“Will you see Harry now, my lady?” Lymer asked, approaching from the shell room with her hands on the lad’s shoulders.
“Come along, Harry,” the Dowager said. She could not imagine the boy’s or the DeBeauforts’ feelings.
Harry had certainly been washed. His hair, still long, curled to his shoulders and shone the color of bleached corn. As handsome as his father—and the likeness was striking—he needed to eat a good many nourishing meals to fill out his lanky body. He wore good clothes well but the mutinous expression on his face was still that of the unhappy boy who had arrived early in the morning.
Mrs. DeBeaufort burst into tears.
“Good Lord,” her husband said, staring at Harry. “How old are you, boy?”
Harry looked about as if he might dash away, but turned back to the couple and said, “I think I’m twelve, but I could be thirteen.”
“Werther!” Mrs. DeBeaufort swayed as if she would faint. “He’s ours. Just look at him.”
“Yes,” her husband said, putting an arm around her. “Very well. Nothing to worry about, Harry. You’ll call us Grandmother and Grandfather. Now we must get on. Where are your things?”
Harry turned red and shook his head. “There’s nothing.”
“I see,” his grandfather said. “No matter.”
“He’ll have everything he needs, won’t he, Werther?” Mrs. DeBeaufort said. “I know you must be frightened, Harry, but you’re going to have a good home.”
“My father did his best,” Harry said. “Things made him unhappy.”
The DeBeauforts looked at each other. “They always did,” Mr. DeBeaufort said. “Thank Lady Granville for her kindness. We’ll take you home now.”
34
Four weeks later
“How much longer must we stay?” Dominic whispered in Fleur’s ear.
Fleur said quietly, “I don’t know about these things. I’ve never had a wedding or a wedding breakfast before.” She did know that although she dared to hope, she must not be too sure the dream of today could be more than that, a dream. Once he was faced with the reality of doing his duty by her, he might regret his chivalry.
She had heard all about what happened with these Society marriages forged for expediency rather than love. Theirs was a different kind of expediency. She would bring no advantageous family liaison, no rich dowry. The truth, or at least part of it, was that Dominic felt responsibly for having made love to a virginal woman under his mother’s protection. But in the weeks since the nightmare in St. James he had treated her with deference and shown her so many small and not so small kindnesses.
And he was happy now. Even through the tedious wedding preparations he’d remained in high spirits.
Fleur clung to every promising sign.
A silver-and-blue-clad flunky slid quietly beside them to place a tiered silver dish arranged with chocolate-dipped strawberries and crystalized apricots.
Dominic waited for the man to withdraw before he said, “You’ve been to weddings. Women know about these things.”
“Village weddings, Dominic. They last all day and into the night. The bride and groom dance the night away.”
He groaned. “This bride and groom won’t.”
“You must have been to lots of weddings like this one,” Fleur told him. “You decide what we should do.”
His attention became fixed on her face. “I have to get you away from here.”
“Why?” She wasn’t in a hurry to leave. “Everyone is having a wonderful time because they’re here celebrating with us. Wouldn’t leaving them so soon be thoughtless? The preparations took such effort and so many people to complete. It’s all beautiful, too, and meant to be appreciated.”
Dominic leaned away a fraction. “All I want to appreciate is you, and I do,” he said. “I also have to make up to you for a broken promise.”
“Have you drunk too much?” she asked, and used one of her perfected frowns.
“Not yet,” he told her archly.
“What promise have you broken? I don’t think I like the sound of that at all.”
“I’ll explain later,” Dominic said, “and I promise you won’t mind.”
Fleur kissed him quickly but not so quickly that no guests noticed. Applause rippled from flower- and food-laden tables in the orangeries.
“Now look what I’ve done,” Fleur said. “I’ve made a cake of myself.”
He returned her kiss, but for such a long time that laughter and the clink of silver on crystal rose to a roar.
When Dominic pulled back, Fleur buried her face against his chest and he held her. This time a distinct sigh gusted across the air.
“We should say our goodbyes,” Dominic murmured. “Your mother is enjoying every moment of watching us but I’m not sure your father approves.”
“Oh, dear.” Fleur sat up at once and smiled at her parents who were seated on the opposite side of the wedding party’s table.
Papa was slower than Mama to return the smile, it was true, but she could tell he was happy. He had performed the marriage in the estate chapel with many of the guests standing along the walls or even spilling outside into the sunshine.
To Papa’s right sat John with Hattie at his side. Talking to them would be pointless since they were wrapped in their own world. Even the aunts had commented on the couple’s preoccupation since John’s return from Vienna. The news that Hattie was increasing brought the Dowager and Fleur great satisfaction over their intuition.
Fleur turned to look through doors that stood open onto a terrace. Aunt Prunella and Aunt Enid had excused themselves to go outside and “get some air.” They had been gone a long time.
Nathan sat at Fleur’s left. He caught her eye and wrinkled his nose. “Probably can’t stand it that they’re not getting all the attention,” he said, reading her thoughts.
“Perhaps,” Fleur said, aware of the empty chair beside him. She knew he still hoped Lady Mary Eaton might arrive but felt certain she wouldn’t come now that the ceremony was long over.
“I heard Jane Weller’s to be a permanent member of the staff here,” Franklin Best said. Fleur had insisted that he be included in the wedding party. “And there’s talk that she may soon take up another position as well.”
Nathan snorted. “All this romantic nonsense must be in the air.”
“Jane is a lovely girl,” the Dowager said. She raised a glass of red wine to her lips and took a long swallow. “Good for the blood, this,” she remarked. “Jane will remain at the Dower House until she marries Mr. Lawrence. An appropriate match, I believe.”
Dominic drummed his fingers on the table—close to Fleur’s hand. “I don’t think we shall leave today, after all,” he said. “It’s getting too late and Fleur is still recovering her health.” He raised a finger to catch McGee’s attention.
“My health is perfect,” Fleur muttered.
“Kindly tell Snowdrop to have my wife’s things moved to my suite,” Dominic told McGee a moment later. “She should be ready to attend her there. And make the necessary arrangements to defer our departure until tomorrow…tomorrow afternoon, that is.”
Every man at the table cleared his throat. Fleur couldn’t imagine why but she did feel embarrassed at the idea of spending her wedding night under this roof—with the family, hers and Dominic’s.
“I couldn’t believe we had to wait two weeks to come here,” Fleur’s sister, Rosemary, said brightly. “Of course, it was all very exciting—especially for Letitia and Christopher—but they were busy gazing at each other and getting ready for their wedding journey so I wanted to get on because I knew you would need me, Fleur dear.” While she spoke to Fleur, she faced Franklin.
“I’m sure Mr. Best doesn’t want to hear about all our little happenings,” Mama said with a speculative gleam in her eyes when she looked at Franklin, who leaned back in his chair looking pale and like a handsome soldier returned from a war.
Franklin came through as Fleur had known he would. “I
am honored to be included at this table,” he said. “And to meet Fleur’s family. She does little else but talk about you so, of course, I couldn’t wait.”
“Wounds are ever so dashing, you know,” Rosemary said, eyeing the way Franklin wore his coat loose over his injured shoulder to accommodate a sling. “Does it hurt very much?”
“Well.” Franklin caught Fleur’s eye and she saw a devilish glint. “It does rather but it’s certainly much better than it was.”
Rosemary’s dark hair and eyes gave her a dramatic air and she knew what colors suited her best. She’d chosen to wear pale green for the wedding and once Chloe saw the material and the fashion plate, she’d begged for a dress, “just like that one,” too.
“I’m so sorry you’ve been hurt,” Rosemary told Franklin. “We believe fresh air and a relaxing atmosphere are good for convalescents. If you like, I’ll gladly read to you in the gardens later.”
“I should like that very much, Miss Toogood,” Franklin said and Fleur noted he gave Rosemary quite the assessing stare.
“Zinnia and Sophie are such babies,” Rosemary said of her younger sisters. “Quite embarrassing, really, running all over the place exclaiming. Now they’re in the grounds with Chloe. I suppose she’s showing them all sorts of things.”
“Would you like to join them?” Fleur asked.
Rosemary bit the chocolate-covered end off a strawberry, chewed and swallowed. She looked at Franklin and said, “Oh, no. My older sister eloped, Mr. Best. That’s Letitia, but I already told you that. She and her fiancé eloped and there was such a fuss.”
“Rosemary,” Mama said grimly.
Rosemary continued as if she hadn’t heard her mother. “My father followed them with Christopher’s father but they were too late to stop the marriage.” She hunched her shoulders. “Isn’t it romantic? But then they asked them to return to Sodbury Martyr where my father could marry them properly—and they agreed. Letitia and Christopher are much too nice. I should have floated off on a mist of mystery and the power of love and nothing would have made me go home.”
“Rosemary!”
This time Papa addressed Rosemary who gave him a sweet smile.
“Now they’re off on their wedding journey and they’re going everywhere. The squire insisted.” She grew quiet and looked at her hands. Tears sprang into her eyes. “I’m so glad for Letitia and Christopher. They really are the loveliest couple and they’ve had difficulties. But now those are over.” She sniffed, blinked, and smiled once more.
“You talk too much,” Fleur said. “But you’re a love with a soft heart.”
“Bosh,” Rosemary said. “I’m a harridan. Ask anyone.”
“Don’t ask me,” Franklin said. “Not if that’s the answer you want.”
Dominic really did need to get away from these well-meaning people and be alone with his wife. There didn’t appear to be a way to do that quietly so he supposed he’d just have to cause an uproar by carrying Fleur off. The fleeting shadows that crossed her face didn’t comfort him. The sooner he found out what those were about, the better.
He started to move his chair only to be stopped by the return of his aunts, who were both flushed and twittery.
“Sit down at once,” the Dowager ordered. “You don’t seem at all yourselves.”
Hattie roused herself and said, “What is it, darlings? Have you had a fright?”
John and Dominic rose to hold the ladies’ chairs.
“Of course not,” Aunt Enid said, shocking her companions by lowering her voice. “A surprise, that’s all.” She and her sister sat down.
“Yes,” Prunella said. “And we did something we probably shouldn’t have done so we’ve decided to confess. With the reverend here that seems appropriate.”
Seated again, Dominic rested an elbow on the table and ran his hand over his face.
“I don’t usually hear confessions,” Reverend Toogood said. “Certainly not in—”
“But you can,” Aunt Prunella said testily. “Henrietta, dear sister, we have wronged you.” She looked back at the reverend. “We’ve wronged our sister by using our nephew’s wedding breakfast as a diversion while we got into her studio to look at her paintings when she didn’t want anyone to do that.” She caught her breath and pressed her hands together.
Mother actually slid down in her chair, crossed her arms and wouldn’t look at anyone. She said, “I expected this to happen while you were here. You are so predictable. Thank you for apologizing. I don’t want to talk about it ever again.”
The more they drank and ate, the louder the other guests became and Dominic gave thanks for that. Nathan leaned forward to send him a questioning glance and they both turned toward John who looked at the ceiling and shook his head.
“They’re really good, you know,” Aunt Enid said. “The paintings. Warriors on horseback. Muscular men—like pugilists. And they’re huge. I think Henrietta should have one of those exhibitions. You could have it here, John. In the long room. There are quite enough paintings for that.”
“If that’s what Mother wants, that’s what she shall have,” John said promptly. “I want more champagne.”
More champagne was poured at once, all around the table.
“There’s something we don’t understand about your paintings, Henrietta,” Prunella said. “The boots.”
Fleur slid her hand into Dominic’s and squeezed. “I don’t think I can eat or drink another thing,” she said. They had sat through nine courses and the dishes continued to come.
“The boots,” the Dowager said darkly, “are necessary since the fields and hillsides are often muddy and there are rocks. If it were necessary to dismount, one would need boots.”
“Well,” Aunt Enid said, “I should think riding bare-bottom—”
“And bare everything else.” Aunt Prunella interrupted her sister. “Not that we didn’t find that most interesting and well done. I’m sure painting from life must be difficult—particularly with the horses. Do you send the grooms away and paint in the stables?”
Aunt Enid continued, “As I was saying, I should think riding bare-bottom would be more dangerous than standing barefoot in the mud.”
This was absolutely not the time or place to laugh.
“The boots are representational,” the Dowager said. “They denote masculine power and the allotted—if ridiculously so—superiority of the male sex.”
Aunt Prunella appeared cross. “But you just said the mud—”
“I was trying to give you a simple explanation that would keep you quiet.”
“Henrietta,” Enid whispered, “where did you find that perfectly marvelous young man? You’ve painted him so many times.”
“They are not all paintings of the same man,” the Dowager said and Dominic almost groaned with relief at the humor in her eyes.
Reverend Toogood didn’t quite hide his smile before he said, “I’ve got one question, then I think we should pack you off, Dominic.”
Dominic could have kissed the man for changing the subject, particularly to the subject of leaving. “Yes, sir?”
“Do you understand your wife?”
Dominic blinked a few times. He doubted that was a standard question for a man to ask of his new son-in-law. “I think so,” he said. “But I’d be a fool to say I don’t expect to be surprised by discovering more unusual things about her.”
“Will they bother you?”
“Absolutely not. If I’d wanted a boring wife, I’d have found one.”
Reverend Toogood gave a satisfied nod. “Then you’ve both chosen well.”
Arguing was pointless. Dominic insisted on carrying Fleur all the way to his rooms where Snowdrop sat quietly waiting in the sitting room, supposedly reading a book.
“Snowdrop will help you change,” he told Fleur quietly when he set her down in the largest bedroom she had ever seen.
Despite the early hour, the draperies had been closed and candles lighted.
An excited, panicky, fl
uttering sensation attacked her stomach and her limbs didn’t seem too sturdy.
Her trunks stood with the ones that must belong to Dominic and Fleur said, “It’s not really too late to start our journey today.”
“We’ve already started our journey,” he said. “Don’t you like our first stop?” He indicated the room.
“It’s very nice,” she said, feeling inadequate.
“Will you be happy living here at Heatherly?” he asked.
Fleur hadn’t thought about where they would live. “I love Heatherly.”
“You did say you didn’t approve of separate beds for a husband and wife. If you’ve changed your mind I can have one put in the dressing room for myself. There is no second bedroom in this suite.”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” she said in a small voice.
“Good. I’ll call Snowdrop and you can change here. I’ll use the dressing room.”
“Change?” She glanced down at her lace gown. “Oh, you mean I should put on an ordinary dress, of course.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “It’s time to prepare yourself for bed. Snowdrop—”
“No!” she said. “No, thank you.” But she pressed a fist into her stomach and couldn’t take her eyes from his face.
“What is it?” He sounded patient enough.
“It’s still afternoon. Why would I get ready for bed?”
Something close to frustration darkened his eyes. “Why do you think, Fleur? We are man and wife and I want you in my bed. The time of day or night is immaterial.”
She set her feet apart, put her hands on her hips and stared boldly into his eyes. “I do believe you’re cross with me.”
“I’m not cross with you.” His voice got louder. “I could never be cross with you.”
She put a finger to her lips and whispered. “Then why are you shouting at me?”
Before he could answer her, Fleur opened the bedroom door and went to Snowdrop. “You don’t need to stay, thank you,” she told her and the other girl bumped a chair in her hurry to leave. But she paused to kiss Fleur’s cheek and say, “It’s ever so romantic.”
Testing Miss Toogood Page 33