by Raven, Sandy
“Your Grace, it is my pleasure to welcome you to our family.”
“Thank you, Angus. I hope to make your nephew very happy.”
“I think ye already have from the looks of it, Your Grace.”
Ren moved to the first of his two cousins, a tall black-haired man, who looked like a much younger version of his father, and the second young man, who had some of his father’s features, but not the coloring. “Lia, it is long past time I introduce you properly to my two maternal cousins, and the remaining two partners in Aberdeen Trading Company.
“Mr. Culloden Lambert Sewell, and Mr. Flynn Lambert Sewell.” Addressing all three men, Ren said, “Gentlemen, may I present my Duchess, Lia.” His cousins bowed deeply and when they rose they too kissed the air above her knuckles.
Her husband’s cousins also were freshly shaved and bathed and she noticed, in their formal dinner attire, the family resemblance was strong, even with the red-headed cousin. “Gentlemen, I am honored to meet you both.” She turned to Captain Cully, the older of Ren’s two cousins, and said, “I thank you for caring for my brother during the voyage. No one knows more than I what a handful he can be.”
“’Twas nothing, Your Grace,” said the man. “Lucky will make a fine sailor one day.”
“Don’t tell her that Cully,” her husband warned. “My wife has other plans for her brother.”
“Children will always choose their own paths,” her husband’s uncle said, shaking his lightly peppered black hair. “There’s nothing you can do to prevent it.”
Ren asked for wine, and the men toasted her, their marriage, and this last trip which was looking as profitable as the previous ones. Talk soon turned to the issue of his cousin from the other side of his family tree, Lord Thomas Whitby. Ren mentioned that all was well with his grandmother and sisters at his country home, as he’d heard from the security chief at Haldenwood. He’d also received a report from the investigators searching for his cousin, they believe he is hiding in London.
As the men spoke and made plans to quit Town, Lia looked about her husband’s study. On her right, a step up from where she stood, rose a tall built-in bookcase with beveled glass doors, filled with books on business, law, architecture, agriculture and history. A circular table in the center of the room held another porcelain vase filled with fresh-cut spring flowers which perfumed the room with their delicate scent. She had noticed earlier that fresh flowers where everywhere in the house, in nearly every room and on all the tables in the foyer and hallways. Flowers were usually a decorating touch done by a woman. She couldn’t imagine that her husband was a gardener—at least not of this magnitude. She wondered if this was the work of the housekeeper. If not her, then who?
She glanced at her husband, still deeply involved in his conversation, and turned back to the flowers. Upon hearing a knock at the door, Ren called out for the person to enter. The door opened slowly, and her brother entered the room. She ran across the thick green and gold carpet, and wrapped her arms around Luchino, hugging him fiercely. The boy pulled himself away from her, pink-cheeked with embarrassment.
“What’s wrong, Luchino?” Lia asked him softly in Italian, knowing all eyes in the room were on them.
“Look at these clothes.” He pulled at his pants with both hands. “I’m not some baby that I have to wear knickers and stockings!”
Ren laughed, and Lia heard him explain to the other men what her brother had said. He came over and patted Luchino on the shoulder.
“Well, they were quite the thing when I wore them, some twenty-five years ago,” Ren said in Italian.
“I want grown up clothes and boots, Lia. Not these things,” her brother motioned to the frilly shirt and buttoned knee pants, then to the black, silver-buckled shoes with heels he was wearing. “These are girl shoes!”
Lia looked down at the items in question. The buckle looked too large for the shoe, which also had an unfashionably high heel for a man, much less for a child.
“We’ll have to see if we can’t remedy that for you tomorrow,” Ren replied, leading them all back to the group of men standing in front of the fireplace.
She saw the others’ attempt to hide their amused smirks, and felt a surge of protectiveness toward her brother. He’d grown up wearing different styled clothing. So she now had to help him acclimate to the clothing as well as the customs and language.
“Well, Lucky, you’re sure lookin’ quite the dandy,” Cully said.
Luchino looked from Cully back to her. She translated what he said.
“I don’t like these clothes,” her brother said slowly in English. “They are for babies.”
“Och, no, lad,” Cully replied. “Babes wear gowns. Even little boy babes.”
Again, Luchino looked to Lia for help in translating. After she did, he puffed his chest out and defiantly placed his hands on his hips, and said firmly, “I never wore gowns as a babe. My father wouldn’t allow my mother to put girl clothes on me.”
Just then relief from the conversation entered the room. Niles announced dinner, and Ren led the way, tucking his wife’s hand over his left forearm. His right hand covered hers, and Lia felt a shiver course through her body, creating bumps on her arms that, thankfully, were hidden by her long gloves and cap sleeves.
“Cold, dear?” Ren asked.
“Perhaps just a little.”
“I’ll see that the fire in the dining room is built up for you.” He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “And, later tonight, I’ll see to it you stay warm until morning.”
Blood rushed to the surface of her skin, making her blush instantly. All of a sudden, she felt a little weak in the knees and more than just a little light headed. Lia wondered at the effect this man had on her. Would he always have the ability to do this to her? With just his words? His touch? A glance? For her, these feelings were wondrous. She never thought she’d come to care for him so much. Originally, she told herself that this was just an agreement she had to make the best of. But during their weeks on the boat, she learned much about her husband as a man. And what she discovered caused possessive, protective feelings to take root in her heart.
She took her brother’s hand, knowing a conversation with him was far safer and less flustering. He told her about the puppy he found that morning, and that he’d already named it.
“I can’t wait to see him,” Lia said.
His dark eyes sparkled and his entire body shook with excitement. “We can go out right after we finish dinner!”
“I was thinking perhaps tomorrow morning.”
The boy sighed heavily in disappointment. “Okay. But can I see him after dinner? I’ll bring him some scraps. He’ll love it!”
“Sì, caro.” She ruffled the boy’s hair. He immediately flattened back the curls with his hands and stepped away from her, looking annoyed that she’d mussed his appearance.
“Thanks, Lia.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lia watched Luchino trying to covertly shove his linen napkin, bulging with scraps, into his coat pocket. She smiled as she realized she didn’t have the heart to tell him that the napkin wouldn’t fit. Closing her eyes, she said another silent prayer of thanks to have him back.
“Can I be excused now, Lia?” he asked softly.
She replied in a voice only he could hear, “Yes, just don’t get dirty again. You’ve already had one bath today.”
An indignant look replaced his mischievous smile. “I don’t need a bath just because my clothes get dirty. When I take the dirty clothes off, my body is still clean.”
Her brother backed his chair away from the table, making a loud scraping noise on the polished hardwood floor. Ren turned toward them, his attention pulled away from the men’s conversation by the sound.
“Are you going to the garden to feed your pup that third serving of beef tips?” he asked.
Luchino’s face turned a deep scarlet now that he’d been caught. He looked from Ren to Lia nervously. She smiled and nodded to him, letting hi
m know it was fine, that he didn’t have to fear her new husband. “He is mine. I will care for him.” Luchino turned and ran from the room with his bulging dinner napkin in hand.
Lia listened to the gentlemen’s conversation for several minutes, then pushed her sorbet cup away from her slightly, feeling very full and suddenly tired. Glancing at Ren, she saw that he was still deeply involved in their discussion. She then fiddled with her wineglass, hoping to catch his attention so she could excuse herself to go to her room. Still, he didn’t notice her. She stared down at the gilt bronze mounts on the claw-footed base of the enormous mahogany table for a few moments, waiting.
Taking matters into her own hands, she nodded at the footman, who came to her place and aided her in sliding back the heavy chair. This got Ren to turn her way. Standing, she smiled at her husband and his relatives. “If you will excuse me, please, gentlemen. I find I am more tired than I thought.”
“Och, lass, a journey such as the one ye just had has been known to put some grown men to bed fer days,” said Angus, with a fatherly nod of his graying head. Lia noticed his brogue became more pronounced with each glass of wine he imbibed.
Ren walked her to the doorway, and leaned in closer and spoke softly near her ear, “I’ll join you shortly.” His warm breath stirred the baby-fine curls near her ear and sent chills over her sensitized skin. When he dropped a kiss on her cheek, her stomach began to roil. She needed to leave the room quickly. She nodded, then hurried the entire distance to her bedchamber. Once her door was shut she ran straight to the chamber pot, and expelled her dinner. Ghita walked in just as she reached for a damp cloth to wipe her face.
“Oh, my lady! Are you not well?” Her young maid’s face was full of concern for her new mistress.
“It’s nothing. I think the stress from the journey has finally caught up with me.” Lia lowered herself onto the end of the damask-covered chaise and put her head between her knees.
“Let me help you to bed.” Ghita helped her to her feet and began to undress her. Once she was in her night dress and all the pins had been removed from her hair, Lia eyed the bed longingly, then ran back to her chamber pot.
Minutes later she was snuggled in her bed, inhaling deeply the clean, floral scent of fresh sheets. She remembered Ren saying he was coming to join her shortly. As much as she enjoyed his lovemaking, what she really wanted was sleep.
Ren loosened his cravat, eager to join his wife next door. He wondered if she’d waited up for him, and found himself hoping she had. Leaving his jacket and neckcloth hanging over a chair, he went to their adjoining door and entered her room.
He waited a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness within, and saw Lia asleep in the center of the bed, propped upon a pile of pillows. A movement from the darkened corner announced the presence of Ghita, who stood and walked over to him.
“She is very tired, Your Grace,” the maid said softly so as not to wake her mistress. Ghita motioned for Ren to follow her away from the bedside, where she could whisper a little louder. “She does not want you to know this, but my mistress threw her dinner into the chamber pot tonight.”
Ren burst into laughter, and caught himself, remembering Lia slept some fifteen feet away. Ghita’s eyes widened in reproach. Something, he thought, had to have been lost in the translation.
“My lady is sick and you laugh?” the upset maid asked.
“What do you mean by sick?”
“My lady vomited when she got back here from dinner.”
“What do you think could be wrong?” he asked, now concerned about Lia. He hoped she wasn’t coming down with anything. He resolved to get her out to the fresh air of the country quickly.
“Perhaps it is just the stress from the journey, as Her Grace suggested. Then again, it could be something more.”
“Such as?”
“Could she be with child?”
Ren didn’t have to think about it. It was what he’d planned, but he hadn’t thought it would happen this quickly. He’d been with her each day and night for the past five weeks, and she’d not yet come into her monthly flow.
“It’s very likely.” A slow smile grew on his expression. Then he noticed Lia’s maid relax and also smile.
“Congratulations, Your Grace,” Ghita said. “You and my lady will have beautiful children.”
Ren held up a hand to stop the maid. “Ghita, my wife does not suspect, does she?” The maid shook her head. “Do not tell your mistress the news just yet. I would like to arrange for a gift.”
The occasion called for something special, a magnificent jewel or other precious bauble. Women love a trinket at times like these, he remembered his father telling him when his stepmother, Amelia, became pregnant with his sister, Sarah.
Still smiling, Ren returned to his room and poured himself another glass of port. Nipping the end of a cigar, he imagined his grandmother’s joy on hearing the news. All of it. Kicking off his shoes, he lifted one foot then another, onto the stool in front of his chair. Staring into the fire before him, he envisioned an infant. His son. The lad would, of course, look like his father, so no one could ever dispute his parentage. He finished the wine and stood to refill his glass when there was a knock on his door.
“Yes?”
Niles entered, carrying a silver tray on which lay a note bearing the regent’s seal. Even from this distance it was recognizable, which dampened Ren’s good spirits.
“This arrived by messenger just now, Your Grace.”
“Doesn’t the messenger know the hour?”
“I assume so, Your Grace,” replied the obviously tired, stern-faced butler.
“Leave the note on the desk and I will respond in the morning. I am in no mood to deal with him tonight.”
“Shall I show the messenger a room, Your Grace? The man says he was told to await your reply.”
“Why that arrogant....” Ren restrained himself in front of his butler. Snatching the missive from the tray, he broke the seal and scanned the contents. Cursing to himself, he grabbed the quill and dampened the tip in the inkwell.
We will attend, was all he wrote. He would explain how he came to be married when he and Lia attended the dinner. He tossed the quill onto the desk and handed the note back to the butler.
“Did a reply ever come from Brightman?”
“No, Your Grace,” his butler replied. “The butler has informed the messenger that Lord Brightman is in the country, and the messenger left word that you have returned, sir.”
“Thank you, Niles.”
The man gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and left. After Niles was gone, Ren let loose every expletive he’d previously withheld to the now empty room.
Damn the man. How had he found out so quickly? And worse, if the Regent new about his foreign bride, then who else knew? How long would it take for Thomas to learn of his wife, and her possible changed condition?
This was yet another reason to get her to Haldenwood as soon as possible.
Lia stirred and rolled over to her other side, not wanting to face the sunshine streaming in through the windows. Even without knowing the time, she knew it was late. She semi-consciously recognized the sound of someone walking into the room and setting a tray on the table, then china and silverware clinking. Reaching for her blankets, she pulled them over her head in an effort to mute the noises and resume her peaceful slumber.
“My lady, it’s time to get up,” Ghita said softly.
“No, I want to sleep just a while longer.” The aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the room, Lia lifted her head from the pillow, holding her hands over her eyes to shield them from the light.
“It is almost noon, you must get up,” the maid repeated, this time more firmly. “His Grace has summoned a seamstress for you, and she’s already here.”
“So soon?” Lia buried her head under a pillow, holding it down with an arm. “I’ve not been here a full day yet!”
“I do not understand their language, but I gather there is t
o be an important event soon.”
Lia lifted a corner of the pillow and peeked out curiously to see Ghita holding out a dressing gown for her. “What kind of event?”
“Non sono certo,” Ghita replied. “Una cena formale?”
The maid helped her to her feet, and Lia immediately felt dizzy and queasy. She slowly sat back down on the edge of the canopied white four-poster, and closed her eyes. She cradled her head in her hands, and prayed for the ill feeling to pass. How was she to attend or host a formal dinner feeling like this?
Lia thought about it a moment and shook her head. “I think we should inform my husband that tonight would not be a good night for inviting guests to dinner,” she said.
“It’s too late. His Grace is already gone and will not return until late this afternoon.” Ghita put a slice of warm unbuttered bread in her hand. “Before you stand, take a few bites of this. It will help you feel better. Then you can drink some black tea, without the cream or sugar.”
Lia didn’t question how Ghita knew about her illness this morning, she just did as she was told. After swallowing her first bite, she immediately began to feel better. “I didn’t realize that I was so fatigued from the trip. It’s affected my stomach in a rather odd manner. Do you think this will work?”
“I’m sure it will,” the dark-eyed maid replied, smiling down on her mistress. “Now let’s get you presentable for that seamstress waiting below.”
For the next three hours, Lia was measured by two women from head to toe. Each woman took her own set of measurements. Her height, width, bust, circumference of her arms, waist and even the fingers on both hands were measured. That ordeal over, one of the women brought in three partially completed gowns, one white, another a pale yellow, and the last a burgundy and gold combination. Lia’s arms ached from holding them out for the seamstress and her assistant. As they pinned the dresses to size, another girl began piecing together undergarments, finishing them with nimble, speedy fingers. What was even more amazing was that the assistant doing this work couldn’t be more than twelve.