She misconstrued his meaning and blushed.
“I’m certain I still have much to learn—”
“I meant her advice, Delight.”
“Oh! I see…”
He moved closer to lift her chin so she had to look in his eyes.
“What is it? You have not been yourself since yesterday. Have you had second thoughts about—”
“—marrying you? Never!”
“—giving yourself to me on the island. Perhaps you would have preferred to wait until our wedding night?”
“Oh no!” She was emphatic. “How could you think that? It is a day I will never forget.” Her smile was bashful. “I’m sure every girl dreams her first time will be just as glorious as mine. And you made it so for me.”
“Thank you. That means the world to me. You mean the world to me.”
“As you do to me…”
She shifted to lean in to kiss him gently. First the stubbled underside of his chin, then his throat, on up over his square jaw, across to his cheek, then the bridge of his strong nose, and finally his wide brow. Teasingly, she avoided his mouth. She punctuated these light butterfly kisses with conversation that was just as playful.
“If Silla does try and give me advice, I shall tell her politely that I do not need her wifely wisdom, because I cannot wait to make love, again. But this time, with my husband. She will fall into another dead faint, but that can’t be helped, because I will not lie. In fact, it is most distressing you are staying at the big house and I am here. From my bedroom window I can see Swan Island and it is a constant reminder of our time together alone. And then I have the most wicked remembrances of us making love. Of you on your back on the floor of the temple, looking up at me astride you, and I lie amongst the pillows of my bed, alone, unable to sleep for wanting you. If you were staying here, you could row me over there at night, no one in the house the wiser, and we could—”
He caught her face between his hands and kissed her passionately, no longer able to withstand the torture of her barely-there kisses, her banter, and the sweet delicious vanilla scent of her skin. The memories of them making love in the temple, of her straddling him, enjoying him, her straw-blonde waist-length hair falling about her shoulders, and then the imagery she conjured up of her lying in her bed alone amongst a mountain of white pillows, naked and wanting him, was all too much. It sent him beyond reason. He had to make love to her, taste her, fill her, there and then. He no longer cared they were trespassing in a children’s tree house and that those children were due to storm the ladder at any moment. He was sure there was time enough.
But as much as Rory returned his kisses and wanted him to make love to her, she was not so lost in the moment that she was unaware of their surroundings and the potential for a scandalous predicament. So she was the one who broke their fervent kissing. The instant she did, he stopped.
He stared at her, short of breath and wondering what he had done, but it only took a few seconds before he came to a sense of his surroundings. He was not only acutely embarrassed for allowing himself to be caught up in the moment in such a place, but it would now require some time for him to return his heated body to its resting equilibrium. To this end he thought it wise to put a little distance between them and he sat back against the wall of the ship. Pulling his windswept hair back off his face, he turned his thoughts to the account books for Fitzstuart Hall, the vast income that had been accruing over the years from his father’s sugar plantations, and the unexpectedly welcome news he was now, on the eve of his marriage, exceedingly wealthy. He had to salute his father for having the foresight to withhold his inheritance until marriage, and Rory for giving his life direction and joy.
“That was my fault,” Rory apologized, feeling awkward. “I should not have enticed you with my vulgar and silly—”
“It was not vulgar,” he interrupted, coming out of his abstraction, physical frustration making him sound harsh. “And never silly. We should always be playful with each other. But you were right to stop me. This is not the place. Now, won’t you tell me what it is that has been bothering you? Perhaps that will be enough to pour cold water on my ardor?” He chuckled. “Unless, that is, you do have some cold water to hand!?”
Rory frowned. “Cold water…?” When he looked away, a ready flush to his face, dawning wonder opened wide her blue eyes. She sighed her understanding. “It is so different for men, is it not? We females can more easily hide our frustrations so no one need know, but for men—Is it painful if you do not find release?”
Acute embarrassment mixed with the studiousness of her enquiry made him burst out laughing.
“Oh, Delight. I do love you so! Yes. In a way it is painful. But more uncomfortable than anything else, and quite embarrassing if not dealt with. He tends to have a mind of his own, and never more than when he sees you! So. If you don’t mind. I’d like not to keep him center stage. Is there something bothering you that we should discuss before our wedding?” He chuffed her under the chin. “We must share our worries as well as our blessings. It’s the only way a marriage will work.”
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, you are right. I am in a bit of a quandary.” She again scrambled to sit before him, layers of her petticoats tucked up under her knees, closing the gap he had put between them. “Grasby was to help me find a solution so that I need not bother you with it. You have been so caught up in business affairs, and I know how much you hate being indoors, that you do not need any more aggravation—”
“Rory, let me stop you there. Firstly, I will never be caught up in anything, be it business, or anything else, that you should ever feel you cannot interrupt me. Secondly, you will never aggravate me. Thirdly, I understand you have been used to going to Grasby for assistance and guidance, he is your brother after all. But I hope now we are engaged and soon will be married, you would be comfortable enough to come to me first.” He smiled crookedly. “That sounded as if I am envious of Grasby, didn’t it? To own a truth, I am, a little. Mary—my sister—would never think to come to me for advice. I guess she is two years older than me, and was married off while I was still at Harrow… Let me guess your quandary… You are worried about your grandfather and how we shall all go on from here, now your allegiance is to me—”
Rory interrupted him.
“How did—”
“Because I know you. And because I don’t want you to be troubled, Shrewsbury and I have called a truce. I respect the fact he loves you very much and only wants what is best for you. He has come to the realization that he and I share that common goal. I also know you are concerned about the Royal visit to your grandfather’s pinery taking place four days after we are married, when we should be enjoying the start of our honeymoon. I assume you have been wondering how best to tell me?”
Rory’s blue eyes grew round
“How did—”
It was his turn to interrupt, and with a smug smile. But he couldn’t keep up the pretense of oracle for long, and shook his head at her look of wonderment.
“Also your grandfather. We were discussing settlements and the like with Roxton and two dreary men of business, and I must have been fidgeting in my chair. Believe me, Delight, three hours stuck in a library surrounded by wall-to-wall books almost undid me! I was ready to throw myself through a closed window, climb the bookcases, anything to get myself into fresh air! Shrewsbury knows me well. So he called me away for a stroll on the terrace, to have a cheroot, while the Duke dealt with an interruption from his surveyor. Your grandfather graciously asked my permission for you to attend the presentation of the Talbot Pineapple to their Majesties. After all, it was you who cultivated it…”
He let the sentence hang, waiting for her reaction, and to add something to the discussion, but when Rory remained mute, waiting for him to continue, he threw up a hand and then pulled her to him.
“Good God, Rory. What did you think I would say? No? After all your months and months of hard work growing the jolly thing! Other than Portland’s gardene
r Speechly, who else is the foremost cultivator in the kingdom of such a majestic fruit? No one but you. I know how much this pineapple means to you, and to your grandfather who watched you put your heart and soul into his pinery. The second time I met you, you dropped a gardening treatise at my feet—”
“You remember that?”
“Remember it? It is burned into here,” he said, jabbing his temple. “I’d given your grandfather my word I would not let on I remembered anything about our fortuitous meeting at Romney’s studio. So here was I wanting to scoop you up in my arms with the joy of having found you again, and forcing myself to pretend I had no idea who you were. I can even remember the name of the book. A first for me. A General Treatise of Husbandry and Gardening by Richard Gradey—”
“Bradley. Richard Bradley.”
“Yes, well, him. So of course I know how much it means to you to present the Talbot Pineapple to their Majesties. You will be there; we both will.” He chuckled. “Besides, who better to make the presentation than Lady Fitzstuart, wife of a descendant of Charles the Second, who was the first monarch to be presented with a pineapple—”
“—by John Rose. I’ve seen the painting by Danckerts.”
“Yes. I suggested to your grandfather that he have the auspicious occasion painted, too, and by Romney, and that a second copy of the painting be presented to His Majesty. Shrewsbury thought it a splendid idea. I’ve requested a copy also, to be hung in the Great Room at Fitzstuart Hall. My mother will be impressed.”
When she threw her arms about him, he kissed her swiftly, but did not allow himself to be distracted by the feel of her in his arms. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself, as he had more that needed to be said before their big day, and before Roxton’s brood arrived with Cedric and came aboard.
“We need to be in accord on an important aspect of our marriage, Rory. When we marry, spiritually and legally the husband and wife become one, and the husband is that one. But that is not how we are going to conduct ourselves as husband and wife. Do you understand me? I have been witness to that sort of marriage—it is degrading and destructive. You are to always be you, and I, well you are going to have to suffer me as I am! And we will make important decisions together. You were the one who told me what you consider important in a marriage: Love. Respect. Friendship. Honesty. Trust. And I believe that sincerely. Do you understand, Rory?”
Rory snuggled into his embrace and nodded her agreement, adding cheekily in a meek voice, “Of course, my lord. Whatever you say, my lord.”
“Desist, wicked creature!” He kissed the top of her hair, adding, “I will tell you here and now, so you can be comfortable and enjoy the ceremony and wedding breakfast without the worry of wondering about our postponed honeymoon. We are spending the first two nights as husband and wife on Swan Island.”
Rory gasped. “Truly? How are we to manage rowing over there after the wedding breakfast without our family knowing? Without the Duke knowing? You must have a plan!”
He shook his head, grinning. “No. No. No, dear heart. Nothing so underhanded. Though, I grant the prospect of whisking you off to a forbidden island is a more romantic notion. No, Delight. It is a gift from my cousin, your godmother.” Suddenly emotion got the better of him and he swallowed hard and took a moment to collect himself. “She—She has gifted us the leasehold for one week a year for our lifetime. She was delighted when I said we would be honored to continue the tradition begun by her and the fifth Duke. And she has granted my request to hang our story in thread, when we feel the time is right, above the fireplace on the fourth and final wall of the temple.”
Rory was too overcome with emotion to speak. But there was no need for words. Both were awed by such a gift. And then Dair heard the distant sounds of activity, and the distinct high-pitched crescendo of unbridled excitement that only children can manage. He made movements to leave and helped Rory to stand.
“Time we jumped ship, Delight, before we are boarded and taken captive. Louis and Gus are fierce pirates; so they keep telling me. Louis has even threatened to make me walk the plank should he catch me!”
“You should let him. Nothing would make that little boy happier.”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right, of course. I will.” Dair winked at her. “But I won’t make it easy for him.” He drew her into his arms. “That which is hard won is all the more precious for the struggle…”
There was the scuff and scramble of many feet competing on the ladder. Whispers and giggles followed. Then a young voice blurted out,
“Pauh! Kissing. Gus! Gus. Look! It’s disgu—disgu—it’s awful!”
“Louis! Move!” Frederick ordered his younger brother and squeezed past him on the ladder.
The eldest son and heir to the Duke of Roxton then poked his head up into the tree house, took a look around, saw the two people his grandmother was looking for, then squeezed past Louis again to go halfway down the ladder. Meanwhile, Gus passed him and joined his twin, Louis, who had moved up a rung and was determined to enter the tree house regardless of the disgusting sight before his eyes. The twins scrambled up into the quarterdeck and whipped out their painted wooden cutlasses that had been secured in a colored silk sash around their waists. Gus even wore an eye patch. Both pointed their weapons at the two prisoners.
“We’ve found them, Mema!” Frederick shouted down to Antonia, who was with half a dozen upper servants at the base of the ladder, his sister Juliana in her arms. All were looking skywards, up into the boughs of the old oak. “They’re here, Mema! They’re kissing! And Louis is going to throw up!”
THIRTY-TWO
T HE WEDDING CEREMONY of Major Lord Fitzstuart, heir to the Strathsay earldom, to Miss Aurora Talbot, granddaughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, was due to commence in just under three hours time. Every person within the Roxton ducal household, from his Grace down to the scullery maid, and beyond into the estate and village, was in a heightened state of anticipation. Silverware and woodwork were polished to the highest sheen. Floors as well as children were scrubbed. Hot baths were drawn for the family and guests. Valets and lady’s maids preened their masters and mistresses, while maids and footmen scurried up and down the backstairs, like ants, to fulfill last-minute requests. Bouquets of flowers and summer fruits filled porcelain urns in drawing rooms, state rooms and the tables set for the wedding breakfast to come. Garlands adorned the Roxton Chapel.
Nothing and no one had been left to chance under the expert guidance and organizational skills of the Duchess of Roxton and the Duchess of Kinross. That is, except for the mother and the sister of the groom. It was almost the eleventh hour and the whereabouts of the Countess of Strathsay, and the Lady Mary Cavendish remained unknown. The last that anyone had heard from them was a missive stating their intention to arrive two days before the wedding. Those two days had come and gone. If the Major was concerned, it was for the well-being of his mother and his sister. But barring misadventure or death, the wedding would go ahead without them. Nothing and no one was going to stop him marrying Rory on the specified day and at the specified time.
So it was an enormous relief to the entire household when an unidentified carriage spotted on the Treat road was confirmed to contain her ladyship and her daughter. An outside servant rode at full gallop to report the affirmative. The carriage was covered in dust, the horses looked to be hacks harnessed for far too long, and there were only two outriders. Handed down to firm ground by liveried footmen, the Countess, her daughter, and their respective lady’s maids, were in such a state of anxiety that their wails of lament could be heard across the broad entrance steps, on up to the Sea Green salon on the first floor. In this salon, those guests who had traveled some distance and been put up for the night at the Bull and Feather at Alston, were being treated to a pre-wedding levee. But the commotion was such that a few guests drifted over to the sash windows to take a peek at what and who had created such a fuss, and on this of all days.
Shown into one of the downstairs withdrawing rooms
, and given refreshment while their rooms were made ready, and baths drawn, the Duchess of Roxton greeted them with open arms, pleased to see them safe and well, and just in time! Word was sent up to the Major that his mother and sister had safely arrived. But it took many moments for both ladies to be calm enough to construct an intelligible sentence, and it was left to Mary to speak for both of them, the Countess collapsing onto a sofa with barely enough strength to turn her wrist to fan herself.
From what Deb Roxton could deduce, their journey from Buckinghamshire into Hampshire was fraught with setbacks before it began. Lady Mary’s daughter Theodora was nursing a fever that would not abate. And so Mary had been in two minds whether to leave her daughter in the care of her nurse, but was finally convinced by the Countess’s physician there was nothing serious to worry about. And so Lady Mary and the Countess had finally departed for Hampshire. And that was only the beginning of their troubles.
Ten miles into their journey their carriage broke an axle. They were forced to put up at an overcrowded inn for the night while the second-best carriage was sent for. The wheelwright of the village was himself too ill to attend to his duties. It was while their carriage was being unloaded and the portmanteaux secured on the second carriage that they were robbed, and in daylight! The Countess was forced to hand over a diamond brooch and hairpins, the Lady Mary to part with her sapphire earrings. Fortunately, they had managed to hide their jewelry box and guineas in the strongbox secret compartment under a seat. And if this wasn’t enough of a trial, another ten miles on, the road was blocked by an overturned bullock wagon. More delays and more drama ensued.
The Duchess listened patiently to so many unnecessary details that it took her more than a few moments to sort the inconsequential from what was important. Still, she managed to make all the appropriate noises of concern and have both ladies calm by the time a footman came to inform her the Countess and Lady Mary’s rooms were now ready. Baths were drawn, portmanteaux were being unpacked, and gowns prepared with the help of several of the maids not needed downstairs at this time. With the ceremony only a handful of hours away, the Duchess advised there was not another minute to waste. She herself had to be excused. There was still so much to be done.
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