by Connie Lane
It was, apparently, one small detail Willie had been too distressed to notice. Now that it was pointed out to her that Smithe was not dead but was, in fact, both moaning and thrashing while he clutched what looked to be no more than a small wound to the side of his neck, she backed away from him.
“He said there was a ship,” she explained, her voice breathless and hard to hear over Smithe’s winging. “And that once we were on it, the captain would marry us. He brought a knife up from when he ate his meal.” She looked at the knife in her hands and seeing that it was red with Smithe’s blood, she tossed it onto the bed.
It seemed that ridding herself of the knife also rid Willie of all her fears. Of course, the sight of Nick had something to do with that as well. A rush of relief tore through her and she threw herself into his arms.
“Oh, Nick!” She didn’t even realize she was crying until she heard her words tear in two. “I knew you would come. Or at least I hoped it. I did. It’s just that…” She swallowed hard and looked to where Smithe lay. “I couldn’t wait any longer. Once we were on the ship—”
“You did exactly the right thing.” He held her tight and smoothed a hand over her hair, which had been mussed considerably in her struggle with Smithe. He kissed her cheek and her nose and, for not nearly long enough, her lips. He might have gone right on kissing her if the door to the room had not crashed inward.
Hexam, Latimer, and Palliston piled into the room followed by Madame, Rooster, Mr. Finch, and Simon Marquand. There were at least a half dozen young men out in the passageway who Willie did not recognize. They all looked as happy to see her as she was to see them.
“Miss Willie…” It was Arthur Hexam who made the first move. Because the room was small, there wasn’t much space. He hopped over Smithe and oblivious to the fact that Nick’s arm was around Willie, he dropped to one knee and grabbed her hand. “I hardly care if you’ve been compromised,” Hexam said. “You are the finest baker this side of Asia, Miss Culpepper, and I would be most glad if you would agree to be my—”
“Oh, no!” Palliston stepped between Hexam and Willie, appropriating her hand as he did. “The last thing you need is to listen to Hexam’s prattle,” he said. “Miss Culpepper, I would be most honored if you would listen to my suit and agree to be my—”
“It’s ludicrous, I think you’ll agree.” Not to be outdone, Latimer hopped over the bed and insinuated himself between Palliston and Willie. “They are but unlicked cubs,” he said, glancing at his friends and smiling his superiority, “and cannot possibly know the tug of true sentiment to their hearts. Miss Willie, if you would but say yes to me, I—”
“Gentlemen!” Willie had no doubt it was meant to be a solemn occasion, no more than she doubted that though they were conveyed away by their emotions, the three Dashers before her were entirely serious. Still, she could not help but laugh. “I am grateful. Truly.” She sniffed and when Nick’s handkerchief was suddenly in front of her eyes, she snatched it from his fingers and smiled her gratitude. She wiped it delicately under her nose. “I do not think, really, that this is the time for such talk. I have, after all, just rebuffed one proposal.” She looked down at Smithe and clicked her tongue. The injury she’d done him was no more than a scratch and yet the man carried on so! Disgusted as much by Smithe’s hen-heartedness as she was by his person, she shook her head and turned her attention back to the Dashers.
She was just in time to see Mr. Hexam’s expression fall. And Palliston’s cloud. And Latimer’s grow even more earnest.
“Perhaps we should be rid of Reverend Smithe before we worry about anything else,” Nick suggested, and Willie was grateful for it. He stowed his pistol and at his signal, Simon Marquand and Mr. Finch each grabbed one of Smithe’s arms. None too gently—for his face was to the floor and his nose, being prominent, was in no small amount of peril—they dragged him out into the passageway where they turned him over to the young men who were well muscled enough to make sure the good reverend knew of their displeasure. If the bumping sounds they heard meant anything, the Reverend Smithe was on his way down the stairs and well into learning a lesson.
Though Hexam, Palliston, and Latimer looked reluctant to follow, Madame waved them on. She gave Willie a wink and bustled down the passageway after them. But not before she closed the door behind her.
“Oh, Nick!” Willie put a hand to each of his cheeks and kissed him hard, her whole heart so tangled up in relief and the affection she had for Nick that she found she could barely breathe. “I’m happier than I can say that you came for me.”
“I would not have had to come for you if you had not run away.”
His words were not so harsh as they were simply true and, guilty, Willie moved back a step. “I couldn’t stay,” she said. New tears sprang to her eyes. “If anyone found out about us—”
“Anyone?” A look of confusion darkened Nick’s handsome face. “You mean—”
“The Morrisons, of course. If I stayed and we were tempted again—” She couldn’t bear it if he looked at her tenderly and she turned away and moved as far from him as the little room allowed. “If I stayed, it might have jeopardized your marriage to Miss Morrison. You have…” She was almost afraid to ask and yet she knew she had no choice. She had to know the truth. “You’ve talked to Mr. Morrison?”
He nodded. “Right before I left town.”
She wasn’t sure what else she expected him to say. In that part of her made whole and wild from the taste of his lips and the heat of his lovemaking, she imagined that he would pull her into his arms. That he would toss her onto the bed and, even as Madame and the rest of them waited in the dingy little room downstairs, that he would take her again and make her his own.
Instead, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. And Willie knew her dreams were nothing but fantasy. And false, as illusion often is.
Clutching her hands at her waist, she turned back to him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice husky with emotion she dared not reveal. “Thank you for coming for me. I’m sorry I inconvenienced you. You must convey my regret to Mr. Hexam and Mr. Palliston and—”
“You mean you’re not going to take any one of them up on his offer of marriage?”
He meant it as a jest but Willie didn’t feel like smiling. “No.” She shook her head. “Give them my apologies, please. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you—”
“There is one thing.” Nick linked his hands behind his back. His knuckles were scraped and he winced a bit but still, he maintained the pose. He was tall and the ceiling in the little room was low. His shoulders were wide and the size of the room was hardly enough to hold the two of them. Even with his cheeks scratched and his clothes dirty and a straggling sprig of ivy trailing from the spot where it had been wound around one of his buttons, he looked more imposing than ever.
And Willie loved him very much.
“I will do anything,” she said and she knew in her heart that it was true. There wasn’t a thing she could ever refuse him. “Anything you ask.”
“Good.” Nick moved toward the door, his movements as brisk and precise as his words. “Then you’ll come back to London with me now. It is nearly the end of June and I have an engagement to announce, Miss Culpepper. Damn it, you’re the one who got me into this thing. You’re going to be at my side when I go through with it.”
18
If she had not been so weary from her adventure and Nick had not been so insistent on announcing his engagement no later than the night they arrived back in London, Willie might have been tempted to leave again.
As it was, she simply did not have the energy. And she certainly did not have the heart. Right after he bundled Willie into his carriage along with Madame, Mr. Finch, and Simon Marquand, Nick headed back to town on his horse. But while her companions dozed, Willie could find no peace. It was hard to sleep when she was so busy wondering what she might have done differently. And how she ever could have let herself fall in love with a man who was so far o
ut of her reach.
Upon their return to Somerton House, Nick was nowhere to be found. Lynnette arrived as if by magic and while Willie bathed and went to her room to rest, Lynnette took over the household with characteristic energy. By the time Willie woke and dressed in the white and silver gown Lynnette had brought along with her and persisted in badgering her about until she agreed to wear it for the occasion, things were well in hand.
Though Madame and the rest of them must be no more well refreshed than Willie, they had managed, somehow, to put a shine on the house and prepare it for their guests. When Willie walked downstairs, candles gleamed from every sconce and holder. Flowers spilled from the vases that had been arranged on every table. A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen.
And Willie thought that perhaps—if not for the presence of the awful Reverend Smithe, who she heard had been tossed quite unceremoniously onto a ship and told never to set foot in England again—it might be good to be anywhere other than Somerton House, even on a ship and heading toward India. It was preferable to standing at Nick’s side when he told the world that he had chosen the beautiful, the charming, the elegant, the perfectly perfect Miss Amelia Morrison as his wife.
It was very quiet.
Willie must have noticed it earlier but her head was so filled with thoughts and her heart so heavy, she did not realize it. There was no sign of Jem or Mr. Finch near the front door, no sign of Madame or the girls bustling back and forth as surely they must do before a great number of people could be welcomed into the house.
As loath as she was to have any hand in it, Willie knew she could not leave it to chance for the night be a success. Nick deserved better than that. She turned and headed into the salon to make sure things were ready.
Though there were instruments ready near one corner of the room, there was no sign of musicians. Though there were buffet tables set up along the far wall and though they were filled with fresh fruit and huge hams and an assortment of sweets the likes of which she had never seen before, there was no sign of the servants who might have brought them there.
Curious, Willie decided to head into the kitchen. She had not made her way farther than the door when it snapped open and Nick walked into the room.
He shone like sunlight in the glow of a hundred candles, his hair as golden as a sunrise, his buff trousers clean and neatly pressed, his blue kerseymere coat bringing out the color of his eyes. Willie’s heart squeezed at the very sight of him.
Nick did not look the least surprised to see her or to see that she was alone. He did look surprised to see her wearing Lynnette’s white muslin dress.
The gown was no more than a whisper, a confection with short, puffed sleeves and a low neckline. The fabric was shot through with silver threads that caught the light. Looking at Nick, she could have sworn the shimmer of it was reflected in his eyes.
For a moment, he did nothing but stand with his back to the closed door. It looked as if he wanted to say something and for that same moment, Willie’s breath caught over the expectation that clamored through her insides like a horse at full gallop. The next second, he swallowed down his words and Willie reminded herself that expectations were a waste of her time. She shook herself out of her daydreams and when she did, Nick pushed away from the door, anxious to get things started.
“Are we ready?” he asked.
“It appears so.” Willie glanced around the room. “The food is here but your guests are not. And the staff—”
“The staff is waiting outside.” Nick glanced over his shoulder at the door. “I asked if I might have a private word with you before they came in.”
“I do not think that’s wise.” Willie made a move to get around him but he sidestepped and blocked her way. “There’s nothing we can say to each other. Not anymore.”
“Do you really think so?” The hint of a smile shone in Nick’s eyes. “I was going to mention that we’re just in time with all this. Tomorrow is the last day of June, after all, and Ravensfield’s wager is set to run its course. If I wait until July or later to marry, Ravensfield will come off much the richer. And it will be all my fault. The blackguard will never let me hear the end of it.”
“Tomorrow?” The word settled inside Willie, more frightening even than the awareness that assailed her when she realized the Reverend Smithe meant to kidnap her and make her his wife. “You mean to wed so soon as that?”
“Of course.” Nick looked at her as if she were mad. “Why wait? As a matter of fact, I’ve already arranged for a special license and puffed it off to the papers. If you say no now, all the world will know that you are a jilt and that I was not man enough to make you happy.”
Willie heard the words, she simply could not comprehend them. Her heart stopped, then started again with enough of a jolt that she was certain Nick heard it.
“And you are saying—”
“I am saying what I should have said before you took it into your head to leave. What I’ve known for so long but was too blind to see. I can’t live without you, Willie, my darling. That’s why I am asking. Pleading, really.” He took her hand in his. “Be my wife.”
“But the money!”
“Damn the money.” Laughing, he kissed the little furrow of confusion between her brows, smoothing it away with the heat of his lips. “Damn the money and damn the family name. What good is it to have a family name at all when you don’t have the family you want? What I want, now as always, is you, Miss Culpepper.”
“And how will we live?”
Nick kissed her cheek and the tip of her ear. He glided a series of kisses across her collarbone. “On love, I think,” he whispered.
Willie’s heart swelled.
Her head suggested otherwise.
She pulled back enough to look Nick in the eye. “If you want to marry me tomorrow just so that the Duke of Ravensfield loses his wager…”
Nick had the good grace to look contrite. “Damn Ravensfield and his wager,” he said. “There is one way to prove to you that I am sincere. I will elaborate later. I will also…” He bent to press a kiss to her throat. “Should you allow me, I will also like to demonstrate just how in love with you I am.”
There were no words sufficient to convey her answer so Willie did not even try to find them. Instead, she showed Nick and when she was done kissing him thoroughly enough to let him know that she would happily let him demonstrate his feelings for her as soon as they were alone together again, they opened the door and invited their staff inside for the engagement celebration.
July 1, 1816
Though the Dashers insisted otherwise, Nick and Willie had their way. The wedding was small and quiet. The Duke of Latimer stood as groomsman and Lynnette as bridesmaid. The pews at the front of the church were packed cheek to jowl and just as Willie predicted, Madame cried copiously. She could not help but notice that Clover, Bess, Marie, and Flossie did their share of sniffling, too.
Willie wore a wreath of pink roses around her head which—or so Nick claimed—was the perfect match to the color that rose in her cheeks the night before when he found that wonderful, ticklish spot just below her navel that was as smooth as silk and tasted—or so he said—like peaches.
They had not had time to plan much of a going away but they determined that after a wedding breakfast prepared by Simon Marquand and a celebration attended by the cream of the Polite World as well as—scandalously enough—Nick’s household staff, they might spend some time at one of his country houses.
They would be forced to sell the house sooner rather than later and as Nick so rightly pointed out, they may as well make some use of it before the time came.
The ceremony was appropriately solemn, even if the groom could not help but smile the entire time, and the wishes of the guests rose up like the sound of the church bells that clanged overhead when Nick and Willie turned to walk down the aisle.
Near the back of the church, a figure cloaked in black stepped from the shadows and into the aisle and they stopped, surp
rised.
“I couldn’t wait to convey my congratulations.” The Duke of Ravensfield bowed over Willie’s hand and clasped Nick’s in hearty good wishes. “I had not thought to ever see you look so happy, Somerton. And I certainly had not thought that it would be because you were an April gentleman.”
“I must say, you are looking uncommonly contented yourself, Your Grace.” Nick put an arm around Willie’s shoulders. “Could that have anything to do with the fact that you made a great deal of money thanks to me? After all, I did not marry in the allotted time.”
Ravensfield’s grin widened. “A great deal of money, indeed.” Still smiling, he pulled a thick packet from inside his greatcoat and handed it to Willie. “And I hope, ma’am, that you will accept a portion of my winnings as my bride gift. There was a great deal of wagering, you see. I’ve won so much that I confess, I nearly feel guilty. I thought I might share as it were. It’s the least I can do for the couple who helped make me even richer than I was when I started out.” Before either of them could say a thing, he bowed and hurried out of the church.
“Nick!” Willie did not need to open the packet to know it contained a great deal of money. It was very heavy. “Nick, do you think—”
“That it’s enough to keep us out of the suds for a while? Certainly.” Nick looked at the packet and at the retreating back of the Duke of Ravensfield in wonder. “Ravensfield!” He called to the man, but he didn’t stop. He hurried toward his waiting carriage. Side by side, Willie and Nick dashed down the church steps.
“Ravensfield!” Nick called out again and this time, the duke, who had already climbed into a phaeton and had the reins in hand, had no choice but to stop. He waited, looking none too pleased with the fact that his generosity was not only being acknowledged but might be publicly proclaimed.
Nick realized it as surely as did Willie and he moved to put an end to the duke’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, Your Grace,” he said, “I’m not going to thank you. On the contrary, I was going to point out that you were wrong.”