“Other than the money Gillian and I set aside for her, Liana’s dowry only consists of…” Colin stopped and looked at Jarrod, suddenly remembering details he’d forgotten about his heritage. “My mother was born in France to Scots émigrés from the Jacobite Rebellion of Forty-five. My grandmother, Marianne Hepburn, was born a Douglas. She left a daughter’s portion of coin to my mother and another daughter’s portion of property to be used as a dowry for her first granddaughter. That property is a chateau between Paris and Meaux that belonged to my grandparents and a small house on the Firth of Forth just outside Edinburgh my grandmother inherited from her mother, Colette Ramsay. The chateau was heavily damaged during the revolution. It’s a burnt out shell. And the house in Edinburgh is in shambles and has been abandoned since we left Scotland so I could attend Knightsguild. Both are presumably empty.”
“The Firth of Forth isn’t blockaded,” Weymouth said. “Cargo continues to move through it to France, the Lowlands, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway.”
“Rather Mean didn’t want Grantham’s sister for himself,” Shepherdston predicted. “He wanted an empty house on the firth in Scotland and a chateau in France to use to smuggle rifles.”
“I’ll brief Castlereagh.” Weymouth checked his timepiece, then looked at Shepherdston. “Where’s Rothermere now?”
“According to the Chronicle, he’s recovering from his injury at Courtland Manor,” Shepherdston answered. “If he’s still alive.”
Weymouth lifted an eyebrow at that.
“I have a man inside with orders to watch Courtland’s back. That includes his mother and now, his wife.”
“What?” Colin blurted.
“Since when?” Jonathan demanded.
“Since Courtland became the only one of us crossing the channel on a weekly basis.” Jarrod held up his hand to forestall their comments. “Stallings is entirely trustworthy and discreet. He’ll see that no harm comes to Alex.”
“I’ll speak to Castlereagh about arranging for a warrant to arrest Rothermere,” Weymouth said.
“It’s just a theory,” Jonathan said, reminding Weymouth and Shepherdston not to act too hastily.
“Aye, that’s true,” Colin added. “But it’s a good theory.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“She’s adorned
Amply that in her husband’s eye looks lovely,—
The truest mirror that an honest wife
Can see her beauty in.”
—John Tobin, 1770-1804
In the suite two doors down from Viscount Grantham’s suite, the wives of the Free Fellows League members in Vienna for the Congress were enjoying hot chocolate, Viennese pastries, and cozy conversation. The ladies had been barely acquainted when they arrived in Vienna, but after eight months of negotiations and parties, Gillian, Viscountess Grantham, Sarah, Marchioness of Shepherdston, and India, Countess Barclay had become fast friends. They considered themselves the Noble Ladies League.
The ladies weren’t supposed to know about the Free Fellows League, but they all did. They didn’t always know the nature of the secret work their husbands performed for England, but they knew it was vital to the well-being of the country. Gillian, the longest married lady of the group, even worked with her husband to help decipher French code. Recognized as a contributor by Lord Weymouth, Gillian had become an unofficial member of the Free Fellows League.
Sarah, Marchioness of Shepherdston, had known and loved her husband, Jarrod, since childhood. She’d spent her school holidays following Jarrod and his companions around the grounds surrounding Shepherdston Hall and the tiny village of Helford Green, where she’d grown up. She had known about the Free Fellows League almost from its inception. She understood that her husband was the leader of the group. He excelled in gathering information, organizing, and planning missions. Sarah didn’t work with her husband, but she kept his secrets and supported him in every way she could, which made his work possible.
India, Countess Barclay, had the most interesting background of all of the ladies, having spent five years as a prisoner in the Topkapi in Istanbul. She’d learned of the Free Fellows League when her husband Jonathan had promised to collect a parcel for Gillian’s father, Lord Davies. India had been the parcel and in the course of collecting it, India and Jonathan had fallen in love.
The ladies had come to the League on different paths, but they’d all come to it through love. Their husbands never admitted to the existence of the league or relayed the details of their missions, but they no longer actively tried to hide the fact that the five friends were involved in some sort of secret organization that worked with and for the British government. The ladies found it humorous that their husbands had never been able to keep the secret from them.
They were discussing the impending births of the Duchess of Avon’s and the Countess of Weymouth’s babies back home in England when Gillian joined them.
“Lady Weymouth is nearing the time of her confinement,” Sarah said. “And so is Her Grace, the Duchess of Avon.”
Gillian nodded. “Lord Weymouth told me moments ago that he’s leaving for home in two days’ time in order to be there for the birth.”
“He’s been very concerned,” India added. “Lady Weymouth has suffered many miscarriages over the years and she’s nearly forty and eight. This is most likely her last chance to have a baby.”
“And think how the Duke of Avon must feel! Worrying about his mother and his wife. Alyssa will be confined the same time as her mother-in-law,” Sarah said. “Imagine our little group with two babies in our midst. His Grace will have a child of his own and a brother or a sister in the same year.”
“It’s happy news.” Gillian took a sip of her chocolate. “Colin said His Grace admitted to wanting a girl, but that Alyssa is insisting on having an heir.”
“At least, Her Grace, the Duchess of Sussex, will be close by,” India said. “Jonathan said the two duchesses have been fast friends for years even if the two dukes had to become friends.”
“I have more happy news,” Sarah announced. “I’ve a letter from Aunt Etta.” Sarah’s maternal aunt, Henrietta, had married Jarrod’s godfather, Lord Robert Mayhew, a few weeks before Sarah and Jarrod were married. “She wrote with the news that she’s increasing as well.”
“Oh, Sarah, that’s wonderful!” India exclaimed.
Sarah nodded. “She’s forty and four and all these years she believed she was barren.” She smiled. “It turns out all she needed was a better husband. She says Lord Rob is over the moon and puffed out like a peacock.”
“I would love to have a baby,” India admitted to her friends. “But not here in Vienna. I refuse to get myself with child while we’re here. I was born in India, but I want my children born in England. I want them to be English through and through. I don’t want them to call any place else home. Jonathan agrees.”
“Jarrod and I feel the same way. But surely, you haven’t…” Sarah asked. Not making love to her husband would be agony for her. She loved sharing the marriage bed with Jarrod. She blushed and her red hair seemed to grow even redder. “We’ve been here half a year…”
“Gone without intimate relations?” India shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Then how can you be sure you’re not going to get with child?” Gillian asked.
“I spent five years in a harem,” India answered matter-of-factly. “I learned several ways to prevent conception and still enjoy intimate relations.”
“Things we could do?” Sarah asked.
“Of course.”
“Can you tell us how?” Gillian asked. “We would very much like to start our family, but I’ve no wish to have a baby so far from home, either. I’m an only child. I want my baby born on English soil and I would like my mother to be present when she has a grandchild. But who can say how long we’ll be here negotiating?”
“I will be happy to tell you what I know,” India said. “Although I must warn you that Jonathan says preventing conception is illegal
in England.”
“We aren’t in England,” Sarah said. “We’re in Austria. Who knows what the laws governing such things are here? Besides, what we do in our bedchamber is known only to us.”
“Agreed,” Gillian said.
“Agreed,” India confirmed.
“How is the peace coming along, Sarah?” Gillian asked, knowing the Marquess and Marchioness of Shepherdston were invited to every party and event held in Vienna. More than twice the number of parties to which the Viscount and Viscountess Grantham or the Earl and Countess of Barclay were invited. A fact for which Gillian Grantham and India Barclay were grateful.
“I am so tired of parties,” Sarah said with a sigh. “I’ll be so glad when they solve the problem of what to do about Saxony and who to place on the throne there so we can go home.” She took a sip of her chocolate. “I long for the quiet of home. Not our house in London. I want to go home to Shepherdston Hall and Helford Green.”
Gillian nodded. “I never thought I would get tired of beautiful dresses and jewelry and meeting kings and queens and important people and dancing all night every night. But I have. A quiet evening and a game of chess with Colin sound heavenly after Fasching in Vienna.”
India nodded in agreement. “It was bad enough when we first arrived, but the Carnival season is one long endless party and I don’t care overmuch for balls and parties. As soon as people realize who I am the whispers begin.” She held up a copy of the Morning Chronicle and shuddered. “I dread that for the new Marchioness of Courtland. Have you read this?”
Sarah nodded.
Gillian shook her head. “I received a letter from my mother in today’s mail pouch informing me that Liana had wed Lord Courtland. She also sent a clipping of the announcement from the Times. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to read the clipping she sent or the London papers.” She nibbled the edge of a pastry.
“Did your mother mention the first wedding?” Sarah asked. “Was it as bad as the Chronicle stated?”
Gillian shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a first wedding.”
“You didn’t hear about Miss McElreath’s engagement to Lord Rothermere? Or that Lord Courtland interrupted their wedding ceremony?”
“No.”
“Here.” India handed her a copy of the Morning Chronicle. Read for yourself.”
Gillian quickly read the article. “Oh, poor Liana!”
“I’m sure the Chronicle exaggerated in order to sell newspapers,” Sarah assured her. “Jarrod calls it a gossip rag. The paper made Lord Rothermere out to be a victim, but Jarrod says Rothermere has never been a victim in his life. Jarrod calls him Rather Mean and says he has a reputation for being horrid to his wives.”
“Wives?” India asked. “How many has he had?”
“Miss McElreath would have been his fourth.” She shuddered involuntarily. “If you ask me, Lord Courtland saved Liana from a terrible life. I hate to think about what might have happened if Lord Courtland hadn’t arrived in time to stop the wedding.”
Gillian agreed. “My mother said Liana’s wedding to Lord Courtland was perfectly lovely. She said the wedding at St. Michael’s was everything a bride could want. And the wedding breakfast was divine.” Reaching into her skirt pocket, Gillian produced her mother’s letter. “I have it right here. Shall I read it?”
India and Sarah nodded and Gillian read her mother’s letter aloud to them.
“How did Colin take the news after he read Lord Courtland’s letter?” Sarah asked when Gillian finished her letter.
Gillian winced. “I’m afraid he didn’t handle the news well at all. And then Lord Shepherdston burst into our suite.”
“I apologize for my husband’s rudeness,” Sarah said. “Jays nearly exploded when he read the newspaper account.”
“No need to apologize,” Gillian replied. “After reading Lord Courtland’s letter, Colin was threatening to kill him.”
“Courtland? Not Rothermere?” India asked.
“He didn’t know about Rothermere,” Gillian reminded them. “And he’s none too happy with Lord McElreath’s role in all of this. But he was especially angry with Lord Courtland for marrying Liana. Colin’s afraid Courtland will break Liana’s heart.”
“Because she’s in love with a Free Fellow,” Sarah said.
“How did you know?” Gillian was surprised.
Sarah smiled. “I remember Courtland dancing with Liana at Lady Harralson’s ball. I was jealous of you because Jays spent all evening watching you instead of noticing me.”
“Me?” Gillian was stunned. “Lord Shepherdston was never interested in me. You were the only girl with whom he danced.”
“I know that now,” Sarah explained, “But at the time I thought differently and was jealous. Now I know that he was only looking out for Colin. Jays wanted to make certain you weren’t the kind of girl to break Colin’s heart.”
Gillian nodded. “They’re always looking out for one another.”
“Just as we are going to look out for the new Lady Courtland,” India said. “From now on, we refute that horrid article in the Chronicle and inform every person who mentions it that we were all aware of Lord Courtland’s affection for and intentions toward Miss McElreath. We shan’t waste the opportunity while we’re mingling with the cream of European society. We shall do everything in our power to smooth the way for her.”
“I’ll give the first ball in her honor when we return to London,” Sarah volunteered.
“And you just complained about being tired of parties,” Gillian teased.
“I am,” Sarah said. “But I’m not going to allow the ton to crucify your new sister-in-law when I can help prevent it. After my party, we’ll get Miranda Sussex to give the next one, then Alyssa, or Lady Tressingham, if Alyssa isn’t up to it.”
“My mother and I will host a magnificent masked ball in Liana’s honor,” Gillian decided. “Members of the ton can’t resist a masked ball. The new Marchioness will be Queen of the Ball.” She pursed her lips. “The ton probably wouldn’t bother to attend our masked ball since I’m a viscountess and my mother, a baroness, but my mother’s buffets are not to be missed.”
“And then Jonathan and I will host a gala charity event in Liana’s honor,” India declared. “And we’ll keep doing whatever we need to do to make everyone forget the scandal Rothermere caused.”
The three ladies answered as one. “Agreed.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“Ability is nothing without opportunity.”
—Napoleon Bonaparte, 1769-1821
Alex awoke to find Liana pressed against his bare back, the twin points of her breasts boring into him on either side of his spine, her arm draped over around his waist, her fingers touching the coarse hair surrounding his shaft, his shaft standing stiff and erect in anticipation of the slightest brush of her fingertips.
Realizing it, Alex sucked in a breath, which brought her wandering hand closer to where he wanted it to be.
“Taking liberties,” she whispered before pressing her lips against his shoulder blade.
He groaned aloud. “Yes, you are.”
“May I?”
“No.” He could have bitten his tongue at the effort the denial cost him.
“Please.”
Her sweet entreaty was almost his undoing. He gritted his teeth as he fought to maintain control. “No, my lady.”
She moved her fingers against him. “Alex…”
He caught her hand in his. “We talked about this, Liana. I thought I explained that men have certain urges first thing in the morning.”
He had explained every morning for the past twelve days because she had asked permission to touch him every morning. His bride was nothing if not persistent. And curious.
Flipping back the covers, Alex extricated himself from her grasp and rolled out of bed, heading for the privacy of his dressing room and the water closet.
He nearly escaped unscathed, but Liana trailed her hand over his bare bott
om.
Alex yelped in surprise.
Liana giggled.
Not bothering to put on his robe, he crossed the room in all his naked glory, paused in his dressing room doorway, and looked back over his shoulder. “You’re very bold this morning, my lady.”
“I’m bold?” she retorted. “I’m not the one wearing my birthday suit.”
“No.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You aren’t.”
She gave him a self-satisfied smile.
“But you are wearing a nearly transparent chemise.”
This time, it was Liana who let out a yelp of surprise.
* * *
Alex came out of his dressing room a few minutes later, wearing buckskin breeches and riding boots and carrying a white shirt. He was surprised to discover Liana still sitting on the bed and still wearing her chemise. “Where are you going?”
He tossed the shirt on the foot of the bed. “I’m going to shave and after I shave, I’m going riding.”
“Before breakfast?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. Breakfasting together was one of the things he and Liana had done during their twelve days of marriage. Breakfasting and sharing a bed. When she’d come to his room in the wee hours on their second night at the Abbey, Alex had lifted the covers once again and invited her in. She’d been there ever since. “Oh.”
“Order breakfast,” he suggested. “We’ll share it up here when I return from my ride.”
“You didn’t go riding yesterday morning.”
“I haven’t gone riding since we got here because it’s been cold and raining every morning.” Alex lifted the kettle of hot water from its place on the hearth and filled the basin of his shaving stand. “Today, it’s not. And I need the exercise as much as the horses do.”
The morning had dawned bright and clear and slightly warmer than usual for the first week of March and Alex had been eager to mount up and ride the countryside. It seemed like months since he’d been atop a horse, but he knew from the calendar that it had only been twelve days since he’d ridden post on the lead carriage horse when they’d arrived.
A Bachelor Still Page 24