Even after she had been left alone again, Cerynise made no effort to examine the contents of the large envelope of stiff vellum. It was carefully folded and sealed with blood-red wax, just the sort of package a lawyer might send. Listlessly she went to the window, looked out upon the garden for a time and then returned to her place where she forced herself to eat. Gradually, she armed herself with the mettle required to open the packet.
Inside was a sheaf of legal documents written out in meticulous copperplate. The last page also bore an impressive-looking seal and room for several signatures. One was already in place.
The dark, heavy ink emphatically implied that Beau had signed without hesitation. After flipping back to the first page, she began to read the content. There was a great deal of legal terminology, but it all meant the same thing. They had never lived together as man and wife. Therefore no true marriage had existed or would ever exist in the future. They both agreed to surrender any legal rights and obligations to one another in perpetuity.
It was very quiet in the morning room. Cerynise could hear a few distant sounds of carriages and horses passing on the lane, but they did little to pierce the dark cloud that hung over her life. She knew what she was about to do was at the very least illegal and quite probably immoral, for she was about to swear to what was untrue. However briefly, she and Beau had lived together as man and wife. The fact that her pregnancy had occurred with no awareness on his part changed nothing.
She had no doubt now that what she had dreaded for nigh to three months was true, yet she was about to condemn her unborn child to bastardy, all in service to a private sense of honor she could hardly explain even to herself. The enormity of the chasm looming before her unnerved Cerynise, yet she refused to draw back now. She would never entrap Beau against his will, not when he had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t ready to commit himself to a wife and family. Nor would she sacrifice her own sense of what was fair and right, even if the whole world thought her mad.
Despite the nausea that had returned with a vengeance, Cerynise reached for the quill and ink on the serving board, sparing a pensive smile for the habits of a scholar who never knew when he might want to jot down a thought. Though her hand was shaking violently, she took a firm grip on herself and painstakingly signed her name:
Beside Beau’s bold declaration, her own seemed pale and insignificant, but it would have to do. She sanded it quickly, closed the document, and returned it to the envelope. Before she could allow herself even a moment’s hesitation, she rang for Cora. When the woman appeared, Cerynise gave her the envelope with the request that it be sent posthaste to Captain Birmingham.
Early that same afternoon, Cora came into the room which Uncle Sterling had given Cerynise to use as her studio. The younger woman’s paints, easel and paintings and sketches from the sea voyage cluttered the room. Most of the latter were on the floor, leaning against the wall as the girl strove to organize her work area.
“Miss Cerynise, there’s a lady at the front door who says she’d like to talk to you about a portrait she wants you to paint.”
“Did she give her name?”
“No, ma’am. She just said you’d know her.”
Cerynise frowned, thinking it odd of the visitor, and then questioned, “What does she look like?”
“Oh, real pretty, miss,” the maid assured her. “Small with black hair.”
“Oh, that must be Brenna.” The interest Beau’s sister had shown in her work assured Cerynise that it could be no other. In spite of everything, she was delighted to be visited by the girl, and with a smile, she cleared a place for her guest to sit. “Please show her back here to my studio, Cora, and prepare us some tea.”
Cerynise was so busy arranging a place for them to sit and chat over tea that she didn’t even think of donning the smock that she had taken off only a few moments earlier when she had gotten too warm in the room. Cora didn’t see well enough to notice much detail beyond a handbreadth from her nose, and Cerynise had felt no qualms about doffing the covering. She was just finishing her task and still had her back to the study door when a soft rustle of taffeta brought her to the awareness that her beautiful caller had arrived.
“I never imagined that you’d come so soon, Brenna,” she said, turning to face her visitor. Her smile of greeting froze in an instant as she saw Germaine Hollingsworth smirking back at her from the doorway.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Cerynise,” the brunette said, arching a dark brow sardonically. “I can understand how much you may have wanted Beau’s sister here, but I’m afraid you’ll have to contend with me instead.”
“So you do remember me after all,” Cerynise goaded, trying to appear casual as she moved toward the stool where she had left the loose cotton smock. Without a shawl or some other protective covering, she was too far along in her pregnancy to hope that people wouldn’t notice her thickening waist or rounding shape. All they would have to do was take a close look at her and they’d know instantly that she was with child.
Germaine laughed caustically. “Oh, yes, I remember you. You were that prim little artist who wanted to be left alone with her work and her own circle of friends. What was it we used to call you? Stilts? Or was it Sticks?” She laughed snidely. “Both were appropriate names at the time, but I must admit, Cerynise, you’ve acquired a more pleasing appearance since last we met.”
“Then I take it you didn’t come to inquire about a portrait.”
The woman released a pompous sigh as she strolled about the room to look at the paintings. “I really don’t know what my parents would do with another one,” she rejoined. “Last time they hired the best, you know, and I rather doubt that you’d be capable of meeting their expectations, as much as Beau was wont to laud your talent when I asked him about you. But if I’ve learned anything about men over the years, I’m willing to guess from the hungry way he looked at you yesterday, he has designs on your person, not on your paintings.”
Cerynise turned aside as Germaine blocked her access to the smock. “Then why did you come?”
“I wanted to warn you away from Beau,” Germaine replied with blunt frankness, “just in case he may come calling. You see, I intend to marry the man as soon as I can bring him around to the notion, and in the meantime, I wouldn’t want him to dally with another woman who might see some advantage in entrapping him in marriage.” She reached down to tilt a painting of a seaman outward from the wall in a quest to see a slightly larger one hidden behind it and gasped in surprise as she recognized the very person she had purposed to marry. Though she wouldn’t have admitted it, the portrait was a stirring likeness of one Beau Birmingham, garbed in a sweater and a cap with sails billowing behind him.
Germaine whirled to face Cerynise, only to find the other’s back turned toward her. Angrily she demanded, “When did you paint this?”
Cerynise glanced around at the piece that Germaine was now holding up. Those blue eyes staring at her even from the lifeless canvas made her heart lurch in misery. “On the Audacious.”
“When were you ever on the Audacious?” Germaine questioned in a sneering tone. “Beau never mentioned anything about you visiting his ship.”
“I was a passenger aboard her,” Cerynise explained simply.
“That’s a lie! Beau never takes passengers! If he did, I’d have bought passage myself to wherever he was going.”
Cerynise lifted her shoulders briefly. “I was the exception.”
“I think you’re still lying, and if you are, I’ll find out! You’re not going to steal Beau away from me, do you hear?”
“Is he yours to claim?” The fear that something of a passionate nature had already occurred wrenched Cerynise’s heart. “Or are you just being hopeful?”
“Look at me!”
Cerynise folded her arms across her midsection and reluctantly faced the woman. “I’m looking.”
“Don’t even think of trying to win him for yourself. I’ve been after him too long to let
a little nobody slip of a bitch like you get in my way! And believe me, if you think ‘Sticks’ or ‘Stilts’ was bad, that will be mild compared to the rumors I’ll initiate in your behalf.”
“Really, Germaine, you could have spared yourself a visit. I doubt that I’ll ever be seeing the man again,” Cerynise said forlornly. As if protesting her statement, the baby moved abruptly within her womb. The sudden sharp roll caught her completely by surprise, and she gasped, pressing a hand to her abdomen for barely an instant before she remembered herself and hurriedly faced away.
Germaine’s eyes widened in amazement. She had seen enough to solidify one thought. The fullness detectable beneath the other’s softly gathered skirt was definitely not the natural curve of a chaste maid, of that she was sure. And she was just as certain that Beau Birmingham didn’t know a thing about the pregnant state of the little slut whom he had ogled only the day before.
“Well, now that we’ve settled that matter, I guess I should be going. I have some more shopping to do if I’m going to attend Suzanne Birmingham’s engagement ball with Beau next month. Ta-ta.”
Looking decidedly more cheerful than when she had entered the room, Germaine fairly sailed down the hall toward the front entrance. She wouldn’t have missed this visit for all the world, for she now had enough fuel to cinder Cerynise’s reputation and turn to ashes any infatuation that Beau Birmingham might have felt for the girl. Although the day before he had casually mentioned the fact that he’d be away from his house today, she had provided herself with the perfect excuse to visit him on the morrow.
The day was just breaking, but Beau was already up and dressed, not because he had risen early, but because he hadn’t even gone to bed. Having given up any attempt to sleep with the turmoil roiling within him, he had spent the night pacing his study, steadily drinking his way through a goodly amount of brandy. He had finally slumped into the chair behind his desk, where he now glared at a sheaf of papers he had left on top in full view. The documents were those that Cerynise had signed and returned to him. Once he forwarded them on to Farraday, the barrister, in his usual efficient way, would successfully conclude the matter of their marriage once and for all.
For perhaps the thousandth time, Beau inspected the delicate but unfaltering signature, as the dark cavity consuming his heart deepened progressively.
Damn her! he mentally growled. Had she even wasted a moment’s breath of notice before finishing him off? Had she, even for an instant, considered the alternative? No, of course she hadn’t, at least not since he had angered her aboard the Audacious. And he was a damned fool for regretting it all. Women definitely had their uses, but with rare exceptions a man would be well advised to consider them just another appetite in need of satisfying. He’d been lax about leaving himself open, falling for her, wanting their marriage to continue, and now he was paying for it. But no more! He was now in a mood to set Charleston on its ear. He’d drown himself in females, wallow in them, sate every urge he’d ever felt and then some. He wouldn’t stop until he was damned well numb!
Resolved on what seemed a likely course to take to rout Cerynise out of his thoughts, Beau left his desk and went to stand at the front windows, from whence he could glimpse the bay. He’d launch into preparations for another voyage as soon as Mr. Oaks returned from plying the seaboard for new cargo. Sailing to far-off ports would help ease the remorse that still throbbed within him. After all, there was no more reason for him to stay in Charleston. In a few days Cerynise would no longer be his.
With a heavy sigh, he left his study and made his way upstairs with lagging steps. He thought he could finally rest now, but only because he was too exhausted to stay awake. He passed through his spacious bedchamber and entered the dressing room, where he took a good hard look at himself in the mirror above his shaving stand. He definitely needed to rid himself of the overnight growth that darkened his cheeks, brush the taste of foul brandy out of his mouth, and wash and comb his hair in some semblance of order. He spied the bath that had been left untouched since it had been prepared for him the night before. It was now cold, but the shock would probably do him good. Perhaps it would even bring him to his bloody senses.
In a moment he was lying chest-deep in the chilly water with his head resting on the rim of the huge tub, but even there, he was continually inundated by visions of Cerynise. He had no particularly favorite memory, for they were all titillating to his senses. Yet, if he had to make a choice above the rest, it would be the one wherein he had plied her with kisses after their marriage vows. Teaching her how to kiss in a way that was sensual and arousing had been a very gratifying experience for him. Then, too, there was that moment when he had caressed her womanly softness and found the thin virginal flesh preventing easy passage. It had warmed his heart to realize that no other man had been there before him. And, of course, there was that dream of her rising up beneath him in answering passion, her soft gasps filling his mind, and her nails scratching his back.…
Beau swore suddenly, realizing that he was doing it again. For the life of him, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her! Indeed! Every memory of her seemed as dear to him as his own lifeblood.
A half hour later he whipped the bedcovers down and sprawled naked onto his bed. Sleep came upon him very quickly, but even as he finally began to relax he saw in his mind’s eye the vision he had created from his imagination and had nurtured ever since, that of Cerynise sitting on her heels beside his bed with her round breasts gleaming with a luster of their own beneath the softly glowing light of the hanging lantern.
Sterling Kendall rose at his accustomed hour and dressed absently while following a train of thought that had nothing whatsoever to do with Greeks. When he left his chamber and went down the corridor to the bedroom that his niece occupied, he was still debating how to go about questioning her. Pausing outside her closed door, he recalled the first time he had seen Cerynise, when she was but a scant two days old. Childless himself and already suspecting he was destined to remain so, he had taken one look at the lovely, squalling little creature and fallen hopelessly in love.
Over the years, he had watched her grow into an unusually thoughtful, intelligent child and had taken enormous delight in her achievements. When tragedy had struck, taking his dear brother and sister-in-law well before their time, he had despaired at his lack of fatherly experience. Other than taking her into his home, he hadn’t known what to do for the precious girl whom they had left behind. Kind Lydia had proven a godsend, and yet he couldn’t count all of the times in the past five years that he had regretted giving in to her pleas to let Cerynise live with her in England. Even coming as it had on the heels of yet more grief, his niece’s return had filled him with joy. Yet, for all of that, he could no longer ignore the fact that something was very, very wrong.
He was a simple man, content with his books and his garden, yet it would have been a mistake for anyone to think him unworldly. What he hadn’t experienced himself, which he admitted was a great deal, others had. Moreover, they had been thoughtful enough to write about it. Through his studies, he had absorbed considerable knowledge about human nature. He certainly hadn’t missed the tension between Cerynise and Beau Birmingham on the two occasions he had seen them together after their return to Charleston. Nor had he been entirely ignorant of what they had been doing at the very moment when he had opened his front door to find Cerynise on his front stoop, all of this despite a union his niece had continued to assure him was no marriage at all. He could only believe that this was something the captain had insisted upon, for no young woman in her right mind would willingly face what the future held in store for his niece without a husband.
As profoundly as Sterling was wont to hope that his fears were misplaced, he couldn’t postpone confronting Cerynise another moment. Drawing a resolute breath, he raised a hand to knock on the door. He promptly halted, a startled expression sweeping over his face as he heard a strange sound coming from the room. A moment later, it was repeated.
He was about to thrust open the door when it came to him what was actually happening. Cerynise was suffering repercussions caused by nausea.
It was possibly a testament to Sterling’s character that he made no attempt to convince himself that his niece had merely eaten something disagreeable. His shoulders straightened as his hand came down to clench into a fist at his side. He wouldn’t disturb her; there was no point now. His business was with Beau Birmingham.
It was almost mid-morning when Monsieur Philippe answered the summons from the front door and explained to the beautiful visitor, “Your pardon, mademoiselle. Le capitaine was not expecting anyone. I think he’s still upstairs.”
“Are you the butler?”
Philippe laughed at the very idea. “Oh, no, mademoiselle. I am le capitaine’s chef, Monsieur Philippe Monét. Zhere is no butler at present, only a housemaid, and she is busy scrubbing zee floor in my kitchen.”
Germaine Hollingsworth was greatly puzzled. As rich as Beau undoubtedly was, she had difficulty imagining his house being equipped with anything less than a full complement of servants. She would certainly demand a full assortment when she became mistress. Curious, she probed for an explanation. “Isn’t it rather strange to have such an exquisite home without enough help to maintain it?”
“Oh, zhere are servants coming fairly soon to replace zee last ones who were let go, mademoiselle,” Philippe explained. “But zhey have not yet arrived.” He shrugged as he added, “Zee others were too lax while le capitaine was away. He came home unexpected and found only zee housemaid working.” Philippe made a gesture across his throat that highly suggested that their heads had been removed from their shoulders. “Zhey were quickly finished here.”
“Captain Birmingham doesn’t have any slaves, then?”
“Oh, non, mademoiselle. Not le capitaine.”
She smiled sweetly. That too will change, she determined. Graciously she requested, “Would you kindly inform the captain that Miss Germaine Hollingsworth is here and would like to have a word with him if he could possibly spare a moment.”
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