Chapter Twenty-Four
“Oh Letty, Mr. Cartwright is so handsome,” Jane said. She had come straight to the vicarage as soon as she arrived back in the village and heard the news. “I am so happy for you! I expected you to marry Geoffrey, and then I come home to this! It’s like a dream.” She glanced half-accusingly at Letty, her eyes alight with warmth. “You only mentioned Mr. Cartwright once in your letters.”
Letty threw her arms around her. “I didn’t dare hope he would ever want to marry me.”
“Well, of course he would! Why ever not?” Jane said staunchly.
Letty grinned at her loyal friend. She’d pushed aside her fears that Brandon would one day accept another dangerous mission with the joy of being with him again. The very sight of him had stolen her breath away. She would have married him, anyway. Life was to be lived after all, she had only to read Lydia’s diaries to reinforce that view.
After the shock had passed, and Uncle Alford learned that Brandon’s father was the esteemed Sir Richard Cartwright, a politician of some note, he accepted the inevitable, and before long, he and Brandon were on good terms, most particularly because Brandon proved to be well read and could speak knowledgeably on almost any subject.
“Didn’t you tell me you were sent down from Oxford?” Letty asked when they were alone. “You certainly managed to amass a considerable amount of knowledge before you left.”
“Most acquired after Oxford, I’m afraid. And now your uncle has kindly offered me several interesting tomes from his extensive library on Greek and Roman history,” he said with his teasing smile. “A panacea for those long, lonely nights.”
Fighting a grin, she shook her head at him.
After giving his permission to Brandon for their marriage, Uncle Alford had called her into his study. He’d told her to sit down and then cleared his throat. Letty expected some salutary advice and was surprised when he apologized. “Despite that unfortunate business with Arietta, which was your aunt’s doing, I see now that I was wrong in my reluctance to send you to London.” He shifted in his seat. “I feared after your father left you rather more than a comfortable competence, you would become the subject of fortune hunters. And as I couldn’t be there to protect you.” He cast her an anxious glance.
If he knew the whole of what happened in London and Kent, he might feel justified in his reticence. Letty smiled warmly at him. She didn’t like to see him uncomfortable when he’d been so good to her. It was natural for him to want her to marry Geoffrey and remain here in the village. “I can quite understand your fears, Uncle,” she said. “But ‘all’s well that ends well’, as Shakespeare wrote, is that not so?”
“Indeed.” Uncle Alford leaned back in his chair with an approving smile. Letty smiled back, pleased to have hit on her uncle’s favorite playwright to help ease his conscience.
Aunt Edith awaited her in her bedchamber.
“I am happy with your choice. Mr. Cartwright will take you to London. The countryside, as pleasant as it is, does become rather dull after a time. I quite intend to return to Town myself when I’m completely well again. And we shall see more of each other,” she said, with more warmth than Letty would have anticipated.
Her aunt’s eyes filled with tears, and she withdrew her handkerchief to blow her nose. “I did not have great expectations for you, not after poor Arietta passed and then, you and Geoffrey…well, let us say no more about that.” While Letty considered whether she would welcome a hug, her aunt tucked her handkerchief into her pocket and straightened her shoulders. “There are more important things to discuss, your wedding gown most particularly. Now, what about that lovely ball gown Mrs. Crotchet made for you? You’ve barely had a chance to wear it.”
Letty bit her lip on a gasp of dismay. “I’m sorry, Aunt, the skirt never hung properly after the hem was torn, so I gave it to Arietta’s maid.”
“Oh, what a shame.” She cast a suspicious glance at Letty as she fiddled with her lorgnette. “With the wedding Sunday next, we are short of time. Shall we go through your clothes and see if something can be altered?”
“I have a dress that requires no alteration,” Letty said hastily, visualizing another horrid gown stitched up to her neck. “One Lady Arietta chose for me.”
“A very nice thought, my dear. Wear it in memory of her.” Her aunt nodded approval in happy ignorance of the truth of Arietta’s death. When Uncle Alford had told his sister that Arietta had been struck down by a seizure, Letty was quite surprised at how comfortable he seemed with the lie. She supposed that some lies were necessary to spare others. She had told quite a few herself. “I shall wear your pearls, Aunt.”
Aunt Edith nodded, somewhat appeased.
After several days of rain, Sunday dawned fine. Aware that many in the village would turn out to witness their wedding, Letty fidgeted with nerves. Her friends were happy for her and considered it to be very romantic, but some older folk had been set on Geoffrey.
Geoffrey had accepted it all without a qualm. It made her wonder if he was relieved. It could not have made him happy to marry a hesitant bride. When Brandon and Geoffrey appeared to get on so well, riding together over the countryside, and partaking of ale at the inn, much of the gossip died away. After only a few days, Brandon was hailed in the street and greeted as if an old friend. Letty put it down to his open, friendly manner, because usually one had to live here for years before they were accepted into the community. She only hoped this was a sign the ceremony would go off without a hitch and be a special day for them to remember.
In the late morning, wearing her net and white satin gown with the pink sash, and carrying a poesy of blush-colored roses, Letty walked down the aisle on the arm of Jane’s husband, Gordon. Jane, in her best sprig muslin, with flowers in her red hair, had arranged Letty’s short veil which floated from a circlet of pink rosebuds, then walked ahead, taking her place at the side of the altar as Letty’s matron of honor. Every pew was filled, and more crammed in to stand at the back of the church.
Handsome in a dark coat with silver buttons, Brandon turned to smile at her from the head of the altar. Geoffrey, causing a stir among the guests, stood beside him as his best man.
Gordon stepped away. Letty’s heart gave a skip when she reached Brandon’s side. She smiled into his loving blue eyes.
Her uncle cleared his throat and began. When he came to the words “Who giveth this woman,” he paused. “Well that would be me,” he said, displaying an unusual penchant for humor. Laughter broke out around the church, then silence fell as the ceremony progressed.
And then it was over, Brandon pressed a brief kiss on her lips, shook Geoffrey’s hand, and they left to sign the register.
A group of villagers hovering around the entrance tossed flower petals over them.
“Give her a proper kiss,” a man called.
Brandon obliged, as they all cheered.
Laughing and holding hands, she and Brandon walked to the church hall for the wedding breakfast.
In a chaise Brandon hired, they reached Royal Oak in Keswick by nightfall. He’d expressed the desire to spend some days exploring the beauty of the area and staying at wayward inns on route, before heading down to Surrey to visit his family. He had received a surprisingly conciliatory letter from his father, who had given up gracefully on his hopes for the colonel’s daughter, and an impassioned one from his mother, who expressed her eagerness to meet Letty. He looked forward to introducing her to them. They would love her as he did.
He and Letty were directed to a private parlor Brandon had engaged for supper. In the small cozy room, Letty untied the fetching cherry-red bow beneath her chin and pulled off her straw hat. Seated, he smiled at Letty across the table. “Happy, my sweet?”
“So very happy.” She cast him a loving glance, as a waiter entered with a tray, and the tasty aromas of hot soup, broiled chicken, and mushrooms, filled the air.
As they ate, they talked about the wedding and the breakfast.
“Geo
ffrey danced three times with Ann Wilson,” Letty said as a trifle and coffee were brought in.
“You’d like to see him married?” He wasn’t in the mood to discuss Geoffrey, good fellow that he was.
“To Ann. Yes. There’s a history there, I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
He nodded, in no hurry to hear it. His gaze roamed over her from her glossy dark hair to her sweet mouth, and the exciting glimpse of décolletage making a mockery of the demure muslin dress. How pretty was his bride, and how much he looked forward to making love to her.
When the coffee and cake were removed and the door closed, Brandon poured more champagne into their glasses. “I think we should make a toast to our future, Mrs. Cartwright.”
“Indeed, yes.”
“It requires you to sit on my lap.”
Letty glanced at the door. “The waiter might come in.”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I slipped him a few coins to stay away after serving the meal.”
“I didn’t see you. When was that?”
“While the boots was seeing to the luggage, and a maid was assisting you out of your pelisse.”
She attempted to frown but her eyes filled with laughter. “You spies are not to be trusted.”
He lowered his lids to half-mast and studied her. “Are you coming over here, or do I go over there?”
She rose. “I’m coming.” She perched on his knee, an arm around his neck and took the champagne flute from him. They clinked their glasses together. “To a blissful life,” he said solemnly. “And the hope you will not lead me into any more scrapes.”
Letty’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s unfair, Brandon.”
He chuckled.
She repeated the words with great seriousness and drank deeply.
With an approving grin, Brandon removed the glass and placed it beside his on the table. He cupped her chin and lifted her face to his, kissing her. Her mouth tasted of sweet champagne. When the urge to deepen the kiss grew too demanding, he drew away. From their first meeting, Letty had stirred something in him that he’d tried to dismiss. And, fool that he was, he could have lost her. What a decent chap Geoffrey was. He’d become quite fond of the fellow.
Letty sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
Her soft body pressed against his, and the emotion and profound relief he felt that she was his at last, swelled in his chest. “You make sense of my world, Letty,” he murmured.
She gazed up at him, the merest hint of tears in her eyes. “When I fell head over heels in love with you, I tried to convince myself it was foolish. A mistake. That what Arietta said about you might be true. But I never believed it,” she said passionately. “Looking back on it now, I suspect I agreed to follow you just to disprove it.”
“Sweetheart.” He kissed her again, yearning to make her his own. He set her on her feet and rose. “Shall we retire, my love?”
Her ardent gaze told him all he needed to know.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the inn bedchamber, Letty washed and changed into her night attire. During the trip, Brandon had been amusing and lighthearted, but when their eyes met, his had caressed hers with an unspoken promise. Her body responded with a surging tide of emotion. He had gone downstairs to order a fire to be lit as the evening was cool. The servant had appeared, and soon a bright, crackling fire of applewood burned in the hearth, the perfumed smoke scenting the air. Brandon had not yet returned. Letty suspected he was giving her some time to herself.
She removed the pins from her hair and was brushing her long tresses when he entered. A little nervous, Letty smiled at him in the mirror. His large masculine presence changed the atmosphere in the room; it became charged with expectation. It made her catch her breath. She understood now that passionate love was beautiful and exciting, and she was eager to experience it with the man she loved.
He came to stand behind her and lifted a lock of her hair to breathe it in. “You have such pretty hair, Letty.”
“It’s deplorably straight. I always wanted curly blonde hair like my mother.” She stood and faced him, filled with such longing to be one with him, her knees were weak.
“No, my love. You are perfect the way you are.” He lowered his mouth to hers as his arms drew her close. When his hands on her derriere pulled her against him, the evidence of his desire sent heat rushing to her belly and set up a strange throbbing. A passionate kiss left them both breathless.
He untied the ribbons of her negligee and eased it off her shoulders, leaving the thin silk nightgown which hid little from his gaze.
“My sweet love!” Brandon cradled her breast. He brought his mouth down on her nipple, his tongue teasing it through the fabric. She wobbled on her feet and clung on to him as unfamiliar and intense sensations rocked through her.
He hefted her into his arms and crossed to the bed where he laid her down. Seated beside her, his blue eyes gleamed as he poked at the mattress with his hand. “Comfortable, with just enough bounce, I must thank the innkeeper.”
Letty’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
Brandon laughed and pushed her gently back, leaning over her. “Wouldn’t I?”
She giggled and traced his lips with a finger. “You are wicked, Mr. Cartwright!”
“My thoughts are very wicked at this moment, Mrs. Cartwright,” he said huskily. He paused to kiss her again before rising to strip off his clothes.
He threw his coat onto a chair. “I can imagine what my valet, Hove, will think of this shabby treatment.” He turned, pulling off his cravat. “You said you didn’t require a lady’s maid, but we can find you one, Letty.”
She fought to order her thoughts, all her nerve endings alive as his body was revealed to her, his broad muscled chest with a dusting of dark hair as he pulled off his shirt. He unbuttoned his breeches.
“I’m used to doing for myself,” she said, fighting to sound casual, and failing apparently, because he glanced at her with an amused smile.
“You’ll need a good lady’s maid in London.”
“Yes, I’ll find one there.” She hardly knew what she said. She swallowed as her handsome husband advanced toward her, naked, erect, and alarmingly well-endowed.
He joined her on the bed, his hard, warm body pressed against hers, and she threw her arms around him with a moan of delight.
“Shall we remove this?” he asked.
She nodded, suddenly shy.
He drew her nightgown off and tossed it down. Then his gaze roamed over her. “My, but I have a beautiful wife,” he said huskily, as she lay there blushing and resisting the urge to cover herself.
Brandon ravished her mouth, then began to explore her body slowly, moving down to kiss places she had no idea were so sensitive. As his mouth lavished attention on her tender, peaked nipples, his hand slid between her thighs while desire settled low in her belly. She was hot, her body slick with desire. With a mew of pleasure, she arched to meet him as he teased her, the quiet room filled with their labored breathing.
The warmth of his insistent touch caused ripples, shudders, and waves of sensation, her body pulsing beneath his clever fingers. The exquisite sensation built while she sought something maddingly beyond her reach. When he finally drew away, he left her panting, floating on a crest which slowly deposited her back in reality. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with tenderness and passion. “Letty,” he murmured. A fission of desire rushed through her. She wanted him inside her desperately.
But when he parted her thighs and mounted her, and his erection pushed against her entrance, she tensed suddenly, fearful that it would hurt.
At her anxious whimper, Brandon stilled; his eyes sought hers. “Relax, sweetheart. It might hurt a bit, but not for long.”
Brandon was an experienced lover. Letty tried not to think of all the women he had made love to. She would learn to please him and banish them all from his mind forever.
With a thru
st, he pushed inside her. The jolt of pain and heat banished any thoughts as she clung to his shoulders with a gasp of surprise. Letty moaned. Brandon cradled her head and kissed her, his tongue tracing the interior of her mouth as he moved slowly within her. He filled her. The overwhelming emotion of being one with him brought a sob to her lips, the effect so explosive, the discomfort vanished. She moaned and showered kisses on his neck and shoulder and anywhere she could reach while her hands traced a path over his muscled back down to his slim waist and powerful buttocks. How lithe and strong he was. He began to thrust into her, hard and fast, stirring excitement to fever pitch, making her dig her fingers into his shoulders.
He groaned, and with a final thrust stilled, then withdrew. He rolled off her. “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?”
“Only a little.” Letty trembled, limp, and profoundly moved. She licked her sore lip, which she might have bitten, and smiled at him.
“It will get better, I promise.” He rested his head on her breast, his hand gently caressing her body.
His silky dark hair played through her fingers as she stroked his head. She smiled to herself. She was truly a woman now and felt so replete. So sleepy. Her eyelids grew heavy. She was vaguely aware of him pulling up the covers and kissing her gently before sleep claimed her.
Brandon woke as the sun rimmed the curtains, he gazed with tenderness down on his beautiful bride, curled up beside him, one hand on his chest. She had been wonderful last night. Well she’d been his Letty. Brave, passionate, and beguiling. He wanted to wake her and make love to her again, but steeled himself to let her sleep, to allow her body to heal. He threw back the covers and left the bed. He would dress and take coffee and read the newspaper in the parlor.
“Brandon?” A sleepy voice came from the bed.
He spun around, his breeches in his hand. “Yes, sweetheart?”
Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two Page 42