She nodded. “It would take much notice away from Major Abernathy and Julia’s wedding, and they deserve to have the undivided attention of your family.” She gazed downward and pulled the cloak closer to her neck with one hand. “I have some social engagement every night for the next two weeks. Should I cry off? Or might I depend on you to escort me?”
“Ah my lovely wife-to-be, it will be my honor and my privilege to accompany you wherever you wish to go.”
She smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes. “I vow I will scarcely care where I am for the joy I will feel having you by my side.”
Ten days later, Florence acknowledged to herself that Duncan had been true to his word and provided her with an immensely handsome and agreeable escort at every social event on her schedule—and far more. It was the ‘far more’ responsible for her current state of idyllic delight. In the privacy of her bedchamber, now ‘their’ bedchamber, Florence floated in the blissful aftermath of Duncan’s lovemaking and played a finger through the curls on his chest. Each night, since she’d so embarrassed herself at Eleanor’s townhome, at her invitation, he’d come in at the end of the evening and not left her residence until dawn greyed the sky. Between his slaying her with pleasure until she could not summon the energy to raise an eyelid and the luxurious comfort of her bed, at the moment she didn’t care if she ever emerged from her bedroom. “Has it been as onerous as you thought? Escorting me hither and yon every night for the last ten?”
“I have but to remember the reward that awaits me at the end of the night and I can bear any fool and suffer any boor with equanimity.”
She stretched and purred. “It is the same for me, and I cannot wait for the day I can tell the world I have the good fortune to marry the most handsome, most generous, most skilled swords—” She threw him an arch look. “…well, they needn’t know that. The fact that we are continuously in each other’s company has been remarked. I think we will not surprise anyone with our news.” She laughed softly. “Duncan, you fill me with such delight my body can scarce contain it.”
He shifted to his side, and his eyes caressed hers with wonder. His knuckle stroked her cheek in an affectionate caress. “It was mere chance that I found you. I shudder when I think of the years I rode beside death and dared it to take me…” He rested his forehead on hers. “That was not courage. I had little in my life of any worth and losing it was a matter of indifference to me.” He picked his head up and gazed into her eyes. “I should make a very cowardly soldier now, for I know the priceless gift I have to lose, and I will do nothing to risk it. Everything dear, all that is precious and meaningful to me resides in you, and I take all the more delight in my sublime contentment after the lonely, emptiness of my previous days—though at the time I didn’t recognize the barrenness of my life, nor that I was lonely. I am but an unkempt, rough-mannered man, not graced with eloquence nor gifted with diplomacy like my half-brother. I will fumble with words and explode in ungoverned temper, but I love you. I love you with all that is in me, and I am unashamed to say it.”
Tears stood in her eyes at his heartfelt words. “I think eloquence poses you no difficulty, and as you have had occasion to notice, I, too, possess something of a temper. I propose to you that we are evenly matched.”
He smiled and tapped her lightly on the end of her nose. “Perhaps you are right, though I still believe you are getting the worse end of our bargain.” He snugged her closer to him. “You said something the other night that raised questions in my mind.”
“And?”
“You needn’t answer, but I am curious.”
“So, ask your questions. You have softened me such that I will tell you my darkest secrets.”
“You said I was your first since your lover of ten years ago. I took from that you were not referring to your husband. You never speak of him. Why is that?”
She had realized some days ago that this moment would eventually come, and Duncan deserved to know, though all that was in her shrank from remembering those hideous years of miserable solitude. “My father and mother were well-born. Father, being a third son and unsuited to the military, went into seminary and when graduated, took a living as the personal chaplain and vicar to Lord Lloyd-Smith of St. Albans. Lord Lloyd-Smith, the man who would become my husband, was an obsessively religious individual, foreswearing all creature comforts and appetites. He lived a life very much as I imagine a cloistered monk might live—no comforts of hearth or table and spending large portions of the day on his knees in the private chapel, though he was passionately fond of his dogs and his horses and could be relied upon to attend every hunt during the season.”
“How did such a man come to marry?”
She sighed. “I wondered such myself. My mother died during childbirth. My father and a succession of house-keepers raised me. I cannot say it was the perfect childhood, but I was content in my little world. In those days, I was a quiet and well-mannered child.” She laughed when Duncan’s eyebrows rose, and he cast her a skeptical look. “Well…I was. My mind was fully engaged as Father gave me an education unheard of for a mere female. I gobbled up algebraic sums, Latin, Greek, and sciences. I read literature far advanced for my age. My nose was forever buried in some scholarly tome. Father stated he thought it a sin against God to waste such a mind as mine. I was terribly sad when he sent me to ‘finishing’ school, though that is where my friendship with Eleanor began. In Mrs. Evans Finishing School for Young Women of Quality, I learned that such topics as most fascinated me were inappropriate for a young lady seeking a husband. I would be unmarriageable if I persisted in my pursuit of knowledge. I would brand myself the worst of all things…a bluestocking.” She cut a sideways glance at Duncan. “It will not surprise you then if I tell you my behavior was not of the best. I was hopelessly bored and became something of an ill-mannered hoyden. My father was terribly dismayed.”
“No, I am not surprised,” he said with a chuckle.
She sighed with regret even now. “How I wish I had those days back. Father died very suddenly of an influenza, and I will always live with the knowledge that I caused him great heartache in his final days. Somewhere among my possessions, I have the letter Lord Lloyd-Smith wrote to me telling me of my father’s death and of his own selfless sacrifice in making me his wife. I suppose Lord Lloyd-Smith thought at fifteen years of age, I was pliable, moldable to a man’s will—if he considered me at all.” She traced her finger over Duncan’s scar, feeling the knotted flesh. He wore his wounds visibly, on the outside. All of hers were inside and invisible.
“He wrote and told you he had married you in absentee?”
She understood the note of incredulity in his voice and nodded. “He convinced the magistrate it was my deceased father’s desire that we be wed. He must have been unusually persuasive as Lord Lloyd-Smith was a bachelor of advanced years and I was underage. Father had named Lord Lloyd-Smith as my guardian; thus, he had the governing of me. I suppose it made sense to the magistrate that we be wed rather than have a young girl reside unchaperoned in a bachelor’s residence. I returned to St. Albans as Lady Walter Lloyd-Smith. He met me upon my arrival and instructed that I was to live separately from him, so as not bring down Eve’s curse upon him and damn him with lustful temptations of the flesh. I was to dress plainly and strive to be silent and unseen. On the rare times I was in public, I was to conduct myself with utter propriety and warned that if I brought a hint of disgrace to his family name, he would cast me off.” She chuckled without humor. “I tried to conform to his wishes. I was terribly frightened of being cast into the streets. He had a wonderful library of books no one had ever opened. I spent most of my days lost in them. There is no telling how long life should have continued that way had I not met and fallen in love with Lord Percival Bannerman. I went to him untouched, and we became lovers. I will shorten what has become a long story by going straight to the sad ending. “Lord Percy died in my arms following a duel in defense of my honor. Percy was nineteen. His opponent forty-t
wo. The duel I witnessed was murder. You cannot convince me otherwise.” She paused. “The day we met at Fairwood, when Major Abernathy lay bleeding on the verge of Miles’ carriageway, memories of that horrible duel and the ground turned red from Percy’s lifeblood overset me.” She struggled for composure as Duncan stroked her back. “The scandal upended the town of St. Albans. Lord Lloyd-Smith died shortly thereafter. Everyone in town said I had killed him with the scandal though he was an old man and had been ill for some time. At the reading of his will, I discovered he had assigned the small jointure left to me from the sale of my father’s estate to the local workhouse for my care and upkeep. The entirety of his remaining goods and property were left his younger brother who immediately informed me I had a day to collect my things and be gone. I had knowledge of the ruffian who administered the poorhouse. Not willing to endure a life of rape and endless deprivation, for that would have been my fate, I fled St. Albans and came to London. You know the rest.” She rolled out of Duncan’s arms. “Mine is not a pretty story.”
He gathered her back against him. “Yet you triumphed over all of those who sought to repress and confine you, and while not pretty, your story has a happy ending.”
She turned in his arms and gazed up at him as his image blurred from the tears gathering in her eyes. “Yes, my story has the happiest of endings. I wish I could go back and tell eighteen-year-old Florence not to despair.”
“Ah, love.” He kissed her fervently and though she had not thought it possible, he demonstrated to her, yet again, that heaven was indeed accessible to mere mortals.
Chapter Fifteen
“How different this was from my wedding,” Eleanor commented as she and Florence stood in the open doors of the church’s narthex and waved as the happy couple climbed into Eleanor’s best traveling chariot. Lord and Lady Leeland Abernathy would make their way to Bath for a three-week honeymoon. Miles and Duncan gave instructions to the postillions, though it seemed there was some disagreement as to the best route.
“Well, yes.” Florence laughed. “You had all the animation of a corpse. You only came alive when Miles kissed you at the very end. Right up until you said, ‘I do,’ I thought you would cry off—or faint.”
“Well… I probably have you to thank for doing neither.” Eleanor caressed the swelling in her abdomen and glowed with happiness. Her voice lowered to a murmur. “You were right about this, too. Done properly, it is wondrous and results in the most astonishing gift of all, a child.”
Florence felt the weight of Eleanor’s regard and wondered if the longing in her heart for a babe of her own was visible. Might she be pregnant already with Duncan’s child? She fervently hoped so.
“And when are we to congratulate you on being the Duchess of Chelsony? Are you allowed to make the news public yet?”
Her smile slowly grew. “Duncan placed the announcement in the papers yesterday, and I have set a date for the first of February. I hope I can have a suitable wedding given only three months to plan, but I didn’t want to wait any longer.” She eyed Eleanor. “I am counting on you to be my matron of honor, so you must come to town though you needn’t stay.”
“Unless Miles relents and allows me to go home, I will be here. If you don’t mind a woman as big as a cow, I will be delighted. Simply give me the dates. What do you plan for a honeymoon?”
Florence laughed. “Oh, not a thing. We won’t leave town. Neither of us have any desire to travel. What we want to do can be done well enough at home.”
Eleanor blushed and looked away. “In which case, will you give thought to returning to Rutledge with me after your wedding and keeping me company during my confinement? The babe is due in April. I had thought to return home in February. Sir Croft has advised Miles that the best thing for a woman as she nears birth is a serene environment with ample clean air, so in scrupulous obedience to the learned man’s opinion, I am finally allowed to return to my home from which I never wanted to separate in the first place.” Eleanor lowered her voice which had become heated. “But nothing would appease Miles except I have the same physicians and midwives as the royal family.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, my invitation is extended to Duncan as well, though I doubt as a new husband he would be parted from you, regardless. I love Miles with all my heart, and while he is most solicitous—too solicitous—of me, he is not always the best help or comfort. I should dearly love it if you could come. I realize it is much to ask of you to rusticate in the country for two months, especially as a new bride, but I should dearly love it.” She closed her eyes and whispered. “I am… ah… a little afraid. Oh! Please don’t tell Miles I said that.”
In a sudden rush of love for her dearest friend, Florence hugged Eleanor as best she could given that Eleanor was a full twelve inches taller than her and pregnant. “Of course, dearest. Whatever you need, simply ask. I will tell Duncan I desire to honeymoon at Rutledge.”
“Thank you,” said Eleanor simply and returned Florence’s hug. When Florence stepped back, Eleanor asked, “Will we see you and Duncan at the Hartfield’s ball this evening?”
“Yes, though he has warned me I must wear a fichu with my evening gowns, I am not to flirt so outrageously with Lord Seville if I wish him to continue in good health, and that Baron Anthony may have only one dance and that is not to be a waltz.”
“He is jealous.” Eleanor chuckled. “I should have expected as much.”
Duncan patted at the perspiration dotting his forehead with his handkerchief. Yet another over-crowded, over-heated ball that Florence had insisted they must attend. Happily, in not too much longer, he would be able to escort her home and indulge in the kind of physical activity to which he could most willingly devote his exclusive attention. His body warmed at the thought. He smiled watching Florence flutter from one well-wisher to another. The announcement of their wedding had been published, and it had not taken long for the gossip mongers to turn it into the on-dit of the day. It was too juicy. The lovely widow and the newly made duke. He rolled his eyes and checked his watch. Not much longer now. He heard his name called.
From across the open ballroom floor, the Marquis de la Forte waved at Duncan and wove his way toward him until he stood not two feet away wringing his hands. “Please, Monsieur le Duc, please help me to find my son. My debt to you will be eternal.” The obviously distraught gentleman went off in a flurry of French, of which he understood very little precisely but most of it vaguely.
“Marquis de la Forte. I will give you all the assistance I am able. Have you sought Edgar at the Chelsony estates? I had understood him to be there with his wife assembling their household in preparation to relocate to a new residence.”
“Oui, Monsieur, I go there, to the Chelsony Hall. She is empty.”
“Perhaps he was merely out.” Duncan shook his head puzzled.
“Non, you misunderstand. The grand house, she is empty of all manner of things. No carpets, no paintings, no furniture, no servants.”
“What? Sir, I will on the morrow ride out to the estates. Edgar cannot have left Chelsony Hall, for where should he go? He has few funds. I cannot feature…” He shook his head. “I admit to great confusion. The residence of the Duke of Chelsony, the place where I grew up, is furnished in a most opulent style with many family treasures and works of art of great history. The style of the furnishings might not be to everyone’s tastes, but there is no lack of them. If anything, the rooms are overcrowded with a hodge-podge of styles.”
The marquis frowned. “The house, she is of the most elegant, but inside…” He shrugged. “Il n’y a rien. There is nothing.”
Slow anger built within him. Edgar was up to some sort of chicanery. He told Miles they’d been wrong to allow Edgar to remove his personal effects from Chelsony Hall unsupervised, but Miles wanted to grant him the benefit of doubt. “Allow him to suffer his humiliation in private. It is the Christian thing to do, and would be what you or I should want were we to be in his position,” Miles had said, and Duncan had been re
luctantly persuaded. It would be just like Edgar to use their compassion to further some despicable aim.
“I will indeed find and return your son to you, sir. Your need to find him marches in line with mine,” Duncan growled. “If what you tell me is true, however, I cannot guarantee he will be unmarked when next you see him.”
The marquis blinked and then swallowed heavily. “You will not kill him, please.”
“No. I will draw a line short of death.”
“Of course. Je comprends. He has inflicted a terrible deceit on your family,” he acknowledged with a stiff bow. “Que sera. I await your pleasure.” The little man drew himself erect and with great pride walked toward the doors leading out of the ballroom.
The light scent of roses preceded a feminine hand placed through his arm. “What did the Marquis want? He seems upset.” Florence’s gaze followed the Marquis as he left the ballroom.
“He wishes me to help him find Edgar. I agreed.” He gave her a warm smile. “Have you had enough of this, my beautiful girl? Are you surfeit from all the congratulations on your upcoming nuptials? Shall I escort you home?” He was quite proud of himself for keeping all suggestion from his voice and a leer off his face.
She blinked at him with an innocence he knew she did not possess. “Yes, Your Grace, you may take me home now.”
“I will never tire of this.” He ran his hand over the soft flesh of her nude form. Unpleasantries about Edgar skirted his mind, but he held them at bay, unwilling to allow any dark intrusion into the physical paradise he shared with the woman he loved to distraction.
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