by Amy Jarecki
A footman opened the door.
“There you are at last!” said Lady Calthorpe, accepting the man’s assistance. His Lordship followed.
Drake shook the baron’s hand. “Her Grace and I were just discussing how long it has been since I sent word of our return to England.”
Beaming with a radiant smile, Lady Calthorpe fanned her face. “Her Grace...Britannia, your title has such a lovely ring.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t come sooner,” said the baron. “We were set back by the weather. We should have been here three days ago.”
“But I’m still surprised to see you.” Bria clasped her mother’s hands and gave them a squeeze. Mother, the name made her warm all over. “My word, you came all this way.”
Her Ladyship return the squeeze and kissed Britannia on the cheek for the first time in nearly twenty years. “I would sail to Australia to see my only daughter.”
“And she nearly did,” said Calthorpe. “If His Grace hadn’t dispatched a missive telling us he was in pursuit, I believe Charlotte would have attempted to swim.”
Bria gestured toward the door. “Come inside and I’ll order lemonade and sandwiches.”
Drake led the way. “Perhaps Calthorpe would enjoy something a tad stronger.”
“A tot of brandy wouldn’t go astray,” said the baron.
“Pennyworth, brandy for the gentlemen, sandwiches for all and lemonade for the ladies, if you please,” said Ravenscar, heading to the drawing room.
The butler bowed. “Straightaway, Your Grace.”
Her Ladyship pulled Bria onto the settee. “When we were traveling to Plymouth, we had a long discussion about you, my dear.”
The baron nodded emphatically. “We did.”
“And we decided it was high time to legitimize you as our daughter.”
“Yes, yes,” echoed Calthorpe, his head still bobbing.
Unable to believe her ears, Bria looked from her mother to the baron to Drake who stood with his hands over his heart and his mouth agape.
Tears stung her eyes as the realization began to sink in.
“Even before you returned to England,” Her Ladyship continued, “we had already submitted the documents to legitimize your birth.”
“And thus, you are the sole heir to my fortune,” said the baron.
Blinking, those pesky tears slipped from Bria’s eyes as she gasped. “I-I cannot believe it. This far exceeds my wildest dreams.”
“You have made this a glorious day,” Drake agreed.
“We’re so happy to have our Britannia in our lives.” Her Ladyship plucked a lace kerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “I only wish we could have been there for the wedding.”
“Now that we’re on home’s soil, we’ll have to plan a grand ball. I’m sure my mother will be anxious to make the announcement as well.”
A footman brought in the sandwiches while they discussed timing, the guest list, invitations and music. In the distance, Bria heard the wheels of another carriage, and hoped it might be the mail courier with a missive from Drake’s mother.
Not long and voices came from beyond the door just before a ruffled Pennyworth entered, tugging down his sleeves. “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Ravenscar and a Mr. Edwin Peters.”
Not just a missive, but the woman herself.
Bria’s new mother-in-law swept into the room, her gaze immediately homing in on her son. “How dare you leave London without a word for an entire month? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Drake’s chair scraped the floorboards as he rose. “Mother—”
“We came as fast as we could,” she said as Mr. Peters stepped beside her. “The dreadful rain added three days to our journey.”
Bowing, Drake, kissed her hand. “Britannia and I were just wondering why we hadn’t heard from you.”
Her Grace shot a glare Bria’s way, one filled with heat and distaste. “So, your missive was not a forgery. You have, indeed, run off and wed the dancer.” The word was spoken with such disdain, there was no question what the woman thought of Bria’s profession. “I would be remiss if I didn’t say here and now I have approached the bishop and we can take steps for an annulment.”
The room erupted in a cacophony of voices while Lady Calthorpe sprang to her feet with daggers in her eyes, shouting above everyone else, “How dare you speak so contemptibly toward my daughter!”
Clapping her hands over her mouth, Bria burst out with laughter while tears flooded her eyes. Her mother was as fierce as a badger, defending her against a duchess. Nonetheless, it was glorious and horrible all at once.
Not to be overshadowed by the baroness, Drake rang the bell. “Silence!” Before he uttered another word, he gave Mr. Peters a healthy once-over, then returned his attention to his mother. “I assure you there will be no annulment.”
“Absolutely not.” Lady Calthorpe shook her fan. “Britannia, I mean, Her Grace, is the sole heir to the barony which comes with a handsome dowry, mind you.”
“Thank you, such dower funds will be for Her Grace’s use as she sees fit,” Drake said, his gaze not leaving his mother’s face.
“A dowry?” Bria whispered, clasping her hands over her heart.
But Ravenscar looked anything but pleased. He took a step toward her. “I expect you to apologize to my wife forthwith, else I shall have you removed from my home and deposited in the dower house.”
Her Grace’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would.” Drake gestured to Britannia, looking as if he were about to go in search of his cane—the weapon with the silver ball on the end. “Now. Mother.”
Looking as if she’d swallowed a canary, the woman drew a deep breath through her nose and leveled her gaze at Britannia. Within the blink of an eye, she assumed the posture of a queen and floated across the Oriental carpet and offered a polite curtsy, dipping no further than absolutely necessary. “Your Grace, please accept my congratulations for your turn of fortune. I trust you will make every effort to ensure my son’s continued happiness.”
Bria bowed her head, affecting a serene smile, praying she was behaving duchess-like. At her first opportunity, she would ask her mother for a quick course on proper behavior for an English gentlewoman. “My only care will always be for my husband’s health and happiness.”
“Well put.” Seemingly satisfied, Drake offered his hand to the dowager duchess. “Though we have one more issue to discuss as long as we’re amongst family.”
“Oh?” his mother asked.
Everyone’s eyebrows shot up.
Drake ushered her toward Mr. Peters and addressed the gunsmith. “I hereby grant you permission to marry my mother posthaste. Your courtship has gone on long enough.”
Remaining a model of composure, she squared her shoulders. “Son, this time you speak out of turn.”
“I think not, Priscilla.” Mr. Peters took the woman’s hand and dropped to one knee. “The thing is, all these years I’ve been asking for your hand, but you’ve always put me off. I agree with His Grace. ’Tis time we seal our love and marry. If you’ll have a common man.”
“Oh, stand up, Edwin. Of course I’ll marry you.”
“Refreshments are served.” In the nick of time, Pennyworth entered carrying a tray.
From behind him, Johnny flew past the butler and snatched a neatly appointed cucumber sandwich. Shoving it into his mouth, he stopped short and gaped at all the new faces. “Cor, Your Graces, where did all these dandies come from?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
ONE MONTH LATER
Drake’s mother and Mr. Peters had recited their vows before a small gathering of family and friends on the previous day. And tonight, in celebration of both marriages, Bria was preparing to preside over her first royal ball as duchess.
Lady Calthorpe sat primly on the ottoman—who, as it happens, was variolated for smallpox before traveling to Bayeux—hence the reason her daughter did not contract the disease.
Her Ladyship smoothed her hands over her embroidered organza skirts. “The wedding was lovely.”
“It was. And I even think the dowager duchess will come to tolerate me.”
“Tolerate you? How can anyone not adore you, especially if Mr. Peters has anything to do with it. He’d been trying to convince that woman to marry him for years, and now that she has wed a man outside the noble ranks, she has not a leg to stand on where you are concerned.”
The lady’s maid gave Bria’s hair a pat. “There you are, Your Grace. All ready.”
“Let me have a look.” Mother sprang to her feet and pulled Bria in front of the full-length mirror. “Oh my, you are stunning.”
Drake had insisted on a gown of ivory lace, the neckline embroidered with pearls and amber crystals—matching her eyes he’d said.
She pressed her fingertips into an unusually queasy stomach. “I am nervous.”
“No need. You were a pupil of the Paris Opera Ballet. You have the best training of all of us.”
Bria thought of the governess they’d hired for Johnny, not to mention the riding and fencing instructors. She’d had none of those. “Hardly.”
“Mind you, ballet has taught you to present yourself as the highest-ranking nobility.”
“But I’m worried I might say the wrong thing.”
“Hogwash. You’re a duchess, incapable of making a blunder. And you’ll do well to remember that. Every word you utter must be done with utmost conviction to its sureness.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It is if you play the part. I’ve seen you perform on stage. You’re not only a beautiful dancer, you’re a talented actress, and isn’t that what these affairs are about?” Her Ladyship smiled and cupped Bria’s face. “We all have a role to play and, tonight, you are the lady of the evening. No one, not even the dowager duchess can take the limelight from you.”
She took her mother’s hands. “Thank you. You’ve made me feel confident.”
“Good. Now I’d best find His Lordship. I’ll see you in the reception line in an hour.”
“You will, indeed.” Bria kissed Her Ladyship’s cheek.
“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?” asked the maid.
“No, you’ve done a fine job. Thank you.”
Before she joined Drake in his chamber, she had two people to see. First, she slipped down the corridor to Pauline’s chamber. Thank heavens her dearest friend was able to travel north for the soiree. After knocking, she popped her head inside. “Oh my, you look lovely.”
Dressed in a lovely pink frock, Pauline sprang to her feet and pulled Britannia into her embrace. “Me? You look like a queen.”
Bria gave her a squeeze, then twirled to make her skirts flair. “A duchess, perhaps.” She tapped her fingers to quell her stomach upset.
“Are you unwell?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
Pauline snatched her fan and shook it. “How long have we known each other?”
Gulping against the little bit of nausea, Bria took in a deep breath and smiled as brilliantly as she could. The excitement bubbling through her blood far outshone her mild discomfort. “I think I’m with child!”
Gasping, Pauline’s jaw dropped. “That’s wonderful!”
“I wanted you to be the first to know.” Bria stepped in and lowered her voice. “I just want to be sure about this before I tell His Grace.”
The dancer giggled. “If you keep turning green, you won’t have to say a word.”
“Right. But I do not want him to worry for naught.
“Oh my.” Pauline tapped her chin with the fan. “I just thought.”
“What?”
“The theater, the ballet.”
“That’s one of the reasons I asked you to visit. Are you ready to be the principal ballerina next Season? Because there’s no one on this earth I want performing the lead role at Chadwick Theater more than you.”
“Truly?”
“Oui, ma chérie. I’m a duchess now and my place is beside the duke. Duchesses don’t walk the boards, mind you.” Even though Drake would have been happy to allow her to continue dancing, her life had taken a new path—one filled with the growing family she’d dreamed about for years.
Together they joined hands and spun in a circle—not so duchess-like, but very appropriate. “Oh Bria, you’ve made me so happy!”
“You deserve to be.” She gave Pauline’s cheek a peck. “Now I must haste away. I’ll see you below stairs anon.”
Checking the mantel clock, she had fifteen minutes to pay a visit to the nursery, and she hastened up one flight of stairs and knocked on Johnny’s door. “Are you ready?”
He opened. “Bloody hell, you look ravishing.”
“Language, young man. That’s not exactly the sort of greeting you give a duchess,” said the governess.
Bria smiled at the woman. “I’m sure you’ll have Master John well-versed in proper etiquette in no time.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The governess curtsied and excused herself.
Johnny stood quite like a gentleman, dressed in a velvet suit of clothes complete with an expertly tied neckcloth. Bria stood back and gave a head-to-toe inspection. “Now, show me a proper bow and kiss my hand.”
He flipped out his coattails and performed as directed. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
“Excellent.” She ruffled his hair just to make him look more like the Johnny she knew. “Tonight you’ll stand in the receiving line, and then come back up here for bed.”
“But why can’t I stay?”
“Children are not allowed at balls.”
He kicked the rocker of a wooden horse. “Why?”
“I don’t make the rules, but we must follow them. When you come of age, you’ll attend so many balls you’ll grow sick of them.”
“But if I asked the dowager duchess to waltz, she might like me.”
“Mm.” Bria studied him. “What makes you think she doesn’t like you.”
“She purses her lips and looks at me as if I’m a guttersnipe.”
“I think she just isn’t quite sure how to take you.”
“Huh?”
“The rose garden is full of new blooms. Perhaps you might consider collecting a bouquet and taking it to her on the morrow. Tell her how important it is for you to be in her good favor.”
“Can I tell her how you and His Grace rescued me from the convict ship?”
Bria smoothed her finger over the gems encrusting her neckline. “Why not. And then tell her about your plans to become a ship’s captain and put an end to penal colonies.”
DRAKE STOOD OUTSIDE the open nursery door and listened to Britannia speak to their ward for a moment before he stepped through. “I thought I’d find you up here.”
When Britannia turned, his knees buckled. Never in his life would he grow tired of seeing his lovely wife. “How do you do it? Every time I see you, you are more radiant.”
“And you grow more handsome.” She stepped in playfully and kissed him.
“Mush,” Johnny complained.
Drake eyed the lad. “You’re expected in the entrance hall in a half-hour.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
“And Master John...”
“Yes?”
“You look very dapper this evening.”
The boy’s expression grew stunned as Drake escorted his wife down to his chamber.
Britannia leaned on his arm. “I cannot believe how gentlemanly he looks—and he’s only been here a month.”
“He’s fitting in well. His riding instructor tells me John is exceptional with horses.”
“Wo
nderful news.”
Drake pulled her into his chamber and closed the door. “But I don’t want to talk about the lad right now.” He held his wife at arm’s length admiring perfection. “You truly are the most beautiful woman I have ever gazed upon. Why, I think being a duchess suits you. You’re glowing.”
Her hips swayed as she stepped into him and fingered his neckcloth. “Must we go down?”
“We’re the hosts, darling.”
“But the guests will have a lovely time without us.”
He drew her into his arms and kissed her. “I love the way you think almost as much as I love you.”
“I suppose it would be awfully difficult to undress and dress with so little time.” She slid her hands down his lapels. “But I’m expecting grand things later.”
“A new position, perhaps?” he asked. She’d proved a tigress in the boudoir, growing wilder by the night.
“Oh yes, one you haven’t shown me yet.” Pressing her fingers to her lips she gulped and then fanned her face.
“Or would you prefer to command the...ah...position?”
Bria, clamped her hands to her midriff and lurched as if she were going to be sick.
“My heavens.” Throwing his arm around her, he helped her to the chair. “Are you feeling unwell, my love?”
“I’m all right. It’s just a wave of nausea now and again.”
“Nausea?” He kneeled before her. “You are ill. You must take to your bed immediately.”
“No, not tonight! I am fine.”
“But—”
She hid her face in her hands. “I think...I think I might be with child.”
Stunned, he watched her face as a dozen starbursts took to flight in his heart. Had he heard correctly? “You...what?”
“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. The queasiness comes and goes. Please, we must hasten below stairs before Pennyworth sends someone to fetch us.”
Surrounding her in his arms, he showered Britannia’s darling face with kisses. “Oh, my love, are you certain you are up to this? I could make your apologies.”