His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance)

by Chatham, Victoria

  She nodded that she heard him. Lucius dropped his hand on her shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. He went down to the kitchen where he joined Peggy and Partridge.. Both heads swivelled as one when he walked in.

  “Mrs. Partridge,” he said, “I need your help.”

  Peggy nodded. “What can I do for you, my Lord?”

  “You know that Sir Miles gave his consent to my suit.” Lucius paused as Peggy nodded again. “I have a special license for the ceremony. As soon as the vicar arrives it must be done. Do you have anything that might make a suitable headdress, or posy, or something bride like for Emmaline?”

  “Leave it to me.” Peggy’s serious expression softened into a shy smile. “Her mother’s trunk is still here. I might find just the thing.”

  “Do you have a ring, milord?” Partridge asked.

  Lucius nodded. “In my pocket along with the licence. Now, where’s that damned vicar?”

  Going to the door and down the steps into the yard, impatient for the vicar to arrive, he hoped that Sir Miles would cling to life long enough to see his wish fulfilled. Hearing the click and scuffle of hooves and the trundle of wheels in the lane, he hurried to the gate and opened it.

  “Doctor or vicar?” Lucius asked tersely as a gig drove into the yard.

  “Doctor.” The reply was just as terse, accompanied by a sideways glance full of curiosity. “The vicar, I suspect, will be here shortly.”

  Reuben appeared and took charge of the gig while Lucius strode about the yard, his patience thinning with every step he took. How long did it take to get from the village to Baymoor? Would the vicar be riding or driving? Was this the only way in to Baymoor? He thought it was, but turned towards the cattle shed and barn to make sure he had not missed another track.

  As soon as he turned his back he caught the sound of a horse picking its way down the lane. He turned again to see a portly bay cob coming through the gate.

  “Reverend Tucker?”

  “That I am, my son.” The reverend gentleman dismounted awkwardly, hooked the reins over the handle on the stable water pump and looked up at Lucius. “I take it from the nervous energy in the air that you are the groom?”

  Lucius nodded. “So Sir Miles has explained our situation?”

  “He has indeed.”

  Wordlessly Lucius handed the special licence to the Reverend and together they made their way straight upstairs and into the bed chamber. Sir Miles, still flushed but with an unnerving twinkle in his eyes, was requesting the damn doctor to desist his ministrations.

  With freshly brushed hair and a clean shirt and cravat, Peggy had succeeded in making Sir Miles look almost well again. Lucius went to the bedside.

  “All is ready, Sir Miles.”

  “And here is your bride.”

  Lucius turned and his world stopped. Someone or something had reached for his heart and squeezed it tight. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel anything except an overwhelming sense of love.

  Emmaline stood in the doorway dressed in a froth of cream coloured muslin. His glance raked her from head to toe, ignoring the intricate embroidery on bodice and skirt and the trim of delicate Spanish lace about the neckline. A circlet of fresh daisies sat atop her black curls, her mother’s pearl earrings hung from her ears. She smiled shyly at him and his breath returned to his lungs with a whoosh, leaving him momentarily dizzy.

  He stepped towards her, holding out his hand. She placed hers in it and he led her to the bedside.

  A happy smile on his face, Sir Miles nodded to the vicar who had donned his cassock, surplice and stole and stood ready with his prayer book.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God,” he intoned.

  The minutes flew by. Emmaline barely recognized her own voice as she spoke her responses and Lucius firmly stated his. He slid his family ring, a blood red ruby surrounded by pearls all set in a chased gold band, on her finger and the Reverend Tucker was pronouncing them man and wife.

  “And you may now kiss your bride,” announced Sir Miles. Tears of happiness trickled from the corners of his eyes and a harsh cackle broke from his lips. “She’s a strong young filly, my boy. You need to ride her hard and often.”

  His cackle turned into a fit of coughing and a painful gasp for air as he fell back on his pillows.

  “Peggy, steaming hot water, if you please, as quickly as you can,” Doctor Ferryman ordered. “The rest of you, clear the room. All of you,” he looked pointedly at Emmaline. “You too, Lady Clifton.”

  Emmaline raised her eyes in astonishment. Lady Clifton? But the ring on her finger reminded her that her life had changed irrevocably.

  Downstairs she found Peggy had produced a wedding breakfast that covered the table in the parlour. Partridge had a happy smile on his face and Reuben grinned from ear to ear.

  “I made that for you,” he said, pointing to the daisy headdress. “They all come out of the long meadow. No grass, only pretty white flowers. That’s what Aunty Peggy said.”

  “It’s beautiful, Reuben.” Emmaline gave his arm a grateful squeeze. “I am very proud to wear it.”

  And, she realized, proud of Lucius’ ring on her finger. Was it just a coincidence that it fit perfectly? Or could it be that this was meant to happen? That, after all her hopes and fears, she was meant to be Lady Clifton? Maybe her past really didn’t matter. Maybe she would one day tell Lucius the whole of it, but for now only one thing mattered.

  Her grandfather.

  None of them felt much like eating, but they were toasted with elderflower wine and the Reverend Tucker and Reuben helped themselves to enormous plates of food.

  Lucius and Emmaline hovered close to the door, anxiously awaiting either Peggy or the doctor. They picked on the pastries and sweetmeats, trying to do justice to Peggy’s efforts but their mouths were dry and the food almost tasteless.

  They both started at the footsteps descending the stairs. The doctor, grim faced, came in to the room.

  At the sight of his expression Emmaline’s hands flew to her face.

  “Is he..?” she gasped.

  Doctor Ferryman shook his head. “Not yet, but it won’t be long. I am so sorry, my dear. This should be the happiest day of your life, yet I fear it may also be the saddest. I have given your grandfather a sleeping draught. It is the best I can do for him.”

  While he was talking Peggy packed food into a basket.

  “You take this, Doctor. I know your good lady will not let it go to waste.”

  He took the basket and nodded his goodbye. Reuben had already left to prepare the gig and it was a sorry party that remained.

  “I’ll go and sit with grandfather,” Emmaline said. “Is there anything I should do for him, Peggy?”

  Peggy shook her head. “It’s just as the doctor said, my Lady. It’s just a matter of time now.”

  Tears pricked Emmaline’s eyes as she made her way upstairs. Brushing them away, she pulled up the chair and sat beside her grandfather’s bed. His skin was pale and waxy, as if he had already passed. It was a look she had seen so many times during her time in the Peninsula. Taking his cool, frail hand she pressed it to her cheek and could now not stop the tears.

  How much she had to be grateful for. How much he had loved her, indulged her, taught her. Yes, they had fought, argued, reconciled. But wasn’t that what all families did? She wasn’t sure, but suspected it must be so from having listened to Juliana and Lucius talk about their family.

  Emmaline was not sure how long she sat there cradling her grandfather’s hand. Talking to him in a low voice, not knowing if he could hear her, she could only hope that he did and would carry her love with him to wherever his soul journeyed.

  The light in the room dimmed as afternoon bled into evening. Peggy came up with a branch of candles which she set at the back of the room to lessen the intrusion of its flickering glow.

  “You go down, my Lady.” She said firmly. “There’s tea in the kitchen and som
e of the meats and pastries on a tray. You need to eat, get some fresh air and then go to your bed. I’ve prepared your mama and papa’s old room for you both.”

  Shocked, Emmaline walked blindly from the room. Her parents’ bedroom? Why would she sleep there and not in her own room? She stood on the landing before descending the stairs, looking down at the unfamiliar gown, wondering for a moment why she was wearing something so totally unsuitable for the sick room.

  Then it washed over her in a flood of scattered remembrances. She was married. To Lucius. Her cheeks flamed as she realized that Peggy expected her and Lucius to sleep together in her parents’ bed.

  It couldn’t happen.

  Not here, not tonight.

  Hurrying along the landing to her own room she quickly removed her earrings and the now wilting daisy crown, slipped out of her mother’s wedding gown, and replaced it with a plain blue muslin and a paisley shawl thrown over her shoulders.

  Gathering her courage she joined Lucius and Partridge in the kitchen. Lucius had a tankard of ale in his hand, but he put this down and stood up as soon as she appeared.

  “I am going for a walk,” she said.

  “Not on your own.” Lucius stood up.

  Her chin tilted. “I know these fields and pathways like I do my own hand. Besides, there is a full moon tonight and that can light my way.”

  “Can light our way,” Lucius insisted.

  The light of dissension flared in her eyes, but the weariness in her body soon extinguished it.

  “As you will, my Lord.” She dropped a curtsy.

  “Oh, very well done,” Lucius murmured. “One would think you had been a wife for eons rather than hours.”

  “And don’t expect such deference all the time,” Emmaline warned him as they walked out into the yard.

  He assisted her over the stile and she waited until he joined her. The soft night air cloaked them like velvet. A whisper of a breeze rippled across the top of the long grass. Under the light of the moon it shone like liquid silver.

  An owl hooted. A fox barked. The churring of a nightjar floated up from the abundant bracken growing on the slopes below the covert. The murmur of the sea drifted up to them, an endless ebb and flow as quiet and steady as their own breathing.

  “Come.” Emmaline dared to reach for Lucius’ hand and tugged him beside her. How many times had she dreamed of being able to do just this? How many times had she imagined herself as his wife?

  She looked up at him, let her glance linger over the flat planes of his lean features, the aquiline length of his nose. Reaching up, a smile on her face, she did what she had wanted to do from the first. She brushed the dark lock of hair back from his forehead.

  He caught her hand and kissed it. The heat of it radiated into her body, raced like floodwater along her nerves to her very core. She lifted her face and he kissed her, his lips tender, soft, searching.

  “Lucius,” she whispered. “I can’t, not tonight. Not while grandfather....”

  “I know.” He leant his forehead against hers. “God knows it burns me to not have you here and now, but I will not press you, not while your grandfather has breath.”

  His kindness, his concern and care for her brought her to tears again. He leaned in and with the tip of his tongue whisked them away.

  She breathed in, savouring the scent of him, savouring the scent of the warm summer night, the strength of his arms around her. She rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder, just where she had known it would fit. He held her gently, cradling her, his lips against her curls.

  At last she pulled away, replete and renewed by his quiet strength.

  “We should go back,” she said. “But, for tonight at least, I do not want to share...”

  “A bed with me.”

  Emmaline stopped, a little frown puckering her brow. “How did you know?”

  “Sweetheart.” Lucius tucked her arm in his. “I am not such a profligate as to be insensitive as to how you might feel. Tonight you sleep in your own bed and I will sleep alone.”

  “Can you do that?” Emmaline’s eyes grew wide with wonder, his understanding touched her soul and she loved him all the more for it.

  “With difficulty,” Lucius said gravely, “for I have long wanted to ravish you.”

  A flush rose in Emmaline’s cheeks as she pictured them naked and in bed together. He had never said he loved her, had only said he wanted her, but for now that was enough. “I have heard that gentlemen are eager for their wedding night and I understand the mechanics of mating but ....”

  Beside her Lucius halted in mid-stride and looked down at her. He started to chuckle. The chuckle grew to a roaring gale of laughter that coasted away on the night air and bent him double.

  “Well,” Emmaline said stiffly. “I don’t see what was so funny.”

  He turned her to him and kissed her thoroughly.

  “One day I hope you will.” He kissed her again, tasting her lips, her tongue, cradling her head, wanting all of her, wanting to feel the weight of her naked breasts in his hands, wanted to ease the ache of his body in the warmth of hers. “Come. You get some rest while I relieve Peggy and sit with your grandfather. This, I think, is going to be a long night.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The long night turned into three long days with the doctor calling every day, shaking his head in sad surprise that Sir Miles still clung to life.

  Emmaline and Peggy took turns in the sick room. Lucius, thinking ahead to a time when he and Emmaline would leave Baymoor House, had Partridge open up the carriage house and inspected the brougham, phaeton and gig he found there.

  “We’ll need the brougham to take us to Honiton,” Lucius said. “Can you and Reuben take care of refurbishing it?”

  “Indeed, milord. And we’ll tidy up the old gelding that pulls it.”

  “Thank you. Once in Honiton I can collect my own chaise from the Golden Lion.”

  Lucius wrote to Caroline and Juliana and sent instructions to Edward and Mrs. Hammond, his housekeeper at Avondale Park. Emmaline wrote her own letter to Juliana and also to Mrs. Babbidge. Reuben took these to the mail office in Sidmouth and rode on into Exeter to summons Sir Miles’ lawyer, Francis Brook, who came as requested.

  Impressed by the man’s considerate manner as he explained the terms of the trust to Emmaline, and appreciating Sir Miles’ reasoning, Lucius saw no need to involve his own lawyer to protect her assets.

  As they walked through the fields that evening in the gathering dusk, Emmaline turned the events of the day over in her mind. At least her grandfather had not turned Baymoor into a home for old soldiers as she had feared he might. Had that happened, how would she have had the heart to evict them when her own family needs took precedence?

  Family. She had never much thought about having her own family, had only ever thought in terms of the family she had lost and was now losing. Her brow creased as she considered having children of her own. Would she be a good mother? Without a mother of her own to learn from, would she instinctively know what to do?

  “Your thoughts seem to concern you deeply,” Lucius said as he ambled beside her. “Is there anything with which I can assist you?”

  Emmaline stopped and looked up at him. A spark of mischief bubbled beneath her gravity.

  “Not at the moment, thank you.” She tried to keep her voice even. “But later I think I shall be delighted to accept your assistance.”

  He caught the hint of laughter in her voice, the glint in her eyes and a smile curved his lips upward.

  “Why, I do believe you are considering the full implications of becoming Lady Clifton,” he said appreciatively.

  They strolled on through the hazy meadows, stopping only to pet the black horse Onyx who grazed steadily beside Emmaline’s grey mare, Sadie, and did not return to the house until the air began to chill. Lucius relieved Peggy at Sir Miles’ bedside and promised to wake Emmaline later.

  She slid between the sheets in her own bed but could not sle
ep. Knowing that she was on the cusp of leaving one life and starting another, questions she could not yet answer tumbled through her mind.

  How would the staff at Avondale Park receive her? Lucius had talked about all of them but they had no knowledge of her. What was the news in Town? Had Juliana and her great-aunt managed to avoid slights and disapproval since her departure? At the point of sleep claiming her, she heard footsteps on the landing and instantly threw back the covers.

  Opening the door she came face to face with Lucius. The light from the candle he held illuminated his features and she saw with some dismay the circles under his eyes.

  “He’s sleeping, but fitfully so. I believe his temperature is increased,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Emmaline took the candle. “I will sit with him till morning.”

  She hesitantly lifted her face. With a slight smile Lucius leaned in, kissed her gently and wished her goodnight.

  Once in her grandfather’s room, Emmaline held the back of her hand against his cheek. He was hot, fitful. His head twisted on the pillow and his hands twitched. Emmaline poured some water into the bowl on the night stand, soaked a towel and laid it across his forehead and continued to replace each warmed towel with a fresh, cool one until he slipped into a calmer sleep.

  When she was sure he was comfortable, she settled herself in the easy chair by the window. Plumping up the cushions, she eased them under her elbows and tipped her head back.

  They were all tired, she reflected. Peggy, she knew, would do anything for her grandfather but Lucius need not have stepped in as he had done.

  How lucky she was to have him, she thought drowsily. She pictured his steady hands, heard his comforting voice. Sleep that eluded her while in bed now laid siege to her. She tried valiantly to keep her eyes open but it was a one sided battle to which she gradually acceded.

  ***

  She awoke to complete and utter silence. It enveloped her as surely as the dense and impenetrable blankets of fog that sometimes rolled in off the bay. Struggling against it, she pushed her way up through the weight pressing in on her.

  And then she knew.