Lark stood to curtsey, though it was difficult to stand with Brandon in her arms, and she gasped and held him tighter when Alex introduced her as the Countess of Blackburne.
“Countess!” Lark said with a laugh.
“And so you are,” Alex said. “Did you not realize it?”
“Oh but I cannot be,” Lark wailed. “I am not half good enough.”
Alex and Claudia disabused Lark of that dotty notion that very day.
The following day, after Ash left for London, Lark took the opportunity to visit the Blackburne Chase tenants, starting at the dower house. Olive and Stan begged her to leave Briana and Micah with them while she continued her visits. Children loved spending time with Stan and Olive, and hers were no exception. Though the older couple had none of their own, they loved children and gave them every attention.
Between cottage visits, Lark took the time to stop and visit old Doctor Buckston. The man’s short white hair stuck up in sparse tufts about his head, while his long beard hung full and waving. His constantly-furrowed brows, both thicker and whiter than the hair on his head, gave him the look of a large gnome bearing the disposition of the curmudgeon Ash named him. His growled greeting did nothing to alleviate Lark’s impression; neither did his ire at being disturbed.
He closed the door on what he called his laboratory before she could discern the nature of the haphazard projects scattered about, though at a glance the debris reminded her a great deal of Stan’s woodworking shop at the back of the dower house.
“So,” said he. “Are you itching for a second chance at shooting me in the ballocks?”
Lark blushed. “I apologize for the nature of our first meeting. I … I was afraid, you see.”
“Needed no medical book to diagnose that,” he said. “Frightened virgins’ always look so, though not another in my long life has shot her Lord and Master in the arse on their wedding night.” Buckston slapped his knee with glee.
Awed by his merriment, Lark wondered suddenly why people thought him cross.
“So what are you doing here?” he asked. “Out with it. I ain’t got all day.”
Ah, she thought. That was why. “I think I may be with child.”
“Guess Himself got his arse out of that sling you put him in, eh?” The medical man chuckled again. “Does this mean you’re not afraid of him anymore?”
Lark had discovered his secret. The old charlatan was all bluster. “How do I know if I am with child? Can you tell me for certain?”
“Don’t know why you’d want a brat. They’re all too noisy. Best lock ‘em in a room ‘til they can talk sense.” He winked, and asked all the same questions Alexandra did, and all but confirmed her diagnosis, based on the same evidence, enlarged and tender breasts, small hard mound of a stomach, missing monthlies.
Everything seemed quite straightforward and easy, until he asked her to lie on his table and lift her skirts.
When Lark yelped in outrage, Buckston whisked a bedpan before his ballocks.
Lark softened at his look. “Take heart,” she said. “My husband has confiscated my pistol.
“Smart man. Speaking of hearts,” he said. “You made mine near burst from my chest just now. I thought me worldly goods were done for.” The doctor wiped his brow with a sleeve, thanked a deity Lark did not recognize, and proceeded to explain his examination.
“When did you have your last flux?” he asked again.
“In late spring,” she said. “Near as I can remember.”
Buckston nodded.
Lark confirmed that he was a gentle man, kind and mannerly, who simply wore the guise of a curmudgeon.
“Well your husband’s pistol didn’t get confiscated, now, did it?” he said toward the end of his examination. “Because one of his bullets hit home. You’ve got one on the way for sure, Mistress.”
Lark walked on air as she left his office that day. She was carrying a child. Ash’s child. A child conceived in tenderness, possibly even in love, on her part. She could not wait to tell Ash—
Oh no, if she told him, he would stop coming to her bed. She loved having him make love to her, even if that’s not what they were really doing. She loved sleeping in his arms, waking there too. His hands soothed her to her marrow; his kiss lulled her and brought her joy. She liked warming her cold feet against his warm man-parts, another pleasure she would miss without him in her bed.
Why had she made that terrible stipulation, and how could she change her mind now that the time had come?
‘Twas something she must ponder. She would wait to tell Ash of their expected child until she knew how to rescind her rule without making herself, or any future requests, seem trivial or foolish.
Once she told him, she would take Alexandra’s advice and make it seem as if she were holding to her stipulation, while seducing Ash back into her bed, in such a way as to make him think his powers of seduction had won.
When the time came, she would take out that milky-green jar and ask him to apply the oil of seduction Alex gave her, and perhaps even attempt the ploy of interrupting him in his bath.
Come to think of it, perhaps that might be a good time to tell him that she had cheated him into marrying her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lark hated that Ash was forced to remain in London for nearly two weeks in an effort to complete his inquiries into Briana’s paternity. By the end of the second, Lark had paced herself sick, imagining the worst possible results of his findings.
Sometime after midnight, while she lay wakeful and worried, she heard a coach stop beneath the portico. She shot from her bed, never so glad of anything than to arrive at the top of the main stairs in time to see her husband—handsome in his cape and curly beaver—step into the foyer and hand Grimsley his cane.
She ran down in her bare feet, wearing one of the new night-rails and dressing gowns he’d had fashioned for her.
Ash gave Grim his things and shook his head when he saw her coming. “I wonder you did not take the stair rail for better speed.” He chuckled, caught her in his arms, and kissed her with speaking passion. Twas everything she wanted in a homecoming kiss, except for the worry he attempted to hide but she sensed nonetheless.
“Bad news,” she said, stepping back. “I know you have bad news. We cannot keep her, can we?”
Because Grimsley stood nearby, holding his cape, top hat and cane, Ash did not immediately answer Lark. “The nights get colder as August comes to a close,” he said. “Grim, tea in the drawing room?”
Ash bid his wife precede him toward the room he found most soothing with its blue damask furnishings and silk striped walls. He sat beside her on the settee, where he took her into his arms and kissed her again, because he’d missed her so much, and then he kept her beside him so he could hold her as they talked.
“Pull your feet up and tuck them under your dressing gown,” he ordered. “We cannot have you becoming ill.”
“Can we not? Why?”
“Because you have children to raise.”
“More than Micah?” she asked turning him toward the subject troubling her.
“Perhaps,” he said.
“Oh Ash, tell me.”
“Nora and her friend, Jane, lost touch after Nora married Ames and went to live in France. So Jane knows nothing but gossip about Nora’s last years and it is not pretty. Word is that Ames’ temper got the better of him, more often than not, and that he was responsible for Nora’s illness. When her lover called Ames out, Ames was killed in the ensuing duel.”
“Her husband’s rising temper could be the reason Nora sent Briana to you, then, could it not, rather than your paternity?”
“I thought the same, but Jane says Briana is my natural daughter. Nora confided as much when she was frantic to find her unborn child a father.”
Ash sighed and chafed his wife’s cold hands. “I am sorry, Lark. I know you wanted to bear my first child. I could see it in your face. But you love the one I already have, despite your disappointment
, do you not?”
“Yes, Ash, I do. Yes,” she repeated, initiating another kiss, one filled with a meaning Ash could not discern. “Tell me, then,” she said when he would have continued. “What is the problem with our keeping Briana, if she is yours?”
“There is a man claiming to be Ames’ uncle searching for Briana. He claims also to have a letter from Ames naming him the girl’s guardian. He has made inquiries as to her whereabouts of Carstairs, our family solicitor.”
“Oh no,” Lark said. “Is he not the man who sent Briana to us in the first place?”
“Yes. Arranging an appointment with him is what kept me in London. I felt the need to meet with Carstairs myself, though I never used Briana’s real name, not even with our own solicitor. Good news, though. Carstairs has not as yet told this “uncle” where to find Briana and he has promised to look deeply into the matter and put the man off for as long as may be within the law. Meanwhile I have applied to Hunter to have the man’s activities investigated.”
“Does Hunter do such work?”
“Yes, he does, has done since the war, though the fact is not widely known and should be kept between us.”
“I understand and appreciate whatever he can do. I would do anything to keep Briana from being taken from us.”
“We, both of us, would.” Ash rose to gaze out the night-black window. “My father was right. I hurt so many with my selfish flight to war. My mother lies helpless, Nora, forced to take such a man, cut down in her youth.”
He turned to regard Lark, innocent and caring. “I do not deserve you, nor do I feel worthy enough to bring a new child into the world.”
Lark smiled at what she likely perceived as a jest, Ash thought, though he was serious. He wasn’t good enough for her.
“You are a good father Ash. We have two children, not even our own, who would attest to it.”
“As they would to your mothering. I have applied for their guardianship, Lark, Micah’s and Briana’s. I know we should have discussed such a step beforehand, but it seemed imperative of a sudden to sign the documents. I have written to Reed Gilbride St. Yves to speed the process. He has friends in high places after his service to the crown, and if any man knows how to obtain swift and legal custody of children, he is the one.”
Lark threw herself into his arms. “I am so pleased, Ash. You will see that they have a future. A real future. Come.” She took his hand and led him from the drawing room as Grimsley made to enter with the tea tray.
“His Lordship is no longer thirsty, Grimsley,” his audacious bride announced as she led him willingly up the stairs.
Ash hauled her up short half way there. “You are a heavy-handed one this evening. May I ask what you are about?”
“I am about to fill my hands with something even heavier.” She glanced askance at the evidence of his interest. “Shall we make another attempt at a baby? The task has been deuced difficult without a potential father in attendance.”
Ash barked a laugh. “I have missed you, saucepot.”
“Come,” she said, “and show me how much.”
Ash happily complied.
In September, Lark and the children went lavender gathering, so she and cook would have the supplies to make soaps, sachets, and lavender wands, as Christmas gifts for her guests.
Another day, they went apple-picking in the orchard. After they filled several baskets of the shiny red fruit, she was tired, so she spread a blanket in the grass. For tea, they ate the bread, cheese, and the apple tarts she had brought. Then Lark bid the children lie down and rest before they picked more apples, and she did the same.
She had no sooner closed her eyes than someone was attempting to rouse her. “Aunt-eee, Aunt-eee, wake up, wake up. Briana is crying.”
“Micah!” Lark sat up with a rush of dizziness. “How long have I been asleep?” She touched her brow to stop its spinning, and then she took in her surroundings and assimilated her nephew’s … words? “Micah, did you speak to me?”
“Briana is in the tree crying.”
Lark rose then, with no more thought to the miracle that had just occurred, and every thought for Briana’s safety, and followed her nephew toward a grandfather of a horse chestnut tree.
Micah pointed upward and Lark was forced, with trepidation, to shade her eyes with a hand, against the glare of the setting sun. There she saw Briana, so far up, as to appear the size of an ant amid the chestnut’s full shirred leaves.
“How did she manage to climb so high? Never mind. Micah, run and fetch his Lordship, and hurry. Bring him back, oh and tell him to bring a ladder.”
As soon as Micah left, Lark began climbing toward Briana. “Are you all right?” she called, for the child had said nothing since she appeared.
“My foot is stuck and I am afraid to tug it and fall.”
Lark thought she must be sixty feet up, she seemed so far away. “Can you see a safe place to sit and wait for help?” Lark called.
Briana looked about her and found a stout limb on which to perch.
“That’s my girl.” Lark climbed forever, while a score of ripe, spiny chestnuts dropped around her, sometimes hitting her, until she reached the child. Not that reaching her meant either of them was safe.
It took several minutes to extract Briana’s foot from the crook of the tree, and even then, they were forced to leave her shoe behind.
“Listen, darling, I am going to help you get down one limb at a time. You will go down one, then I will get down one, and then you will have your turn again. Do you understand?”
Briana nodded and heeded Lark’s every instruction, no matter how minor, and in that way, they managed to descend the better part of the distance, until Lark slipped, teetered, clung, and fell to the ground.
“I am all right,” she called up. “‘Twas barely thrice the length of my own body I fell.” She heard men shouting, and running feet, and then Ash was lifting her into his arms, muffling his scold with kisses.
One of the tenants got Briana the rest of the way down and carried her, as Ash carried Lark, to the farm wagon she had brought to haul the apples. The tenant rode his horse to the village for the doctor while Ash drove Briana, Lark and Micah, straight to the Chase.
Mim put Briana to bed and Ash put Lark to bed, then he paced and raged around the perimeter of her bed while they awaited the doctor.
Buckston saw Briana first and pronounced her fit, Mim reported, and then the doctor came to examine Lark.
To her relief, Buckston sent Ash from the room while he examined her. “My baby?” she asked, after the door shut.
The doctor only grunted in response to the question and remained silent throughout his examination. Finally, he pronounced her and her baby fit, but for her twisted ankle.
“You had better take life easier and no more tree-climbing until this little one of yours appears, if you wish to keep him from harm,” he said.
“No more tree-climbing,” she said, “I understand, but as for taking life easier….”
“Yes?” Buckston looked incredulous as he gazed at her above his spectacles.
“I am to have a Christmas House Party,” she said. “A rather large one.”
“Nearly three months from now? You’ll be big-bellied and no mistake by then. Society don’t usually approve a woman of an interesting condition showing that much in company.”
“‘Twill not be a society gathering, close friends only, with a great many children. Micah never had Christmas. Please Doctor Buckston; I could do without it, but poor Micah and Briana.”
That seemed to soften him as nothing else had. “How many children?” he asked, almost warily, as if he must put up with the lot of them himself.
“Two of ours, ten of Reed and Chastity’s … oh my, fifteen or twenty, I’d guess, all ages. I can hardly wait.”
Buckston rolled his eyes then shook his head as if he couldn’t understand, though the charlatan could not keep his big old eyes from twinkling. “Unless something happens in the next we
ek to say different, I can’t see any reason why you should not have your Christmas House Party, providing you rest until the very day.”
Lark grinned and covered her babe protectively, more grateful than she could say, but as she was about to warn the doctor that she had not as yet given her husband her happy news, Ash stepped into the room, his jaw set. He would not be turned away again.
“Well, how is she, Buckston? May I take her over my knee now and beat her for her foolishness?”
“Not if you want a healthy babe come February.”
Ash paled. Lark had never seen the like. He looked so pallid of a sudden, so without color, that Buckston pushed him down to sit on her bed with a mere finger to his shoulder. The grinning medical man picked up Ash’s wrist as if to test it for life. “Gonna swoon on us, old man?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Do not be ridiculous,” Ash said, but his words held no bite.
“Rogues are the most skittish of men when it comes to dealing with their increasing wives,” the doctor told Lark as she watched her husband with worry.
“Why is that?” she asked.
Buckston shrugged. “Perhaps they know they’re perpetuating trouble, or can envision the problems they’ll face raising terrors like themselves. Difficult to say.”
Lark laughed, but when she did, Ash turned on her, accusation lacing his look. He might be surprised about the babe, but she was not, and he knew it.
The doctor saw I, too, and packed his leather satchel with no little dispatch. “No, no need see me out. Grimsley is like to be waiting just beyond the door. He’ll set me down the stairs just fine and send me on my way with a dollop, besides.” Buckston regarded Ash pointedly. “Meet her half way.”
Ash nodded, opened the door for the medical man to depart, and shut it again.
Lark closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.
“Won’t work,” Ash said. “You’ll have to face me sooner or later.”
Lark took in the thunderous set to her husband’s brow. “Did you honestly mean to beat me?” she asked.
“You frightened ten years from my life, not to mention Micah telling me Briana was in trouble and you were trying to save her. I could not think beyond the amazing sound of his voice, while the situation he conveyed scared the bejesus out of me.”
Untamable Rogue (Formerly: A Christmas Baby) Page 19