‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Arthur drew in a long breath and then released it again slowly. ‘They’re only just beginning.’
* * *
Despite their initial intention to have a small and intimate family ceremony, followed by a small and intimate family gathering, there were at least a hundred people gathered inside the ballroom at Amberton Castle that evening. The Felstones were there, of course, along with Ianthe’s Aunt Sophoria, bedecked in more white lace than the bride, as well as Violet’s family from York, Mr Thorpe from the jet workshop, the Doctors Bennett and Muggridge, Mr Horsham, the jeweller, and a wide selection of long-lost and newly rediscovered friends.
‘Happy?’
Frances laughed as Arthur lifted his wine glass and clinked it against hers. ‘Everyone keeps asking me that. Wouldn’t it be funny if I said no?’
‘Not to me.’ He gave her one of his old stern looks. ‘It would be a pretty poor start.’
‘In that case, it’s been a wonderful day and I’m very happy. What about you?’
He swallowed the last of his wine and then put the glass down, wrapping his arms around her instead. She looked—she was—beautiful, inside and out. The moment when she’d said ‘I do’ he’d felt as though his heart was full to bursting. The future could never be certain, but what he was certain about was his decision. ‘I can honestly say I’m happier than I’ve been for the last fifteen years.’
‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It was a compliment.’
‘But to have been unhappy for so long...’
‘Ah, but I intend to make up for it now. In fact, I intend to be quite ridiculously happy from now on. You’ll hardly recognise me.’
‘Oh, dear.’ She feigned a look of mock horror. ‘I might not have thought this marriage through. I’m not sure how I feel about living with a ridiculously happy man. It sounds somewhat alarming.’
‘I’ll try not to get carried away.’ He leaned closer, skimming a series of small kisses along the side of her cheek. ‘Speaking of carrying things away, how much longer do we have to stay?’
She blinked in surprise. ‘You want to leave our own wedding celebration?’
‘Yes. Immediately, if possible.’ His lips continued their progress along her jaw to her earlobe. ‘Not that I haven’t enjoyed it, but I intend to be happier still today. I’ve been having visions of you in the bath for the past month and I’m about at the end of my tether.’
‘Is that so?’
‘It is, although as I recall, the memory of my naked body gives you nightmares.’
‘Did I say that?’ She tipped her head back, her breath coming in short bursts as his lips found her throat. ‘Well, I didn’t mean every night.’
‘Ah. There’s still hope for me, then?’
‘A little...perhaps.’
‘I’m glad you wore our shell.’ He lifted his head again, trailing a finger over the hollow of her throat where the jet pendant nestled on its thin, black ribbon. ‘It suits you.’
‘Unlike this contraption, you mean?’ She gestured to the diamond-encrusted tiara on her head, an elaborately wrought silver band in a strawberry-leaf motif. ‘Lydia lent it to me. She said John gave it to her and I didn’t have the heart to say no. It must be worth a small fortune, but I think she and Mama got carried away.’
‘Not at all. It’s quite impressive, only...’
‘It’s not me?’
He pressed his forehead tenderly against hers. ‘Diamonds are all very well, but jet is something special. Like you. You’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me, Frances.’
She smiled, peering up at him through her lashes. ‘What will people think if we leave now?’
‘That’s we’re strange and eccentric and all the other things they’ve been saying about us for the past few years. We might as well prove them right.’
‘They’ll know where we’re going.’
‘And why, too.’ He took her face in both of his hands and kissed her full on the mouth, letting his lips cling for a moment. ‘Do you know the last time I gave a damn about what anyone thought of me?’
‘No. When?’
‘It was during our picnics on the beach. I cared what you thought of me. I cared because I was already in love with you back then. You opened the door to my prison that first day you walked into my house, Frances. It took me a while to walk out, but you made me want to start over again, to be me again. Now I think it’s about time I took you upstairs and showed you just how grateful I am. We need to start early because I intend to be thorough. It might take all night.’ He pressed one last kiss against the tip of her nose and then stepped back, holding a hand out towards her. ‘Do you really care what anyone else thinks of us, Frances?’
‘No.’ She gave the widest smile he’d ever seen, folding her fingers around his and leading the way to the door. ‘You’re absolutely right. I don’t.’
Epilogue
5 years later
‘Ow!’ Frances winced as something heavy jumped on the lower part of her body and then wriggled its way up the bed. ‘Iris?’
‘Is it time for the party yet?’ Her daughter’s face, bright-eyed and framed with a mass of chestnut curls, appeared over the top of the quilt.
‘Not quite.’ She nudged the shoulder of the man snoring softly beside her. ‘Explain to our daughter that it’s too early.’
‘Hmmm?’ Arthur rolled on to his back and gave a wide yawn. ‘Explain what to whom?’
‘Iris is awake.’
‘Ah.’ He opened one eye and lifted his head, his shoulder-length hair tousled from sleep. ‘It’s still night-time.’
‘But can I get up now, Papa?’
‘No!’ This time they spoke in unison.
‘But...’
‘No buts...’ Arthur pulled back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. ‘Back to the nursery with you.’
Frances smiled groggily, burrowing her way back under the covers with a sigh of contentment as Arthur hauled their squirming daughter over one shoulder and carried her, giggling, back to bed.
‘Remember when we used to wake up all by ourselves?’ He climbed back in beside her after a few minutes. ‘I’ve said that if she gets out of bed again before daylight then she won’t get any cake later. I know how her mind works. She takes after her mother.’
‘Good idea.’ Frances rolled towards him, curling up in the familiar warm crook of his arm and resting her cheek against his shoulder. ‘Although if you try to take my cake away, you’ll be sleeping alone from now on.’
‘After five years and two children, I think I know better than that.’ Arthur slid an arm down her side. ‘Remind me why I’m the one who always puts her back to bed?’
‘Because after I gave birth, you were so relieved that you said you’d never ask anything of me ever again.’
‘So I did. Well, I stand by it.’
‘Besides, I thought farmers liked early mornings.’
‘I’m an ex-farmer and animals aren’t quite as demanding as little girls.’
‘But you’re so good at dealing with them.’ She draped an arm across his stomach, wriggling closer. ‘I promise I’ll see to Daphne when she wakes up. Then we’ll have no peace until tonight.’
‘True.’ He yawned again. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time, making the garden party an annual event.’
‘It was a good idea. Of course, that was back before we had children and were able to sleep.’
‘Back in the days when we used to scandalise Mrs Gargrave by staying in bed until mid-afternoon?’ There was a definite smile in his voice. ‘That’s what I’d really like to do today, just stay here and forget the party. Do you think anyone would notice if we don’t make an appearance?’
‘Possibly, what with it being our party. We�
�re supposed to greet everyone.’
‘We could let Iris do it.’
‘Good idea, but I’m afraid four still seems a little young for such a big responsibility.’
‘Daphne could help.’
‘She’s two.’
‘Mmm.’ He made a disgruntled sound. ‘Maybe next year, then?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Do you remember the last party?’ She brushed a hand lightly over the sprinkling of hair on his chest. ‘When you insisted on taking me for a walk in the orchard just for old time’s sake?’
‘I do.’ His voice sounded faintly husky all of a sudden. ‘I remember what happened there, too.’
‘Well, it was memorable.’ She hooked a leg over his thighs, gratified to hear his breathing hitch slightly. ‘Although it can’t happen again. I’m sure people were looking at us strangely afterwards.’
‘That tends to happen when you have twigs in your hair.’
‘I did not!’
‘No, you were only a little dishevelled. I’m sure no more than a dozen people noticed.’
‘Then it definitely can’t happen again.’
‘Spoilsport.’ He grabbed hold of her waist, half-pulling, half-rolling her on top of him. ‘Maybe we ought to wear ourselves out this morning, then? For some reason, I don’t feel remotely sleepy any more.’
‘Is that so?’ She propped her chin on his chest, looking deep into his eyes as his hands slid over her back and bottom, tugging at the hem of her nightgown. ‘That’s funny because I’m exhausted. Especially if you’re going to call me names...’
‘How about my love?’
‘Much better.’
She pulled her nightgown over her head, revelling in the flare of desire that lit his eyes as she stretched her body out over his. It was pleasing to know that after two children he still desired her. Despite the ups and downs of marriage and parenthood, their love-making had only become more passionate over the years. Arthur was a caring and thoughtful and thorough lover, just as he’d promised, and they knew each other’s bodies well enough now to know what they both liked. It was a more emotional, intense form of love-making, less energetic perhaps than in the early days of their marriage, but even more satisfying. She certainly didn’t feel like going back to sleep again either.
She shifted her hips over his body and then slid downwards, gasping as his body entered hers. She would never grow tired of this feeling, she thought, of being completely one and whole with the man that she loved, as if they were really one person. He moaned and started to move beneath her and she swayed above him, arching her back and crying out as their rhythm quickened to a crescendo. She felt a rush of heat a few moments before she reached her own climax and then tumbled down on top of him, losing herself in the ripples of sensation that continued to pulse through her body for minutes afterwards.
‘Now we can go back to sleep,’ he murmured against her throat and she laughed softly.
‘Finally.’
Slowly, she lifted herself away and rolled on to her side, smiling as he followed after her, curving his body around hers and coiling an arm around her waist.
‘Happy?’
‘What do you think?’ He sounded sleepy.
‘Normal happy or ridiculously happy?’
He tightened his hold, pulling her back against him until there was no space left between them. ‘I’m never going to live that down, am I?’
‘No. That’s why I make a point of asking you every so often.’
‘I’ve noticed. In that case, for the avoidance of any and all doubt, yes. I’m ridiculously happy. As always. How about you, Lady Scorborough? Have I convinced you how beautiful you are yet?’
She twisted her head around to look at him. ‘I’m starting to think that you like me.’
‘About time.’ He seized the opportunity to plant another kiss on her lips. ‘No regrets?’
‘Regrets?’ She was surprised by the very idea. ‘How could I have any regrets? I’m in bed with a viscount and there’s going to be a party later. With cake. I don’t regret anything that’s happened in my life. I’m happy.’ She closed her eyes, letting herself drift back to sleep. ‘Perfectly, deliriously, ridiculously happy...’
* * *
If you enjoyed this story,
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Whitby Weddings miniseries
The Convenient Felstone Marriage
Captain Amberton’s Inherited Bride
And be sure to check out
these other great reads
by Jenni Fletcher
Besieged and Betrothed
The Warrior’s Bride Prize
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To Win a Wallflower
by Liz Tyner
Chapter One
Falling in love with a shadow, a whisper of husky voice or laughter softer than silk, was impossible.
But when he saw the flash of wrist move in the hallway beyond the door, saw the bracelet slide and heard the innocence, he didn’t care that he hadn’t believed in love until that moment.
He stilled, only aware of the movements and sounds outside his vision.
Then she was gone. Footsteps pattered away.
He took in a breath, trying to hold the moment close, trying not to let the drone of her father’s voice cover the memory of the laughter.
He shook those thoughts away. Love was for people who didn’t know how to make money. They needed something to hold on to. But Gavin kept saying that Annie would change Barrett’s mind on marriage and love.
Barrett had wagered to let Gavin out of the obligation incurred from sending him to university and Gavin had put up taking care of their father one day a week. Gavin insisted that Barrett had to spend several days in the Carson household before he could declare himself a winner.
‘So tell me, Carson...’ Barrett forced his lips into the closest resemblance to a smile he could manage and leaned closer to the older man. He knew the power of his gaze. Knew the broadness of his shoulders and knew his voice could put more force behind his words than a fist. ‘Tell me more about this flying balloon business you started.’
‘It’s the wave of the future.’ Carson hesitated, moving sideways in his chair, fumbling with the cuff of one sleeve that enveloped his wrist, a tremble to his fingers. ‘A wondrous method of transportation.’ He glanced down. ‘But I believe
I’ve told you all I know about it.’
‘Nonsense.’ Barrett’s trouser legs strained against muscle momentarily when he stood. ‘I’d like to return tomorrow and spend a few days with you. Discussing business, of course. Very important. Your words help shape my decisions. You’ve a wealth of experience, Carson.’ And a wealth of hot air. Carson didn’t understand that he needed to put his efforts into his chandlery shop and bring it up to snuff before starting any new venture, particularly one so nonsensical as flying balloons.
Carson touched his sleeve in an attempt to straighten a fold of the cloth, but he missed his goal. ‘Do...do you really think that’s necessary?’
Oh, it had become very necessary the moment Barrett had heard that laugh. He’d not been sure his brother told the truth. But apparently he had. Carson had a daughter who hardly ever attended society events and, Barrett’s brother claimed, was more beautiful than either of her sisters. An impossibility—and if his brother hadn’t had an insistent gleam in his eyes, Barrett wouldn’t have given the words a second thought. Curiosity had propelled Barrett forward and the wager had only cemented his intentions.
The laughter he’d heard lingered in his head, tantalising him. In that second he’d realised he wanted to see the woman, Annie, and hear her voice again.
He bowed to Carson. ‘I must thank you for the invitation. I’m quite honoured. I shall arrive tomorrow and I hope seven days is not too short a time for us to become better acquainted.’
‘Seven—’ Carson’s voice squeaked at the end.
‘I agree wholeheartedly.’ Barrett’s strides could never be considered long, but they were stealth and power in one.
‘Until tomorrow, then...’ He turned. ‘And I am almost embarrassed to say this—’ he tapped his thigh ‘—but I’ve a difficulty walking stairs. If you’ve a room on the first storey, that would suffice. Perhaps one with a ray of morning sunlight to brighten my spirits.’
The Viscount's Veiled Lady Page 24