“Oh, love, you should know no shame, because you have known more adversity than anyone has a right to bear, in a short span of time. And I will never leave you, thus I would have you tell me more.” He kissed the crest of her ear, shed his coat, and draped it about her shoulders. “Tell me everything, that I might put the world at your feet.”
“You would do that, would you not?” She giggled, a lovely little titter he had long missed, and in her restored spirits he found heretofore-unfathomable joy. “First, I would resume my intellectual pursuits, with your help, because such drudgery brings me happiness. Second, I would learn to manage what I can do and accept what now stretches beyond my abilities. But with you at my side, I shall not lack. And I want to have a family, to travel with you, on your missions, and greet the world as I am—not how others would have me.”
“A remarkably sensible conclusion, sweetheart, though I expect no less from you.” Though Damian had never been an emotional sort, in that moment, he wept for his lady. “And I prefer you however I can have you.”
“Then I have but one question for you, and then I should like, very much, for you to take me below and make love to me, as I need to be close to you.” She turned in his arms and kissed the tears from his cheeks. “Will you marry me?”
Without hesitation, Damian framed her face, bent his head, and let his lips provide the answer, leaving Lucy in no doubt of his acceptance. Then he picked her up and twirled her about, in circles, as they laughed.
~
The wind turned chilly, as summer yielded to fall, and the ships in the line navigated the channel. Reclining in the bunk, and propped on a mountain of pillows, Lucy wiggled her toes and turned the page of her book. Glancing over her shoulder, she surmised Damian would arrive in another hour to bathe and dress her for dinner.
In the weeks since they departed Algiers, they had fallen into a comfortable routine, and she would miss his tender attentions when they returned to London and the lady’s maid resumed the personal duties he performed. But she vowed to entice him to participate in certain aspects of her toilette, because she could not imagine her baths without him.
A rap at the door gave her pause, because her cabin mate never knocked. She set aside the book and drew the blankets to her neck. “Come.”
“How are you, my dear?” To her delight, Damian peeked around the edge of the oak panel. “I have some special visitors who are anxious to see you, and I wanted to be sure you were decent.”
“Should I don my robe?” She knew not what to make of his sly smile. Then again, given their afternoon tryst, taken in the chair at his desk, she had uncovered a new and naughty side of her future husband.
Without a word, he stepped inside, revealing two familiar faces at the rear.
“Alex—and Cara.” Lucy reached with her hand. “What a wonderful surprise.”
“Oh, Lucy.” Alex rushed forward and then drew up short. “May I hug you?”
“Of course.” Lucy laughed. “I am a vast deal better than I was, and I have your brother to thank for it, as he guards me like a priceless treasure.”
“You are a priceless treasure.” Damian stopped to drop a kiss on her crown. “I have the water boiling for your bath, and Alex and Cara will assist you, because you will want to look your best for tonight.”
“Indeed?” She pouted, because she preferred it when he scrubbed her back, and he winked. “What is the occasion?”
“We have been invited to dine aboard the Queen Charlotte, as guests of Lord Exmouth, while we are anchored for the night.” Cara bounced. “It is a very great honor and one we cannot refuse.”
“So we are going to style your hair and dress you for the event.” Alex opened Lucy’s trunk and rummaged through the clothing. “If you do not have a serviceable gown, I can have Jason bring one of mine from the Intrepid.”
“Lenore packed my navy blue velvet, trimmed in Alençon lace, and it is a favorite.” Then Lucy reflected on her missing limb. Thus far, only the crew had seen her with her physical deficiency, and she did not want to embarrass Damian. “But it has long sleeves.”
“That is all right.” As Cara sat on the bunk, she smiled. “If you do not have a needle and thread, I can send Lance to fetch the items from the Demetrius, and we can tack the sleeve to the bodice.”
“Oh, I have sewing supplies, which I can no longer use.” Lucy cast a lopsided grin. “At least, not yet.”
Just then, Damian returned, carrying buckets of steaming water, which he emptied into the tub. “I have assembled a line in the hall, so we will have your bath ready, in minutes.”
“Are you not resourceful?” She stuck her tongue in her cheek, because she loved washing him, too. “And what of your preparations?”
His expression declared he knew exactly what she meant. “I shall dress in Carsleigh’s cabin, so you have use of ours, exclusively.”
“Then I shall see you when I am coiffed and garbed, as befits your dinner companion.” Once he exited, she scooted to the edge of the mattress. “Sisters, I am so glad you are here, because I do so want to look pretty for Damian, tonight. Given I have never met Admiral Pellew, but have heard quite a bit about him, I would not embarrass Damian.”
“My dear, that is not possible.” Alex took Lucy by the hand, pulled her from the bunk, and loosened the ribbon at the neck of her nightgown. “Now, let us get to work.”
In a flurry of activity, Alex and Cara pampered and styled Lucy, and she dotted some of her signature honeysuckle water behind her ears, at her throat, in her décolletage, and to her wrist. While Alex brushed Lucy’s hair until it dried, Cara stitched the right sleeve of the gown to the side hem of the bodice, and then the Brethren wives pinned Lucy’s brown locks into a cascade of loose curls.
“Shall I steady you, while Cara holds the dress open?” Alex asked.
“Yes, please.” Lucy leaned against Damian’s sister and stepped into the expensive garment.
Constructed of navy blue velvet, with a lace overlay trimmed in seed pearls at the bodice, a high waist, and clustered lace at the shoulders, the gown was the most expensive item of clothing Lucy had ever possessed, and it was a gift from Lenore, shortly before Damian sailed.
As Cara tied the laces, Lucy appraised her appearance in the long mirror and marveled at what she spied staring back at her. “Why, I look normal—aside from my missing arm. But it is scarcely noticeable.”
“You are a vision.” Alex sniffed. “And I am so proud to call you sister.”
“Oh, Alex, will you stop.” Now Cara wiped her eyes. “You are making me cry.”
“Let us join the men, as it is time.” Alex snapped her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot.” From a small box, Alex produced a pair of diamond ear fobs, which she affixed to Lucy’s ear lobes. “There.”
“Where did these come from?” Lucy admired the glittering gems. “They match my betrothal ring, perfectly.”
“Imagine that.” Cara cleared her throat. “Let us be off, ladies.”
Lucy strolled into the corridor and out to the quarterdeck. As she neared the companion ladder, she glanced down at the waist and spotted Damian. Breathtaking in his regimentals, consisting of a blue frock, with a high collar and buttoned cuffs, white pantaloons and stock, and polished Hessians, he portrayed a stunning sight such as she had never glimpsed, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. And when he met her stare, her knees buckled. In an instant, he climbed halfway up the ladder and reached for her.
“My dear, you look beautiful.” After setting her safely on the boards, he stood as her escort and led her to the mainsail hull, where a plank stretched between the Sagremor and the Queen Charlotte.
It was then she noted the crew at the rail. Clean-shaven, bathed, and with combed hair, the men of the Sagremor wore fresh clothing, and she surmised Lord Exmouth commanded great respect in all the ranks.
With care, Damian handed her across the plank to Jason, who waited with Lance on the other ship, and repeated the process with Alex and Cara.<
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“Welcome aboard.” A very proper first lieutenant dipped his chin. “This way, please.”
With mounting excitement, Lucy rested her palm in the crook of Damian’s elbow, and they crossed the waist. To her bewilderment, the second in command took them to the quarterdeck of the impressive ship-of-the-line, and what awaited her drew her to a halt.
THE DUKE WEARS NADA
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Lucy discovered the makeshift altar fashioned by the carpenter mates of the Sagremor, she flinched and glanced at Damian, and he smiled. Her reaction was just what he hoped for when he planned their wedding. Tears glistened in her blue eyes, as she stared at him, and her lower lip trembled, but she glowed.
“My dear, you asked me to marry you.” He waggled his brows. “And I accepted.”
“Yes, you did.” She squeezed his arm. “But I anticipated a ceremony at St. George’s.”
“Are you disappointed?” He already knew the answer to that question, but he asked it, anyway.
“Oh, no.” As he led her to the altar, she admired the details. “Are those birds hanging from the twine?”
“Yes.” He pointed to the haphazard design. “Each member of the crew carved a tiny bird, since we have no flowers.”
“It is like a dream come true.” She hiccupped. “And I would keep the little figures.”
“We can hang them in the orangery at Penhurst, if you wish.” He made a mental note to have Greer secure the figurines. “Now, there is someone I would like you to meet.”
“I love that idea.” She blinked, as they stood before their officiate. “And when did you find the time to arrange all this?”
“While you recovered.” Then he stiffened his spine. “My dear, may I present Admiral Edward Pellew, Lord Exmouth.”
“Miss Teversham, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Lord Exmouth bowed. “I knew your father, and he was the best of men. His was a terrible loss.”
“Thank you, my lord.” As would a lady, she curtseyed. “And I shall forever remember your kind words of my father. I miss him, every day, and I wish he were here.”
“I imagine he does, too.” Exmouth grinned. “Now then, shall we commence the ceremony?” He flipped to a marked page in the Book of Common Prayer. “Pray, bear with me, as this is not a duty I am often called upon to perform, but I am honored by the request, and we will endeavor to persevere. But I believe this will go down in history as one of the most unique weddings over which I have ever presided.” From his pocket, he produced a pair of spectacles. “Please, join hands.”
“Miss Lucilla Augusta Teversham, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage?” Lord Exmouth stared down his nose. “Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
For a scarce second, Damian held his breath.
Beaming, Lucy replied, “I will.”
And so it was that, beneath a star-filled sky, and surrounded not by the polished members of the ton but by some of the Royal Navy’s most battle-hardened veterans, Damian married Lucy in a sentimental if not so elegant ceremony, which he thought suited his duchess. Given the enormity of the undertaking, and the fact that he had all but dragged her to the nuptials, he actually delighted in the fact that she would have to swim the deep blue sea to escape him.
When it was his turn to commit himself, he thrust his chest and proudly proclaimed, “From this day forward you shall not walk alone. My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”
With that, Damian faced the admiral.
“Grant that all married persons who have witnessed these vows may find their lives strengthened and their loyalties confirmed.” Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Damian, Lord Exmouth closed the book, re-pocketed his spectacles, and chuckled. “Well, we got through that all right.”
“Uh, my lord, you forgot something.” Damian shuffled his feet.
“Ah—yes. Cannot omit the most important part.” Now Exmouth gave vent to a full-blown belly laugh. “And now I pronounce you husband and wife. Your Grace, you may kiss your bride.”
For Damian, that singular sliver of time, borne of joy and tragedy, represented the culmination of a life spent in service for the greater good. In so many ways, Lucy bled for his reward, much to his regret. Yet, she manifested the bounty for which he worked, and he intended to savor every precious minute with her, thus he brought that emotion to their first kiss as husband and wife.
“Three cheers for the happy couple.” Mr. Carsleigh waved a fist.
In unison, the crew shouted, “Hip hip huzzah.”
After a delicious meal and several suggestive toasts, he could not wait to get his wife back to their cabin. However, true to form, Lucy had other plans.
When they returned to the Sagremor, Greer and the crew indulged in their own celebration, and Colum and Jones danced a merry jig.
“Oh, Damian, may I participate?” Alive with energy he intended to put to good use, she cast a coy stare. “Please?”
“Now this I really must see.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Gentlemen, if you would show me the proper moves.” Lucy inserted herself between the seamen.
As he suspected, no one would dare deny his bride, so the two old salts schooled her in a rather odd combination of prancing and frolicking, which she took to with her characteristic enthusiasm, and he could only shake his head.
“Cap’n, I predict you will have your hands full with that one.” Carsleigh folded his arms and snickered. “As she is a live cannon.”
“Are you blind?” Damian snorted. “I already have my hands full with her.” And how he loved her.
Later, the men engaged in song, and he noted they censored the usually ribald shanties. Finally, Colum raised a mug of grog and commanded the attention of those on deck.
“Let us drink a toast, laddies.” Silence fell on the ship. “To our lady of the Sagremor.”
In good sport, Lucy curtseyed and then skipped to Damian, and he kissed her forehead. “Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?”
“Very much.” She rocked on her heels. “But I think it past due for us to retire, and I would ask a favor.”
“Now that I, at last, got you to the altar, you may have whatever your heart desires.” He snaked an arm about her waist and drew her close.
“I like the sound of that.” Lucy yanked his elbow, and he bent his head, so she could whisper in his ear. Her request, a particularly salacious maneuver, brought him instantly alert and aroused. “And I wish to be on top.”
Damian burst into laughter.
~
It was a cool October evening, when Damian and Lucy exited the ducal town coach at the entrance to Elliott House. In the fortnight since they returned to England, Lucy moved to Seymour House, a graceful mansion that occupied a corner of Berkeley Square, and Dr. Handley examined her at Damian’s insistence, before he permitted her to partake of the events of the Little Season.
By far, the most prestigious and sought after invitation was for the Duke and Duchess of Rylan’s celebration of the recent marriage of the Duke and Duchess of Weston, and the cream of London society came out en masse for the occasion, due to the rumors that the Prince Regent would attend and present the newest member of the aristocracy to the ton.
“Are you nervous?” Damian rested a hand at the small of her back, as they ascended the stairs. “If you do not wish to attend the party, we can go home.”
“Will you stop worrying about me?” Of course, that would never happen, but she could not resist goading him. “I am fine.”
“Good evening, Jennings.” Damian doffed his coat, hat, and gloves, and then helped her shed her outerwear. “Here, darling. Let me unhook your pelisse.”
“I can do it, myself.” For a few seconds, she yanked and tugged, to no avail. With a frown, she sighed. “Well, perhaps you should assist me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He patted her cheek. “You will get it, eventually.”
“Is my riband straight?” She glanced at the royal blue sash embroidered with the ducal cypher, which contrasted with her gown of rich burgundy silk satin trimmed in old gold. “I sometimes fidget when I am nervous.”
“But never when I am with you.” He favored her with a charming pout, and she squeezed his hand. “And I see you are wearing the diamond earrings.”
“No, never.” As he led her to the ballroom, she glimpsed the twinkling fobs in a hall mirror. “These are my lucky earrings, because I wore them when we took our vows, and I am still shocked that Lenore confided in Alex. You know our family is frightfully adept at keeping secrets.”
“However it came to pass, I am glad my little sister brought the gems, because I wanted to gift them to you on our wedding day, and she made that happen.” He winked. “That is all that matters to me.”
At the entrance to the huge ballroom, it occurred to Lucy that she had come full circle, because the last time she entered that chamber was as an ingénue facing an uncertain future. Now, she was Damian’s wife, bolstered by the power her station entailed and the confidence in her ability to make her own way, on her terms.
Just then, the butler stood tall, and she braced for the onslaught. “The Duke and Duchess of Weston.”
The roar heralded society’s notice of the new arrivals, and she held her head high as she charged the fore, because she was not alone. Caroline and Trevor, Rebecca and Dirk, Sabrina and Everett, Cara and Lance, Alex and Jason, Daphne and Dalton, Lenore and Blake, Elaine and Sir Ross, Almira and Nicholas, Lady Celia, Lucien, and George lingered just to the right, as a receiving party, of sorts.
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