‘I’m sorry.’
The boy studied him again. ‘Jemmie says Miss Theo likes you, and Jemmie knows everything. Maybe if you marry her, she’ll smile more. I like it when she smiles.’
The memory swooped in: Theo after their gallop, laughing in delight, impulsively embracing him. ‘I like it, too.’
‘Do you like to play soldiers?’ the boy asked, gesturing towards the lead figures arranged before him.
‘Mr Ransleigh was a soldier,’ Constancia inserted. ‘He fought in the same war as Miss Theo’s papa.’
Charles’s interest intensified. ‘You were a soldier, too? Will you tell me about it?’
A sudden flurry of images filled his head: smoke, flame, the cacophony of rifle, musket and artillery fire, the yells of the charge, the screams of the wounded. With a shudder, he shook them off. ‘Some of it.’
‘Can you show me the battles, where the soldiers were? I have General Wellington, General Blücher, and lots of cavalrymen!’
‘I could help you arrange the men and explain tactics. Battles are all about tactics, you know.’ As is life, he thought.
‘You can marry Miss Theo, then. Can it be quick? I’m ready to go home.’
‘It’s a bargain.’ Dom held out a hand, and the boy extended his, taking Dom’s and shaking it firmly. ‘When we get back to Bildenstone, I’ll show you the battles. I must go now, but I’ll see you later, Charles.’
‘’Bye, Mr Ransleigh,’ the boy said, turning back to his soldiers.
‘You are truly to be wed, Senhor Ransleigh?’ the maid asked softly as Dom turned to walk out.
‘Yes, Constancia. As soon as it can be arranged.’
‘Good.’ She nodded approvingly. ‘You will be kind to Miss Theo, yes? She has suffered much.’ She made an oblique glance towards the child. ‘She needs a man who will treat her as she deserves.’
‘I hope to make her very happy.’
Constancia regarded him steadily. ‘See that you do.’
Feeling that he was going to be watched on several fronts, Dom quit the room. How amused his cousins would be, he thought with a smile as he paced down the stairs, when he told them he owed the winning of approval for his suit to his knowledge of the battles they’d fought and his ability to teach riding.
Chapter Nineteen
Four days later, Theo nervously smoothed the skirt of her new Pomona-green gown, watching the clock on the mantel tick closer to the time when she must go down to her aunt’s parlour and be married.
Married. The idea still made her stomach clench, sending eddies of trepidation and excitement through her.
She wasn’t where she’d expected to be, or feeling how she’d expected to feel when about to plight her troth. It should have been at the English embassy in Lisbon, the wedding breakfast afterwards thronged with army friends and their families who’d relocated to Portugal for the duration of the war. Awaiting her should have been Marshall in his dashing cavalry tunic, attended by his squadron mates, and her father, solemn in full dress uniform, ready to give her away.
All that seemed like a hazy dream from a faraway world. That younger Theo, so completely in love and absolutely confident of the future, was gone too, lost somewhere along the rocky trail from an isolated convent in the Portuguese hills.
The man waiting downstairs, though, was no less worthy of her faith, affection and trust than Marshall. How many women were lucky enough to find two such paragons? If it came to it, she probably knew Dom better than she’d known Marshall, given a whirlwind courtship in the middle of a war. She and Dom had ridden together, walked together, sharing their interests and discussing problems at a length and leisure not possible in an army on the march. Marriage might be the fearful unknown, but she had no doubt whatsoever of the sterling character of the man she was about to marry—even if she still harboured unsettling doubts about the wisdom of marrying him.
Aunt Amelia, though, had been unabashedly delighted when Dom had called, soliciting her permission to wed her niece. He’d set her laughing, telling her he was relieved she’d agreed, else he’d just wasted a great deal of blunt on a special licence.
Her thrilled aunt, insisting Theo must have a new gown of her very own in which to be married, had carried her off to the modiste that very afternoon. A half-finished dress of green shot through with gold caught her eye and was fitted to her immediately. She thought it flattering, and Aunt Amelia, Susan and Constancia all agreed.
She hoped Dom would think so.
Constancia and Charles walked in, startling her out of her reverie. ‘Your new dress is pretty, Miss Theo!’ Charles said. ‘Why did I have to get new nankeens? They’re scratchy, and I like my old ones better.’
‘A special occasion calls for festive clothes, and the trousers will soften,’ Theo said. ‘I will only be married once.’ Dear Lord, may this not be a mistake!
While Charles wandered to the window, eager to inspect the horses traversing the lane, Constancia took her hand. ‘Senhor Ransleigh is a good man, Miss Theo. He will take care of you and the boy. This have I prayed for since we left Mary Santo das Montanhas.’
Dom was a good man. It made loving him harder to resist, but at the same time quelled that part of her nervousness which stemmed from putting herself in the hands of a man not her father.
A husband held so many rights over a wife, including ownership of all her wealth. Sensitive to that, the day after she accepted his proposal, Dom insisted they consult her father’s solicitor and have papers prepared before the wedding that would place in trust for Charles all the properties she wanted him to have and set aside a good portion of her inheritance in separate funds for Charles, the school, and her own personal use—all of it untouchable by a husband.
When she protested that made it sound like she didn’t trust him, he reminded her that once married, the law gave her no further control over her property—and if anything happened to him, those assets would go to his heirs, administered by a solicitor who would look to their interests—not those of her or Charles.
Though there wouldn’t be time to complete the complicated process before the wedding, he’d also insisted the solicitor begin setting up the jointure and settlement agreements she would receive out of his own funds in the event he predeceased her.
‘Not that I have any plans of shuffling off this mortal coil,’ he assured her. ‘I didn’t live through all that pain and suffering to trade this for a halo yet—not when the best part of surviving is about to begin.’
Waggling his eyebrow roguishly, he placed tickling little kisses on her hand that made her laugh and relax, for the moment, the tension within her that coiled tighter and tighter as the wedding approached.
No, she had no qualms about the character of man she was marrying. Just the institution itself—and the difficulties of keeping her emotions in check when living so close to the mesmerising Dominic Ransleigh.
One problem at a time, she told herself. First, she needed to formally settle her arrangement with the Hazletts.
Though too anxious about the school to want to delay their return to Suffolk by taking a wedding journey, she had agreed to remain in London a few days by themselves to settle into their new relationship. The best way not to worry about the ramifications of that relationship, she figured, was to spend that time enjoying the sensual freedom marriage would give them.
Now, that prospect she could view with enthusiasm.
After another knock, a beaming Aunt Amelia swept in. ‘It’s time, Theo, dear. How lovely you look!’
‘I’ll never be the beauteous daughter of a duke, but I hope I’ll do,’ she replied ruefully.
‘You’ll be yourself, and that’s what Dominic Ransleigh wanted,’ Aunt Amelia assured her.
I hope so, she thought as the small group descended the stairs.
A
s she entered the parlour, her eyes went immediately to Dom, who stood next to the priest and a gentleman in a Dragoon’s uniform she didn’t recognise. Dom, too, had the erect bearing of a soldier. But instead of colourful regimentals, he wore a black jacket over a cream waistcoat and black trousers, the jacket perfectly fitted, the sheen of the fabric elegant, and all of it looking spanking new, as if he’d just returned from his tailor. ‘Dandy Dom’ indeed, she thought, awe and attraction rippling through her.
Then he saw her. A smile lighting his face, he murmured something to the priest, his gaze never leaving hers as he walked over to take her hand and kiss it. ‘How lovely you look! Is that a new gown? I like it.’
‘You’re looking rather fine yourself. Did you fit in a visit to Bond Street?’
Dom laughed. ‘I’m not sure whether my tailor was more gratified to receive a new order or horrified at trying to make a garment for a man with one arm that still fit to his standards of perfection.’
‘He succeeded. Though you look equally splendid in an old hunting jacket.’
‘You didn’t seem so impressed when you met me that first day in the lane.’
‘You were thinner then, and tired. Now you’re...not.’
‘I can’t wait to show you how much I’m...not,’ he murmured, before turning her towards the soldier who’d followed him. ‘Who’d have thought I’d come to such an important day with all my cousins scattered who knows where? Even my uncle, who practically lives at the Lords, is out of town. I had to scour the clubs to find a friend to stand up with me. Miss Branwell, may I present Lieutenant Tom Wetherby, another stout member of the Royals.’
‘Delighted, ma’am,’ the Dragoon said, bowing. ‘I’d kiss your hand, but Dom would skewer me with my sabre.’
Before she could reply, the priest waved to them. ‘Time to take our places,’ the lieutenant said, and ushered them back to the prelate.
Dom squeezed her suddenly trembling hand in his warm one. ‘Trust me, Theo?’ he murmured as he led her over.
‘Y-yes.’
‘Smile, then. You’re supposed to be the happy bride—not a prisoner on the way to the guillotine. You’ll have our guests think you don’t really want to marry me.’
‘I must smile, then. I can’t have them thinking you anything but the most compassionate, understanding, helpful gentleman I’ve ever known,’ she added, annoyingly close to tears.
‘And wise. You could add wise. Witty, well read, liberal-minded.’ He lowered his voice to a mock-seductive range and bent to whisper at her ear, ‘And devastatingly attractive.’
‘Modest, too,’ she added with a chuckle, her nerves settling, as surely he’d meant them to. ‘And altogether wonderful.’
And he was. She must do all she could to see he never regretted taking up the cudgels in defence of his too-tall, too-opinionated, problem-encumbered spinster tenant.
Over the next few moments, they intoned the ancient words of the wedding service, Dom placed a plain band on her finger, and the priest pronounced them man and wife. When her perplexed expression afterward protested the kiss of the new bride that was practically chaste, he murmured, ‘Wait until later.’
Then it was off to sign the parish register and into the dining room, where Aunt Amelia had assembled a bountiful repast for a small group of family and a few of her closest friends.
One of those turned out to be the formidable Lady Jersey, who cut her from the crowd and drew her away with the expertise of a Lake country sheepdog managing his herd. Leaning close, she murmured, ‘I shall congratulate you, even though you cheated me of the amusement of watching you lead the suitors Amelia and I had chosen a merry dance! But I can’t complain; you’ve pulled off a coup. Only a man as high in the instep as the Duke of Dunham would think his daughter could do better than a Ransleigh. No matter; I’ve invited the duke and the daughter to dine next week. I can’t wait to share the details of your nuptials.’
She swept away to attach herself to the Dragoon, leaving Theo immensely relieved she’d got herself married before she was pulled into that lady’s web of intrigue.
* * *
Still, as the afternoon wore on, she became increasingly anxious for the party to end. Her cheeks ached from smiling, her head ached from giving polite replies to congratulations and turning evasive answers to those brash enough to enquire about the brevity of their courtship. Dom had abandoned her to play the perfect bridegroom, circulating among the society ladies Aunt Amelia had invited, parcelling out attention equally, keeping them all nodding and laughing with his wit. It was the first time Theo had seen him work his charm in public, and his skill was impressive.
When he finally came back to claim her arm, she said, ‘Now I’m sure the wedding was a mistake.’
His smile faded instantly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The way you’ve bedazzled all Aunt Amelia’s friends, you should have been a politician. I can see you now on the hustings, charming the masses.’
‘All the Ransleigh men are bedazzling,’ he tossed back. ‘And I think we’ve been sociable long enough. Shall we leave? The staff at Alastair’s town house has a cold supper ready for us whenever we like. If we get to it. I anticipate the meal we share first may last a very long time. I’m ravenous, and I’ve been waiting for it for ever.’
Desire spiralled though her. ‘No more ravenous than I.’ As he clasped her hand and led her over to Aunt Amelia to say their farewells, Theo hid a secret smile.
Oh, was she ravenous! And she couldn’t wait to start proving it.
* * *
Less than an hour later, the carriage deposited them a short distance away at Dom’s cousin Alastair’s town house in Upper Brook Street. The travelling case with some of her clothes and toiletries had been sent over earlier, and Susan waited to attend her.
As Dom took her arm and walked her up the entry stairs, she was finally able to cast aside all her fears and embrace the one thing about this marriage she knew would be an unqualified success.
‘You’re trembling,’ Dom murmured as they reached the floor where the bedchambers were located. ‘You’re not afraid, are you?’
Now, when the time had finally come to make all her imaginings real? ‘Oh, no! I’m eager.’
She halted, making him stop beside her in the hallway. She ran a finger over his lips, then slid it down his shirt to draw a line from his waistcoat down his trouser front, increasing the pressure as she descended. She smiled when she felt his member leap under her tracing finger. ‘I think you’re eager, too.’
After an inarticulate response, he kissed her. Joyously she tangled tongues with him, laving and retreating, teasing and withdrawing. Dom fumbled behind him for the door handle, walked them in and banged it closed, and kissing still, wrapped his arm around her and backed her towards the bed. When her legs touched the edge, he finally broke the kiss, panting. ‘Wine, before I snuff out the candles?’ he asked, gesturing towards the decanter on the night stand.
‘You needn’t snuff out the candles. I’d like to see...everything.’
‘Certainly I would,’ he said with a wry grin. ‘I’m not so sure you should, though. Wouldn’t want for my bride to faint with horror before I can even make her mine.’
Her teasing smile fading, she wanted nothing so much as to reassure him. ‘Oh, Dom,’ she said softly, ‘don’t you know I will see nothing but honour in your scars? And be honoured, that you’ve given me the right to touch them?’
He stood beside her, still looking uncertain. ‘If you’re sure.’
Snagging his cravat, she untied it and used the freed lengths to pull him down to the bed. Then, still in hat, gloves, gown and pelisse, she went down on her knees before him and wrenched open the buttons of his trouser flap.
His erection sprang free and he groaned as she took him in her gloved hands, smoothing the soft
kidskin up and down his hard length before guiding him into her mouth.
She sampled the smooth slick head, nibbled at the ridge, slid him fully into her mouth.
‘Theo—no—can’t stand much more,’ Dom gasped.
She paused, sliding him slowly, slowly, slowly free. ‘You want me to stop?’ she asked, and drew her tongue by infinitesimal millimetres across the head of his erection. ‘Stop this?’ She took him within and suckled gently. Withdrawing again, she said, ‘Or this?’ before plunging him deep.
Since by then he appeared to be beyond words, she took that as permission to begin a rhythmic pattern of sliding him deep, pulling him free then sliding him deep again.
Writhing against her, he tugged off her hat with one frantic hand, raked the pins from her hair and wrapped his fingers in the curly strands. A short time later, the tension in his body released as he reached his peak.
Afterward, he pulled her head against his torso and leaned over, embracing her, while his gasping breath and thundering heartbeat filled her ears.
A few moments later, when he’d regathered strength enough, he levered her up on the bed beside him. She tilted his head down for a long kiss. ‘Much better than wine.’
He wrapped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. ‘Theo...merciful heavens...I never dreamed...’
She chuckled. ‘I know. You see, I’m wonderfully inventive—’ he groaned ‘—and I have a vivid imagination. Oh, so vivid! The nights I lay awake, dreaming of doing that...’
He smiled then. ‘I could tell you something about nights and dreaming and imagining. But I’d rather show you.’
Positioning her at the edge of the bed, he knelt before her. He drew her face down for a soft, sweet kiss, and slipped his hand under her skirts to toy with her ankle.
Already thoroughly aroused by her ravishment of his body, she licked at his lips, seeking entry. He refused to open for her, kissing closed-mouthed as she laved and nuzzled.
Meanwhile, his stroking fingers slowly ascended her leg, kneading and caressing the muscle of her calf, then cupping and fondling her knee. She gasped when he broke the kiss for a moment to lick his finger and apply its soft wet pressure to the sensitive skin behind her knee.
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