets. “Then you are both out of luck.”

  Lord Crisdon harrumphed and swung his hands desperately. “Stay put or your play will never be performed. I was busy in Town, too. The manager at the Covent may buy it, but the committee won’t approve it. No one will ever see it.”

  If he’d blinked, Ewan could’ve sworn it was six years ago. He’d just consummated his love with the woman who understood him better than any, but to curry his father’s fleeting favor he had agreed to join the fight in Spain.

  He turned back to Lord Crisdon and fluffed the cravat he’d mangled. “This is one offer I refuse. In fact, I will never darken this estate’s threshold again, not until Jasper’s made earl. And don’t fret, old man, I need to confirm Mother’s hand in this sorry affair, then she won’t see me again, either. I did die six years ago. I’m a ghost to you.”

  Maybe the earl was shocked at Ewan’s resolve, for his stone face broke a little with his lips poking out as if he’d swallowed pebbles. “An idle threat. You don’t have it in you.”

  “I can be mercenary, too. There’s some vengeful Fitzwilliam blood in here. Good day.”

  Crisdon shuffled about him. “Leave your mother alone. She’s entertaining tonight. You can see her tomorrow.”

  Ewan kept moving. “She’ll answer tonight.”

  His brother caught him by the shoulder. His big palms squeezed out Ewan’s air, but he didn’t know that only death would keep him from the truth. “You’re both not rational. We should reason this out. Father say something. Don’t let him leave like this.”

  Still ashen and pale, the earl groused and fisted his hands. “What are you soft, too, Hartwell? That’s why you can’t run this place without me.”

  Jasper turned from the earl and stared ahead. “Be the bigger man, Ewan. Don’t separate from us again. The girls need their uncle. You can’t be gone again.”

  “If you had to choose between Maria and this place, which would you choose?”

  The shimmer in Jasper’s clear eyes brightened; he pushed past Ewan and held the door open. “Take care of my horses. My gift. And get as far from here as you can.”

  “I’ll borrow the horses tonight, but see me in Town, old boy, bring the girls, if they promise not to burn my flat to the ground.”

  With a final rap upon his brother’s thick knuckles, Ewan strode out of Grandbole. The clean, free air hit him. If only he’d done this six years ago. If only.

  Climbing into the carriage, he grunted, then motioned to the driver to head to Town. There was a countess he needed to see. His hope was that she was innocent or misunderstood, not duplicitous. He would not jump to conclusions or write the story in his head as he had with Theo.

  With eyes shut tight, he lay back and took one long breath, then another. The memory of Theo’s last kiss kept his mind right where he wanted it, centered on the rage building in his chest.

  The two-hour ride to London seemed like minutes. Music could be heard outside Lady Crisdon’s townhouse. Every window was bright with burning candles. He tugged his wrinkled coat, swiped at his missing hat. The musty smell of ointment and carriage leather would turn heads, but Ewan did not care. He hobbled up the steps and pushed inside.

  At the top of the interior grand staircase, he saw three moppets. Dressed in fashionable ivory and pale salmon pink ribbons, they looked like Dresdens. His mother’s work made them look perfect—perfectly trapped.

  Lucy smiled at him. Then returned to her statue-like pose.

  He nodded but he wasn’t here for them. “Where is Lady Crisdon?” he asked Mother’s butler.

  The man dressed in a shiny sati
n blue coat pointed him to the big drawing room. “But I should announce you.”

  “No. I am her son. I’ll do it.”

  Ewan didn’t wait for a response and stepped inside. Tables were strewn about with the finest silverware and crystal. Even the gilded trim of the room sparkled. The fashionable ilk sat at the tables chatting over their dinner, something that smelled of fowl. They hardly noticed him.

  When Mother lifted her head, her pretty blue eyes widened. “Ewan?”

  “I came to see you after staying at Tradenwood.”

  She rose quickly and came to his side. “Dear boy, you didn’t have to come tell me of your engagement. I have a party. We can discuss tomorrow.”

  “I need to know something now.”

  She took his arm and smiled as she giggled at each of her guests.

  When they finally were alone in the hall, the joy faded. “Ewan, you could have waited, and you could have come more suitably attired. I keep different standards than what you may be used to.”

  “I have to ask you one question. You need to hear me.”

  She went to a console mirror and fluffed a curl, fingered the giant ruby necklace at her throat. “Yes, Ewan of course, but go refresh yourself, then join me—”

  “Mother, did you go after Theodosia when I left to join my regiment? Did you turn her away when she asked for help?”

  She lowered her gaze and picked at the folds of her fan. “Is that what she told you? They lie you know. I wasn’t kind to her, but I suppose that is to be forgotten with you marrying her.”

  His mother played coy, and she could be as stealthy as the earl when it came to secrets. He straightened and offered her rope to hoist her canard. “So you will accept her and my son with the return of Tradenwood.”

  “Of course, dear.” She put her satin hand to his cheek. “You’ve restored our loss, what was wrongly taken.”

  She didn’t hesitate. She said everything in a calm tone, as if she were deciding menus.

  He sighed, the sting to his gut worse than a mule’s kick. “And you’ve broken my trust, Mother. You knew, too. You knew Theodosia carried my babe and yet you turned her away.”