Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “Oh no, I could not.” Dennis waved away the idea with a hand. “I’ve intruded more than enough already.”

  “Honestly, we would be delighted to have you. Gabriel and I have been too much in each other’s company of late and it would be good to add a new voice to the conversation. Tell him, Gabriel,” she urged, “convince him he must join us.”

  Gabriel arched an amused brow. “You heard the lady, Mark. Do come along or Esme will never be content on the matter.”

  Dennis hesitated. “If you are quite sure? I really do not wish to intrude.”

  “Excellent. It is all settled then.” Esme smiled brightly. “Gentlemen, let us away.”

  The men laughed, then Gabriel tucked her hand into the curve of his arm and off the three of them went.

  Chapter 18

  “And I told him he was standing too near the bog, but the fool wouldn’t listen,” Mark Dennis said nearly three hours later as he, Gabriel and Esme sat around a table at the inn’s best—and only—private parlor. “So in he went, wig and all. Took half a dozen men to haul him out and another hour to clean off enough of the muck before his wife would let him back in the house.”

  All three of them laughed, in a fine humor after a good meal and numerous libations—spirituous in the gentlemen’s case, since Esme had confined herself to tea after a single glass of wine.

  Gabriel leaned back in his chair and savored a swallow of brandy from the snifter the servant had just set down. The man cleared the cheese and sweets plates from the table, then moved quietly from the room.

  “I’d forgotten how much I enjoy your stories, Mark,” Gabriel said. “You always were one for spinning a fine yarn.”

  “You as well.” Dennis played absently with the stem of his wineglass. “I can’t recall the last time I’ve laughed so much. This afternoon has been exactly the respite I needed. My thanks to you both.”

  “Oh, we feel the same,” Esme said. “This has been lovely, and I am so pleased to have made your acquaintance.”

  “And I yours, Lady Northcote.”

  “Yes, fate was clearly smiling when she brought us all here to Truro today,” Gabriel said. “Particularly since this is the first time I’ve let Esme venture into the populated world since I whisked her out from under the noses of her family three weeks ago.”

  Esme sent him a faintly scandalized look. “Gabriel, you make it sound as if you’ve been keeping me captive. Which he has not, Mr. Dennis,” she assured the other man.

  Gabriel chuckled and caught her hand where it lay in her lap, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Actually, I have rather. But only because I haven’t been able to bring myself to share you until now.”

  Pretty color spread into her cheeks in a way he adored, making Gabriel suddenly wish his friend to perdition so he could kiss her. But such pleasures would have to wait until he and Esme got back home. Maybe if there was time, they would be able to fit a quick tup in before dinner.

  Esme glanced away, then across the table at Mark. “You must promise to keep in touch, Mr. Dennis, and plan a stay with us when you next have a few days’ leave from the demands of your employer.”

  “That is most kind of you, Lady Northcote.” Dennis looked touched by her obvious sincerity. “I shall look forward to that occasion with eager anticipation.”

  Esme smiled. “Esme.”

  Dennis smiled back. “Esme. And if your husband has no objection, please call me Mark.”

  “She would likely call you Mark now even if I did object, so do as you both please,” Gabriel said.

  Esme gave Gabriel a wry look, while Dennis chuckled around a sip of his wine.

  “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me,” Esme said, “I shall leave you to enjoy your libations. There is a hat I saw in one of the shop windows that I think might suit my sister, and I have a sudden fancy to inspect it more closely.”

  “You’re going shopping?” Gabriel asked, still in possession of her hand. “Wait, and I will accompany you.”

  She shook her head and got to her feet. “You will only be bored. Stay and enjoy talking to Mr. Dennis a while more. The shop is just a few doors away.”

  He and Dennis rose to their feet. “Even so, I do not like you going alone,” Gabriel said. “Have one of the serving girls accompany you.”

  “As you like.”

  Gabriel rang for the proprietor, who had been attending them since their arrival, and made his request for a girl to accompany Esme.

  “Gladly, your lordship.” The man gave a bow. “I’ll ask me own daughter to walk with her ladyship. She’s a good, honest girl, Trudy is. You’ll like her, my lady.”

  “I am sure I shall. There”—she turned back to Gabriel—“happy now?”

  “Reasonably.” Regardless of their audience, he gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t be long.”

  “I shall not.”

  Once Esme and the innkeeper departed, he and Dennis resumed their seats.

  Mark Dennis settled back, a broad smile on his face.

  “What?” Gabriel asked.

  Dennis shrugged. “Nothing. Just you.”

  “What about me?”

  “Only that it’s nice to see you happy for a change. You chose well when you set your sights on Esme Byron.”

  Gabriel sipped his brandy, deciding not to reveal the truth—that not only had he not chosen her, but that technically speaking she had been the one to set her sights on him as he lay naked and asleep. But Dennis was right. If he had to get trapped in the parson’s noose, he could have fared a great deal worse than Esme.

  Inwardly, he smiled, seeing her lovely face in his mind’s eye. Then Dennis began speaking again, pulling him from his reverie.

  “After what happened with Amanda all those years ago, I never thought you’d let yourself care for another woman. It’s good to know you have finally found someone with whom to share your life.”

  Gabriel’s hand tightened around his brandy glass. “I believe we agreed years ago that you were never to mention that woman’s name in my hearing.”

  Dennis’s smile faltered. “Well, and so I did. But I cannot see what difference it makes now, not with you married and so clearly in love with your bride.”

  “What did you say?” Gabriel froze.

  “I said you’re in love. It’s as clear as the nose on your rather overly long face. Surely you have realized.”

  In love? With Esme?

  A jolt shot through Gabriel’s system as if he’d been hit by a particularly violent lightning bolt.

  He set down his drink with an audible chink. “I do not know what you imagine you can see, but you are mistaken.” His voice was like ice.

  Mark Dennis stared. “Well, I do not believe I am, but as you prefer.”

  “What I prefer on this subject is for you to leave it alone since it is none of your business. My wife and I rub along quite tolerably; she makes an excellent companion and is a fine addition to my bed. Anything more is irrelevant.”

  He drummed a pair of fingers against the tabletop. “As for Amanda Coyning, or whatever her current last name may be, I am lucky to have escaped her avaricious clutches. If I am not in error, she is on her third husband now, each one older, richer, and more dimwitted than the last. That way she can ensure their hasty demise and keep her coffers well supplied with gold.”

  Gabriel drew in a breath, gazing with unseeing eyes toward the window. “There was a time when I detested my uncle for interfering and ruining my chance to wed her. But in hindsight, he did me a great service. He thought he was inflicting yet another grave injury, but ultimately, it would seem he was doing a kindness, however unintended. Ah, the follies of being nineteen and fancying oneself in love.”

  “Gabriel, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up old wounds,” Dennis said, looking painfully uncomfortable.

  “You have dred
ged up nothing, old friend. My feelings for the former Miss Coyning are long dead, and as wintry as the grave. In fact, I don’t think I ever actually loved her despite my youthful declarations and the weeks of agonized moping I spent after she jilted me and flung herself into the arms of her first wealthy catch. Really, I should be grateful to her as well for teaching me an important lesson.”

  “Which is?”

  “Why, simply that love between a man and a woman is nothing but fantasy. There is lust and pleasure and, if one is lucky, friendship and respect. Anything else is complete delusion.”

  “I know you’re a cynic, but surely even you do not really believe that.”

  “I believe exactly that, so do not speak to me again about how I love my wife. She is a pleasing young woman who will someday be the mother of my children. I shall honor her for that when the day comes. But love? There is no love, and I will thank you not to bring up the subject again.”

  Dennis looked troubled, but rather than argue further, he nodded. “Your marriage is your own concern, of course. I shall offer no observations about it in future.”

  Gabriel inclined his head at the other man’s tacit apology, then tossed back the last of his brandy. “So, what news from the rest of our old cronies at Eton? I’ve heard nothing from any of them lately except Selworth, and I never did care much for anything he has to say.”

  Mark Dennis laughed, their easy friendship restored, and off he went in a new conversational direction.

  • • •

  Esme returned to the inn, the innkeeper’s daughter, Trudy, chattering cheerfully away at her side. She was well pleased with the outing and delighted by her purchase, even though it was not a hat.

  In truth, the bonnet for Mallory had been just an excuse. Her real goal had been the silver pocket watch that Gabriel had so admired when they had been shopping earlier. The watchmaker remembered her, beaming when she’d told him that she wished to purchase the watch for her husband. Luckily, Gabriel had just recently given her a generous amount of pin money, saying that even if she had no real need of it for her everyday expenses, she should nonetheless have some cash at her disposal to do with as she saw fit.

  “I am not one of these men who use money as a way to manipulate their wives,” he’d told her as he handed her the pound notes. “If this is not sufficient, you’ve only to ask for more. You will not find me ungenerous.”

  Her eyes had widened at the amount. “I can see that I won’t. You are extremely generous. Thank you.” Stretching up on her toes, she’d kissed him. He’d kissed her back, and moments later, money had been the last thing on her mind.

  Until today, when he’d mentioned their outing to Truro. She was glad now she’d thought to put some of the cash in her reticule. To her delight, it had been just enough to cover the cost of the pocket watch, which she planned to surprise Gabriel with as a Christmas present.

  She hugged the secret close to her chest as she walked down the hallway to the private parlor, the paper-wrapped watch hidden securely in the depths of her reticule. She paused, hearing the low, rich tones of the men’s voices. Gabriel was saying something about Eton as she pushed open the door.

  Gabriel and Mark Dennis swung their heads around as she entered the room, peculiar expressions on their faces—Dennis’s curiously uneasy, while Gabriel’s was disturbingly remote. Both men stood as she came farther inside.

  “So, you are back.” Gabriel ran his eyes over her assessingly. “Where is the hat?”

  She grew still, taken aback by his tone, which was critical and cold. He looked oddly cynical, with a hard glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since the days before their marriage.

  A tiny shiver went down her spine.

  Deciding she must be imagining things, she forced a happy smile. “The hats did not impress on closer inspection, so I decided to purchase something else for Mallory. I found a lovely bit of lace that I thought she could use to trim a dress or shawl. With Honiton only in the next county, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to have found such excellent-quality lace here. The woman from whom I bought it is a true artisan.”

  “How nice.” Gabriel looked away, frowning as if he were displeased, or worse, bored. “Well, if you’re finished shopping for the day, we ought to start for home. I don’t want to be traveling at dusk.”

  Since it was midafternoon, she didn’t think there was much risk of that. But clearly he wished to leave. Had he and Mark Dennis had an argument while she was gone? Something had certainly occurred to put him in such a precarious humor.

  “Of course,” she agreed quietly. “We can leave whenever you wish.”

  He turned toward his friend and held out a hand. “Mark, safe travels. It was good seeing you again. Look me up when next you are in London.”

  Esme frowned. What did he mean? When he was next in London?

  But of course, he must mean the two of them and he had simply misspoken, she decided. They had been married only a little over three weeks, so she supposed it was only natural that he was not yet used to referring to them as a couple.

  Dennis took the offered hand and shook. “I shall make a point of it, yes.”

  When Gabriel said nothing further, Dennis turned to her and bowed. “Lady Northcote, what a great pleasure it has been. I am glad we had this opportunity to meet. Thank you for a most enchanting nuncheon.”

  Esme smiled, relaxing slightly for the first time since she had entered the room. “The pleasure was mine as well. I am already looking forward to the next time we meet. And remember—call me Esme.”

  “You are kindness itself, Esme. I wish you health and every happiness.”

  He bowed again, then was gone.

  Silence descended.

  “Wait here,” Gabriel said abruptly. “I have to settle up with the innkeeper; then we shall depart.”

  She laid a hand on his sleeve. “What is it, Gabriel?” she said softly. “You seem upset. Did something go amiss between you and Mr. Dennis?”

  His mouth and brows tightened for a fleeting instant before the look vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Of course not. What could possibly have gone amiss?”

  “You just seem out of sorts, is all.”

  “If I do, it must be from nuncheon. I ate far too much rich food and drink.”

  To her recollection, he hadn’t eaten anything richer than what he usually consumed at home. He was one of the most robust men she knew, with a constitution to match—stomach included. But why would he lie? Maybe he really was feeling unwell. It would certainly account for his erratic temper.

  “Poor dear,” she said. “When we arrive home, I shall brew you a posset to settle your stomach. It’s a remedy I learned from Meg and it always works wonders.”

  For a moment it looked as if he were going to refuse; then he nodded. “Yes, that would be most agreeable. Why don’t you have a seat while I’m gone? I shall only be a few minutes.”

  But as she sat alone, waiting for him, her disquiet returned, setting her own stomach atremble.

  Chapter 19

  Dinner that evening was a miserable affair.

  Although she and Gabriel carried on a conversation, their words were all polite small talk, with none of their usual relaxed banter or the lighthearted verbal jousting she had so come to enjoy.

  She attempted, more than once, to ascertain the cause of his abrupt change in mood. But he rebuffed her each time, telling her she was mistaken and that nothing was wrong.

  Finally, she gave up, hoping that whatever it was would pass, and quickly.

  Even though she found herself doubting again that his difficulty was related to his stomach, she fixed him a posset containing peppermint, licorice root and basil not long after they’d arrived home. He’d thanked her, then drunk it down in a few quick gulps, handing her back the cup as if relieved to be free of her ministrations.


  It was with a kind of relief that she went upstairs to bed early.

  After her maid helped her change out of her gown, Esme bathed, then brushed her teeth and hair and crawled into bed. Lying in the semidarkness cast by the fireplace, she waited for him to join her.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  She was just drifting off to sleep when he let himself into the room, closing the door behind him. Quietly, he eased between the sheets.

  “Gabriel,” she murmured sleepily, more relieved than she had realized that he was there.

  Leaning over, he kissed her. “I’m sorry, Esme. I know I’ve been a bear today.”

  Reaching up a hand, she stroked his cheek, some of her sleepiness fading. “It’s all right. We all get blue deviled sometimes.”

  He stared at her, something mournful and distant in his tawny eyes.

  And abruptly she was afraid. “Gabriel?”

  He kissed her again, his touch devoid of passion. “You are tired. Go to sleep.”

  “No, I’m not.” She stroked a hand over his chest and arm. “Really.”

  But rather than gather her close as he always did, he rolled onto his side away from her. “Good night, Esme.”

  Her chest ached with disbelief, words lodged in her throat so tight she could not speak.

  And for the first time since coming to Highhaven, he did not make love to her.

  • • •

  “Pack your belongings,” he told her over breakfast the next morning. “We’ve been here for weeks. It is time we departed.”

  She laid down her spoon, the porridge she’d been trying to make herself eat turning even colder in its bowl.

  Earlier this morning when she’d awakened, Gabriel hadn’t been in their bed, nor had he roused her near dawn to make love, as was his habit. After ringing for her maid, she’d bathed and dressed, then gone downstairs to the breakfast room, Burr trailing faithfully at her side. At least he wasn’t avoiding her like Gabriel was.