“Come meet your daughter,” she called. Her voice sounded hoarse from crying out. Richard stumbled to the bed, transfixed with wonder, and dropped to his knees beside her.
“Are you well?” he asked, searching her face.
“As you see. Tired but otherwise fine. So is the baby,” she tipped the swaddled bundle in her arms toward him.
“Daughter.” He echoed what she said, staring at the white fluff on the little head. “You were right.” Tears began to run down his face. He dropped his head to the bed.
Crying? Her heart sank. She put out a hand to touch his hair.
“Are you disappointed?”
His head bobbed up. “Heavens no. Relieved beyond words. She’s beautiful,” he said, wiping his face. “I just—” He let the apology die and put out a tentative hand to touch the wrap surrounding their baby. “Are they all so small?”
Lily chuckled over that bit of nonsense. “I believe so. You wanted a son, though. I’m not sorry.”
“We have a healthy daughter in spite of everything. Right now she is all that I could want,” he said without taking his eyes from the little one.
“It is better that she is a girl, Richard, better if your son is born after we legalize this marriage you claim we have.”
“Probably. We would have found a way—Will and Andrew are working on it, in fact—but yes, this one is a great blessing.” He means it. He can’t take his eyes from her.
“Do you want to hold her?”
Panic lit his face, quickly suppressed by longing. “May I?” He rose and sat on the edge of the bed.
“You certainly may,” Lily said. She handed the bundle over to her father, lay back, and watched Richard fall in love with his daughter.
“Her eyes are green,” he said. “Like yours.”
“They may change. Sometimes—”
“No. I forbid it. Our daughter will look like her mother.”
He smiled down at Lily.
The grandmother came then and reached for the baby. Richard looked as if he would refuse.
“Are we not free to go?” Lily asked, old familiar fear driving through the fog of contentment that had enveloped her.
“Yes! I should have said. Hamidou and his men have gone. The landing craft and its crew wait for us in the cove.”
Lily struggled up onto her elbows. “Then we must go as quickly as we can.”
The grandmother pushed Lily down with alarm.
“Lady sleep now,” she insisted. She made shooing gestures with her hands.
“Do we have time for me to nap?” Lily asked over a yawn. Her eyes began to drift shut.
“A little,” he said. If he said more, Lily didn’t hear.
She awoke moments later, or perhaps much longer. She couldn’t tell. The grandmother had disappeared. Richard sat on a stool next to her with a basket at his feet. His ragged blue robe had disappeared. He wore clothing that may not have been the height of fashion, but which was decidedly English. His hair looked damp.
“The baby?” she said, pushing up on her elbows in panic.
He pointed to the basket. It had two handles for carrying. Inside, the baby slept peacefully. “You both needed rest after your hard work.”
Lily felt like she could sleep for weeks. “But we must leave.”
“The boat is ready, but Lily, we need to talk first.”
Of course. Real life has returned. Her heart sank.
“Please don’t take her from me, Richard. That’s all I ask.”
Chapter 40
“What are you talking about?” Richard demanded. Lily looks pale and drawn, he thought, but otherwise normal. Does childbirth make women lunatics?
Tears pooled in her eyes. He hated tears. Why can’t women be simply managed without all this emotion?
Richard sighed. He had learned a thing or two in the past several weeks. He sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms. She began to sob in earnest.
“Hush, Love, hush. I just wanted to talk to you about ‘legalizing this marriage you claim we have,’ as you said.”
“We can’t. I can’t,” Lily wailed.
“Why on earth not?” he demanded, wondering again if her mind had slipped.
“No priest. Baby already here. Your family will want a society wedding, your mother will be outraged, and the scandal will—” Lily had a full head of steam now.
“My mother has no say in it. No society wedding, you foolish woman. There is a Church of England on Gibraltar. We can probably convince the priest to backdate the lines.”
“You mean lie?” She sniffed.
“Not exactly. I told you we’re as good as married. He’ll merely formalize it.”
“You can’t want to marry me,” she said wiping her face.
Stubborn woman, now what maggot eats your brain?
“I went halfway around the world, confronted eunuchs in the Seraglio, and fell in with Barbary pirates pursuing you. How can you say I don’t want you?”
“I’m a mess. My hair is matted. I must stink.”
For a moment he considered saying, “All true, but . . .” and thought better of it. Drawing on his diplomatic expertise and newly acquired knowledge of wives, he said, “You have never looked more beautiful to me than you do now having given birth to our daughter.” That should do the trick.
“Oh, Richard, I can’t.” This time she looked serious, and he began to fear she truly meant to reject him.
“What do you mean ‘can’t,’ madam?” He had begun to lose patience, not to mention his wits.
“I can never be a duchess,” she mumbled. “I’ll disgrace you and you’ll send me away.”
Richard drew in a deep breath.
“Duchesses come in many forms, Lily. Don’t mistake my mother for the example of the type.” He put a finger to her lips when she started to reply. “Listen to me.” He turned her so she had to look directly into his eyes.
“You will make a brilliant diplomat. You will manage a salon and dinner table that foreign dignitaries, ambassadors, and visitors will clamor to attend. Besides—”
Her eyes widened.
“—I don’t want a duchess. I want a wife. That’s what I came to Constantinople to tell you.” The look in her eyes gave him heart. “You will manage the future of England over wine. We will do it together.”
“We will?” she asked in a small voice.
“Well, that last part only if Castlereagh doesn’t dismiss me from his service after this. Even if he does, our home will be a haven for foreign relations. Think how you will regale guests over dinner with tales of the Barbary Coast.”
Her mouth twitched, twisted, and exploded into a smile.
That’s my Lily.
“Do you think I can?”
“I know you can. No other woman on the planet could be the woman I want. No other, the one I love.”
He watched her eyes soften and glow. She sighed contentedly and leaned against his shoulder.
“So, Lily, will you marry me?”
No immediate reply. What does the blasted woman want?
“I love you, Lily. I always will.”
She looked up at him then, eyes shining. “Of course I’ll marry you, silly man.” He leaned in to kiss her.
“Now that that’s settled, can we leave? Much more time and we’ll lose the tide,” a voice exclaimed. Will and Andrew grinned at them from the door; Lily blushed furiously.
Lily reveled in the warmth of the blankets Richard wrapped around her. She reveled even more in the confusion on his face. She almost giggled at the sight of the Marble Marquess finding family impossible to manage. He looked down at the baby and back at her.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Richard,” Will said. “I can carry
the baby. “I’ve had practice. I know you don’t trust anyone else to carry Lily.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt herself lifted into the security of his embrace. They set off for the cove—Will, Andrew, Richard, and Lily with the little one in her basket.
“Georgiana,” Lily suggested thoughtfully, against Richard’s shoulder. “Shall we name her after your sister?”
“No,” he said emphatically.
Lily glared at him. “What then, my lord?” she demanded.
He didn’t slow his pace and didn’t answer.
When they reached the rise above the cove, she suggested, “Mary, my mother’s name.” He shook his head. The wretch. Is all life going to be a conflict?
“Hush,” he said.
Richard followed his friends down the hill, and Lily clung to the security of his arms, her face muffled against his shoulder so she couldn’t argue.
Four sailors and their officer stared at them anxiously. “Best get moving, my lords,” the officer said.
Richard lowered Lily and let her slide until her feet touched the sand. He reached to help her into the yawl, but she raised her chin and suggested, “Hortense.” As she started to laugh, Richard’s kiss silenced any opposition.
“We will call her Zambak,” he said. He lifted her into the boat and handed her their daughter.
Epilogue
April 1836
“Elizabeth Walters is a ninnyhammer. Why would you listen to her,” Lily asked her daughter. At her age, I managed my father’s household. Was I ever so silly?
“She says my name merely fuels speculation about the date of my birth,” Zambak said, coloring brightly. “Why can’t I be called Ann? It is a perfectly agreeable name.”
“First of all, girls your age have no business worrying about the date of anyone’s birth.”
“Why not?” drawled the young Marquess of Glenaire. At sixteen, John Thornton Hayden believed his years at Harrow gave him immense sophistication. “All the fellows know how to count. No point in dancing around.” He quieted under a quelling look from his mother.
“But I wish to be Ann. Something English and respectable.”
“Zambak is beautiful, and perfectly respectable. It is the name your father gave you. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
“It’s exotic, Zamb,” her brother said. “You didn’t get stuck with ‘John,’ the same as every third fellow you meet.”
“It’s your grandfather’s name,” Lily reminded him.
“Common all the same. The fellows call me Thorn. You should be glad for yours, Zamb. It will make you stand out among the chits that come out with you—if you care about that nonsense.”
“Do you think so, Johnny?” Zambak breathed.
“Gives you panache or something. Not just any roadside daisy and all that. You really should bandy it about you were born among the Barbary. It makes you an exotic.”
Lily bit her lips and tried not to smile. He has a kind heart under all his mischief.
“Pirates?” Zambak moaned. “But why can’t I be Ann? You gave everyone one else good English names: Rose, Violet . . .”
“ . . . John, Henry, George, and Edward,” her brother put in.
Oh, but this girl is stubborn.
“People don’t simply change their names,” Lily told her. “The world already knows you as Zambak.”
“Indeed they do,” boomed Zambak’s father, entering the breakfast parlor, “and a good thing it is.” Lily’s heart still caught in her throat at the sight of her husband. His elevation to Duke of Sudbury dimmed their passion not one whit; parenthood only enhanced it.
“Talk some sense into your daughter,” Lily said.
“Come, lily bud of my heart,” Richard said, taking his daughter’s hand. “Are we on about the name again?”
“I could at least be ‘Lily,’ if it wouldn’t confuse me with Mama,” Zambak mumbled.
“No. Nothing so simple for you, my sweet. You are my exotic flower.”
John rolled his eyes, and Lily laughed at both of them.
“Besides,” Richard went on waving a light brown missive in his hand, “this invitation just arrived. It specifies Lady Zambak Hayden. You wouldn’t want to turn it down.”
The girl snatched it from her father’s hand.
“It has the royal seal,” Zambak squealed. She read it rapidly. “I’m invited to a dinner? But I’m not out yet?”
“What is the old man up to?” Lily asked. “One doesn’t invite girls still in the school room to a formal dinner.”
“William doesn’t stand on ceremony like George did, as well you know, and he doesn’t give a fig about society. He finds my women amusing. Besides, I believe he keeps it informal to invite his niece, Victoria. She is a year younger than Zambak.”
“Princess Victoria will be there?” Zambak gasped. She swirled around the room.
“Dinner only, darling, no dancing,” Lily admonished.
“Dinner with the king! And with Princess Victoria!” Zambak handed Lily the invitation. “What will I wear? I need to think. I need to talk to my maid. I need to call on Lizzie Walters!”
The girl ran off in a flurry of ruffles. Her brother shook his head in disgust. “So much nonsense over a dinner.”
He rose to his feet with a world-weary air only an adolescent could manage. “I think I’ll work on my Arabic.” John, who had inherited Lily’s gift for language, sauntered in the direction his sister had gone.
Their parents controlled their amusement until the door shut behind the two younger Haydens. They burst out laughing simultaneously.
“I love your laughter,” Lily said, coming into his arms.
“I love everything about you,” Richard retorted. “I see we are alone at last,” he went on, wiggling his eyebrows. “Zambak pounded on our door at a most inconvenient hour this morning.”
“Mmm,” she replied, kissing him thoroughly.
“Never too late to make up for it,” he murmured. “Shall I lock the door?
Lily smiled. “I can never refuse the Duke of Sudbury anything,” she said. And she didn’t.
Also from Soul Mate Publishing and Caroline Warfield:
DANGEROUS SECRETS
Rome 1818
The afternoon Lily and Richard boarded the Boreas, in a low-class neighborhood in Rome, on a street notable only for crumbling window sills, fierce residents, and rotting garbage, Jamie Heyworth, lately Baron Ross, haggled with a rag dealer over the value of his uniform. He got more than the man offered, enough to eat for another week—or enough to keep him in wine. It would have to do.
Read his story in Dangerous Secrets.
From the Author
I hope you enjoyed Richard and Lily’s story as much as I enjoyed telling it. The setting and background for this story fascinated me. I’ve included some historical notes in case you are interested in learning more.
Your comments and thoughts are welcome. Visit my website at http://www.carolinewarfield.com/.
Caroline
Historical Notes
The Eastern Question
The diplomatic issues surrounding the gradual disintegration of the Ottoman Empire are generally referred to as “The Eastern Question.” Our marquess’s statement that the weak Empire didn’t concern Britain but expansionist Russia did is accurate. The Eastern Question centered primarily on the Balkan states and the fate of that region in a power vacuum. While Britain tended to support the Ottomans later in the century, they took the side of the Greeks in the revolution that was just beginning to rumble in this novel, and that primarily to contain Russia. Support for the Ottoman Empire against Russia ultimately led to the Crimean War. Instability in the Balkans in time drew in all the major powers and eventually tipp
ed Europe into war in 1914.
For a more in depth explanation see: http://staff.lib.msu.edu/sowards/balkan/lect10.htm.
The Barbary Pirates
Barbary piracy raged for over two hundred years before this story takes place. The lucrative slave trade prompted corsairs to prey on Mediterranean shipping, and even to attack coastal areas of Ireland and Great Britain.
After the American Revolution, ships of the US no longer enjoyed the protection of the British navy, and they suffered at the hands of pirates. The new US had no interest in paying tribute. It attacked Tripoli successfully in the First Barbary War from 1801-05, but the situation deteriorated again during the War of 1812, abetted in part by Britain, which was anxious to weaken the American Navy. In 1815, the American fleet under Stephen Decatur defeated the corsairs and forced a treaty with the Dey of Algiers. Bombardment of Algiers by Lord Exmouth in 1816 completed the defeat. While those events did not completely end piracy, they did put a stop to Algeria’s dominance in the Mediterranean. However, the slave trade continued to be a thorn in Britain’s side in 1818 when our story takes place. The trade didn’t end entirely until the French conquered Algeria in 1830.
Rais Hamidou was an actual pirate, admiral of the Algerian fleet, considered the best and most skilled. He is something of a hero in Algeria to this day and is known for his gallantry and chivalry. As our marquess said, he died at the Battle of Cape Gata in 1815, killed by Decatur’s ships. Of course, he threw himself overboard and his body was never found. Our Hamidou could feasibly be the man himself, a miraculous survivor, or someone using his name.
Dangerous Weakness Page 26