Wicked and Wonderful

by King, Valerie

  “As do I,” Amy said. “I could bear all the gossip about your adventures in great part because you never pretended to be something you were not. Perhaps I did not always like what you did, but neither did you hold to a moral place in society as Stolford was wont to do. I could not agree more with Mary. You do not deserve her, not by half.”

  With that, his sisters retired from the chamber intent on resting before dinner.

  Kelthorne stared at the empty doorway for a very long time. He, a hypocrite? How utterly absurd. Judith should have chosen him and not the troupe.

  The simple question ‘Why?’ posed itself in his mind. He rose from his seat and moved to stare out the window, at the empty vale below. Clouds had moved in from the west and only a faint line of blue deep on the horizon showed how fair the weather had been. A rumbling in the distance bespoke rain.

  He tried to imagine the camp and how resistant the tents were to rain, how difficult the daily routines would quickly become, how Mrs. Marnhull would have Horace set up an awning to protect her precious bread and, at this hour, the meal she was undoubtedly preparing. He wondered what Judith was doing, sewing in her tent or perhaps teaching Shelly her letters or practicing a new ballad with Mrs. Ash.

  He sighed heavily. So, why was it she should have come with him?

  Lightning flashed and with it came an odd understanding of what had really happened a sennight ago. He had been frightened of her past, afraid that she might actually have been right, that once they were married, there would be endless gossip about her years with the troupe, and he truly did not know whether he could have born the relentless gabblemongering. Good God, he had been the worst of cowards in that moment. Instead of standing by her, he had all but told her that she was unworthy to be his wife.

  He felt sick with remorse. His sisters had been right to laugh at him and to wash their hands of him. In his fear, he had wanted her to prove, quite irrationally, that she was worthy of him by doing what? By abandoning a group of people, especially John and Margaret, who had taken her in, given her a home and protected her for so many years.

  Mary had been right. He had been a sapskull.

  The wind began to whip the countryside, the usual frenzy just before a hard rain. A moment more, the first raindrops tapped on the window.

  He stared into the countryside, in a southerly direction toward Devonshire. He had no intention of letting such absurd fears have command of him. He determined in this moment to spend the rest of his life, if need be, proving that he had been very wrong to have so deserted her.

  His gaze traveled to the west and in an instant, he knew precisely what he wanted to do to begin atoning for his misdeeds.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Judith stared at Kelthorne thinking she must be seeing a ghost. A full fortnight had passed since he had left her at the inn in Langport. He stood in the doorway of her tent an odd light in his eye. She could hardly catch her breath. What did he mean by coming? She thought she had made her intentions, her loyalties perfectly clear.

  “Why have you come?” she asked. “No, do not give me answer. I do not wish to hear anything you have to say. Besides, I cannot speak with you for I am to perform very shortly.” If only he did not appear to such extreme advantage in his coat of blue superfine and his shirt points angled across his fine cheeks just so. She experienced the strongest most inexplicable urge to touch his hair, which just barely brushed the collar of his coat. She gave herself a shake.

  “Indeed, I cannot imagine why you have come, and I do wish you would leave my tent on the instant.”

  “I shan’t do so and you know very well why I have come.”

  “I do not.”

  He crossed the very small space separating them and took her in his arms quite roughly, forcing all the air from her lungs. Drawing air in proved wretchedly difficult since he was looking at her in such a way. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed, but he did not give way. “You should desist at once,” she said, but her accents were pathetically weak. How would he ever believe her if she did not address him with greater spirit?

  He shook his head and then he kissed her.

  Judith withheld the enjoyment of the experience for about half a minute and then it was as though her body were made of butter and she simply melted against him. He kissed her quite deeply in response which served to remove any sensation whatsoever from the bottom of her feet. Her arms, quite traitorously, encircled his neck and she became lost. Even more profoundly, however, was that the dull stone that had become her heart since she had sipped the rum punch over a fortnight past had become quite instantly replaced with a feather.

  How she loved him.

  He drew back. “My darling, you must come back to Portislow with me. I need you so.”

  “But you left me in Langport.”

  “I was a fool. I should have had punch with you, my sisters as well. They have told me repeatedly how they should have pressed me to do so and now I have come to you to beg your forgiveness.”

  “This is madness,” she said, but she was clinging to him now as though her life depended upon remaining within the circle of his embrace.

  “The most beautiful sort of madness.”

  “Oh, do not say such wicked things to me. Do you know how you tempt my heart?”

  “I wish to tempt much more than your heart, my darling,”

  “What a scandalous thing to say,” she said. How she delighted in him.

  “Ah, but you have mistook my meaning, dearest, though now that I think on it, I rather like your interpretation. However, I was thinking more of your place beside me in my home and in London. I intend to take my responsibilities seriously in the House of Lords and I will need an accomplished bride beside me, a songstress in this case to charm my enemies in our drawing room.”

  “You are being abominably absurd,” she whispered. She kissed him. She loved what he was saying to her, giving her a hope that was not a hope at all.

  “Marry me,” he said softly against her lips then kissed her anew.

  After a very long moment, indeed, she said, “I cannot. You know I cannot.”

  “Are you very certain, indeed?”

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  He drew back. “Well, I thought you would say as much, so I have brought someone with me who I hope will persuade you.”

  Judith sighed as he released her. She could well withstand his sisters or even Miss Currivard and Mr. Doulting. However, when an entirely new face appeared at the opening of her tent, one that seemed both familiar yet not, she gasped. “Uncle,” she said.

  He had tears in his eyes and spread his arms wide. “Why did you not come to me? All these years, my dearest niece, I could have protected you.”

  Judith found herself in a strong embrace and tears she had withheld for a very long time flooded her face. She held him fast, entirely overcome with so many thoughts and feelings that for a very long time she could not speak. She met Kelthorne’s gaze over her uncle’s shoulder and murmured her thanks. He stepped from the tent and let the canvas door fall for privacy.

  When at last Judith was able to draw away from him, she sought her kerchief, mopped her face and blew her nose soundly. She realized that she was not the only one making serious use of a kerchief

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” her uncle Pensbury said. “To think I am looking at you now. Kelthorne told me of Stolford but why did you run away? I could have protected you.”

  She shook her head. “You do not understand how determined he was. I made my way to your house but Stolford had anticipated me. His coach was in your drive. I waited for days, but there was always one of his servants about. I knew I was not safe. Everyone underestimated his determination except my governess. She knew what he was. She helped me to escape my father’s house and then she took a ship to the colonies.”

  Her uncle seemed unbearably sad. “I wish that I could dispute you, but when I recall that first year of your disappearance, Stolford was never far from my home. P
erhaps you are right, but this existence for my poor niece—”

  “You must never think of it in that manner, uncle. I have been safe and beloved in the care of John and Margaret Ash,”

  “They have cared for you well, then?”

  “Sacrificing for me innumerable times.”

  “Only, Judith, pray tell me what is this nonsense of your having refused the Earl of Kelthorne when he is persuaded you are very much in love with him?”

  “‘Tis not nonsense. My absence for so many years in polite society will promote nothing but the worst gossip and it will soon be widely known where I have been. How can such a questionable existence ever allow Kelthorne, or any children we might have, a proper place in society?”

  “There is only one proper place in society,” her uncle said. “Safely within the confidence and trust of one’s friends. Beyond that, ‘tis social squabbling and ill will, which I promise you has always existed and probably always shall no matter how innocent the circumstances. No, Judith, I am persuaded you are being something of a coward in not facing these problems.”

  She did not like hearing such words but she sighed heavily nonetheless. She had already begun to see that her remaining with the troupe, when her identity as Judith Pensbury would very soon come to light, was becoming both unnecessary and ridiculous as each day passed especially given the manner in which Stolford had been vanquished at last.

  At that moment, Margaret called to her, “Judy, come and be quick about it for ye will not believe what has happened.”

  Judith rarely heard Margaret in such a state and rushed from her tent, bidding her uncle to follow her. She saw Margaret waving her forward in the direction of the stage.

  “‘Tis frightful,” Margaret called to her, all the while urging her forward hurriedly. The troupe had once again set up their makeshift stage in a field.

  Judith picked up her skirts and ran. She could hear the audience booing and hissing and making a terrible fuss. She had never heard such disapproval of anyone in the troupe in all these many years.

  “Good heavens, Margaret,” she said in a hushed whisper as she reached her at the wings of the stage. “What has happened?”

  “Ye must see fer yerself.” She then held the curtain back if slightly.

  Judith clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out and laughing at one and the same time. Kelthorne had taken the stage with a book of poetry, Shakespeare, as it were, and was reading with the most awful cadence possible. At the same time in what appeared to be a completely random manner, he would cast a hand dramatically in the air.

  The audience, aware they were being cheated of their pennies, grew louder still and finally a cabbage hit the earl on the foot. He looked up and pretended his shock. “Are you not delighted with my performance,” he called out to the jeering crowd.

  Judith began to smile and then to laugh. Her heart blossomed like a rose beneath sunshine. She ventured quickly upon the stage and joined him addressing the audience, “You must forgive the latest addition to our troupe. He has not practiced quite long enough but if you will be so good as to resume your seats and quiet your displeasure, I shall sing for you.”

  A rolling sigh passed around the audience like a breeze soughing through the treetops. She glanced to the wings and gestured for Margaret to join her. She took Kelthorne’s hand and drew him with her to the center of the stage. She did not let his hand go but rather smiled at him and as she had before, began to sing, “Captivity.”

  She sang for him and to him, though occasionally sharing her love with the audience. She came to a quiet understanding that this would be her very last performance in a professional troupe, making each note a trifle more poignant than might otherwise have been expected in a small market town in Devonshire.

  Afterward, John, Henry and Freddy pretended to attack Kelthorne and drag him off the stage much to the great amusement of the audience. John then encouraged her to sing as did the rest of the troupe. She sang for an hour and then two, the audience with her until the very last note. Resounding applause shook the makeshift stage. She sang three encores.

  After the final one, Kelthorne took the stage once more begging the indulgence of the audience. A hush fell over the crowd. He turned to her. “Will you marry me, Judith, or will I have to bear these cabbages every night for the rest of my life, for I promise you, until you do agree, I shall take up residence in a tent next to yours and travel England until one or the other of us is dead and buried. ‘Tis your choice but I believe the audience would rather you said ‘aye’ than ‘nay.’” He turned and asked the audience, “What say ye?”

  One man, holding a cabbage in his hand, cried out, “Marry ‘im, else I will throw this beauty.”

  “Am I to be forced into accepting you?” she asked playfully.

  “I will have you however I can get you, make no mistake.”

  She sighed yet again. “Then I suppose I must acquiesce.” With that he thoroughly delighted the audience by kissing her soundly.

  Happily, there were no cabbages on this occasion only applause, a shouting of huzzas, and numerous whistles.

  *** *** ***

  “How can you suggest such a thing in the midst of our betrothal ball?” Judith complained, but her heart was far from insistent. “We cannot leave when it is barely just begun.”

  He held her hand firmly and tugged her along the path that descended the side of the hill from the point of the conservatory. “We will only be absent for a little while and since I have every confidence that our guests mean to stay until the small hours of the morning, no one will feel slighted.”

  “Oh, very well, but it is most improper,” she chided yet she was smiling.

  He drew to a sudden halt. “I will take you back if you truly wish for it.”

  Her breath caught as it so very often did as she met his gaze, the warmth of his expression the liveliness of his eye. “Well,” she mused. “We are halfway to the orchard now. I suppose it will do no harm, but only for a few minutes, mind.”

  He smiled, kissed her fully on the lips and just as she was hoping for more, he drew back and once more began tugging her almost anxiously down the hill.

  Nor could she coax him to speak. He was oddly silent, yet smiling all the while as though he had some great secret. “What is it?” she asked, when they were but twenty yards or so from the orchard.

  “I shan’t tell you just yet. I must find the exact spot where I first met you. Come.”

  She shook her head in some amusement. She now felt certain he had some notion in his head.

  When at last they were agreed that this was the precise location where he had first kissed her, he took her hands firmly in his. “My darling Judith,” he began.

  Judith squeezed his hands and smiled. Her heart had begun to race, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blur and turning, cried out, “No.” A moment later she was lying flat on her back, and Rufus was licking her face. Pushing him back, she glared at Kelthorne who had begun to laugh.

  “Was this your idea?” she asked. “Did you actually manage to have him knock me down as he did that first night?”

  He pulled Rufus away by his collar and at the same time slid his hand beneath Judith’s arm. “Good God, no. He acted on his own behalf.”

  “I think it very odd and yet very sweet,” she said, but her fingers found a favorite spot on Rufus’s left ear and began soothing him.

  “I have noticed that he never likes being separated from you for very long,” Kelthorne said. “In that, he and I share a similar doting affection. Although I am persuaded that however much he might be fond of you, he is not as passionate toward you as I am.”

  She let go of Rufus and slipped her arms about his neck. “And you are passionate,” she stated, her heart swelling with love. “My favorite thing, I must confess.”

  He groaned faintly as he caressed her cheek. “I am growing impatient with all this waiting.”

  “We have only a fortnight more,” she said,
laughing at him, “until the banns are properly read.”

  “It might as well be a century in my opinion.”

  He kissed her again, much as he had on the hill drawing back far too soon. She whimpered her displeasure. But he held her at bay.

  “Now, I have something I wish to give you,” he said. From the pocket of his coat he withdrew what appeared to be a letter and held it for her.

  The light was very dim through the leafy apple trees. She had to turn the paper several different angles in order to catch enough moonlight by which to read it. After a few lines, she gasped, “Why, this is from the owner of Drury Lane,” she said. “And ‘tis addressed to John.”

  She gasped anew and met what was now his beaming gaze. “You secured an engagement for them?”

  “Aye,” he responded. “So I did.”

  “Oh, Aubrey, I could not have asked for anything better. Only how did you manage it?”

  He suddenly appeared rather conscious. “As it happens, I have numerous connections with people of the theater.”

  She began to laugh. “Of course, you wicked fellow.”

  He held her gaze seriously for a moment. “But those days are finished. You must believe me in that.”

  “I do,” she said, sliding her arms yet again about his neck. “Thank you, Aubrey. You have changed my life in every beautiful manner possible.”

  “As you have mine,” he responded sincerely. “I love you, Judith, with all my heart.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Valerie King is the award-winning author of over fifty published novels and novellas. She writes sweet and sensual Regencies under Valerie King and paranormal romance as Caris Roane.

  The next sweet Regency to be released will be GARDEN OF DREAMS. For more information about all things Valerie King, please visit her website at:

  www.ValerieKing-Romance.com

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  And finally, if you enjoy sensual paranormals, head to www.carisroane.com for an immersion into the world of vampires.