by Raven, Sandy
When they released her, Lia set out to find what mischief her brother was up to. He’d been abnormally quiet all afternoon, so she guessed he was probably in the gardens playing with his new pup. As she hadn’t yet had a chance to see much of her new home, she went in search of Luchino, satisfying her curiosity on the way.
Shortly before nine, in his office at Caversham House, Ren leaned back in the leather wing-back chair, and sipped from his morning cup of coffee. He tried to make sense of the information in the folio his investigator had sent over that very morning. His cousin had gone into hiding immediately after he’d taken the shot at him. He knew that cutting Thomas off and banning him from all the ducal properties would make him desperate. Now he waited for his cousin to make a mistake, especially now that news of Ren’s new wife was spreading. It would be just a matter of time before Thomas would slip up.
Ren couldn’t chance Lia getting injured, so he planned to leave in two days time. Haldenwood was secure, Cartland assured, as there had been no sight of Thomas on or near Haldenwood, or any of his other properties. Letters from his grandmother and sisters confirmed the investigator’s report, as they’d assured him all was well at home.
Ren laughed as he read Sarah’s scribblings, in which she said that by his next trip she would be big enough to accompany him should he need another hand on the ship. She had no way to know that his sailing days were over, for he now had two new reasons to remain ashore.
The door opened and his good friend, Michael, strode into the room. Grinning big, his dark brown hair damp and mussed, his breeches mud-splattered, Michael looked as though he’d raced from his uncle’s estate, Woodhenge, back to London.
Ren returned a lazy smile and stood. “How goes it? Out to visit the uncle on the crown’s business?” The two men shook hands.
“I stopped there last night, but no, my business was at Haldenwood.”
“By your smile, I see nothing is amiss at home. Why were you there?” Ren tried to hide the fact that his heart was sinking. He prayed his sister wasn’t back up to her old stunts. Turning a wide gaze to his friend, he asked, “Not something Elise did, is it?”
Michael reassured him, as they took their respective seats. “Not at all, thank heaven. I never saw her, she was visiting a friend in the village.” He sipped from his coffee cup the footman handed him. “Anyway, do you remember that young chestnut stud your under groom was training last summer? Solid, just a small star between the eyes?”
Ren’s felt the contents of his breakfast rise. If Elise was up to something he would ring her pretty little neck, then ban her from polite society forever.
“Well, I went to Tatts last week, looking for a new mount, something sensible for town use. I wanted something young and with some life in him still. As I walked past the pens, I saw two men with your livery, one of whom was the lad who rode the chestnut that day. He was with another of your grooms and they were looking for two or three good broodmares of a certain conformation.”
Ren nodded and smiled, all the while vowing to kill his sister for luring Michael out to Haldenwood on the pretense of seeing a horse. He thought she was over her childhood infatuation with Michael. The only way to finally get her over this was to marry her off to someone—anyone—as soon as possible.
“I asked your groom how that horse was coming along, and they both raved about what a soft, responsive mouth he had and how he would take the merest shift of seat as a cue. I asked if they’d sold him yet, and the lad assured me he was quite available if I were of a mind to come out and try him.
“They weren’t jesting.” Michael’s eyes lit with excitement as he spoke, causing Ren a measure of relief. “I rode him for about two hours, and found him to be a most excellent ride. So, I’m now in debt to you for the sum of two hundred pounds. I could talk them down no further.”
“Two hundred!” Ren coughed. His sister was over-charging his friend for a well-trained mongrel.
“In their defense, they asked for four hundred. We negotiated a two month stay with you for next summer to breed him to the six mares they just purchased.”
“Six mares!” Ren was glad they were headed back to Haldenwood soon. He had to check his sister before she jerked the reins from his grasp.
“Are you well?” Michael asked. “You are repeating everything I say.”
“I’m fine.” He closed his eyes, exasperated. “I just need an hour or two in the boxing ring.”
“Now that you’re back, we should meet at Jackson’s for a few rounds. I have not been able to find a worthy sparring partner the entire time you were gone.”
He nodded, then smiled at his friend. “Enough of that. I have news.”
“News of what? I know they have not captured Thomas yet.”
Ren stood and took two cigars from the humidor behind his desk, and and held one out for Michael. “As you just returned to Town, you likely have not heard. I am wed.” Upon seeing his friend’s shocked expression, he added, “And I suspect she is already carrying my heir.”
“Good God, man, congratulations!” His friend stood and came around to shake his hand. “How and when? Where and who?”
He told Michael the rehearsed version of their meeting, thinking he didn’t need to know all the details. He then covered the report from the investigator, Cartland, with him. “Thomas has not surfaced in the nearly five months I’ve been away.” Ren leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigar. “If the Regent discovered I returned with a wife before the day was through yesterday, then how long can it be before Thomas finds out as well?” He didn’t want to think of a life without Lia. “I am very taken with her, Michael, and to protect her, we’re leaving for Haldenwood as soon as possible. The day after tomorrow, I hope.”
“So soon?” Michael asked, doing the same. “Aren’t you going to show off your new wife around Town? Take her to a few balls, soirées, and what-not. You know how women like that sort of thing, and we can hire security for her.” His friend grinned, adding, “I cannot wait to see the raised eyebrows once word hits the street.” Then as though remembering something grave, his gaze met Ren’s steadily, his lips thinned, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “By the way, there are a few things you should know, and it would be better that they come from me.”
Michael had Ren’s full attention. “What now?”
“I think Margaret may cause trouble for you.”
Ren’s expression hardened in astonishment at hearing the name of his former fiancée. He looked at his long-time friend through narrowed eyes, one brow arched in question.
“While you were gone she led everyone to believe the wedding was only postponed due to her illness. She then left for Bath to take the waters. Or to let the gossip die down.” His friend sipped from his coffee cup. “Being one of the few who knew the truth, and not one to go about much in society, I said nothing, knowing that when you returned matters would be set aright.”
“Damn!” Ren rose from the chair and went to stare out the window facing the street below. He puffed on his cigar as he thought. He didn’t need the added aggravation of Margaret upsetting his wife, even though she was aware of the entire situation. “Well, she can try, but she’s the one who would lose if she were to attempt to humiliate me. I have a wife now, and soon will have my heir. And even if I weren’t married, I would hardly reconsider taking her as my duchess.”
Michael continued, “As you requested, I met with Cartland each Monday for a report. There’s been no sighting of Thomas. Cartland’s got men watching the streets surrounding the Mint for your cousin, as that’s where he and his agents thinks Thomas has gone to ground. But, I’m not so certain. You see, there has been an unconfirmed sighting of him up in Yorkshire, with Margaret, at the home of her sister and brother-in-law.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ren said. “When he surfaces he will be taken care of.”
Michael nodded. “As your legal counsel, it would be remiss of me to not remind you that you are not to take matters into you
r own hands. Leave him for the authorities.”
“I will, unless he is threatening my family or my life. In that case, I am prepared to kill him.”
“What of Lady Margaret?” his friend asked.
“She’s not my problem. I’m confident she will not cause trouble. Think about it, Michael, she stands to lose more than I, because if the truth were known about her illness, her reputation would be in shreds and no decent man would have her. I did all I could to keep quiet about what happened. You and my grandmother are the only ones who know the whole of what transpired. I left the country within days to avoid the questions, and to let her handle the gossip-mongers. At the time, I just prayed it didn’t make the front page of the Times.”
“It didn’t, which is why so many still believe you have an agreement with her.”
Michael stood and straightened his jacket. “Well, I must be on my way. Hadn’t meant to stay this long, as I have three days of paperwork awaiting me.”
Ren told Michael about the summons he’d received the night before. “Will you be there tonight? I’d like for you to meet my duchess. I know you will like her.”
His friend nodded. “No one is looking forward to this more than I, my friend,” Michael said as the two strode toward the door of Ren’s office.
“Until tonight then.”
“Until tonight,” Michael echoed. Then Ren heard Michael’s laughter down the hall and out the front door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Have someone tell my wife the hour grows late,” Ren snarled at the footman. The man just happened to be the unfortunate soul passing the open drawing room door at that moment. He barely heard the man’s reply as Ren continued his pacing. When he reached the bank of windows at the opposite end of the room, he turned at the slight rustle coming from the hallway. Snapping his watch shut, he lifted his eyes to the sight before him.
“That will be unnecessary, Your Grace.”
Glowing radiantly, skin flawless as his finest porcelain, an angel wrapped in ivory satin and tulle stood in the doorway. Her long dark curls were pulled up on the sides and arranged on top of her head with wispy tendrils curled in front of her ears. She was more beautiful than an angel.
This was his duchess. His wife. His Lia.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said softly. “After the modiste left, I was uncomfortable with...,” she tugged at the top of her bodice, then readjusted the fichu. “And, well, I had to find a scarf that would work to cover....”
“The woman came highly recommended. Was her work not to your liking?” he asked.
“No, the woman and her assistants were very accommodating. It’s just that I...” She glanced downward and a rosy glow warmed her cheeks. “The bodice was far too low, and I was unable to raise it. So I had to get...,” he watched her mental search for the correct word, “creativo, and fix the problem.”
He couldn’t see that there had been a problem. The satin creation fit her perfectly, hugging her full breasts in a manner that he wished he could at that moment. A fine fichu draped the outer edges of her shoulders, pleated precisely, then came together, disappearing into the square bodice. The skirt and sheer overlay fell loosely to the matching satin slippers.
“Madam DuBorgne always was a trend setter,” Ren took his wife’s hand, placing an intimate kiss in the center of her gloved palm. “Your dress will soon be duplicated by every woman in attendance tonight.”
Lia pulled her hand away and stared at him, her emerald eyes suddenly wide with fear. “I know not where we are going, and with whom we are to dine. How am I to know if I am appropriately attired? Will there be dancing? You have been rather secretive about our evening.”
“We’re just having dinner with a distant relative. And your dress is perfect. It will surely be all the rage in a day or two.” This seemed to calm her somewhat. “My sweet Lia,” he whispered, as his thumb played lightly over the inside of her wrist. “You are the most beautiful of all women.”
Her lips curved in a slight smile.
“Do you enjoy being told you’re beautiful?”
She turned and looked up at him. “Only by you.”
With his free hand, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long rectangular jewelers case. “For my duchess.” Opening it, he showed her its contents, watching her eyes grow in amazement, then close. She took another deep breath, this one obviously to calm herself. When her eyes opened and met his, they were the shimmering green of morning grass with frost still on the tips.
“Your Grace, you must not think I want you to buy me such jewels,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “These are family heirlooms. They belonged to my stepmother, my mother, my grandmother, and every Duchess of Caversham before her, just as they will be worn by the ones to come. As my wife, you are the current keeper of the Caversham jewels.”
Her gaze turned to the book-lined wall, and Ren swore he saw tears forming in her eyes, and he couldn’t understand why. What did she have to cry about? He was giving her diamonds, not a string of sea shells. But when she turned back to him, there were no tears. Her eyes were dry, and she appeared chastised, although he hadn’t intended to sound critical.
“You are right,” she said. “I’m sorry I made assumptions. I should have remembered my place.”
He softened his tone, and stroked her cheek. Where in blazes did she think her place was? “Your place is by my side, as my wife.” He motioned for her to turn, and presenting her back to him, she allowed him access to the smooth nape of her neck. Her roses and musk scent wafted up, and his breeches suddenly felt tight. Damn. His lips burned with want to taste her, but he held himself in check, as his arms encircled her neck and laid the diamond necklace in place. He fastened it quickly, removing his hands without touching her more than he had to for fear they’d never make it to their appointed dinner.
“May I have your left hand, wife?” She held out her gloved and trembling hand as he reached into another pocket and removed a tiny leather-encased box. Lifting the lid he set it on the table, and removed the wedding ring that had been his grandmother’s. The square yellow sapphire surrounded by tiny white diamonds looked too large for her hand, but it was all he had for now. As he slid the ring on her finger he made a mental note to find a suitable one that fit her better.
Taking out the final box, he opened it and showed her the diamond drop earrings. “Do you need help with these?”
“No, I should be able to....” She trailed off as she reached out with a still-shaking hand.
Taking the jewel case, she walked to the gilt-framed looking glass mounted on the foyer wall. Ren followed. Once she had the earrings securely in place, he helped her into her evening pelisse. Lia stepped into it and reached up to fasten the hook beneath her chin. Her hands met his, and she startled, stepping out of his reach. Why did she always refuse his aid?
“I can dress myself,” she whispered.
“I’m sure you can.” He stepped closer and took the hook and eye clasp from her fingers. “But, I would much rather do this than watch you.” His fingers lingered over the fine mesh at the swell of her breasts. “Let me correct that statement,” he said as he leaned in and caught a whiff of her perfume. “I’d rather be doing this in the reverse.” Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, and Ren wished he could take her to his room for the night, instead of going somewhere he had no desire to go.
“I think we will not be out long. I have discovered I have an ailment that can only be cured by being in bed.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her mouth. A light, feathery meeting of lips. A kiss that held the promise of what was to come.
Lia stared in amazement as their carriage entered the drive of a palace unlike any she’d ever seen before. Set back from a very busy street in Pall Mall, and hidden from the traffic by a screen of pillars and trees, was an impressive showcase home for an aristocratic family to be sure.
Once their carriage entered the courtyard, they pulled up the long drive to an e
xpansive Corinthian portico which fronted the house. Their carriage stopped and a liveried footman opened the door. Lia held her expression in check, not wanting to let everyone know she was in awe of her surroundings. They might think her an unworthy bride for her husband. Ren alighted first, then taking her shaking hand in his, he assisted her to the ground.
“No need to be frightened, sweetheart.” He placed her hand on his arm. “He is but a man.”
“You never told me who we were to dine with this evening, husband. Thus, I have no idea to whom this magnificent home belongs.”
“Then you are in for a treat my dear, for this is Carlton House.” Ren smiled down at her. She was sure he meant to be reassuring, but she still had no idea with whom they were to dine. Lingering confusion must have graced her brow. “The home of our illustrious Prince Regent, who is a distant relative,” he clarified.
“Yes, well, I’m related to the Borgias but do not claim the connection.” Another footman held the door open for them. Once in the brightly lit, green and gold foyer, still another finely attired man came forward, first bowing low, then he smiled and greeted them.
“Good evening, Your Graces.”
Her husband nodded a greeting to the man. “Good evening, sir,” Lia replied. Ren gave her a quizzical look, and handed the footman his coat and hat. He then turned to Lia to help her remove her pelisse.
She continued to gape at the luxurious appointments in the entryway of the home as they walked. This portion of the home was magnificently decorated in the current fashionable gold and black Chinese style, with statues set in architectural niches and a glass-domed, tray ceiling painted to match. It took all Lia had to not stare at her sumptuous surroundings, and when she did, she hoped no one noticed.
Another footman led them down a corridor to the left, and held open a door to a grand salon, this with red silk walls and gold and ivory painted trim. Portraits of the Regent’s royal ancestors adorned the walls and a crystal chandelier hung from the center of a painted tray ceiling. A footman stood at the door, as her husband went to a chair and lowered himself to await their host.