The Earl's Bride

by Joanne Wadsworth

  Shocked, all he could do was stare at her.

  For the past two months, she’d only ever broken her fast in her chamber by taking a tray.

  Since his return a week past, she hadn’t joined him even once, no matter his request she did. She’d sent her apologies, which he’d accepted.

  Yesterday’s visit from Sophia had truly worked wonders.

  There could be no other reason for her return to the dining room table.

  He hoisted to his feet, pulled out the padded burgundy chair closest to his chair and motioned for her to sit. This morning she’d dressed not in full black as she usually did, but in a muted shade of dove-gray with white trim around the cuffs of her blouse and hem of her skirts. A yellow rose was pinned to her blouse, right over her heart, a nod to his mother’s love of the same flower, while her dove-gray veil flowed overtop of her brown locks twisted into an elegant chignon.

  Heart brimming with gratefulness, he kissed the top of her head as she took her seat. “You look lovely today. Father and George would approve of your choice of clothing. They’d never wish for either of us to grieve so deeply each and every day, but instead to remember how they lived their lives to the fullest, and for us to do the same.”

  “Yes, and this morning I awoke with the fierce need to sit with you so I might break my fast, provided you have no issue with my returned company?” Rosy cheeked, she smiled teasingly, which brought forth his own smile.

  “As long as you don’t hog all the hot chocolate, then I should be able to manage.”

  “You are the one who always hogs the hot chocolate.” She poured herself a generous cupful of the steaming brew and stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. After a sip and a heartfelt, “Mmm, delicious,” she asked, “Are you still meeting Ashten this morning and driving to the docks?”

  “Yes, I would appreciate his keen eye as I go over Father’s papers at the warehouse offices. The Fortune Maria is also due back in port today or on the morrow, and I wish to be there when Captain Lewiston sails in.” Lewiston had left London before his father and brother had passed away and he wouldn’t be aware of what had happened while he’d been at sea. The captain would be shocked, no doubt, just as they’d all been on hearing the news.

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you? With your investigations at the docks, that is?”

  “Of course, and the duke is a crack-shot with his pistol should we encounter any rough sorts. I’d like to think I’m not a bad shot either. I can certainly defend myself should that be necessary.” He patted the pocket of his breeches, the familiar feel of his pistol reassuring.

  “Have you received word from Uncle John yet?” She buttered a roll and bit into it.

  “No, and it could be weeks before he learns of Father and George’s death, then several more before we receive correspondence from him.”

  “I’ve always longed to travel to Jamaica and visit him. Our uncle’s letters describe the island as a veritable whirlpool of cultures colliding.” A radiant smile lifted her lips, excitement ringing in her tone. “It has been so long since he was last here.”

  “I’m not sure how he survives the heat. Jamaica is intolerably hot compared to England.”

  “You’re so fortunate to have spent three months with him before traveling deeper into the interior of the Americas. I wish I could have gone with you.” She leaned forward, her brown eyes glittering. “Tell me all about that trip two years ago.”

  “Well, Jamaica is stunning, and the beaches are white with palm trees dotted all along the coastline.” His father had asked him to visit each of the ports along their coastal route of the Americas where they traded, which he had. “The land is exotic, with sugarcane growing profusely. You will get to travel there one day, I’m sure.”

  “What of the pirates?” Excitement bubbled from her. “Are they as rowdy and unruly as I’ve heard? Did you ever encounter any?”

  “Yes, the islands of the Caribbean are home to a great nest of pirates. They swagger about the streets, trafficking their outlandish loot to merchants and other buyers. They fill their pockets with gold, then squander their bootie in the gambling rooms, then they carouse and brawl. They’re filled with bloodlust, always searching the seas for one hefty prize or another.” He tapped her nose then resumed reading his newspaper. “Should a pirate ever come across you, you’d be a prize he’d seek to capture and never return.”

  “Father used to warn me that if I misbehaved, he’d send me to Uncle John. I think that made me want to misbehave even more, so I could see the island our uncle calls home.” Grinning, she snuck the butter knife from the slab of butter and swung the short-curved blade back and forth like a sword. She slashed one corner of his paper then stabbed right through the middle. A giggle as she pressed her nose to the paper and batted one eye through the slot. “Give me yer treasure, me hearty, or ye’ll walk the plank.”

  His sister’s playfulness had returned, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

  Chuckling, he folded the paper and tapped it on her head. “If ye keep misbehaving then ahoy, to the high seas ye’ll go.”

  “You can heave ho.” She stabbed her knife into a fresh roll and tore a bite off the bread.

  “You have lost all decorum.”

  “I wouldn’t mind meeting an actual pirate.” Another tearing bite.

  “You would change your mind rather fast if you did.”

  “There must be a good reason why pirates have chosen a wicked path over an honorable one. Maybe they had no choice but to plunder in order to survive. Everyone deserves the chance for redemption, even pirates. Don’t you agree?”

  “No.” He plucked her stabbed roll, spread butter and preserves on it and chewed. “Are you looking forward to your trip to the museum?”

  “Exceedingly.” She raised a brow, chin propped in her upturned palms. “You could join us later in the day if you finish your investigations before it gets too late. I’d adore it, as I’m sure Sophia would too.”

  “Joining you, Sophia, and her sisters won’t be possible.” He couldn’t place himself within sniffing distance of the lady who tempted his desires as no other ever could, otherwise he’d be sneaking her into a side room and stealing kisses from her as he had yesterday. A repeat of that incident would be dangerous. Exceedingly dangerous.

  “I’m certain you’d have fun.”

  “Having fun is the problem.”

  “Ah, excuse me, my lord.” Woodman stood in the doorway, a smile rising as he spied Maria at the table. “I do beg your pardon for the interruption. Your carriage is ready at nine as requested.”

  “Excellent. Fetch my greatcoat and hat, Woodman.” He rose and pressed a kiss to Maria’s cheek. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed breaking my fast with you. I’ll be home at eight for dinner, and we can discuss pirates and the saving of their horrid souls further then.”

  “Be sure to observe all you can at the warehouse and report back to me on all you uncover.” Brow arched, she handed him a shiny red apple from the center of the table, a favorite fruit of his.

  “Are you an investigator now?” He pocketed the apple for later.

  “No, but I need to be aware of what’s going on. I’ve been wallowing in my grief and not being as present as I should be. You and I only have each other, and I intend to be the best sister ever.”

  “You’re my only sister, so being the best is already guaranteed, although I’ll inform you about all that I uncover at dinner tonight, provided you inform me about all you observe today at the museum. If you don’t regale me with fascinating tales, then I shan’t share a thing with you.” With long strides, he crossed to the door and with one last glance over his shoulder, winked at his sister. “And by fascinating tales, I mean regarding Sophia. I need to keep an eye on her at present, and no, you may not ask why.”

  “Why?” She laughed.

  “You’re an impossible imp.”

  Her continued laughter followed him out the front door, his sister’s good humor once more returned to him. Hi
s heart swelled with happiness.

  Chapter 4

  Sophia paced her bedchamber from wall to wall, her white linen nightgown brushing her bare toes. After leaving James yesterday, worry had battered at her every second since. Whether he liked it or not, she would aid him in whatever way she could, and that included being there for both him and Maria. He couldn’t kiss her then send her on her way. No, she simply couldn’t turn her emotions off at the drop of a hat, not when her very heart and soul desperately hungered for more time with him.

  Mama had once said that some men needed a gentle push, and it appeared James more so than any other. Before he’d left for the war, he’d always been there for her, charming her with his quick wit, showing her his love by his devoted attention, and yesterday in his library, he’d gifted her with his passion, his kisses fierce and soul-entwining. She’d always known when they came together in such a way it would be explosive, and it certainly had been.

  A knock rattled her door and her maid peeked around it with a tray in hand. “Good morning, my lady. I heard your footsteps. Do you wish to break your fast?”

  “Yes, I’m famished. Do come in.”

  “The bread is fresh from the ovens, the butter churned earlier this morn.” In her white aproned skirts, her maid placed the tray on the corner table under the window and swished her red-gold drapes open, the color matching that of her bedcovers.

  She eased into the chair at her table and sipped her tea, the brew perfectly milky and sweet. Her bread roll had already been sliced in two, so she buttered it and spread raspberry jam atop. Eyes closed, she bit into its light and airy warmth and moaned her approval. Sweetly delicious.

  “Would you like me to lay out your clothes for the day?”

  “Yes, I’m to visit the British Museum and wish to wear my favorite pale blue woolen skirt and matching jacket. Set them on the bed, Abby.”

  “What a wonderful choice.” Her maid poked about in her closet then swung back to her four-poster bed and set her jacket and skirt on her plush bedcovers, the soft golden drapery of her canopy fluttering down each side.

  While she ate, her maid whooshed about, tidying her chamber.

  Birds chirped from the large elm trees overlooking the driveway and she leaned one elbow on the windowsill as she polished off the rest of her roll. Mornings had always been her favorite time of the day, particularly the dawn hour when the birds awoke, and the skies lightened. She always fantasized about the day ahead. Today appeared more gray and dismal than yesterday though, when she’d enjoyed a walk about James’s gardens. Gray clouds still hid the sun from view, although a speck of blue poked teasingly through here and there. Likely it would rain, as it so often did in London, no matter that spring had sprung. She rested back in her chair and asked her maid, “Is anyone else up and about?”

  “Yes, Lady Olivia is breaking her fast in the dining room with his lordship.”

  On her return from Donnelly House, she’d spoken to her younger sister and Olivia had been excited about their proposed trip to the museum today. She and her sisters would ensure Maria knew that they’d always be there for her. She’d also spoken to Winterly, Mama, and Olivia about James’s decision to hire Captain Bourbon to aid him in his investigations. Winterly had thought it a sound idea, having already heard about Bourbon and his specialist abilities from Ashten some time ago. Since Ashten trusted the man, so did her brother.

  Finished with her breakfast, she stood and her ever-efficient maid swished in behind her, drew her nightgown over her head and within mere minutes had her clothed in her pale blue woolen skirt and matching jacket, a cream blouse buttoned underneath and her leather-soled slippers on. She sat in her chair before her mirrored dressing table, while Abby arranged her hair in a top knot with a few loose curls dangling down each side.

  Another knock on the door and Olivia breezed in wearing a lavender walking dress with long sleeves and white lace adorning the scalloped neckline, a parasol in one hand and her reticule in the other.

  “Good morning, you look delightful in that color.” Her sister brushed a kiss across her cheek, first one and then the other. “Pale blue suits you to perfection.”

  “It’s James’s favorite color on me.” Which she didn’t mean to blurt out, but her thoughts were consumed by him.

  “It’s interesting you should say that.” A knowing grin tugged at the corners of Olivia’s lips as she perched on the end of her bed and delicately crossed her legs. “I wonder how your James is doing this morning? I’m so glad you told us all about his investigations last night. Hiring Captain Bourbon, the spymaster, all sounds rather thrilling. Hopefully Donnelly will find exactly what he’s looking for, and sooner rather than later.”

  “I hope so too, and my James better be taking all care and not coming to any harm during those investigations.” Yesterday, before she’d left Donnelly House, he and Ashten had confirmed that they’d travel together this morning to the docks, so James might sort through his father’s papers at his warehouse, while Ashten offered his aid.

  “Oh, and speaking of taking all care,” Olivia gushed. “Captain Poole has arrived and is currently speaking with Winterly in his study. I asked Captain Poole if all was well across the channel and he said the hussars are taking all care, including Harry.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Any news they received about Harry eased their minds. At present their brother was stationed near Spain’s land border with France, right in the middle of the fiercest fighting. These were difficult days for certain as their regiments stood alongside the Spanish in Spain’s endless battle to retain their land. Every week the published lists in the papers reported more deaths of English soldiers who would now never return to their families. The Corsican surely had to be halted, which seemed an almost impossible task at times with the sheer number of men he retained in his fighting force, but they’d never lay their weapons down, nor give Napoleon the chance to cross the channel and attempt to take their great land for himself.

  “Harry would want us to think only about winning the war, and not fearing for him while he fought,” Olivia said with a thoughtful nod. “You’re thinking about him, just as I am. I can tell.”

  “He’s never far from my thoughts.” She didn’t doubt that Harry awoke every morning in a dangerous place, that he fought with strength and bravery to remain alive, and that his only desire was to ensure England retained its freedom during these dark days of oppression.

  A yap echoed and paws scratched at her door, followed by a heartfelt mewl that melted her heart.

  Beast, their wee puppy—who had a basket in Harry’s room across the hallway and slept there each night, so he would know their brother’s scent—raced inside as Olivia opened the door. He skidded across the polished floorboards, slid under Sophia’s skirts and knocked into her ankles.

  She got licked, his wet nose tickling.

  Giggling, she tipped her face toward Abby as her maid rouged her cheeks and dabbed beeswax on her lips, then while Abby tidied everything away inside her dresser box, she scooped a still licking Beast free from under her skirts and hugged him. “You are such an eager pup, and a complete delight. Harry will adore you, when you two finally get to meet.”

  “He’s so mischievous too.” Olivia leaned in and petted between his silky ears with a soft coo. “Oh my, you are going to make a wonderful hunting dog when we visit the country. Winterly Manor is surrounded by fields and wonderful fresh air. You’ll need to take care though, not to get lost in the long grass. You must grow taller and stronger.”

  Abby dipped her head to Sophia. “Is there anything else you need, my lady?”

  “Yes, take Beast and ensure he’s fed. Fill his bowl well. We need him to grow.” She snuggled her nose in his furry neck, kissed the top of his head, his sweet puppy scent enveloping her, then carefully, she handed the pup across.

  Smiling, her maid disappeared out the door cuddling their pup.

  “Should we see how Mama is before we leave?” Olivia adjuste
d her wrap. “With her bedchamber next to mine, I heard her coughing during the night. I asked the cook to prepare her a posset of hot milk spiced with wine then sat beside her as she drank it. It certainly soothed her throat and she settled back to sleep far easier.”

  “Let’s check in on her now, before we leave.” If Mama needed them to remain then they would. Family came first, as Mama had always taught them. She scooped her bonnet and gloves, linked arms with Olivia and marched out the door toward Mama’s bedchamber.

  A rap on the door and when Mama called out for them to come in, she walked inside with Olivia and assessed Mama as she crossed to her. Propped up with her pillows fluffed behind her, Mama’s golden hair wisped with strands of silver were hidden under her lacy nightcap. Her face was pale, but not overly so, and she smiled as she held her beloved embroidery in hand.

  “Well, you two look delightful today. I wish to hear all about your excursion when you return.” A stitch and a look that said, I’m on the mend. Don’t fuss over me.

  “How do you feel this morning?” Fuss, she would. Sophia brushed a kiss across the top of Mama’s head and perched on the bed beside her.

  “The posset Olivia brought me last night soothed my throat, although I wouldn’t mind remaining abed for the day and napping as needed. Please do not say you wish to watch me sleep.” A teasing arch of one brow. “Actually, your papa always told me I talked quite animatedly in my sleep, that I can hold quite the conversation. Perhaps you might like to stay.”

  “I’ve actually heard you talking from time to time.” Olivia tapped the wall between her bedchamber and Mama’s. “The walls are far too thin in this part of the house.”

  “Yes, far too thin, and you’ve received my ability to natter while napping, Olivia dear. I’ve heard you from time to time too.” A wag of Mama’s finger.

  “I do?” Olivia’s eyes went wide. “I had no idea.”

  “I would never speak a mistruth, and it’s quite a delightful ability to hold. Be proud of it.” Mama looped her blue thread through the cotton, the artful stitching of a skyline clear to see above a burgundy rose garden with thick greenery. Mama had been working on the piece for a number of months, the landscape a stunning portrayal of her beloved gardens. Lifting her gaze and eyeing her, Mama murmured, “My dear Sophia, I’ve been thinking about your current situation with the Earl of Donnelly, and I can see from the look on your face and the depth of need in your voice when you speak about him, that your feelings for him will always hold firm.”