The Stablemaster's Daughter (Regency Rendezvous Book 11)

by Barbara Devlin

  “I told you, the ton is naught but a polished mob.” Barrington clucked his tongue, as they removed to a safe place to watch the theatrics. “They love a scandal, second only to a love story, which you have given them.”

  “She is going to need a large storefront.” Ernest made a mental note to contact his solicitor, at once. In that instant, Hen caught his gaze, and the sheer elation he glimpsed well nigh brought him to tears. “Thank you, for doing this.”

  “I should thank you, brother.” Barrington patted Ernest on the back. “While this may sound sentimental, I mean every word. You made me the man I am today, and I am grateful for the opportunity to repay you. So, now that we have made a triumph of the situation, what is next for you and Henrietta?”

  “That is easy.” Hope glimmered and unfurled, filling his chest with unparalleled anticipation for a bright future. “After the wedding, I would start a family.”

  “I thought you commenced that, back at Garring.” Barrington snorted. “Given the ruckus. Good God, she has incited a riot.”

  “We did, yet she shows no sign of progress, much to my disappointment.” Five more ladies joined the throng, and Ernest basked in pride as Henrietta managed the commotion. “But we are still finding our way.”

  “Well, you will forgive me if I say you are on your own with that particular task.” Barrington shifted his weight. “It is all I can do to keep pace with Florence, not that I am complaining.”

  “Brother, I am happy to submit I get your meaning, and the work is good.” Between every new address, his little bird met his stare, investing each brief connection with a singular phrase he could not mistake, I love you, and he could not wait to get her home and enact a private celebration. “And believe me, I require no help in that respect.”

  ~

  From a cloudless sky, sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, projecting a colorful mosaic on the wooden floor of the nave at St. George’s Hanover Square. An array of nobles, garbed in their best attire, filled the box pews, as Ernest, immaculate in a coat of Bath superfine, turned to Henrietta and pledged, “My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”

  Of course, his warm and reassuring embrace had been her haven since they consummated their love, at Garring Manor, and she passed each night enveloped by his strong body. Through tears of joy, she made the same vow, and in a flurry of activity that left her giddy, she raced down the aisle with her new husband.

  At the curb, the Ravenwood landau awaited, and he lifted her into the squabs before joining her.

  “Upon my word, we are married.” She gazed at him and blinked. “Or is this a much-cherished dream? If so, woe to the person who wakes me.”

  “My darling wife, and how I have longed to address you as such, for good or ill, we are bound for all eternity, and no one can take you from me, again.” Onlookers shouted for them to kiss, and Ernest glanced at her and smiled. “Shall we oblige them?”

  She nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, please.”

  Chuckling, he set his mouth to hers, ever so briefly, and the crowd cheered.

  “Oy.” He called to the coachman. “Drive on.”

  “What is the rush?” Enjoying the moment, she spied Barrington, Florence, and her father, and waved. “Oh, this is such fun.”

  “I have a surprise for you, and we are due at Howe House, for our wedding breakfast.” Twining his fingers in hers, he pressed his lips to her gloved knuckles. “And I would have thought you famished, by now, given I exercised you quite thoroughly this morning.”

  “If memory serves, I did my share of nibbling, much to your expressed pleasure.” And her cheeks burned as she recalled their naughty habits, but never did she suffer shame, because he was her man. “In fairness, I only did what you taught me.”

  “And you did well, my dear, as I want you, even now.” Flushing red, he claimed another sweet kiss, just as the rig pulled to the curb. “Ah, we are here.”

  “What are we doing on Bond Street?” Curious, she glanced left and then right. “Are we meeting someone?”

  “No, my love.” With an air of smug satisfaction, he motioned to an empty building. “My gift to you, on our most special day.” He pointed for emphasis. “It has four floors, as well as a storage area, below stairs, and ample room for expansion. If necessary, I can purchase the shop, next door.”

  “You cannot be serious.” Studying the red brick structure, trimmed in Portland stone, she noted a curious sign above the massive windows. “Ernest, it is too much.”

  “But we talked about it, and we agreed you should open your own boutique.” As usual, he leaped in headfirst with nary a care for the specifics. “Since we journey to the Continent, in a fortnight, I thought we could buy fabrics and notions on our trip to Paris. That would give you the opportunity to examine the fashions and incorporate more ideas into your designs. Would you not like that?”

  “You warned me we would not see much beyond the confines of our suite.” She giggled. “Do you renege, my cherished husband? Because I rather look forward to being ravished.”

  “I love it when you call me that, and I am going to bury my face between your luscious thighs, tonight.” At his bold pronouncement, which she doubted not for an instant, she tensed. “Now, do you not like it? Am I not to be rewarded for my thoughtfulness and generosity?”

  “I adore it and you.” Then she leaned close and whispered her intentions, as she planned to thank him when they adjourned to his chamber, and he groaned. “Think about that, as we partake of our breakfast.”

  “Trust me, I shall be hard pressed to forget it, as I may be erect until the New Year.” He shifted his weight. “And I should keep my coat buttoned, lest I embarrass myself at our party.”

  “Then, by all means, let us away.” Then she tapped her chin. “Only, I would know what the sign says. I suppose that is French, but I do not know what it means. Is it the name of the last business that occupied the space?”

  “Ah, that is my touch, and I would ask you not to change it, as I suspect you will appreciate the significance.” Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he nuzzled her temple. “Le Petite Oiseau is French for ‘the little bird.’”

  “Oh, Ernest, I love it.” For the umpteenth time that day, she wrestled with happy tears and fumbled for her handkerchief. “I still cannot believe everything worked out for us, and we are finally united.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He cupped her cheek. “Regardless of the past and those who conspired against us, we triumphed, and now I would celebrate our future.”

  Despite the open-air landau, Ernest bent his head and kissed her. And kept kissing her.

  A few minutes later, the ceremonial equipage came to a halt before Howe House, and they descended to the graveled drive. Before she could take a step, he bent and swept her off her feet.

  Laughing, he charged into the foyer, where Barrington and Florence lingered.

  “How did it go?” Barrington asked. “Did she like it?”

  “She loved it.” Ernest set her down and slipped an arm about her waist. To Henrietta, he said, “My brother located the vacant shop, and I suspect we may need to secure the building alongside, because my wife is brilliant, and I predict she will be a smashing success.”

  “If the requests we have fielded are any indication, you are right.” Florence gave Henrietta a quick peck on the cheek. “My dear, your unconventional wedding gown has caused an even bigger stir than your ceremony, and the ballroom is abuzz with ladies just waiting to place an order.”

  “Really?” Henrietta snorted in astonishment. “I did not anticipate that, because my implication was quite elementary.”

  “And I am interested to know the meaning behind the frock.” Ernest retreated and scrutinized her from top to toe. “While you are stunning in whatever you wear, I had thought you might employ all the colors of the rainbow, as well as your signature, hand-painted flowers.”

  “Yet hers was a genius maneuver.” Florence shook her head. �
�Bedecked in all white, she stood out from the crowd. Indeed, we could not miss her, as she walked the aisle on Graham’s arm.”

  “Yet, even that was not my intent.” Henrietta smoothed her skirts and adjusted a sleeve. “Rather, I look upon my garb as a chance to start anew, and the pristine white, with minimal ornamentation and lace in the same hue, symbolizes a blank canvas, of a sort. It is my declaration, as I begin my life as part of something greater than myself, and I would leave behind the ugliness of the past, when I venture forth as a lady.”

  “Darling, I am touched beyond words by your considerate nature.” Ernest furrowed his brow. “But I am proud of you, just as you are.”

  “Thank you.” She brushed a lock of blonde hair from his forehead. “And I am equally proud of my husband.”

  “Then let us join our guests, before you two combust.” Barrington snickered. “There will be plenty of time for that, later.”

  “You are one to talk.” Ernest elbowed his elder brother. “If I recall, you locked Florence in your private apartment for three days after your nuptials, and the noises—”

  “That is quite enough.” Florence rolled her eyes and steered Barrington toward the hall. “Now, let us adjourn to the ballroom.”

  Despite the complimentary mentions in the gossip columns, leading up to the big event, Henrietta struggled with doubts about her reception. While Florence explained there would always be those who would not receive a servant’s daughter, society could be fickle, and the weak could be swayed by the powerful people firmly entrenched in Henrietta’s corner.

  One such person was the first to greet her, as she entered the expansive, grand dining room, which boasted Egyptian décor by Thomas Hope.

  “Percy.” When she shouted his name, he splayed his palms in welcome, and she hugged him. “Oh, now we are related, treasured cousin.”

  “Yes, we are, dear Mrs. Howe.” Even as he grinned, a hint of sadness colored his blue eyes. “Aw, I wish you the best, old friend. Perhaps, someday, you will help me find true love and redemption, because I am lonely, Henrietta.”

  “I will, Percy.” Perched on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I promise, I will. And you must visit Ernest and I, at Whitstone, because you are never alone. You are family, and I expect you to celebrate the holidays with us.”

  “Thank you, sweet lady.” With that, he bowed.

  The next friendly face brought her to a quick halt, and she curtseyed, as Ernest bowed. “Your Grace, I am so honored you could attend my special day.”

  “Posh.” The Duchess of Rylan waved, dismissively. “I would not miss it for the world, and I wore the gown you sewed, especially, to show my support.”

  “I am so glad it meets with Your Grace’s approval.” Just then, Henrietta caught sight of the Duchess of Weston. “And I am doubly blessed, as I see Her Grace sports hers, as well.”

  “Indeed, my sister is thrilled with your creation, as it suits her.” The duchess peered over her shoulder. “Your design to accommodate her missing appendage is nothing short of remarkable, and we are grateful. But I wanted to have a brief word with you, about a personal matter, if I may.”

  “Of course.” Henrietta glanced at Ernest. “My lord, I will meet you at our table, and I will not be long.”

  “That is fine, darling.” He kissed her hand. “As I need to arrange a toast.”

  “So, how may I be of service, Your Grace?” Curious, Henrietta moved to stand near a wall. “What can I do for you?”

  “Actually, it is what I can do for you that I would discuss.” The duchess lowered her voice. “You see, you and I have much in common, given you are not the first unconventional bride, and I wager you will not be the last, as I was not to the manor born. Indeed, I am but a general’s daughter, as is my sister. I met that insufferable man I call a husband, when he almost ran me aground with his horse, and we fell in love aboard his ship, but he led me to believe he was but a sea captain in service to His Majesty. Scoundrel that he was, Blake never told me the truth of his rank, until after we docked in London, and he owned my heart. Like you, I thought I was not good enough to wed a duke, but he proved me wrong, and I found my place in society, just as you will find yours.” She took Hen’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “There will be times when you doubt yourself, when you wonder if everyone considers you a failure and predicts your fall, and you will want to flee. Mark my words, and heed my advice. Walk, never run from the ton, and never let them see you cry, as they admire strength and seize upon the slightest hint of trepidation to turn and rend you. As my husband so correctly asserted, love knows no rank or social etiquette. All that matters is that Lord Ernest chose you, and you accepted him.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Again moved to happy tears, Henrietta sniffed. “You know not what your support means to me.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” Her Grace stepped to the rear and nodded. “Now, I believe it past due for you to join your husband, as he stares at you, and this is your time to shine.”

  “If you will excuse me, Your Grace.” Buoyant with renewed confidence, Henrietta curtseyed and all but skipped to the table of honor, where Ernest waited.

  “Is everything all right?” He pulled her close. “What did the Duchess want?”

  “Everything is wonderful.” His boyish countenance, bereft of the worries that plagued their courtship, melted her heart, and she eased to the chair he held for her. “And she imparted sage wisdom.” Toying with the crystal stem of her glass, she prepared for the feast, when she noted he remained on guard.

  “If I may have your attention.” Calm fell upon the massive room, as Ernest loomed tall. “I know it is not the usual custom for the groom to begin the festivities, but since my marriage has been anything but customary, and my love affair with my bride defies the norm, I hope you will grant me a bit of license, in this respect.” In that instant, she held her breath, and he gazed at her and winked. “You see, I have known Henrietta from the morning she entered this world, and from that moment, she has been my lady. Although we were separated for a while, she remained a guiding light during my darkest hours, such that I cannot recall a time when I was not hers, and I am convinced she was fated to be mine. So I ask everyone to join me, as I toast my incomparable bride. My Henrietta. My stablemaster’s daughter.”

  EPILOGUE

  September, 1819

  The sun danced on the horizon on an unusually warm evening, as Ernest stood on the entrance steps of Whitstone and waved farewell to Barrington. In the months since Ernest married Henrietta, the builders completed the renovations to the palatial estate, and his bride put her own decorative touches on the place, when they retired to their summerhouse, which made it truly their home. As he studied the elegant décor, he reflected on his life, and he realized he had everything he ever wanted.

  He was closer than ever to his brother, he wed the woman of his dreams, and they purchased a home near Garring Manor. And every night, he endeavored to produce a member of the next generation of Howes, although his labors proved fruitless. The work was good, so he was not complaining.

  “Did Barrington depart?” Ah, his charming wife strolled into the foyer. Just looking at her made him want to cry. “Did you remember to send the silk shawl I made for Florence?”

  “Yes, my brother is en route to Garring, and he has the package you so graciously wrapped.” From his coat pocket, he withdrew an envelope. “By the by, a missive was delivered for you, and I intercepted the messenger at the front gate, as I returned from the race.”

  “Did you best Barrington?” With a feminine smile, she approached, slipped her arms about his waist, and inclined her head to receive his kiss on her cheek. “Or are you going to pout all evening, as you did after your last contest? I warn you, I will not tolerate your sulking about, when I have arranged a lovely dinner in our sitting room.”

  “But I thought you could not resist my pout, and you compensated so admirably for my disappointment.” In play, he ravished the swanlike curve of her neck an
d savored her answering giggle. “And if memory serves, you labored into the wee hours of the morning. Given I won today’s challenge, what say we celebrate with a repeat performance?”

  “Food, first, as I am famished.” As if to impress upon him her point, her belly grumbled in protest, and he laughed.

  “All right, my little bird.” In play, he swatted her bottom, and they ascended the stairs. “What news from London?”

  “Not good, I suspect.” She tore into the envelope, unfolded the stationary, and hummed. “Just as I feared, we are swamped with new orders for the impending Season, and Mr. Fairley wants to hire six additional seamstresses.” When he opened the door to their shared private apartment, she strolled inside and huffed. “More than twenty bolts of silk were ruined by the leak in the roof, and Mrs. Hogart has commissioned an entire wardrobe for herself and for Margaret, because she is convinced one of my gowns will land her daughter a husband.”

  “I submit it will take more than one of your fabulous creations to snare some poor, unsuspecting fool to marry into that family, and there is only one Archibald Kleinfeld.” In the sitting room, he noted the small table for two, set near the windows, and the candles. So, he was to be seduced. “Although she possesses a tidy fortune, and that is enough to entice several prospective candidates.”

  “Actually, Margaret is quite lovely, in her own way.” From her escritoire, Henrietta collected her inkwell, pen, and paper. Then she took her seat, which he held for her. “What she requires is a unique collection to emphasize her assets.”

  “And a new music tutor.” He snorted with laughter.

  “Now, now.” As she sketched, a familiar habit, she furrowed her brow, and Ernest assumed his place just to her right, because she preferred to keep him within reach, and that was fine with him. “Do not be rude, because I think Margaret is sorely underestimated by the ton, and I would lend my aid to her cause.”

  “You have become quite the society lady, my fetching bride.” Indeed, she was in demand, yet she remained the same sweet-tempered girl he adored. “Are you planning to venture into the marriage mart business?”