Faith ate the toast and the sausage while her friends observed.
Rhys read the paper. “The only thing about the incident that has been reported is the smoke pouring from this house. It just says a servant left the flue closed and caused no damage, though it sent neighbors off in fear.”
Laughing, Mercy choked on her tea. “I think they must have seen those two guards I scared off, running from the house.”
“Where is Nick?” Faith finally asked.
Lips still twitching, Mercy said, “He went to meet with someone in government and then had an appointment with the archbishop of Canterbury. He said to tell you he would return with news this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Nerves flitted around in Faith’s stomach and she put her coffee down.
Rhys sat forward, a line of concern between his eyes. “Have you changed your mind about Breckenridge, Faith?”
“No.” Her voice was weak.
“Because if you have, we’ll send Rhys down to Doctors’ Commons right now and stop everything.” Like a ferocious mother lion, Aurora’s eyes lighted, ready for action.
It was all so perfect: her friends’ loyalty, Rhys’s rushing forward, Tipton standing ready. Faith wanted to cry with joy. “I want to marry Nick more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I’m just a bit overwhelmed by how normal everything seems this morning.”
They all nodded.
Aurora sighed. “Soon it will be just you and I living here, Mercy.”
Nodding, Mercy sipped her tea. “I think Faith and Poppy will come back from time to time.”
Nerves rattled Faith. “Every Tuesday for tea at the very least.”
“And what about me?” Rhys added. “Does no one care if I return or not?”
Poppy kissed his cheek. “We adore you and you know it. After all, we made you a Wallflower, and have you to tea. What more can you want?”
He laughed. “Not one thing.” He stole a kiss from his wife.
The front door knocker sounded and Tipton rushed from the room.
“Should he be working with his arm injured?” Faith asked Aurora.
Aurora lifted her hands in defeat. “I tried to get him to rest. Luckily it is not broken and only badly banged up, but I still would have liked for him to take a few days off to recover. He wouldn’t have it.”
“His Grace, the Duke of Breckenridge,” Tipton announced from the breakfast room door.
They all turned.
Expecting Nick to be happy, Faith rushed to him when he looked like a man who’d lost his best friend.
Rumple escaped the kitchen and bounded across the breakfast room to leap on him.
Faith reached him at the same time. “What’s happened?”
Kneeling down, Nick scratched Rumple behind the ears.
Benny arrived to take the puppy back below. “Sorry, he got away from me.”
Nick ruffled Benny’s hair. “I’m glad to see he’s doing so well.”
Puffing up like a pigeon, Benny said, “When those men came yesterday, I locked him in the root cellar so as he wouldn’t get kilt.”
“That was wise,” Nick said.
With a wide grin, Benny dragged Rumple out.
Hand shaking, Nick touched Faith’s cheek. “The Archbishop denied my request. We did not get a special license. I’m sorry, once again I’ve failed you, Faith.”
Looking around, Faith found everyone staring. She turned back to Nick. “Nonsense. After all we’ve endured, I’ll not have anyone decide our fate, not even the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“Oh?” Nick raised his brows. “What do you suggest?”
“That Tipton needs to rest and we shall all go to Gretna Green.” Faith stomped her foot, but immediately regretted the sharp movement as her joints still ached.
Nick had given up on his cane, but still limped as he took her hand and they returned to the table. “My word, and I was told by your friends that the appearance of propriety was important to you, Lady Faith.”
She shrugged and sipped her cooled coffee. “It seems I have changed.”
“Then we had better pack for Scotland. Someone must inform Mr. Arafa. He will wish to join us, I’m certain, and he must know the nuptials will not be taking place at his home.” Aurora placed her napkin on the table. She stood, forcing the men to stand as well. Halfway to the door, she stopped. “Your Grace, may I have a private word?”
Nick’s mouth opened and closed, before he recovered. “Of course, but I hope by now you might call me Nick.”
With a nod, she exited.
Nick followed.
Faith’s heart pounded as she watched them walk out. She looked to Mercy and Poppy.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Poppy said.
“Or something.” Mercy winked.
Faith shook her head. “I suppose he must get used to the Wallflowers at some point.” Still, her small breakfast threatened to reappear.
* * * *
Nick had thought nothing would surprise him after the last few months, but Aurora asking to speak to him alone was completely unexpected. He followed her into the ladies’ parlor. “Is something wrong, Aurora?”
“No. I’m pleased for you and Faith. I can see that you love each other. That is all I’ve ever wanted for my friends.” She paced to the window, stopped, and paced back.
“Can I help you in some way?” Nick had no idea what she wanted, but it was clear whatever it was gave her some difficulty.
Aurora took a deep breath. “Perhaps, and perhaps I might be of some service to you as well. It seems we have had similar negative experiences. My friends suggested that speaking to someone who understands might help.”
Pain and panic tightened inside Nick. Aurora’s eyes were so filled with worry, but she trusted him. He said, “Let’s sit.”
Chapter 26
Faith’s gown fluffed all around her like a meringue when she flopped backward on the bed. “I never thought it would happen. We’re actually married.”
Back in England, they had stopped at an inn only an hour south of Gretna Green. After a fun dinner with their friends, Nick had coaxed his wife to their room. It wasn’t as plush as he would have liked, but the white walls and clean bed were enough. Other than the bed, one chair and a wardrobe were the only furnishings. None of it mattered, as Faith was his wife. Nothing else mattered.
The wonder in her voice made Nick smile. “Trekking to Scotland was your idea, my love. Why didn’t you think it would work out?” Easing down beside her, he slipped his hand around her waist and settled it on her hip.
She rolled to face him. “Look at all we’ve been through: misunderstandings, imprisonment, separation, kidnapping, denial of a license. Didn’t you think some monster would pop out of the anvil and keep us apart?”
Leaning in, he took her earlobe tween his teeth. “Nothing could ever keep me from you, once I knew you.”
She moaned and threw her leg over his. “I’m glad to hear it, Your Grace. I’d hate to think I had fallen so far by myself.”
Gripping her bottom, he pulled her forward and wished she was already out of the layers of fabric making up her wedding gown. “Never. I shall fall as low or climb as high as necessary to keep us together, my duchess. I never wish to be parted from you and will do all in my power to stay as we are right now.”
She wiggled against his already hard shaft. “Just as we are right now?”
Nick slid his hand down her leg, found the bottom of her skirt, then slid back up her stocking to her bare thigh. “We may have to change positions, to eat on occasion, and I would like to make love one time unhurried, naked, and without injuries hindering me.”
Stricken with laughter, Faith was an angel. “We have made do nicely. But now we are married, Nick. I’m yours for a lifetime. There is no need to rush.”
Pullin
g the ties at the back of her gown, he said, “I shall treasure every moment, Faith. I will spend a lifetime showing you how precious you are and worshiping you with my body and worldly goods. You shall want for nothing.”
Faith stood and let the dress puddle on the floor. She pulled the ties at her shoulders and her chemise flowed over her curves. “I want right now, husband.”
“Oh, Lord, so do I.” He pulled her back onto the bed and kissed her until they were both senseless with need. “I love you, Faith. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love someone.”
A slow smile pulled her full lips and lit her eyes. “It fills my heart to overflowing to hear you say so, Nick. I love you so very much. Did you know we Wallflowers once believed men incapable of romantic love?”
He brushed her wild curls back from her face. “I don’t think I would have argued the point before I met you, but now I know.”
Kissing his palm where it cupped her cheek, she asked, “What do you know?”
“I was only an empty vessel until you filled me up with so much emotion, it will take my lifetime to release it all.” Nick’s heart ached with all of it.
“I will love you for a hundred lifetimes and shower you with all the love you give me in each one.” Faith straddled his hips, her hair hiding half her face.
Eternity was what she promised. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion mixed with desire. “A hundred lifetimes may be just enough.”
Leaning down, she sealed their pledge with a kiss.
In the beginning she had misled him. He would follow her hereafter.
Keep reading a special excerpt of the next book in The Wallflowers of West Lane series!
CAPTURING THE EARL
The Wallflowers of West Lane
A.S. Fenichel
The friendship of four young ladies has created an indestructible bond to protect one another from the perils of love and marriage . . .
After the demise of her friend’s disastrous marriage, Mercedes Parsons isn’t about to let the widowed Wallflower of West Lane undertake another perilous trip to the altar. At least, not before the bridegroom-to-be is thoroughly investigated. If only Mercy could stop her uncharacteristic daydreaming about Wesley Renshaw’s charm, his intellect, his dashing good looks. After all, the earl is already spoken for! She must keep her wits about her and avoid giving in to temptation.
Wesley is both irritated and intrigued by the machinations of Mercy—who is she to decide whom he can and cannot marry? Yet while he admires her unwavering loyalty to her friends, he decides it’s high time the misguided noblewoman had a dose of her own medicine. Two can play at this spying game. But they are both embarked on a dangerous charade. And it won’t be merely Mercy’s reputation at risk—or her heart on the line—as Wesley comes to the inescapable conclusion that he has found the right woman at long last . . .
Look for CAPTURING THE EARL, on sale soon.
Prologue
Mercedes Heath shook her head. She must have heard him wrong. After all, why would Wesley Renshaw, the Earl of Castlewick, want to dance with her?
The ballroom was loud and awash with activity. The Duke of Breckenridge lived in one of the largest townhouses in London, but it was still enough of a crush that she might have misunderstood the charming earl.
“Miss Heath?” Wesley’s light brown eyes sparkled with some amusement only he understood.
“I beg your pardon, my lord?” Mercy tried to be polite, but it came out sharper than she’d planned.
Mercy was tall for a woman, but the Earl was still a few inches taller with the broadest shoulders she’d ever encountered. She had a fleeting thought about what he must do to stay so muscular, but brushed the wayward notion aside. His dark blond curls fell over the golden tan of his forehead, but his bright eyes hinted with browns and golds, at least she imagined they did. Mercy has spent so much time admiring him that once again, she had missed what he said.
Her Aunt Phyllis had urged her to put her spectacles in her reticule and stop hiding her pretty face. She had done so to appease her only living blood relative, but found herself out of sorts with her vision blurred.
However, she saw well enough to note his offered arm, indicating he did indeed wish to dance with her.
As she had missed the opportunity to give some excuse for why she couldn’t possibly dance with him, she placed her hand on his arm and they joined the other dancers.
The conductor tapped his wand and a waltz began. Mercy tried not to notice the missed notes and out of tune second violin, but the sound grated on her nerves.
Wesley placed a hand at the small of her back a bit more firmly than was strictly necessary.
Turning her attention to him, she asked. “Have I been rude?”
His smile sent a shot of attraction from Mercy’s head to her toes and it stopped in a few interesting places along the way. “Not at all. You are seemingly distracted. Is the music not to your liking?”
It would be more polite to say nothing or deny any issues with the orchestra, but Mercy didn’t care about such customs and she had no reason to attempt small talk with this earl. He was nothing to her. She looked from the ornate arch ceiling with its frescoes to her Aunt Phillis who watched from the furthest corner of the ballroom before settling her attention back on the handsome man whirling her around the room. “The second violin is out of tune, the pianoforte is being played by a complete oaf and the flutist has missed no less than two notes of every eight.”
“I see.” He grinned as if perhaps he did actually understand, but perhaps he was just amused by her in general. That could explain his desire to dance with a girl of no means and little relations.
“I realize I am likely the only one to notice such things and that the Duke and his sister have hired one of the most popular orchestras in London.” Mercy shrugged as she also knew no one cared what she thought of the music.
A robust couple bounded across the dance floor laughing and smiling as if they were part of a circus. Neither seemed capable of waltzing but neither did they care as they pushed several couples out of their way and headed directly for Mercy.
In one graceful move, Wesley lifted Mercy from her feet and out of harm’s way. Her body crushed to his with an embrace that felt almost tender before he released her and in the same instant fell back into the perfectly balanced steps of the waltz. “You are a musician then.”
She laughed and it surprised even herself. She rarely laughed in the company of strangers. Girls of her kind were not supposed to show outward enjoyment in public. It was grotesque in Aunt Phyllis’s opinion. But the way he dismissed saving her from a pummeling as if it never happened and took up the conversation without a hitch amused her. “I would not call myself as such, but I do play.”
“Yet you hear every nuance. I think you might be modest.” His firm hand on her back guided them easily around the room and sent heat through her in way no other man ever had.
Mercy had no response. If she said she was an accomplished musician, she would be a braggart and if she denied, a liar. Remaining silent was her only choice.
“I would like to hear you play some time, Miss Heath.” He cocked his strong chin to one side. “I think I would enjoy that very much.”
The music ended. “Perhaps you will, my lord.”
She turned to walk away, but he touched her elbow. “Will you not stay for the Boulanger?”
It was common for partners to stand up for two consecutive dances. Mercy just assumed he would have had enough dancing with a girl of no consequence and politely let her find her way back to some quiet corner or to her friends. “If you wish, my lord.”
He offered his hand and they joined a circle of dancers.
The Boulanger left little time for chatting, but it did give her a moment to observe Wesley and how he interacted with others. He smiled politely at every
woman who he partnered, though never so wide as to give someone the wrong impression. When they were once again hand in hand, his eyes sparkled with something tender.
Mercy assumed she was imagining things. With her blurred vision, she could easily imagine anything in the place of the truth. He couldn’t care about someone like her. If he showed special regard it was only because he wanted something. In most cases what men wanted from her she was not willing to give. Her wicked body responded to the earl without regard for the fact that he was unattainable. Heat flushed up her neck and face while parts lower suddenly came alive with desire.
Quashing the thought, she focused on the music, noted every mistake and even a few nicely handled stanzas.
Moving around the floor to the beat of the music and occasionally coming together with a man who had asked her specifically to dance with him, was a rare delight. It was easy to glide around the floor, but she wished she had clear sight so she could see all the nuances of his expression.
His full lips were turned up, but she couldn’t tell if the expression touched his eyes. Fumbling for her reticule, she decided that she would put her spectacles back on just as the music ended and catch a glimpse of Wesley’s true gaze before it was likely she’d never see him again.
Gripping the wire rim between two fingers she turned toward Wesley.
The final notes were played.
Applause erupted from the dancers.
The man with the paunch on her other side bumped her, pushing her into Wesley.
Wesley’s arms came around her before she tumbled to the floor.
The spectacles flew from her hand as she gripped his arm.
A sickening crunch followed.
As the dancers dispersed and the musicians put down their instruments, among the clatter, Mercy crouched beside her crushed spectacles. She picked up the twisted frames. One lens was crushed to splinters on the wooden floor, but the other was still in the frame with just one crack diagonally across. Mercy put the one lens to her eye. “I suppose it could be worse.”
Misleading a Duke Page 26