The strident voice came from a portly man who sat at the back of the room.
Chesterman peered over his glasses at him. “And you are?”
“Frederick Braden Meacham. My mother was sister to the former duke, and they had no other brothers. So I am a direct relative.” He rose to his feet to give further emphasis.
“Ah yes, Mr Meacham. I believe I read out the entitlement you had in the Will—”
“I was going to speak out at that time, but you went on too quickly. A small gift of money is not good enough. I claim I am entitled to inherit the dukedom and the estate.”
“Mr Meacham, the abeyance was conclusively agreed to by the Crown, following a request and reorganization by the former duke. This was later clarified by the duchess when she succeeded to the estate. The reasons given were taken into consideration some years ago and duly noted as being acceptable for all time. A protest should have been registered then. Now, it is too late. The ruling stands in perpetuity, and there is no right of appeal. Your claim is null and void.”
“But I didn’t know about it then...” Meacham’s face was screwed up with anger. “I should have been informed...” His voice grew louder. “It’s not good enough—”
“Why? It is not obligatory to inform possible heirs if the beneficiary chooses not to. One never knows how circumstances will change. Nevertheless, the ruling with this case was passed with all due authority, and it stands and can never be changed. That concludes the reading of the Will of the Duchess of Braden. I thank you all for attending this meeting. Its contents will be acted on in due course, and all those concerned will get their inheritance.” Edgar Chesterman rose to his feet and, ignoring a further interruption from Meacham, bowed to everyone in the room, his face still set in its customary gravity.
The room cleared, and finally, an irate Meacham stood in the hall with his wife and said brusquely and loudly to Rowten. “Order our coach and fetch down our luggage. We shall no longer be staying. Nor, in fact, will I ever set foot in this house again. The proceedings we have just listened to are disgraceful, and I shall be writing to the authorities to complain of the paltry goings on! My lawyers shall hear about it.”
Richard held an inward smile as he listened and remembered Rowten saying the duchess was a master at strategy and planning. She had likely known about Meacham very early on and persuaded her husband a change should be made in case their son could not inherit the dukedom or this cousin interfered. She had obviously judged that Meacham was not fit to take on the role of a duke. Had she foreseen what could and did happen? He had heard some people had that ability to see the future, and though he kept an open mind on skills of that nature, he refused to give credence to fortune tellers and the like and preferred to think it was intelligent observations of what might happen in life and taking precautions in the event that it did.
He wondered when her plans had taken a leap forward as she watched his own progress in life as her godson, correctly assuming if she could match him with her granddaughter, it would behove him to make a true marriage and produce an heir with Lucie and so carry on the bloodline. He marvelled at her scheming despite the high price she had paid to make it come true. If wishes were able to command the outcome, that future was assured.
Unfortunately, there was the slight hiccup to resolve of a marriage of convenience and how best to change that outcome. It had seemed to be the only way at that fraught moment when the duchess was dying to persuade Lucie to accept her grandmother’s wishes. How to resolve that problem was occupying his brain amidst all the other things that the present circumstances were throwing up. He was walking a very narrow pathway, trying to quell his desires and have patience enough to persuade his wife that the continuation of their marriage was in both their interests. He was determined that the end result would go the way he wanted. She, he had gathered from the coolness she displayed, was equally determined on a parting. Indeed, one that would be quickly arranged. She still had not taken into account that Tasker was an enemy to beware of.
Chapter Eight
Two days after the funeral, when the guests had gone and the house put to rights, the morning had broken clear and sunny. A light tap on her door woke Lucie, and sleepily, thinking it was Mary, she bade the caller enter. When the large form of Richard appeared in the doorway, she gasped, sat up, and then at once, reached for the sheet to cover herself.
“My l-lord—er--Richard! What are you doing here?”
He studied his drowsy wife with mixed feelings. Tousled hair fell in tangled curls about her bare shoulders where her nightgown had slipped. He wondered why he was standing almost apologetically at the entrance to her room, ready to answer a ridiculous question, rather than lying beside her in bed and enjoying the bountiful gift of her body.
“I thought you’d like an early morning ride,” he said mildly. “The weather is beautiful this morning, and you will enjoy going out to get some fresh air.”
She tightened her lips and shook her head. “I haven’t a suitable black riding habit.”
“Lucie, as if it matters. No one will see us. We shall stay within the park. We don’t need a groom along. If you’ll permit, I’d like your company.” Without a doubt, right at this moment, when she was warm from sleep, sweet and deliciously amenable to all sorts of love-making. He hardened at the thought, coughed, and pointed at the window to distract her attention while he shifted to get comfortable.
“It is gorgeous out there, and your mare needs exercise, as does my Jamal. You cannot deny them a gallop and stay lazily in bed.” He grinned, and she finally smiled back.
“Ah, you look awake now. I will give you ten minutes to get dressed and see you at the stables. I will bring breakfast, and we can have it by the river.”
“Very well. Ten minutes it shall be. Now, if you don’t mind...” She waved her hand in dismissal, and he grunted and turned away, closing the door behind him, but not before she saw a strange glint in his eye, one she couldn’t interpret. What was that all about?
Unable to fathom the weird ways of men, she threw back the bedclothes and proceeded to wash and dress. Richard was right. The morning looked splendid, and with the trying events of the past few days receding from her mind, she welcomed the forthcoming exercise, the thrill of a good gallop, and a breath of fresh air. Being confined to the house had truly been a penance she was not used to, however necessary it had seemed to be. At least her husband appeared quite amiable this morning, and she would make the most of it.
Richard was glad he had come down ahead of her as Jamal was impatiently testing the strength of two young grooms trying to saddle him. He was skittish for once, prancing and cavorting, and it was taking all their efforts to hold him to the bit. At once, Richard went to him, and running his hand up and around his head, he spoke softly to the stallion. Immediately, the horse quietened and settled down.
“He’ll be fine now, lads,” he said to the grooms. “Go ahead and saddle him.”
“You have a way with a horse, milord, especially your Arabian. What did you say to him, for I don’t recognise the language?” Haskins, the head groom, said admiringly.
“No reason you should,” replied Richard. “It’s Arabic, goes with his upbringing. He is well trained, not vicious in any way despite his size. He happily responds to my voice, especially when I told him to be patient, he can soon run like the wind.”
Haskins chuckled. “Just as well he expends his energy. He’s a mite frisky with the smell of her ladyship’s mare. I’d have suggested another horse for her, but she won’t have it, I know. It is Carley or nothing, or she won’t ride. Anyway, I’ll have a groom go with you.”
“No, don’t bother, Haskins, we’ll be fine on our own. I’m confident we can cope.”
“Well, if you are sure, milord,” Haskins said doubtfully. “Ah, here is her ladyship now.”
Richard turned and looked approvingly at his wife who had dressed in a navy and white frogged habit. As she approached, his mind was already on pla
ns to seduce her. The chance to get her by herself recently had proved impossible. Today might provide the ideal opportunity. He’d spent long hours thinking about the unforeseen problem that faced him in marrying Lucie. She was an intelligent woman, kind to those needing her help, but highly strung and proud if she felt someone was trying to command her. His attempt to save her pride by agreeing to a ‘marriage of convenience’ was not going to work. Two masters in a marriage spelt arguments and division. As far as he was concerned, he was going to be the only master, and he was not going to put up with disagreements. Not that his aim was to override her, but rather to win her over to become a loving wife who enjoyed him pleasuring her.
To achieve that meant he had to make her his wife in unmistakeable fact, but in such a way that she would succumb yet hardly realise the fact. Far better than marching into her bedroom and chance her shrieking for help. He grinned to himself at the irony. That would set the servants back on their heels, and the gossip would have far reaching effects which could spoil their marriage for evermore. Skill was the key, and he would trust his expertise in making love to carry the day.
* * * *
By the time Lucie reached the stables, the horses were saddled and ready, and it took only a moment before both riders were up and heading off to the green pastures of the outlying park. Lucie led the way towards a stretch where the horses could have their heads and enjoy a vigorous gallop, and once there, gave a loud whoop and yelled, “I’ll race you!”
Immediately, it became a fast, exciting pace. Richard smiled to himself as he followed behind, recognising her excellent seat as an accomplished rider and aware he had a strong feeling she also possessed an as yet an untapped passion that he hoped to soon reveal.
Although he kept Jamal at a reasonable pace at first, the lithe Arabian soon forged ahead, and by the time they pulled up to rest their mounts, Jamal was several lengths in front. Richard wheeled back to join her. Laughingly, she cried out, “I might have known you would beat me! He is a wonderful horse. Where did you get him?”
“Jamal? He is the best horse I have ever owned. I got him in Canada, where I worked at one time. Both his sire and dam are pure-bred Arabians, and the breeder owned a stud beyond compare. I was lucky enough to spend some time with him on his ranch, and during that time, was able to take part in training Jamal and was eventually allowed to have ownership of him. You have no idea how thrilled I was.”
“You call him Jamal. What does it mean?” she asked curiously.
“That he is handsome and supreme. A mount full of pride.” Not unlike you, my lovely!
“He is all of that. Now, where shall we go next?”
“Head for the river, I guess. I’m beginning to feel peckish.”
“Follow me. We’ll go via another gallop, and by then, the horses will have lost their fidgets and be content to graze.”
“Lead on, Lucie, I am enjoying every moment.”
She laughed delightedly. “So am I!” Taking the lead again, she continued to a stand of trees, made her way through them on a well-used path which opened out to another meadow, and cried, “Ready! Try and catch me this time!”
She was off in a flash before Richard had barely emerged from the woodland. “Right, my beauty, you’re on!” he yelled, though he doubted she could hear him over the pounding hooves set up by the animals as he urged Jamal into a breathtaking gallop. By the time they had reached the end of the tract and were by the river, they were neck and neck, but once again, on his powerful horse, he drew ahead before coming to a halt.
“Oh drat! You horrible man! I was winning, and Carley will never forgive Jamal.”
“Instead, I’ve won, and you have to pay a forfeit for losing,” he growled.
He sprang swiftly off his mount, and before she could stop him, he took hold of her waist, pulled her down in front of him, and held her tightly against him.
She shrieked. “Forfeit! What forfeit? You never said—”
“This!” As his arms closed around her, his lips took hers with an intensity that stunned her to the depths of her being, sweeping her into a maze of feeling she had never encountered before. Trembling with the passion he engendered, she felt him gentle and murmur against her swollen lips, “Open for me, Lucie.”
Without thinking, she did, and with a groan, he slid his tongue into her warm mouth and turned the kiss into the most passionate sensation she had ever dreamt of. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, but thrilled that at last, she knew what a real kiss felt like, she responded in like fashion and tangled with his tongue. It was like igniting a fire, a volcano of desire that would allow no retreat to the sensibility of manners that had become the norm since they’d married.
Held within his arms, up against his muscled chest, her breasts swelled with warmth, the nipples tender with the unbidden thought of his hands touching them, stroking them…oh, how sinful, where had such thoughts come from? Without even recognizing the source of her knowledge—her grandfather’s books—she knew he wanted her. She could feel the press of his erection jutting against her belly and was utterly amazed that she wanted to experience the joy—she felt sure it would be joy—of uniting with him.
Where this urge had come from, she hardly knew, only that it was there and she would surrender to it if given the chance. As her body heated with the newly aroused passion she had no knowledge of before, she innocently pressed herself closer and felt the groan rumble in his chest.
At once, he reluctantly lifted his lips from hers and, dropping his arms, said, “A moment, Lucie, give me a moment please.” Stepping back, he turned swiftly to the horses, and before she could think of replying or gathering her thoughts, he had pulled the saddles from their backs. Wrenching out a large blanket from a saddle bag together with another large bag, which he laid to one side, he spread the blanket on the ground. Once that was done, he walked over to her and reached for her again.
This time, she became aware of his purpose, and backing away, shook her head. There was no way would she allow him to take advantage of her. “Richard!” she gasped as he advanced, and taking no notice of her retreat, took her in his arms. “You promised! Before we married you promised—”
“Yes, my darling girl, I did indeed promise. I, Richard Buchan promise to take you, Lucie Annette, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forth, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish from this day on until death us do part. We entered into a perilous marriage which I want to change to a loving marriage, and today, my dearest, is the day for loving.”
“Oh! But...”
“Lucie, but me no buts, I want to love you and will not take no for an answer.”
“But we are not staying married. It was only for my grandmother’s sake. She was the one who wanted us to wed, not I. You promised an annulment.”
“So you will turn your back on her now she is gone?” His voice was hard.
“No...yes! Oh, I’m all confused. I thought it was what you wanted too.”
“Did I say I wanted a joyless marriage?”
“But we agreed we did not know each other well enough to wed...”
“I believe I am getting to know you well enough by now. If you had chosen anyone from the ton in London, would you be better off? I say not. At least you are still in your own home and safe with me. Your grandmother was a wise woman. She knew how you felt.”
Stricken with her reaction to his passionate kiss and faced with his accusation that she was betraying her grandmother; she was lost for words to reply. Her eyes grew huge with emotion, and he was suddenly aware she could burst into tears. Now was not the time for that to happen— he would lose her again, so he had to stop her at all costs. He reached for her again, and with no chance to protest anymore, she was caught up in his arms, laid down on the blanket, and instantly, as she felt him lie alongside and his lips took hers again, she was once more enraptured with feeling. When she was allowed time to breathe, she found his fingers busy at
the buttons of her jacket, and soon, the buttons of the blouse she wore beneath were opened until she felt the cool air on the skin above her chemise.
She opened her mouth to object, but before she could say a word, his lips were trailing kisses once again across her face and down to the pulse at her neck which was beating fast and furiously. She felt his hand slide inside the blouse and begin cupping and stroking her breasts, just as she had wanted, but oh my goodness, this was not supposed to happen. Surely it was wrong. They had agreed on an annulment, so there was no sense in them becoming intimate and tempting fate.
She blushed as she recalled some of the words said the night they were married. Words and promises made after the brief agreement for a marriage of convenience which, clearly, Richard no longer felt he could obey. The tiny signs of his frustration over the past few days—the looks he gave her, the touch of his hand on her bare arm or on her waist to guide her—that she had innocently ignored, the stroke of his fingers on her neck as he had slid her hair to one side when he had put on her pendant, made sense. If he wanted to go further, he was making it more than plain, and his touch made her shiver. With the way he was acting now, he didn’t want the marriage annulled or her to leave. Was this the marriage her grandmother had intended? All at once, she felt relieved she would not have to face an embarrassing moment before officials, when by agreement, their marital relationship would end in annulment and he would ride away and leave her.
She stared up into his eyes, eyes that were glowing with ardour, and then realized she had no choice but to grant his wishes. Nor did she even want to say no. Sighing, she puckered up her lips for his kiss. With a groan of relief, he obliged and set about his feasting until her lips were swollen with rapture and her emotions incandescing.
A Perilous Marriage Page 10