Bergen raised a brow at the duke.
"I would consider it a personal favor," Nicholas said. "I too worry about my sister."
"Egypt." Bergen nodded. "I might like to see the pyramids again."
He shook hands with Nicholas, ignoring the duke's outstretched paw.
"Be happy, Elizabeth," he said and kissed her cheek.
With a final glance back at the circle of graves, he climbed into the carriage. His boots made no sound on the carriage steps, springs did not creak, and there was no faint whisper of fabric brushing leather as he took a seat beside Leo. And for once, rather than finding the profound silence that surrounded the man mysterious or unsettling or even astounding, Elizabeth found it heartbreaking. It was as if he were already gone.
Lennie walked down the line of horses, checking the hitches one last time. He pulled a tobacco pouch from his pocket, stuck in a finger and thumb and pulled out a wad of leaves. Margaret cleared her throat. Lennie's eyes went up to the driver's box where she sat.
She gave her head the barest of shakes. Her mouth pouted in the faintest suggestion of a kiss. Then the tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips.
Lennie stilled, the tobacco just inches from his mouth. A cocky half-grin transformed his rough face. He dropped the tobacco back into the bag, pulling its strings tight and returning it to his pocket.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Detective Fielding was not so kind. He snorted. Loudly.
Lennie's glare was murderous. The portly detective appeared unmoved. He stepped up into the carriage and took a seat, mumbling irritably about valuable men being ruined by petticoats and perfume...and then almost wistfully about someone named Maria.
Lennie climbed up onto the driver's box and the carriage lurched forward. Margaret scooted close to her man as the vehicle rumbled down the road and disappeared into the trees.
Nicholas assisted Elizabeth into the landau. He took the seat beside her in the roofless carriage. She leaned her head against his shoulder. Despite his injury, the duke settled onto the driver's seat, taking the reins in one hand.
Out in the cemetery the sun bathed the headstones in radiant light, bringing the stained glass windows of the crypts to life. In the forest beyond birds sang and insects buzzed. A gentle breeze, sweet with the promise of summer wildflowers, stirred the leaves. Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathed in, and turned her face up to the warmth of the sun.
The duke shook the reins and the horses sprang forward, trotting smartly out of the graveyard. Elizabeth didn't look back.
Epilogue
London, 1814
A gentle breeze stirred Elizabeth's skirts, caressing her with the scent of roses as she stood with her father-in-law near the French doors of Mrs. Huntington's ballroom. As it was every year, the ball was a crush and the French doors were thrown wide to the night in an attempt to cool a room made over-warm by the heat of so many fashionably attired bodies. But the gossamer fabric of Elizabeth's newest gown draped lightly over her curves, the skirts dancing playfully around her ankles with the slightest breeze. The gown's short puffed sleeves and low cut bodice left ample skin exposed, ensuring she was in no danger of becoming overheated.
Her dressmaker had called the gown innocently alluring. The woman had insisted that the thin fabric and flirtatious style in a bolder color would have been wantonly provocative, but in ethereal white with gold trim at the bodice and hem, it was dreamily seductive. Elizabeth had known as soon as she'd come down the stairs of their London townhouse and seen the expression on her husband's face, the dressmaker was right. The duke, who'd been waiting in the entry hall with Nicholas, had taken one look at his son and chuckled.
"Perhaps we'd better take two carriages," he'd said, laying a hand on Nicholas's shoulder. "You may want to return home early tonight."
Elizabeth had blushed, but, in truth, she didn't mind. She's worn the gown with the desire of pleasing only one man -- her husband -- and he'd seemed very pleased. She'd be ordering additional gowns in the same style from the dressmaker tomorrow. Perhaps even a few in those more wanton colors.
A country reel was playing and the distraction of the lively music increased the number of ladies and gentlemen making their clandestine exits through the French doors. Elizabeth watched them go, wondering how many would find their walk in Mrs. Huntington's gardens as life-altering as hers had been a year ago.
Across the room, Nicholas, darkly elegant in his black coat and breeches, danced with their hostess. Elizabeth watched him, wondering if there would ever come a day when the mere sight of the man didn't stir the most unladylike desires. The steps of the dance separated him from Mrs. Huntington and he caught Elizabeth's eye. His gaze raked her slowly from eyes to toes and back again. He lifted a provocative brow.
Despite the gossamer gown, Elizabeth's flesh tingled with delicious heat. She dropped her eyes, tugging her lower lip between her teeth, unable to stop the way her back arched and her hips swayed ever so slightly. When she raised her eyes again he was looking much too sure of himself. Then the steps of the dance took him from sight.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth caught the startled expressions of the matrons sitting at the edge of the dance floor. This time the blush that heated her cheeks was one of embarrassment rather than desire. Flirting with a man across a crowded ballroom was unseemly and would cause talk in society salons all over London the next day, even more so when the man you were flirting with was your own husband. Such was the perverse morality of the ton.
Elizabeth stepped closer to the breeze coming through the doors and avoided looking in the direction the matrons again. Instead, she watched the brightly dressed dancers.
Harriet pranced by on the arm of a handsome and obviously miserable young man, making a point of waving gaily to Elizabeth as she passed. Happily, tonight was the first time Elizabeth had laid eyes on her former employer and her daughter since the two had departed from Heaven's Edge nearly a year ago. Both women had greeted her enthusiastically as soon as she'd entered Mrs. Huntington's ballroom. Elizabeth had smiled politely at the women's fawning and excused herself as quickly as possible, grateful that she needn't worry about encountering Randall as well.
In the excitement following the defeat of Lucy and her ilk last year, it had taken them all some time to realize that Randall, who'd been left unconscious at the base of the china cupboard in the entry hall at Heaven's Edge, had disappeared along with one of the duke's better mares. The mare had eventually been found at a posting house in a harbor town along the coast, but Randall had vanished. No one, not even his own mother, the countess had cheerfully confided, had heard from him since.
The set ended and the young man Harriet had been tormenting made his escape. He was replaced by a new, unsuspecting victim for the waltz that was about to begin.
Nicholas bowed deeply to Mrs. Huntington, then handed her over to a waiting partner before starting back to where Elizabeth and the duke stood near the French doors.
High-pitched giggles rang across the room as the first strains of the waltz began, transforming Marlbourne's expression from bored to wolfish. Elizabeth turned to see what had caught her father-in-law's attention. Identically lovely middle-aged ladies in matching pink dresses scurried across the room, their blonde curls bouncing in rhythm with their jiggling bosoms.
"Oh, Dukie dear. You've finally returned to town! Why have you stayed away so long, you naughty man?" One Grady twin rapped her fan playfully against the duke's knuckles.
"My apologies, my dove. I confess I'd forgotten how, uhm, delightful the city can be." Marlbourne's eyes slid over both women in a blatantly suggestive manner, sending them into another fit of twittering giggles.
"We heard you were nearly killed doing the bravest thing, Dukie -- catching a murderess," said the other twin in a breathy voice. "It was in all the London papers. Are you fully recovered? Is there something we can do to help you feel better?"
The women's lips pursed in ide
ntically sympathetic moues. Marlbourne's smile turned wicked. He gave a sigh so deep it verged on a moan of anticipation.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to assure the women her father-in-law had suffered no permanent harm. It snapped closed again as a man's hand wrapped her wrist.
"Goodnight, Father," Nicholas said over his shoulder as he pulled Elizabeth out the French doors and onto Mrs. Huntington's terrace. Without pause he towed her past the punch bowl and down the steps into the pink garden while the strains of a waltz drifted out of the ballroom behind them. Nicholas slowed as they stepped onto the moonlit lawn. Then taking one of Elizabeth's hands in his and placing his other hand at the small of her back, he danced her whirling and twirling across the lawn, past the pink roses toward the entrance to the garden path. Couples strolling in the flower-bordered lawn stopped to stare. Elizabeth scowled at her husband in mock censure.
"Scandalous man. You're as bad as your father."
"Worse." He increased the pressure of his hand against the base of her spine, forcing her closer, causing the tips of her breasts to brush his coat. The eyes of a young miss strolling nearby with her escort went round and she gave a tiny hiccupping laugh. Nicholas didn't miss a step, his voice low in Elizabeth's ear. "But there's a difference. My affections are reserved solely and forever for you, Elizabeth."
They'd reached the garden path. He took her by the hand, rushing her at breath-stealing speed through the tall hedges. They emerged into a garden awash with white roses, just as it had been a year ago. Nicholas paused and pulled Elizabeth close, kissing her tenderly there among the clouds of white flowers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss as he lifted her off the ground. He spun them in slow circles, crossing the garden, his lips never leaving hers. When he finally stopped and set her on her feet, she was deliciously dizzy -- from the scent of roses, from his kisses, from pure happiness.
"There's something I've been wanting to, umm...try," he whispered against her lips. He tilted his head toward the garden gazebo which stood just a few feet away glowing white in the moonlight.
Elizabeth smiled and he kissed her again. With his hands on her hips he gently forced her backward toward the arched entrance of the gazebo – the same one Amanda and Leo had been married in after destroying the original on the night of their engagement.
They were just two steps short of the entrance when a woman giggled. Nicholas stopped abruptly. Elizabeth half-turned in his arms. Amanda's head popped out from one side of the entrance. Her spectacles were askew on her tiny nose. Her blonde hair was mussed. And what little could be seen of her neck and shoulders appeared quite bare. She looked past Nicholas to Elizabeth.
"It's definitely worth trying, but you'll have to find another gazebo. There's one in each of the rose gardens. I'm afraid this one is going to be occupied for a quite some time." She winked.
"Oh!" Elizabeth said, one hand coming up to cover her smile.
From inside the gazebo Leo's voice rumbled, "The one in the red garden is the most comfortable, Nick. I recommend it."
"Thanks, Leo."
Nicholas laughed at Elizabeth's gasp as he scooped her up into his arms. "You heard the man, mea amor. He's an expert on the comfort of garden gazebos.”
“Then white must wait for another night,” she said and nipped playfully at his neck. “Besides, I'm grown rather fond of red."
The End
About the Author
Regina Richards lives in Texas with her husband, three children and a jolly old beagle. Please visit her website at www.reginarichards.net
Table of Contents
BLOOD MARRIAGE
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Epilogue
About the Author
Blood Marriage Page 39