She would never sleep alone again, she vowed. She would never cease to love this man, who had brought her into this new world.
Will watched over Amelia until weariness took him, and he fell asleep. Used to catching his sleep in fits and starts, he woke to darkness, and the warm body of his wife nestled trustingly against him.
She should not trust him, not when he had hidden so much from her. He had to tell her, he could not live with himself until he did. But not until she awoke.
He couldn’t remember a time when he felt so at peace, not at odds with the world. The emotion was not one he was familiar with, but he liked it. Could that happen more often in his future?
They suited admirably, and last night he had proved to both of them that they complimented each other in bed as well. He could not allow her to discover his secret on her own. If they came into contact with Wellington more often, the duke would be sure to let it slip.
With the intention of getting more rest, he closed his eyes, but she stirred in his arms and made the most adorable snuffling sound. He was smiling when he opened his eyes.
“Good morning.”
“Oh!” Her eyes reflected her shock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Shall I ring for breakfast?”
“What time is it?”
Dawn was creeping its light into the room. “Six o’clock or thereabouts.”
“Goodness, should we get up?”
When she sat up, he had to suppress his groan as her breasts bounced free of the covers. But no, he could not take advantage of her until he’d told her what he had to. Gently, he drew her back and tucked the covers around her.
First things first. He kissed her good morning, enjoying himself thoroughly. He licked into her, reacquainting himself with her breasts at the same time. But he would not go further.
His willpower seemed to have gone with the night. He could not resist stroking down her body. He cupped the sweet curves of her backside, to bring her snugly against his morning erection.
He forced himself to stop and drew back, smiling. He tended to smile when he looked at her. “I have a small confession to make. Are you in any mind to listen, or would you rather wait?” Now he had determined to tell her, he wanted to put it off. Bask in her a little longer.
“I’m awake. I’m usually awake at this time.” She stifled a yawn against his shoulder.
“I can see that.” He kissed the top of her head. Better now than later. He would only worry. “You remember when you told your mother I was distantly related to the Earl of Rothwell?”
A frown creased the smooth skin of her forehead. “I think so. At the Richmond ball, was it not?”
“Indeed.”
“I think that was the connection that reconciled her to our marriage. That and the return of Sir Henry to court poor Mary.”
“Poor Mary will be in possession of a considerable fortune,” he reminded her.
“Much better to live well on an adequate salary,” she said. “We will have a productive life.”
Her words went straight to his gut. He should tell her, and now. Then they could continue with their productive life. “I have to tell you I am a little closer to the Earl of Rothwell than I generally allow people to know. Wellington knows my secret, and one or two others, but they have agreed not to spread it too far.” He took a breath. “I am the Earl of Rothwell.”
“The earl?” She jerked out of his arms, putting inches between them. They might as well have been feet. As he feared, he’d distanced her by not telling her. “You have a title?” she said, almost squeaking.
“I should not have had. I was already working in Spain when my older brother died unexpectedly. My other brother cares for the estate. We agreed I was better doing my work with the army.”
“Why?”
His arms felt empty. “Because I wanted to do something useful. I wanted to work as a surgeon. I trained in London, and from then on I’ve had little to do with my family.”
“So your land?”
He shrugged. “It is in good heart. My brother looks after it well. I prefer people do not know.”
“Why?”
“Because they treat me differently.” That was part of the reason, the only one that mattered now. He was a new person, remade after his rigorous training and his experience with the army. “They believe I can do them favors, or I am richer than I admit to.”
“How rich are you?”
He reached for her hand, the one wearing his ring. Despite her efforts to pull away, he secured it firmly in his. Shock darkened her eyes, and he was sorry for it. More than he could say. “I can afford to keep us in comfort.”
“Do we have to go to fashionable parties? What about court?” She sounded as horrified as he felt.
“We will do only what you are comfortable with. I swear it, Amelia.” His title and family position meant little to him. He saw no reason they should not continue as before. “Nothing has to change.”
“I’m in bed with an earl?” She sounded incredulous. But she had met peers of the realm before and showed them no special favor. Surely this would not be too much of a shock.
“You are in bed with your husband.” When he tugged, she resisted, so he let her stay where she was, for now. He had violated her trust. “I should have told you before we married, but how could I, when you might well shy off, as you did Sir Henry?”
“He would squash me,” she said. Her lips twitched when he laughed. “I should not say such things, but when he moves you can hear his corset squeak.”
He laughed more, but she stayed where she was. “Why did you not tell me before?”
“Because the fewer people who know, the better,” he said. “I have no wish to enter the world of favors and gossip. Without my title, I’m a gentleman who has turned to surgery for a living. With it, it seems that I’m stooping. Which I’m not,” he added.
He rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. “I wanted to be useful, Amelia. I was a younger son, not expected to inherit, so my parents allowed me to follow my passion. I began my studies at eighteen, instead of attending university—my older brother did not wish me to do it, so I registered as William Kennaway. He wanted me to become a gentleman of leisure or go to Oxford. I wanted neither of those things. I knew what I wanted to do, so I could see little point wasting time.”
“You’re good at what you do.”
“Yes.” He knew he was. He didn’t need to use false modesty. Robinson had preserved a list of the men he had helped, and next to them he’d annotated if they were alive or dead. The live outnumbered the dead by a small margin. Given battlefield conditions, Will considered that a victory. His ratio had increased recently, too, showing how much he had learned from his service in the army. For six years he’d known little else.
Now he had a wife. “When we get to London, we will find a pleasant place to live and settle into our new life. I swear, Amelia, little has to change.”
She bit her lip. “You look the same.”
“Because I am the same.” Since all she would give him was her hand, he lifted it to his lips. “We will have our rational life of contentment and industry, I swear it. Although I’m saddled with the title, we don’t have to use it.”
As she stared at him, he climbed out of bed and strode to the powder room. “I will dress.” That would stop him from making love to her again, persuading her with his body. That would not be fair, and after last night, she might be feeling some discomfort.
More now he had vouchsafed his secrets to her.
How long would it be before she realized she was a countess?
Chapter Six
Amelia watched her husband, his long back and legs and the buttocks that she’d clutched at the height of her passion last night. How had she dared? He was related to the greatest people in the land. He was one himself. He’d tried to minimize his position, but she knew better. An earl.
That made her—a countess. She g
ulped. How could she cope?
Thanks to her mother’s obsession with the peerage of the country, Amelia knew more than she wanted to about the so-called great and the good. She’d met a few, but mostly they had acknowledged her presence with a nod and moved on.
Why did he not use his influence?
The answer came immediately. Because he wanted to survive on his own merits. She had watched Will time and again turn away from the greatest. People spoke to him at social gatherings, but he attended very few. He dressed modestly, as befitted his station, or the one she had supposed of him. When they asked him about his connections, he’d turned them off with a smile and a “distant” explanation.
Would his family want to see her when they returned? And would they judge her and find her wanting? Of course they would. She was not worthy of such people and they had never failed to let her know that.
Terror filled her, but she swallowed the bile back. She had made her bed—yes, she was lying in it. She could only continue and try to get everything right.
If she didn’t dress soon, he’d be back, and she had no mind for him to find her like this. The courage to wander around naked was not hers. Last night she’d been too taken up by events to close the curtains, but now she huddled the sheet around her and rushed to the window to ensure her privacy.
She had a standing she’d known nothing about last night. She would do her best to uphold it, and not draw attention to herself.
Gloom fell. Not concerning herself with lighting the candles, Amelia hurried to the washstand and made a hasty toilette, preparing for the day ahead. For a change, she had no idea what lay in store. Would she have to face the Duke of Wellington and try to make sense of her status? Or would she go on as always?
Forcing her mind into its usual rational channels, she recalled times when they had been in the presence of people who might know who Will was. They hadn’t treated him with any special regard. She could do this. As she dipped the washcloth into the water, she set her mind on its new course. Not so different from the old one, after all.
Except for telling her mother. She wasn’t looking forward to that.
Not to be outdone, Lady Hartwell had arranged Mary’s wedding to Sir Henry that very afternoon. Having dressed in her green again, the best gown she possessed, Amelia had to sit through another ceremony at the inn. At least she was not the subject this time. How her mother had arranged the wedding this fast, she wasn’t sure, but once Lady Hartwell set her mind to something, she generally accomplished it.
“I will not tell her today,” she informed her husband. “This should be Mary’s day.”
Her sister appeared well contented with her lot. She smiled at Sir Henry after she made her vows. He lifted her hand to his lips, paying attention to her as if she was the only person in the room.
Could this, after all, be a love match? He had turned from Amelia to her sister so quickly that Amelia was suspicious. Perhaps he had paid attention to her as a way of reaching Mary. After all, her sister was possessed of the blonde locks that Amelia had missed. Her eyes were a baby blue, so much prettier than Amelia’s gray.
Her mother was delighted by the arrangements. “I prevailed upon the duke,” she told Amelia, “and he requested the padre to return today.” She bent closer. “I struck while the iron was hot. We could not be happier.”
Amelia folded her hands in her lap. “I’m glad. Is my father continuing in the army?”
“On half pay.” Lady Hartwell sighed. “It was inevitable. But we have obtained a good lodging in London, in a small street branching off Harley Street. The house is barely fifty years old.”
That sounded promising. “Then you will bring the girls?”
“Of course. It will not be the season, but perhaps that’s as well. We’ll have time to settle in and order some new clothes, before the rush sets in. I am optimistic.” She smiled broadly, in much better heart than she had been a week ago. Now she only had two daughters to find husbands for. “I will prevail upon your father to seek a position in Horse Guards. He should discover something. After all, he has soldiered through every campaign. We were in the Peninsula before the duke,” she said.
“Before he was the duke,” Amelia pointed out.
Once she discovered how closely Amelia’s husband was related to the greatest people of the land, would her mother expect her to help bring out her daughters? Amelia was not cut out for such activities. She had no taste for frivolous pursuits. Having spent the day reconciling herself to her husband’s position in society, she would not take kindly any request for her to use it for anyone’s advantage.
After the ceremony, Mary and her new husband, all smiles, led the way to the dining room. The meal today was more grandiose than yesterday’s, demonstrating her mother’s pride in the match. She’d worked hard for this. It was as if she had more say in the matter than Mary. Amelia, with her brand-new knowledge, wondered how she had not seen her sister’s partiality to Sir Henry before.
“Indeed, we wish you very well,” she said to the couple, when finally, after the meal, she had a chance to speak with them.
“We do,” Will said, his deep voice coloring her congratulations. “Shall we see you in London?”
Happily, Mary shook her head. “We are off to Vienna. Sir Henry’s superior officer has appointed him to his staff, and we are to go to the Congress!”
“I am so glad for you,” Amelia said, and took her sister’s hands. “I know now why the atmosphere between us has been somewhat strained recently.” While she could not discuss personal emotions in public, she could let Mary know that she understood. “Mama was obsessed with marrying us in order, was she not?”
“Indeed.” Mary’s smile broadened. She was a lovely bride, much more beautiful than Amelia, who had allowed yesterday to get the better of her. “I will tell Mama our news about Vienna later.”
“She has taken a house near Harley Street,” Amelia said.
“Oh, and you will be in London too.”
“That we shall,” Will said. “But I fear in very different circles. We may take a house in Chelsea, near to the York Military Hospital.” It sounded much less alluring than the Congress of Vienna.
The Congress had been cut short when Napoleon had escaped from Elba, but now it would resume. All the great of Europe, and consequently the world, would be attending to decide what should happen to the countries they had defeated. However, before the untimely respite, the Congress had also gained a reputation for social events of the highest and most elaborate nature.
Maybe her mother would decide to go there. In truth, their actions were decided by her mother. Outside the military, her father cared little where they went. Before, when they’d followed the drum, he’d had little choice. Now, due to his solid if unspectacular service, he might be able to persuade his superiors on his next station.
Amelia could only hope so. Then they’d leave her alone.
Mary and Sir Henry passed on to the next guests, leaving Amelia alone with her husband. “It seems strange not to be at the hospital.”
He smiled. “Yes, it does, but we may, I think, venture there tomorrow. I have taken the room at the inn for the duration of our stay here, however long that might be. We are still needed. We still have injuries to treat and monitor.”
“Yes indeed,” she said, fervently looking forward to resuming work.
Their work continued. Although they sent as many men as they could back home, they had patients too ill to be moved. By the third day Amelia had become accustomed to people calling her “Mrs. Kennaway”. How she would react when someone called her “my lady”, she wasn’t sure. She had almost forgotten she might have to accept it one day.
When she questioned him, Will assured her she didn’t have to. “I cannot abdicate or resign or even sell out, but nobody can force me to use the title. Or you, for that matter. It’s easier this way.”
Will ensured she went back to the inn every evening, and had retained the gig for that purpose, bu
t he continued to use his tent most nights. She objected, but he pointed out that they would be done here soon.
They hadn’t made love again. They rarely shared a bed.
Their wedding night was an aberration, then. They were to be partners in truth. Perhaps she’d disappointed him sexually, but she had nobody to ask. God forbid she should ask her mother, who was making frantic preparations for the family’s removal to London.
Until she went into the main ward one day and found Will slumped in a corner, his head in his hands. She touched the back of her hand to the back of his neck. He did not have a high temperature.
At her touch, he looked up, despair in his eyes. “I nearly killed a man. I failed to tie the artery properly.” This new technique had improved survival rates, but it could not be performed by anyone but a skilled operator. Will was one of those.
Amelia took charge. Calling an orderly, she got him to help Will out to the gig which she’d just arrived in. Ignoring his protests, she and the aide hauled him into the vehicle and she drove back to the inn. He’d bespoken the room for her comfort, but she was more glad of it now for his sake. He was as she’d been on the third day after the battle—utterly exhausted.
He fell asleep as soon as she stripped him and got him into bed. Robinson helped. Afterward she set him to watch over Will while she went in search of the only man who could help. The only one Will would listen to. Desperation made her bold. She did this for Will, and nobody else.
Wellington received her immediately. The moment he saw her he rose to his feet and took her hands. “Mrs. Kennaway. Do sit down. Would you like tea?”
She would have loved some, but she wanted to get this over and done with before she lost her courage. “It’s my husband,” she said, after she sank into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
“We owe Will a great deal,” the duke said. He spoke mildly, but the power behind his voice reminded her that he could make it heard across a battlefield.
It Started at Waterloo Page 6