The 12th Kiss

by Laura Hogg

  Mr. Moore spoke up. “When I get my hands on Honora, she is coming back to America with me."

  Lord Cheltham gave him a nod. “When I get my hands on Relief—"

  "You have my blessing to beat her."

  Lord Cheltham stopped pacing. He threw him a look of surprise.

  Mr. Moore could guess what he was thinking. “On your wedding day, my lord, I could not see that she did anything wrong. I thought you were being a bully. But this stunt, sir, deserves to be dealt with harshly."

  "I have other ideas."

  "You're not going to hit her?” Daniel asked.

  Raphael narrowed his eyes and looked at his gun carefully. He blew on the barrel and polished it. He was composed and cool, and didn't say a word. Then a chuckle escaped his lips.

  Lord Cheltham glanced at him and frowned. “What is so funny?"

  "I would hit her. Our father is right. A woman should only receive her husband's hand when she has done something truly stupid. This goes beyond defiance."

  Lord Cheltham raised his brow. He studied the men of his wife's family.

  "He's too new and too lusty of a groom to do that,” Daniel interjected.

  Lord Cheltham's brow rose higher.

  "I do not think his lordship is amused, boys,” Mr. Moore said.

  "I am not."

  "The situation is slightly amusing,” Daniel said.

  Lord Cheltham glanced at him with surprise.

  "How do you figure?"

  "Imagine two little flowers going into a rough tavern and turning it upside down."

  Lord Cheltham let out a light chuckle. “Your point has some merit."

  The others chuckled.

  He holstered his gun. “I do not know why I have this thing out. I had it in my mind that I was going to charge forth and save them from some evil oppressor. It seems that the bad men are afraid of them."

  Mr. Moore stepped forward. “Where could they be headed, my lord?"

  "I do not yet know, but one thing gives me comfort. I do not have to fear for the lives of either of the girls. I'm oddly and entirely grateful for that."

  "As am I,” Mr. Moore said grudgingly.

  * * * *

  Honora and Relief plodded along with exhaustion through beautiful woods, over fields, and into a small village somewhere in the Highlands of Scotland. They heard the baah'ing of sheep then the voice of a shepherdess guiding them.

  "Git movin', ye cursed beasts! Always fond o stravaigan aboot!"

  Relief watched the woman, smiling. She looked up suddenly and dropped her stick.

  Relief approached her and curtseyed. Honora did as well.

  "Mary MacDonald?"

  "Aye?"

  "It's me, your friend by correspondence, Relief Moore, and this is my sister Honora."

  She smiled, and Relief returned it warmly.

  "We have traveled a long way."

  "And ye came to visit? I'm ‘onored.” She gave them a careful look. “Are ye hungry? Come to me home. I could put a nice stew o'er the fire,” she said in a sprightly voice.

  "Could we impose?” Relief asked, gently.

  "Impose? ‘Tis a most wonderful surprise, lass. Come.” She wagged her hands briskly.

  "But what of your sheep?” Relief asked.

  "Oh, let my lazy brother Dougall deal with'm. It will do the lad some fine good!” she said in chipper tones, in obvious delight.

  They passed over the green countryside and wandered by a water pump.

  "There,” their host pointed.

  Walking through a cobbled courtyard, they arrived at the entrance of a small thatched house with low ceilings and small windows. Miss MacDonald opened the rickety door. The room that greeted them was cozy, with scattered dark brown rugs lying over the stone floor. A large hearth took up most of the far wall, and the sparse, low furniture appeared practical but comfortable. Miss MacDonald bent and lit the fire then handed them mugs and poured some ale in them. She plopped herself down in front of them.

  "Now ladies, I hope to hear a story good enough for an opera!"

  Relief grinned and took a large swig of her drink. “Can you keep a secret, Miss MacDonald?"

  "Do you jest? Of course I can! And call me Mary."

  Honora gripped her mug, eyes lit with excitement.

  Relief chuckled. Mary poured her more ale. The three of them drank, and Relief told their story. An hour later, they laughed over drunken stupidities. Honora pointed to her sister's dress.

  "That color is not your best!"

  "Well Honora, you can't fight!"

  Honora laughed and punched her sister's arm.

  "That's stupid! I am not supposed to be able to fight, silly!"

  Mary took them by the shoulders and invited them to sing.

  The three women burst out laughing then Mary started them in an old Scottish drinking ballad. They listened for a verse, took their cue, they joined her for the next.

  Relief woke up next to Honora on the hard floor. She tossed off her heavy blanket and rubbed her eyes. Mary was stirring something in the large pot that hung over the fire.

  "Good morning, Mary!"

  "Good day to ye, lass."

  She got up and went over to Mary, taking a seat on the floor. They chatted then Relief helped her set the small table for the meal.

  After a couple of days of calm routine in which Relief and Honora helped Mary with her household tasks and her outdoor chores, including coaxing the stray sheep back into their pen, Relief knew she had to go. She hugged her sister and Mary, and then dressed as a man and, carrying a makeup bag and extra clothes of various types, rode south to find the man who wanted her husband dead.

  Twenty-three

  Relief wandered the squalid London neighborhood that she liked to haunt and took in a deep breath. “Ah the streets! How I have missed you!"

  No one recognized her. She looked nothing like Raphael Taylor. She tarried around the streets for a week, getting in fights and stopping crime and nonchalantly asked around trying to find information on the mysterious nobleman.

  * * * *

  Two weeks after the worst night of his life, when his wife disappeared, Lord Cheltham sat in his private office going over correspondence, but his mind wasn't on business matters. He flipped to another letter and inhaled sharply. The words about Raphael were scrolled over the envelope. Just as he tore open the note, his father-in-law walked into his study. The Moores would be staying at his home until they found the girls.

  "Good evening, my lord.” Mr. Moore strode to his large desk with an anxious expression. “Is there news? Your expression tells me you've received something important!"

  Lord Cheltham dropped his gaze to the note in his hands and read with haste. He looked up at Mr. Moore. “Apparently there is a boy in town going around at night stopping criminals. He may know something."

  He jumped up, ran from the room, and called for a carriage to be brought out front.

  "I'm going,” Mr. Moore demanded.

  "Of course.” He knew Daniel and Raphael Moore were already out there searching still.

  Impatiently, he waited for the carriage, and then he and Mr. Moore were off with a snap of the reins. They found themselves walking around a boisterous neighborhood, under the dark of night. He asked around, talking to anyone he passed, and Mr. Moore did the same. Someone recognized him but was shocked to see him dressed so well. Lord Cheltham pulled out a shiny coin and placed it into the hand of the gangly adolescent boy.

  "Give me information, lad. Tell me what I want to know."

  "I am obliged to say it is not Raphael."

  "What?” he snapped. “Are you certain?"

  "And this boy is alone. I saw him go to his room. No one is ever with him. I've seen him switch where he stays. It's not Raphael."

  Lord Cheltham's shoulders dropped a notch. He looked to the ground. Mr. Moore questioned him as the boy ran off. “My lord?"

  "Sir, I miss her. I'll be fit for Bedlam if I don't see her again soon. I
can not think with any efficiency on any subject while she's out there somewhere. I can not concentrate on anything."

  "Your anger has dissipated."

  "I was enraged. It has cooled. As of last week, I have just been heartbroken. I fear I may never see my beloved again."

  Mr. Moore said nothing.

  * * * *

  They did not notice that a little boy was standing three feet away listening. He ran off and entered a dirty little hole of a room with a tiny window.

  Relief watched her husband speak with her father. Benjamin appeared heartbroken, and her father seemed deeply upset. When Benjamin pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, her eyes filled with tears.

  The pudgy-cheeked boy knocked on her door, and she pulled him inside.

  "What was said, lad?” she asked under cover of her boyish disguise.

  "Sir, he loves his wife. He misses her. It's driving him mad, and he thinks he'll be locked up on account of his grief."

  "Thank you for your services, lad.” She handed him a few shillings.

  He nodded and darted off into the dark streets.

  "I will find the man who is after you, Benjamin. I love you so much.” Tears rolled down her face as she watched her husband and father rumble down the street, looking forlorn.

  * * * *

  That night, she shifted back and forth beneath her sheets, unable to find comfort. She fluffed her pillow numerous times and even tried lying on floor. Nothing would soothe her agitation. Staring at the ceiling in the cold room for what seemed like hours, she came to a decision.

  She paid a street lad to rush a note to Lord Cheltham asking him to meet her alone that evening in Hyde Park. She pulled up in a rented carriage, praying that her makeup job was half as good as her sister's. She had spent all afternoon perfecting her disguise.

  When she pulled up next to his carriage, she was dressed as an older woman in old-fashioned clothes with a powdered wig. She upped her voice an octave and put on airs of pretension.

  "Lord Cheltham?"

  "Madam?"

  "How do you fair?"

  "Poorly, madam. Do you have something you wish to convey to me? A message perhaps?” he asked hopefully.

  "My lord, do you intend to punish her severely?"

  "What?"

  "Answer my question."

  "She deserves it."

  "Good day, my lord.” She went to turn away.

  "Wait,” he croaked out. She could hear the pain in his voice.

  She studied him and was pulled by love so great that it gnawed on her confidence that she could keep from throwing herself into his arms.

  His eyes shone with tears. “Please, madam, you know her well?"

  "Very well, my lord. I know about Raphael. You can be frank with me."

  "If you know anything, you will not be so unkind as to withhold information from me. I will pay you. I will pay you well."

  "How well?"

  "Anything."

  "Anything?"

  "I would give it all up."

  She didn't say anything. She was temporarily unsteadied.

  "Madam?"

  "Forgive me. That was the most romantic thing I have ever heard."

  He smiled sadly. “I am quite in love with my crazy wife."

  She scowled. “Crazy? I doubt that she is crazy."

  "She is, trust me."

  She frowned deeper.

  "But I do not care. I just want her in my arms.” He let out a small sob, but coughed to fight it. “Oh God,” he said with anguish. “I want my darling back!” His eyes were wet.

  "Maybe she fears a heavy hand."

  He closed his eyes a second and fisted his hands. “I give her concessions most men would not."

  "I find myself obliged to agree, my lord."

  His eyes came open. “Perhaps it is I who am crazy. Perhaps she has affected my mind,” he mumbled with a disturbed little laugh.

  "My lord?"

  He shook his head. “Forgive me. I am not myself. I am lost. I want my beloved back."

  "You truly love her."

  "I would rather be with her on the streets of London Town doing crazy antics in the middle of the night than wonder where she is and if I will ever see her again. I actually dreamed about sitting with her as Raphael on the ground against a dirty little wall. We would talk all night sometimes. We were best friends. I would rather have that—” He muttered, not seeming to care that he was speaking to a stranger.

  Relief sat up straighter. “Do you mean that, my lord?"

  "Yes."

  She stepped down from the carriage. “We need to talk some more."

  He offered her his hand.

  "Madam."

  She looked into his eyes.

  He squinted. “Oh my God."

  She tried to pull away. He held her hand in a vice grip.

  "My lord?"

  "You're coming with me."

  "I'll scream."

  "Why don't you knock me senseless instead?"

  "W—What gives you the impression that I could do that? I am an old woman."

  "Since when is nineteen considered to be old?"

  Her breathing quickened. “My lord ... I ... I fear that you are mistaking me for someone else."

  "Where is Honora?"

  "Who?"

  "Your sister."

  She closed her eyes and spoke in her own voice. “Let me go."

  "Never."

  "I will kill myself."

  "Oh dear God.” He pulled her into an embrace.

  She coughed because it was so tight.

  "I'm not going to take my eyes from you."

  She cursed in Italian. He sighed. Long seconds passed.

  "Benjamin, will you allow me some deep breathing now?” she squeaked out.

  He pulled away but grasped her arms. He squeezed her once again, and she coughed again.

  "The ton will think you are quite mad, embracing a woman more than twice your age."

  He laughed out loud then said cheerfully, “No, just eccentric! I know two men with mistresses many years their senior."

  Hesitantly she stepped up into his carriage with him. He pressed his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. Through the corner of her eye, she saw passersby stop to observe, then hurry along their way. Benjamin put his hand behind her neck and kissed her even deeper. An audible gasp of surprise and a comment about how mad he was came to their attention. He chuckled into her mouth.

  Pulling away, he gazed at her, his features shining with elation. “Relief, oh my wife! How I missed you!"

  "I missed you too,” she admitted quietly.

  His eyes widened. “You did?” He squeezed her hand.

  "But now I fear—"

  His smile melted. “Let's not ruin the moment. We can talk later. For now, we need to go to your family. They are frantic."

  Her heart pounded, and her throat went dry during the ride to his house.

  They arrived at his townhouse. He gripped her hand, and she trembled. He stopped to face her in the driveway and studied her expression.

  "My love, they will be so happy to see you."

  "So angry, I dare say."

  "You're afraid.” It was a soft statement.

  She didn't respond.

  He touched her arm. “I will support you, then you and I can settle it between ourselves later. I fear I am not only relieved beyond belief, but I myself tremble with anger."

  She attempted to rip her hand from his and failed. He led her to the front door. They entered his home, and after hugging each of her family members in the entrance hall, her father demanded to know where Honora was. He was going to drag her back to America and lock her up for ten years. Her mother stood silent and crying, and Daniel had an arm placed around their mother's shoulders in comfort. Raphael glowered at Relief in silence.

  Relief looked into her husband's eyes and begged him silently to intervene with her father. Tears streamed down her face. He took in a long, deep breath and face
d his father-in-law.

  "Sir, if you will allow me, I will go fetch the little chit myself and bring her back here. I will keep her and her sister under lock and key with guards."

  "I will punish her myself, my lord."

  Raphael cracked his knuckles, scowling.

  "Sir, with all due respect, Relief needs her."

  Raphael scoffed. Daniel leaned and whispered into their mother's ear then tapped her arm gently.

  "To do her makeup?” Her father said with cool anger.

  "She needs Honora because they are best friends. It would break my wife's heart to say goodbye to Honora. They have never been apart."

  Relief's heart lurched with love for her darling husband.

  "You are a lenient man."

  "I will discipline them both, sir."

  Her father said nothing for a full two minutes. Then he nodded his consent. As he left the room, taking his wife's hand in his, Relief's brothers began to question him. He silenced them with a gesture of his hand, and they followed him upstairs. Lord Cheltham turned around and faced Relief.

  "You are the most irresponsible little chit I have ever known! How could you, Relief? How could you hurt your family that way? How could you do this to me?” He gripped his own shirt over his heart, and his eyes blazed with fury, but pain.

  "You are angry, Benjamin."

  "I dare say you are most fortunate I would never beat you, Relief! It is my right to do so, only I would hate myself if I ever laid a hand on you that way. When I knocked you out as Raphael—” he sighed, deeply regretful.

  "Your right...” she said sadly. “I did not marry to be under a man's control."

  "Then why did you marry, Relief? Pray tell, I must know!” he spat out.

  "You coerced me,” she said with such resignation, that he did not stop her when she walked out of the hall.

  "You are not to leave this house. I'll have guards at the entrances and exits."

  "Do not worry, my lord. I am only going to our chambers. I fear I am quite tired."

  "Tell me where Honora is."

  "I will. Shortly.” With slumped shoulders, she headed for the stairs.

  For days, she grew more and more depressed. He became concerned. He came to her and sat down beside her in their chambers and laid a gentle hand over hers.

  "Relief, we must go fetch Honora. She must be frantic with worry about you."