Mrs. Brewster’s buoyant smile faded forthwith. The fact that her own tiny apartment and millinery shop took up less space than the room they were occupying made her wonder if, after a visit to her establishment, Lord Marsden would be inclined to look down his long, thin nose at her. She thought it wise to lead the subject elsewhere. “Miss Heather is a very fine lady, perhaps the most enchanting in the area . . . besides Miss Raelynn, of course.”
His lordship withdrew a snuffbox and sprinkled a little powder on the back of his hand. Inhaling a few small particles into each nostril, he raised his head and pompously elevated his brows as he pressed a handkerchief aside his nose. “She bears the coloring of those dastardly Irish. Is she?”
Momentarily struck speechless, Thelma Brewster searched her memory. “I-I think so. I mean, I seem to recall hearing someone say her mother came to England from Ireland after her marriage to Heather’s father.”
Lord Marsden bounced on his toes as he lifted his angular chin almost level with his long nose. “Too bad.”
The milliner felt the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably. If the man thought Heather Birmingham beneath his lofty peerage, then how much farther down the scale would he rank most of the Charlestonians, herself included?
Lydia Winthrop smiled blandly at the man. “You’ll find the citizenry of this area are little concerned with titles and nobility, my lord. You must remember that although this territory was once under English rule, it’s no longer subject to the authority of the monarchy. People here desired their freedom from autocracy enough to fight for it.”
“Rebels . . . Yankees . . . all the same,” Marsden replied imperiously.
The plump cheeks of the milliner drew sharply inward in a shocked gasp. The awe she had formerly felt for the nobleman was quickly turning into vexing ire. Indeed, if she had to listen to any more of this Englishman’s long-nosed arrogance, she’d be liable to lower a punchbowl over his dark head. In an effort to turn the subject once again to something less confrontational, she indicated the bountiful fare laid out on the tables. “You’ll not likely find food as tasty as this in all of the Carolinas, my lord. Wouldn’t you care to take a plate and sample some?”
Lord Marsden touched his lace handkerchief almost daintily to the side of his nose again and sniffed. “I dare not ask what has gone into the making of these dishes. Such rich victuals may well prove the death of me.”
“Well, ‘tis doubtful you’ll be finding any kidney pie around these here parts, your lordship,” Mrs. Brewster retorted, casting a jaundiced eye toward the man. English lord or not, he definitely needed to be taught some manners. “As for me, I can hardly wait to begin.”
Lydia passed the milliner a plate as she smilingly invited, “Shall we?”
Heather caught sight of Jeff making his way toward her through the crowd of guests. As he drew near, she stretched forth a welcoming hand and laughed like an eager schoolgirl. “I was wondering what I would have to do to get your attention. As much as you’ve been dancing with Raelynn, I was sure I’d have to break in and ask you for a dance myself just to get a chance to talk with you. Your ball is quite lovely, sir. Thank you for inviting us.”
Winking at her fondly, Jeff brought her thin fingers to his lips before he stepped back and swept her with a teasing perusal. “Madam, may I say that you look very much like a hen upon her nest, waiting expectantly for her egg to hatch.”
Heather laid a small hand upon her belly and contentedly drummed her fingers against it. “Any week now.”
“Feeling all right, princess?”
“Perfectly,” she assured him, her smile deepening. Then she cast a loving glance toward her husband and heaved a small sigh as that one leaned against her chair. “Or at least I would be if your brother would relax just the tiniest bit. I swear, he watches over me as tenaciously as a dog with a juicy bone.”
Her happy tone dismissed any hint of reproach and drew a grin from her husband. That worthy proceeded to caress his wife’s shoulder. “You must forgive me, my sweet, but as you appear on the threshold of ushering our new offspring into the world, I believe I may be allowed a small degree of anxiety.”
Heather gave him a saucy pout. “Oh, posh, you know perfectly well that it may be another two weeks or so yet before our daughter hatches. At least, that’s what Hatti said. You must have forgotten what I looked like a few weeks before Beau arrived. Something closely reminiscent of a frigate with its weighty prow plowing through water, I would imagine.”
Laughter made the rounds among those who stood near her chair, yet in spite of Brandon’s amusement, Jeff glimpsed some evidence of strain in his countenance, similar to that which his brother had experienced a thrice of years ago when he had faced Beau’s birth. More than anyone, Jeff knew how firmly Heather held her husband’s heart ensnared and that the merest thought of her enduring the pain of childbirth or, worse yet, of her dying during her labor stole away Brandon’s peace of mind. In spite of her fairly easy delivery the first time, there always loomed a threat of complications, and until it was over, Brandon could not settle down and live at peace with himself.
“Believe me, my sweet,” her husband replied huskily, taking his wife’s delicately boned hand within his and squeezing it affectionately, “I’ve forgotten nothing of my ordeal, and that’s why I fret now.”
When Heather lifted a dewy-eyed look of tender regard to her spouse, Jeff felt as if he had inadvertently trespassed into their intimacy. In turning aside, he faced Farrell, who had also witnessed the exchange of loving devotion between the pair. Rarely had that one glimpsed the like of such closeness between a married couple. It was a loving unity that a bachelor could well envy.
“Jeffrey, me dearie, you’re looking quite dapper for a change,” the clothier remarked with more than a hint of mischief and struck a lofty pose as his host turned a grin upon him.
“Egads, Fancy Man, you almost rival my wife’s appearance,” Jeff teased as he swept his gaze down the length of the other’s tall, broad-shouldered frame. Not a stitch was out of place in the long, narrow-fitting trousers of charcoal gray pinstripe, waistcoat of silver-scrolled brocade, white shirt and cravat, and black, claw-tailed frockcoat. He couldn’t help but admire the fashionable clothes.
Farrell preened in exaggerated conceit as he ran his thumbs beneath the lapels of his finely tailored coat. “You think so?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Come to my shop when you have time to spare, Jeffrey me dearie, and I’ll teach you some of the finer points of style. You could certainly benefit from my advice.”
A dubious grin accompanied Jeff’s quip. “I’ll consider your offer if I ever want to masquerade as a dandy.”
The bearded face fell forthwith as Farrell made much of his distress, in the process drawing laughter from everyone who witnessed his visual deflation. “I swear, Jeffrey, you can be downright offensive when your jealousy is tweaked.”
“Now don’t pout,” Jeff urged drolly. “I didn’t intend to offend you. Truth is, you’re looking as pretty as a Carolina peach.”
Elizabeth cast a glance awry at her handsome escort and, upon espying his toothy grin, seemed suddenly distressed as if sorely lamenting the damage their host had done. “You’d better not feed the man’s vanity more than you have, sir. His head is getting top-heavy, as it is. Please remember. I have to work with him.”
“Stuck on himself, is he?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, magnifying her inhibitions. “You’d never hear such a comment from me, sir . . . as much as I may think it.”
Capturing her hand within his, Farrell chortled good-naturedly. “I think it’s time we showed this oaf of a host that he’s not the only one who can dance a waltz. Besides, my dear, I’d like everyone to see your new gown.”
“Another one of your creations, Fancy Man?” Jeff queried with a lopsided grin.
“Actually, my assistant, here, designed and made the frock herself. Quite lovely, don’t you think?”
The deep magenta go
wn truly did justice to the beauty of the fair-skinned brunette, and in gallant appreciation of all that he saw, Jeff executed a flamboyant bow. “You’re looking exceptionally beautiful tonight, Miss Elizabeth. Quite exquisite, in fact. You put your employer to shame.”
A soft chuckle escaped Elizabeth as she sank into a charming curtsey. “Thank you, Mr. Birmingham.”
“Jeff,” their host corrected. “Or if you’re so inclined, Jeffrey. While you’re away from your employer’s shop, Elizabeth, I must insist on a more casual address than Mr. Birmingham.” His dancing eyes flicked briefly to the couturier before he added, “And you can tell him I said so.”
Laughing, Elizabeth dipped her head in a fleeting nod of consent. “As you wish, Jeffrey.”
“Enjoy yourselves, my friends,” their host bade, with a flamboyant wave of his hand urging them onto the dance floor. “I’ll join you there as soon as I can find my wife.”
Jeff’s gaze was drawn to Raelynn as if by a will of its own, and for a moment he stood marveling at her regal beauty as she was swirled about the floor by another friend, Sheriff Rhys Townsend. The huge man was amazingly light on his feet, and although Raelynn seemed dwarfed by his size, she had no difficulty following his lead. In truth, she was taller than Heather by several degrees and seemed almost willowy in the long, narrow-skirted gown that flowed with subtly clinging grace from her shoulders to the floor. Jeff thought the gown a bit deceptive, for he was fully cognizant and, as her husband, most appreciative of the ripe curves that lay hidden beneath the shimmering sheath. Their weeks of intimacy had taught him to see beyond the outer shell of the lovely, vibrant woman and to read the true depth of the lady hidden within. He realized with some surprise that for all the pleasure he derived from their passion and marital familiarity, some deeper, richer emotion was taking root in his heart. It had a quality that was outside his realm of experience. As yet, he could put no name to it. Still, it was very pleasant knowing that she was his alone.
As he indulged himself admiring his wife from afar, Jeff was struck by a sudden mental image of her with her belly swollen with child, much as Heather’s was now. He had once teased Raelynn about having several dozen offspring. Now the thought of even one rounding out her belly provoked such profound longing that it almost robbed him of breath. On the cusp of it, and hardly aware of what he did, he began weaving his way through the labyrinth of dancing couples. When he clasped Rhys’s shoulder, he evoked a surprise that was at the very least farfetched.
“Well, Jeffrey, what’re you doing out here by your lonesome?” the sheriff asked, as if the idea that a man might want to dance with his own wife had never occurred to him. In his own concocted vernacular Rhys chided, “You oughta get yourself a girlie if’n you want ta dance.”
“I know that, my friend. That’s why I’ve come for my wife. Go find your own before she sends her brothers out to drag you off the floor.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Rhys chortled as his eyes lit on the petite blonde who was eyeing him from the sidelines. “I guess I’m gonna have to teach my li’l darlin’ how to dance or one o’ these days she’s gonna be nailin’ my hide to a barn door. Mary can get a mite resentful sometimes when I yield my feet to the music and seek out a dancing partner.”
Raelynn glanced toward the winsome, young woman. At the moment Mary clutched an embroidered shawl self-consciously over her midriff, lending much to the supposition that she was in the earlier stages of a pregnancy. “I think I’m feeling some of that resentment even now, Rhys,” she ventured, her eyes sparkling with unquenchable humor. “You’d better make haste to make amends, or Mary will be dragging you off the floor by the ear.”
“Sure thing,” he rumbled through his laughter and touched two fingers to his brow in a casual salute before flapping his arms and making much of his alacrity to join his wife.
Raelynn and Jeff relented to their amusement over the sheriff’s propensity to play the comedian and continued to laugh as Rhys made a great show of explaining himself to his spouse. At present, Mary had her pert nose tilted upward, feigning a highly offended manner.
After a courtly bow, Jeff invited his wife to join him in a waltz and immediately received a welcoming answer in the form of opening arms. For several moments he swept her around the perimeter of the floor in ever widening circles as they relished the music and the presence of each other in silence. Then Raelynn peered up at him with a wondering smile.
“That was rather bold of you, Jeffrey, coming out into the midst of our guests to stake your claim on me. Did you want me for something in particular?”
Arching a brow, he grinned down at her. “Only to dance with you whenever I feel like it. I’d hardly call that bold, merely . . .” He lifted his head thoughtfully, seeking the appropriate word, and then nodded decisively, “. . . sensible.”
From beneath a lengthy fringe of silky black lashes, Raelynn shot him a glance that was somewhere between dubious and amused. Such a look made Jeff smile in secret contentment. The idea of keeping his wife a bit uncertain as to how sensible he intended to be regarding his husbandly prerogatives was certainly not objectionable to him. After all, there was such a thing as taking a spouse too much for granted.
All the same, Jeff felt a niggling uncertainty when he saw her small, white teeth chewing at a bottom lip. Whatever unquenchable male inclinations had rallied in an effort to keep her just a bit off balance in regards to her womanly assessment of his character was now encumbered by a desire to have her always feel safe and secure as his wife.
“Raelynn, my love, I’m not overly jealous, certainly not of my friends when they lend you some . . .” His assurances were abruptly silenced by her tantalizing smile.
“Very sensible, of course,” she murmured as her fingers worked their way to the short strands of hair at his nape. “I much prefer dancing with you, Jeffrey.”
Of a sudden, the music seemed to soar in joyful rhapsody, and Jeff ceased to think of anything beyond his simple appreciation of the woman in his arms . . . and in his heart. Of late, she seemed the very reason that it beat the way it did.
Moments later, Jeff and Raelynn meandered hand in hand to the refreshment tables, and it was there that the milliner introduced them to Lord Marsden and Lydia Winthrop.
“Such a lovely affair,” Lydia assured the couple graciously.
“Yes, absolutely,” Lord Marsden agreed in a more cordial vein, winning the smiling approval of Mrs. Brewster.
Lydia quickly explained his lordship’s mission to Jeff. “We thought you or Mr. Brandon might be able to direct his lordship in this matter.”
“We’d be delighted to assist him,” Jeff assured them and faced the man directly. “You’re welcome to return here to my home anytime while I’m in residence, my lord, or to even stop by my shipping company. You can be reasonably assured that I’m there on Wednesdays, but as for the other days of the week, I cannot say. I have other business interests that demand my time, but I’m also just as prone to stay at home and take account of my crops, stables and other things that are of utmost importance to me.” Surreptitiously Jeff reached back a hand and, threading his lean fingers through those of his wife, squeezed them gently, silently affirming that she was the one who really claimed the best of his attention. “I’ll be happy to lend you whatever assistance you may require, my lord.”
“Thank you most kindly for your generous offer, sir. I would certainly be indebted to you if you could help me conclude my business here speedily so I can return to England well before the nuptials are announced. Truly, if I must endure another sea voyage the like of which Mrs. Winthrop and I have already suffered, then I may never get up enough nerve to board another ship as long as I live.”
His comment evoked their laughter, allowing Mrs. Brewster to renew her admiration for the man. After all, he was a lord of the realm and had even seen fit to invite her for a turn about the dance floor.
BEING AT AN ELEGANT BALL WITH A WIFE RATHER THAN merely a fema
le companion was a new experience for Jeff, and he was not above taking marital license whenever the opportunity presented itself. Raelynn seemed more than willing to foster his husbandly advances with a few wifely ones of her own. Indeed, such moments were limited only by the amount of secrecy or concealment they were able to garner throughout the evening. Her hand settling possessively upon his backside while they were wedged in a corner talking to friends or the back of his arm brushing her breast were teasing little sweetmeats that made them smile at each other in warm communication.
It was equally satisfying for Jeff to return to their bedchamber after Mrs. Brewster had accidentally splashed punch over the starched whiteness of his shirt and to find his wife perched on the end of the overstuffed chaise with her skirts drawn up nigh to her hips. She was just dragging off a badly snagged stocking when he arrived and began smoothing on new hosiery as he doffed his coat and shirt. He was ever wont to admire her long, sleek limbs and, with a husbandly appreciation, hovered near with all the dedication of a lusting roué. Nibbling at her earlobe, he whispered lewd suggestions in her ear until Raelynn was giggling like a new bride. His proposals proved provocative, especially to Jeff who became increasingly dedicated to the idea of enjoying some marital intimacy. Kneeling before her, he covered her throat and bosom with languid kisses as his hand wandered with bold familiarity beneath the hem of her gown. Raelynn’s breath caught at his advance. A moment later it escaped in a fluttering sigh of pleasure as she relaxed against him. When his lips traveled upward to ensnare hers, commanding a fervent answer, she yielded her mouth completely, meeting his probing tongue with slow, sultry flicks of her own.
A moment later Jeff lifted his head and searched his wife’s face for the depth of her commitment to this moment. Soft, dewy eyes merged with his, and a warm shiver gently shook her slender frame as she recognized the passion blazing in those green orbs. A long, muscular arm moved around behind her hips and swept her forward to the end of the chaise, opening her up to him as he freed the fastenings of his breeches and slowly sheathed himself in her womanly warmth.
A Season Beyond a Kiss Page 16