At the ceremony’s conclusion he presented her with a very pretty ring, set with three small rose-cut diamonds. “Not what you are used to,” he noted as he slipped it on her finger.
“But worth far more,” was the sincere reply as she lifted her face for his kiss. I have married Lucien Carstairs, she thought with wonder, and could hardly credit her good luck. How fortunate that I am fertile, so as to be given the opportunity.
The chaplain congratulated them, the housekeeper signed as witness, and then they were back in the carriage and away, the towers of the Royal Naval Hospital disappearing behind them as they headed back to Belgrave. Once the deed was done, Vidia felt a rush of confidence replace all the qualms she had suffered leading up to the ceremony. As Carstairs had said, they took the proper course—she must learn not to be so wary that she imagined danger in every shadowed corner.
He kissed her soundly, a gleam of amusement lighting his eyes. “We had best get our story straight.”
She had also been thinking of how to break this alarming news to those who must hear it. “The truth, I think. There would be little point to making up a tale, after all. Shall we beard the Vicar and the Curate together?”
But he shook his head. “Allow me—some awkward questions may be asked.”
She leaned toward him, willing to show her support. “Are you certain? I excel at turning aside awkward questions—you need only ask the Vicar.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather have my hair trimmed alone, I think. On your end, shall I leave you to break the news to Brodie—or do you wish for reinforcements?”
“Allow me,” she repeated his own words back to him. “Some awkward questions may be asked.”
They smiled at each other and he bent to kiss her again. Tonight, she thought, melting into his kiss, I’ll be abed with him—he who is now my husband and will be abed with me on a nightly basis. She felt the stirrings of desire and asked, “Shall we plan to meet up for dinner? If I can find my new cook, I’ll request something appropriate for a wedding celebration.”
But her companion raised a skeptical brow. “I can’t imagine Brodie will allow me to take up residence in your town house.”
“He has no grounds to object,” she assured him, slightly surprised by the objection. “Remember—the house is mine in fee.”
There was a small silence. “I confess I would not feel comfortable living in the house that Brodie gave to you—surely you can understand.” His smile was apologetic.
Hiding her dismay at confronting yet another issue she should have thought through, Vidia gave him her most beguiling smile. “I’m sorry, Lucien—but for my part I don’t know if I could be comfortable in the home you shared with Marie.”
He ran a finger along her cheek. “We needn’t decide just yet—I had thought first to bring you to meet my family in Sussex.”
Mãe de Deus, thought Vidia, I have been outmaneuvered. “That sounds lovely, Lucien. I shall look forward to it.”
He was gracious in victory. “Shall I speak to Brodie as one man to another? Would that make it easier for you?”
Smiling, Vidia said, “I too shall take the trimming alone, I believe.” And throw myself on Brodie’s mercy, she added silently. We’ll need a new plan, and quickly.
Chapter 20
Looking up at Vidia in astonishment, Brodie slowly set aside the newspaper he was reading. “Well then—allow me to call for champagne.”
“None for me,” she reminded him as she sank down in the chair beside him. “And there is no one to call—Maisie is from home.”
They sat together in silence for a moment while she allowed him to process the startling news. “This is sudden,” he observed, his benign gaze upon her.
“You have no idea—I did not know of it myself, at this time yesterday.”
Upon hearing this, he leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees, assessing her narrowly. “Was this your wish, Bela? Tell me the truth, if you please.”
“Yes,” she assured him with complete sincerity, her gaze steady upon his. “My hand on my heart, Benny.”
After a careful review he nodded, satisfied. “Yes—I did have a feeling you had met your fate in our Mr. Carstairs.” He rose and made his way to the sideboard to rattle the glasses. “Some cider then—we shall celebrate.”
Reading him aright, she confessed, “I was afraid you’d deter me with sensible advice, so I didn’t tell you.”
“You were always unpredictable, Bela.” He poured the cider and brought over the glasses, raised his to her and toasted, “To your happiness, Mrs. Carstairs.”
“It is not a trap,” she said with some firmness, watching him.
But he only said mildly, “I have no doubt it is not—you would never be so foolish.”
She set down her glass. “I fear I have been foolish, Benny—he wishes me to take a wedding trip to visit his family in Sussex and I hadn’t considered such a possibility.”
Raising his brows, he thought this over. “When would you return?”
“I shall be certain to return for the sailing of the Argo,” she assured him. “Sussex is not so very far away—only let me know when I must be in London and I promise I will be here—by hook or by crook.”
He nodded as he gazed out the window for a moment. “I am not certain it would be wise to give you any details ahead of time.”
Dismayed, she stared at him for a moment and then shook her head with vehemence. “I would never tell Carstairs anything about it, Benny—you know I would not—even if I trusted him.”
Brodie’s hand stilled on his glass. “You do not trust him?”
She sighed, thinking there was nothing for it—Brodie needed to know. “He was involved in the attempted seizure at Carlton House.”
Sinking back in his chair with a deliberate movement, Brodie did not attempt to hide his astonishment. “Bela, you have run mad.”
Fingering her wedding ring, she met his eyes with a smile. “Not quite as mad as it appears—I am afraid it is a marriage of necessity.”
After a surprised pause, his brows drew together. “Never say he took advantage of you?”
She quirked her mouth. “More like I took advantage of him.”
His brow cleared. “Well then; he poor fellow did not stand a chance—my further congratulations.”
He leaned forward, his glass aloft, and she tapped it with her own, grateful that he was willing to pretend she had not thrown an enormous spoke in the wheel of his carefully laid-out plans. “It is rather a shock—but it seems I am bound to retire from the lists, one way or another.”
Nodding, he conceded, “It does put paid to my Venice plan—I had hope of overcoming your objections.”
She ran a finger along the rim of the glass. “I was planning to go live in Yorkshire to raise the child, Benny—truly I was—but I thought I owed it to Carstairs to tell him—”
“You were always deplorably noble, Bela.” Brodie shook his head in disapproval.
“And he insisted we marry immediately; he hasn’t even told our people as yet. I imagine they will be very unhappy with him.”
Brodie lowered his gaze to the contents of his glass as he swirled the cider and made no comment.
Watching him, Vidia sighed with resignation. “What are you thinking—tell me the truth, por favor.”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I think it very fortuitous that you are now subject to Mr. Carstairs’s authority, your house will be left vacant, and you will be inaccessible to me.”
But she shook her head, unable to believe the implication. “Come, Benny—he had little choice, as an honorable man. He certainly didn’t plan to have a hurried wedding and an eight months baby—not with his wife just dead.”
But Brodie was unconvinced and raised his glass in a mock salute. “One can only admire his initiative and flexibility.”
“Benny,” she protested.
“I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “if such initiative and flexibility can be us
ed to our advantage.”
“I’ll not allow you to use him ill,” she warned, alarmed by the tack the conversation had taken.
“Bela,” he chided gently. “The man is your chosen husband—acquit me of wishing to use him ill. But perhaps matters may be arranged so as to bring everyone’s interests to a satisfactory conclusion—including the enterprising Mr. Carstairs.”
Suspicious, she eyed him. “I am given to understand you like to work alone.”
He returned her gaze with a benign eye. “I do work alone. But I can be unselfish.” Leaning his chair back on its legs, he contemplated the view out the window for a moment. “Go to Sussex for your bride visit—where exactly will you be?”
“I am afraid I am not certain,” she confessed, feeling foolish. Deus, but Carstairs had taken her by surprise. “Shall I leave Maisie in the house here whilst I am away? She can man the ramparts.”
But he shook his head. “No—take her; I imagine you will need reinforcements.”
“I can handle any number of mothers-in-law,” Vidia assured him.
His hands in his pockets, he kept his gaze fixed out the window. “It is not his relatives I am worried about.”
She wouldn’t argue with him anymore—he was too often right. “I shall be wary, Benny.”
He brought his chair back down to the floor with a snap and changed the subject, his expression merry. “Plain Mrs. Carstairs of Sussex—and here I thought you could look to ensnare minor European royalty at the very least.”
She replied in a mild tone, “No, thank you—I do not have pleasant memories of Europe.”
“No,” he agreed, and they sat in silence for a moment.
Brodie set his glass down suddenly. “A wedding gift—I must think of something appropriate.”
“Benny,” she warned. “Pray bring no more trouble down upon me.”
“Bela,” he responded in a wounded tone. “I cannot allow the occasion to pass unacknowledged.”
“You terrify me,” she replied dryly. “And remember I have a husband’s sensibilities to consider now.”
But Brodie’s eyes were alight, thinking over possibilities. “It must be something worthy of this series of blessed events you have managed to bring about.”
She tilted her head in a conciliatory gesture. “I didn’t have much of a hand in the managing, I’m afraid. I am sorry about this coil, Benny.”
But Brodie was unflappable—as always. “Not to worry, all is in train—a pox on all warmongers for requiring such exertions of me.”
“Confess,” she teased him. “You enjoy the exertions—and the rewards.”
His chest rising and falling, he sighed hugely. “This one shall be particularly rewarding—when this little rabbit is snared. A fouler man never walked the earth.”
Sobering, she nodded in agreement. “You will be careful, Benny?”
“Bela,” he chided in a reproachful tone, “when have you known me to be careful?”
“Forgive me,” she said with a smile. “I forget myself.”
He raised his glass to her again, his eyes gleaming. “Never fear—Invidia shall once more have her revenge.”
Toasting him in return with a graceful tilt of her wrist, she returned, “And you shall have yet another fortune—and well-deserved.”
“To your future.”
A bit mistily, she confessed, “I wouldn’t have one without you—do not think for a moment that I am not aware of it.”
“Bela,” he warned her with distaste. “Pray don’t be maudlin.”
Smiling, she offered, “Well then—to your future as well, Benny. Saude.”
“Saude,” he agreed, and drank.
Chapter 21
When Vidia broke the news to her maidservant the reaction was not unmixed. “He married ye?” Maisie breathed, and sat down abruptly on the dressing room chair, staring at her mistress in dismay and unconsciously twisting the corner of her apron. “Are ye sure?”
Laughing, Vidia protested, “Lord, Maisie—of course I am sure. And I have the ring to show for it.” She displayed it with some pride—truly, it was a very pretty ring.
“Gar,” said Maisie, much taken aback. “Yer wed.”
“Indeed,” agreed Vidia. “The deed was done in two shakes—he proposed immediately upon hearing my news, which was chivalrous of him and not at all what I expected.”
“An’ me all unknowin’.” Maisie was having some trouble assimilating the change in Vidia’s circumstances, her eyes fixed on the ring as though it was a venomous reptile.
“We thought it best,” Vidia soothed. “We didn’t want word to get out.” Vidia diplomatically didn’t specify who would have carried word to whom. Smiling, she teased, “So now I suppose I must learn to be respectable, and hold house.”
The other woman raised her eyes to Vidia’s, dubious. “Can ye, d’ye think?”
Laughing again, Vidia observed, “Well, if I can run a rig to keep the Flemish ambassador from stealing the weapons he was supposed to be sending to Wellington, I suppose I can organize linens. After all, the ambassador’s extraction did involve the laundry chute.”
“If ye say so,” her henchwoman agreed, twisting the other corner of her apron.
“Now—here’s faint praise,” Vidia chided her gently. “You do not seem very happy about this turn of events, Maisie—and I thought you were urging me to find a fine husband who would appreciate me.”
“I’m that happy fer ye, missy,” Maisie offered in a doubtful tone.
“Missus,” Vidia corrected her with a fond smile. “Mrs. Carstairs.” She said it with relish; such a nice sounding name, it was.
Maisie swallowed, pale of lip.
Hiding a smile, Vidia decided to be merciful. “I have already broken the news to Mr. Brodie and he is very pleased.”
Lifting her brows, Maisie sat up and was cautiously optimistic. “Is he?”
“Drank a toast to my future happiness,” Vidia assured her. “I honestly believe he is relieved to have me off his hands—he is a restless soul and doesn’t like to stay in one place very long.” This said as a veiled warning, in the event Maisie was under any misapprehensions about Brodie’s nature.
Belatedly realizing that she sat while her mistress stood, Maisie rose to her feet, folding her hands under her apron so as to consider the situation. “Are ye sure he’s not hidin’ a broken heart?”
Vidia was blunt. “Brodie has no heart.” Best that Maisie be aware—although she did not seem the romantic sort.
But her henchwoman insisted stubbornly, “He is that fond o’ ye—I am sure of it.”
“Yes,” Vidia agreed. “He is—I am a valuable asset.”
Maisie knit her brow, not understanding her meaning, but Vidia had moved on to the next topic. “Mr. Carstairs is taking me to Sussex to meet his family and I believe he plans to leave in the morning, so best get us packed.”
“Sussex,” mused Maisie, thinking over the practicalities. “How long a stay?”
“No more than a week, with any luck.” Vidia crossed to her armoire and, opening the doors, reviewed her extensive wardrobe. “I cannot play the blushing maiden, but I can certainly play the respectful and grateful daughter-in-law.”
“If ye say,” said Maisie agreeably. “Wearin’ what, exactly?”
Vidia made a wry face. “Touché, my friend—I shall leave it to your capable talents.” Maisie may not be the most satisfactory of maids but she was an excellent seamstress, having learned the skill as a necessity, patching together uniforms taken from the fallen during the war.
Thinking aloud of what needed to be done, her maidservant muttered, “I’ll be needin’ to buy ready-made, an’ make some alterations—ye can’t be respectable in yer silks and satins. And ye’d best pull that hair o’ yers back tight—and wear a cap.” She eyed it askance but Vidia was comforted by the knowledge that Carstairs very much enjoyed running his hands through her hair and would do so nightly from now on.
“Spend whatever is ne
cessary and do your worst, my friend, as long as I make a good impression on his mother. I don’t want Mr. Carstairs to regret this straightaway.”
“Never say so; he’s a lucky man to have ye,” Maisie insisted, stung. “His family will think he carried off the prize, once they see ye.”
“Not if they can count to nine on their fingers.”
“Nowt the first time sech a thing has happened,” reflected her maid, unperturbed as she began to thumb through the armoire. “And besides, who’s to say whether the babe comes early—they do sometimes.”
Sighing, Vidia confessed, “I thank you for your support, Maisie, but I don’t think I have yet mentioned that his first wife died a few short weeks ago.”
Nonplussed, Maisie turned to stare at her. “Is that so?”
With a rustle of taffeta petticoats, Vidia sank into the chair her maid had vacated. “They shall think me a Jezebel—and no help for it; I may as well wear my silks and satins and play the role with relish.”
“Nonsense,” retorted her maid stoutly, even though Vidia suspected she was taken aback by this disclosure. “Nowt the first time sech a thing as that has happened, either—handsome widowers are always snapped up; the menfolk dinna like to be alone.”
“He is very handsome,” Vidia agreed with a smile, willing to be distracted from contemplating the awkward situation ahead. “He shall come for dinner, so pray warn the cook, and I would like you to find the nightdress I wore to distract the French master-at-arms while the horses were being stolen.”
“Hardly a nightdress,” Maisie noted.
“But fit for the purpose—I don’t think he plans to stay tonight and I hope to change his mind.”
“That’ll do it—if he’s alive and a man.” The maid bent to rummage through a wardrobe chest. “Where’s he to stay, if not here?”
Vidia said airily, “It was all so spur of the moment—and since we are leaving tomorrow he thinks to put his affairs in order.” Best not to mention her new husband refused to abide at her residence—one shocking revelation at a time for her beleaguered servant. “To this end, I would like a bath, if you don’t mind—and let’s perfume the water.”
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