by Raven, Sandy
“Rather diligently,” he grinned, holding the covers for her to climb back under.
Ren’s index finger trailed a light, almost reverent, path from the lower lip, over her chin, down the sensitive skin of her neck, and into the valley between her breasts, finally resting the palm of his hand gently over her abdomen, in the same spot where, if there were a child, the babe would now be growing. “I am very pleased, wife.” His expression changed, and he sighed. “We must get you home quickly. You will have more room to move about the house and garden as the entire estate is currently under guard to protect my grandmother and sisters. I haven’t been overly concerned about their safety because there is nothing to be gained by harming them and he knows this. But you...,” their gazes met and she understood his fear. “You will be a target. I must get you home to safety. And once we reach Haldenwood, our family physician, Prescott, will have to be notified. I want you to have the best medical care during this time.” Her husband beamed with pride. He sat up in the bed, “We should hurry, too. I would not want you to summer in Town, where it can get hot and smelly. The country air is better for you and the babe.”
The entire time he went on about leaving London, she fought another surge of bile rising. She ran for the pot again, and when she reappeared from behind the screen she collapsed in a heap on the floral pattern rug when everything went black. She awoke to her husband’s voice calling for someone to fetch the physician.
“I am well, really. I just need a bath and some rest.”
“Prescott will determine if you are well, and if you’re able to travel,” her husband argued.
Ghita entered the room with some lukewarm tea and a slice of toast. Her husband sat at her side on the bed, and watched as she sipped from the cup and nibbled from the bread. When she’d had enough, she motioned for him to remove the tray, then lay back down to rest.
An hour later brought a knock to her door. Her husband crossed the room to open it. A gray-haired gentleman of medium height and build, soft-spoken and wizened, crossed the carpet to her bedside.
“I hear congratulations are due, Your Grace,” the man said to her husband. Turning to her, he said, “Your Grace, my most sincere felicitations on your marriage.”
What followed was an inquisition unlike any she’d ever experienced. Of course, she’d never been with child either. In the end the physician proclaimed her a normal expectant mother with a babe due around the turn of the year.
“Of course, for safety’s sake, I’d like to see you remain abed for the next few months.”
“Can I bring her home to Haldenwood, and put her on bed rest there?” her husband asked.
“I’ll not argue that fresh country air is preferred for the good of her health, but travel must be very slow with frequent breaks. Do not jostle the babe.” His brown eyes bored into hers, “No stairs while you are having dizzy spells, Your Grace,” he stressed. “The morning sickness could last a few months or the entire duration. Eat what you can keep down, and I will see you in a few weeks, unless needed sooner.”
As the physician wrote his notes, Ren excused himself and went into the hallway. Lia took the opportunity to ask the physician a question about something he hadn’t addressed during the interview and instructions. Satisfied with his reply, she thanked the man, and made small talk while he finished gathering his bag. Her husband returned just as the physician picked up his belongings and looked at her husband and smiled. “I delivered you when I was fresh out of medical school, and now I have the pleasure of seeing your child delivered. This is a good day, Your Grace. A good day, indeed.”
“Thank you, Prescott, you have relieved my mind.” He shook the man’s hand and pat the physician on the back. “Cook is putting together a basket of those cherry tarts you like so much.”
“It just so happens I have room in here,” the elderly man pat his flat belly, “for one or two of those.”
Her husband chuckled. “Before this child is born you will have gotten plump on those tarts because I will see to it you have as many as you want.” Ren turned to her and gave her a wink, then followed the physician from the room.
When the door shut behind them, Lia scrambled from the bed again and dashed behind the screen. This time Ghita was there to help her. She looked at her maid and said, “Never bring a fruit tart near me. Just the thought of how it smells is enough to make me sick.”
Ghita assisted her back to bed and soon she slept.
Ren shared a table in the dining room at his club with Michael and one of his father’s friends, Lord Hepplewhite. The foreign office official happened to be on his way home to Wallingford from a stay at his current post in Portugal. The man’s home was not far from Haldenwood, and his lordship’s only child, a daughter, was Elise’s best friend, Lady Beverly Hepplewhite.
“I must hurry home, Your Grace, or I would take you up on your offer to travel with you. It seems my daughter’s most recent governess has suddenly quit my employ for an unknown reason. I shall now have to hire another quickly so I may return to my office.”
“I understand your concern for her welfare, and your desire not to bring her with you while you travel about the continent. My offer of having Lady Beverly remain with us is sincere and open-ended.”
“Your Grace, the offer is generous,” said the silver-haired diplomat. “I just may have to take you up on it, as you know there is no female relation to stay with her.”
“My grandmother and now my wife will both be in the home to provide female guidance to both Lady Beverly and my sisters.”
His friend stifled a snort, and Ren bumped him with the toe of his shoe. He remembered his joyful news and with barely a lift of his hand, he had a waiter at his side and asked the man for a bottle of his favorite Spanish red wine.
Michael raised a brow, and Ren said, “Tonight, gentlemen, we drink to my lady wife who shall present me with a child for Christmas.”
“Congratulations, Your Grace!” Lord Hepplewhite cheered, turning the heads of the dozen or so patrons in the club that evening. Michael chimed in and congratulated him, then handed him a cigar. Soon Hepplewhite was off to a hotel, as his home had been let for the season, leaving he and Michael alone.
At half-six in the evening, it was too early for the dinner crowds, too late for tea, and the club was only sparsely populated. Populated with just the right group of gossips sure to help his news spread.
“This might work,” Michael said as he scanned the room. “The entire time you were gone, he was seen perhaps a couple of times. We’re not sure how, but he slipped in and out Southwark without anyone capturing him.”
Ren nodded. “We leave for Haldenwood in a few days, for Lia and the babe’s well-being. We will be heavily guarded, but I expect him to come out.” He scanned the room to make sure no one paid attention to them, “I want him to slip up, Michael. Badly.”
“Be careful what you wish for my friend,” Michael said.
“I need to have him in custody or dead. That will be the only way I can sleep comfortably.”
Two mornings later, his wife was still not well enough to travel. Ren sat in his study going over the household accounts from when he was away, and making arrangements with his secretary to have them paid. He looked up when the owner of the security firm he hired, Mr. Cartland, entered the room.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said. “I must have a word with you, if you please.”
The man looked around the room and Ren understood his meaning. He dismissed his secretary and the footman, and when the door had closed behind them and they were alone, he prompted the man to speak.
“Are there any new maids in this home, kitchen, household, or scullery? I ask because it has come to my attention that Lord Whitby was seen talking to a woman in a maid’s uniform, on a busy street corner yesterday eve. He slipped through our grasp yet again, but the maid we questioned said the gent was looking to hire someone to work on this very block. She responded to his advertisement for employment because
she is unhappy in her current situation, and wanted to verify the job existed before she quit her current post.”
“Did she take the job?
“No,” the investigator replied. “She wanted to give proper notice to her employer so as to get a reference. She’s a proud housemaid who has worked her way up from the scullery, and is the conscientious sort. Whitby told her he didn’t care about her references and wanted her to start that day. The young maid said his demeanor spooked her off and and she refused.”
Ren went to the door and asked a footman to locate Niles and Mrs. Steen. When the two arrived, he asked them about newly hired employees and neither said they were looking for help, nor had they hired any recently. He turned back to Cartland. “I shall check with my staff when we arrive at Haldenwood in a few days, to make certain the same is true there. I can furlough anyone hired after the shooting with pay until this is resolved. Which shouldn’t be too much longer, from the looks of it.”
The day for traveling to Haldenwood dawned cold and misty. After eating a plain breakfast of tea and toast, Lia supervised the packing of her few necessities, then went to her brother’s room to do the same. Ghita made certain the new sewing kit Lia asked for got into the correct coach, as Lia was going to attempt needlework now that she was expecting a child. Mrs. Steen and Ghita both said it was what ladies did when they were carrying. Lia was just thankful that the things she was about to embroider were napkins to be used on the child’s bottom, and not something seen by anyone other than the babe’s nurse.
More and more, she dreaded the next eight months. She was miserable already and couldn’t imagine feeling so run down while getting larger. If the doctor’s calculations were correct, the babe would be born just after Christmas, which gave her plenty of time to prepare the dressing gowns, linen napkins, blankets, and bed clothing needed for the babe’s first months.
Her brother and Ghita rode in a separate coach. When she asked why, her husband replied, “Your brother and his puppy are too rambunctious to have them in here with you. Prescott wanted you to have a safe, quiet ride.”
She didn’t agree, but accepted his decision. Lia then took her needlework out and began to embroider the corners of the baby napkins. On one corner she placed a tiny letter “C.” On the opposing corner she put either a lamb, pony, puppy, kitten, or rabbit. On one napkin, a lamb came out looking like a kitten, on another, a pony had donkey ears. But to Lia, it didn’t matter. Simply making the baby’s things relaxed her and helped her pass the time, for while she learned to embroider, her love for her child grew with each stitch.
Two hours easily passed, while her husband read contracts and ledgers, making notes where necessary. She looked up when he tapped her knee with a finger. His grinning countenance was so handsome, she thought.
“We’ll be stopping in a clearing some yards ahead.” He motioned toward a copse of trees in the distance.
Lia nodded and set her needle into the cloth safely, while the two coaches and several horsemen, pulled into a grassy clearing. She dropped her embroidery hoop on the seat next to her, and watched eight guards on horseback remain mounted and in position, blocking them from the road. The door opened and a groom came up to let down the stairs.
Her husband exited first, then held out an ungloved hand for her. “I can let myself down,” she insisted.
“You’ll do no such thing. Prescott said you were to be careful of falling. Now take my hand,” he ordered.
She refused and soon regretted it, for he lifted her, then set her carefully on the ground. Even when she stood, his hands lingered at her waist.
“I’m fine. You can let go now.” His hands fell from her waist, and he took her hand and led her across the clearing. When they reached an appropriate cover, she asked, “May I have some privacy?” she asked when it appeared he might come behind the bushes with her.
“Certainly. I’ll turn my back after I assure myself there’s nothing there to hurt you.”
“Oh, what could there be out here with all this noise?”
“A wild animal?” he said, toying with her.
After Lia had taken care of her more urgent needs, she emerged from behind the bushes, to see her brother running toward them, the puppy on a rope bouncing alongside him. One thick, dark curl fell onto his forehead and he brushed it aside haphazardly.
He didn’t stop at all, but as he flew by, handed her the lead attached to the puppy, saying “Lia, will you walk Brutto for me?” Not waiting for her reply, her brother immediately disappeared behind the bushes she’d just come from.
Ren took the rope from her hand saying, “He’s going to be an enormous beast. I think he may be part bulldog, and part small horse. I’ve heard cook say he eats like one.”
“My brother, or the puppy?” she said, smiling. She still felt an endless joy at having her brother back safely.
Her husband chuckled. “Both.”
As she walked next to him, she wrapped her shawl around herself tighter and said, “I have thanked God daily that you believed me, and took a chance that what I was telling you was true.”
Ren stopped as the pup began to roll in the grass. He smiled before looking over at her and saying, “I have wondered myself at that. And all I can think of is that no one could fake the kind of fear and upset you displayed that night.” He lifted her hand to his lips, adding, “I, too, am glad that I took that chance.”
Luchino returned, took the pup, and led it back to where their coaches waited. Ren offered his arm and she placed her hand on it. Assisting her again, he supported her as she climbed into the coach, and for a moment his hands lingered on her waist. Something flickered in his dark metallic eyes and before she could make out what it was, he closed them.
Once she was situated again in her seat, she pulled her hoop back onto her lap and began working again, as did her husband. With each pass of the needle, she raised the courage to ask him the thing that had been bothering her the past few nights. She wanted to know why he’d avoided her bed, and had to let him know that she wouldn’t tolerate him keeping a mistress.
The coaches pulled onto the road again, and casually, as though it were nothing of importance, she asked, “Why have you not slept in my bed with me these past nights?”
Ren looked up from the ledger he’d been working in, and gave her a curious look. “I thought that if you weren’t feeling well, I would sleep next door until you were.”
Each time she thought of their agreement, she wondered if he would continue to desire her after she’d delivered the necessary heir. Yes, he promised not to separate her from her child, but she didn’t think she could tolerate him abandoning her in the country while he kept a mistress in Town.
Lia wanted to tell him how she felt. She shifted in the seat, nervous of what his reaction would be. He could quite simply ignore her wishes and do what he will, after all, most men did. But she had to let him know how displeased she would be if he went against her wishes. “I think that perhaps I should mention something to you. It isn’t something I knew about myself until just this morning, and I already feel very strongly about it.”
“And what is that, wife?”
“I feel very strongly that you not entertain thoughts of keeping a mistress.” There she got it out, and he didn’t appear angry with her. In fact, he was smiling.
“I do not currently have a mistress and I have no thoughts of acquiring one.”
“No visiting the ah....” She tapped her finger on her leg, trying to think of the English word for a whorehouse. “Come si dice,” she whispered, “bordello, either.”
“I will never visit another bordello again,” he said, trying to hide his smile. He wasn’t taking this as seriously as she, Lia could tell.
“Your needs are mine to care for. They are not the responsibility of another.”
“I agree, wife.”
His dark silver eyes and crooked smile told her he was up to no good. She wasn’t sure if he was placating her, or not. But when he moved
his stack of papers and ledgers to the other seat, then reached for her to bring her to his side of the coach, she smiled. “Good. Never forget that you are mine.”
“As you are mine.” He kissed her forehead, then backed away to look into her eyes, his look turning serious. Her heart skipped a beat as she worried what he was going to say. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you that I have begun an account in your name at our banking house, so that you have complete and total control over all funds you inherited. Both yours and your brother’s.” Shock washed over her leaving her speechless, and he asked, “Are you alright?”
Overcome at the generosity of his gift, she could only nod. When she found her tongue, she said “I never expected.... I mean, that is very generous of you, Your Grace.”
Her husband nuzzled the spot beneath her ear and whispered, “You’re welcome, Your Grace.”
Several hours later, the coach rolled into an inn yard. The proprietor stepped out, wiping his beefy hands on the apron around his waist. “Welcome, welcome, Captain... er, Yer Grace.” The portly old man grinned, revealing three missing teeth. “It’s wonderful te see ye again.”
“Hello, John, good to see you as well. Is our room prepared?”
“Of course. My Bridget’s bringing up the food now.”
“Sweetheart, this is John Donnelly, currently proprietor of The Drunken Boar, formerly my Quartermaster on Warlock.” Ren led her forward, “John, my wife, the Duchess of Caversham.”
Mr. Donnelly turned to her and bowed, “Ye must be a special woman indeed to have landed the Cap’n fer husband.”
“That she is, John. I had to marry her quick, before she changed her mind and decided she didn’t want me after all.” Lia wanted to believe he was as proud as he sounded. That he adored her as much as his body told her he did..
“Ye’ll find everything made ready in yer rooms. Timmy’ll care for your ’orses.”
In the corner of the yard, a boy talked with her brother. He appeared to be about Luchino’s age, and both came running forward.