Jeremy raked a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Do you mind very much staying with me again?”
“Of course not.” He shrugged away his concern for the proprieties. He could move about the house very silently if he put his mind to it, and he had a hundred well-considered excuses up his sleeve if he was spotted in the wrong place. But he didn’t want to get back into the bad habit of skulking around houses that someone else owned. “I suppose it will only hurt the first time a member of your family murders me.”
She laughed softly at his suggestion. “They’ll understand why you stayed when I tell them why, after the wedding.”
“Let’s hope they are not under the influence when you do.” He turned around, placing a chair directly in front of the door. “I was looking forward to continuing my part in your delightful country play.”
“Not so delightful tonight I’m afraid.”
“I’ve not had a turnip thrown at me yet.” He lowered to sit in the chair, crossed his legs at the ankle and folded his arms over his chest. If anyone came to his lady’s room tonight, Jeremy would deal with them. “Try to get some sleep.”
Fanny was suddenly beside him, shaking his shoulder. “Are you not going to sleep beside me again?”
He glanced up at her in surprise. Last night had been an aberration, a product of grief renewed and convenience that he was around. “I’m guarding you.”
She licked her lips. “Well, but, yes, so… You could also protect me from the comfort of my bed, too.”
Jeremy looked at the bed, and then at the door, and then at Fanny standing there with her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth. He knew where he’d rather sleep.
“Please,” she whispered. “I would feel better for having you near, and you need your rest for tomorrow, too.”
Jeremy carefully propped the delicate chair against the door on two legs, nudging the back under the handle and making sure it would stay there. It wouldn’t stop anyone from entering the chamber if they put their back into shoving the door. But any movement of the chair should wake him. “If anyone comes during the night, get under your bed and leave the cur to me.”
“I will,” she promised. “I feel safer already just knowing you’ll be here to confront anyone that comes.” Fanny slipped behind her dressing screen, apparently not needing his help to change tonight.
He grew warm just thinking about those delicious curves he’d held last night. His hands itched to hold her, and his mouth grew dry because he did want to kiss her properly just once before he returned to London.
Thankfully, Fanny returned quickly, attired in the same prim nightgown but with a robe over the top. She moved to her mirror to take down her hair from the tight coils she’d had it styled in for dinner.
Jeremy sucked in a breath as she unwound the strands and ran her fingers through the long locks to the ends.
Fanny turned to him. “Is something wrong?
He took a step in her direction. “Where I grew up, women only grew their hair long to sell it.”
She beamed. “Would you like to touch it?”
He nodded and crossed the room to her side, his fingers itching to become tangled up in the softness of a pampered head of hair. He drew some up to his face to brush across his cheek, but was startled by a memory dredged up from the murky depths of his past. “I think my mother had hair almost as long as yours.”
“I thought you said you didn’t remember her?”
He shook his head. “I don’t really. But this reminded me that her hair was long and brown.”
“Like yours.”
“Prettier.” He backed away. Too much intimacy between them was dangerous. He was playing a role and not meant to forget his purpose in being here. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be another emotional day, I suspect.”
She gathered her hair together and tied it loosely with a ribbon at her nape. She dabbed sweet-smelling cream to her face and neck and then suddenly turned to face him. “I’m glad you remembered your mother. I think she’d be proud of her son.”
“Not if she could see where I’m standing.” Jeremy threw an arm wide, gesturing her toward her bed impatiently. “Good night, Lady Rivers.”
Fanny climbed into her bed and then patted the space beside her. “Come to bed, Jeremy.”
Jeremy hesitated a moment before joining her. Tonight, though, he kept his jacket and boots on. He wanted nothing to impede his speed if someone came back…or when he snuck out of the chamber a second night in a row.
But sleep eluded him. He was alert to every creak of the great house around them.
Fanny, he believed, remained wide awake on her side of the bed, too. Her feet kept shifting, her occasional sigh loud in the dark room.
He turned his head to face her. “Did you sleep beside your husband when you were married?”
Fanny rolled toward him. “Yes.”
“How did you sleep? In his arms or separated?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Well, I don’t really have a specific reason other than distracting you from worrying that someone might return.” He shrugged. “And if I was ever to be offered the role of a loving husband in a play, I merely wondered what my options would be for the bedroom scene.”
She sighed. “Not all husbands like to share a bed with their wives. Even when they love them to distraction.”
He nodded. “What sort of man should I be? Someone who holds you all night long or worships from afar?”
“This is just a play we are speaking of, isn’t it?”
He drew in a slow breath. He wanted to hold her tonight very much, but he was waiting for her to at least hint in that direction, too. “Of course. I am yours to direct.”
Fanny shifted closer and when he lifted his arm, she curled up to his side. The scent of her body, the cosmetic she’s smoothed over her skin, did nothing to calm his rapidly beating heart. He glanced at the ceiling as his cock began to thicken. It had last night, too, though he’d had better success in willing it away.
Fanny sighed softly. “This is perfect.”
“It is,” he agreed. Jeremy kept his arm loose about her back, fighting the need to draw her closer still. “But it must be for the last time.”
“I’m sure it will be,” she promised and then yawned, burrowing against his chest. She looked up suddenly. “What sort of a person carries around a turnip only to throw it onto a performer on stage?”
He laughed softly against her hair. “I’ve no idea or desire to learn, my lady.”
“Fanny. I like hearing you say my name.”
“Fanny,” he whispered.
Jeremy knew the precise moment Fanny fell asleep soon after. The sound of her even breaths filled his ears and soothed him in ways he didn’t quite understand. He’d never had this with any woman before. The holding, the laughing, the falling asleep together, confiding in each other.
He glanced down at her face. In sleep, as she was when awake, Fanny was stirringly beautiful but so far out of his reach.
He allowed himself to imagine for a moment a future where he would always have Fanny in his arms. But he shouldn’t delude himself that she really needed him. He was a convenient distraction…just like all her other strays had been before he’d come along.
Chapter 9
Fanny added the last flower to her sister’s hair and stood back. “What do you think?”
“I think she looks beautiful,” Jessica gushed.
“Indeed,” Gillian, the Duchess of Stapleton, agreed. “Rafferty will be the one to swoon today, I think.”
Rebecca smiled but shook her head. “He would never swoon. Besides, he needs to stay on his feet to speak his vows. He can swoon all he likes after we are man and wife, preferably not while he’s carrying me over the threshold of his bedchamber.”
Fanny scoffed at the idea of such a dangerous lapse in concentration on Rafferty’s part. “It would never happen.”
; Rebecca’s gown for the wedding was a delicate pink silk. The low neckline was almost scandalous to wear for a wedding but then again…this wasn’t Rebecca’s first marriage, and everyone knew the couple was deeply in love.
Fanny wore blue, Jessica rose, and the duchess wore pale green. She picked up the posy of flowers that Rebecca would carry, delivered by Whitfield fresh from his garden a few moments ago. “You’ll be needing this.”
“Indeed, I will,” Rebecca agreed, standing and fluffing out her skirts. “Oh, I would give anything to have this part over and done with quickly. I hate being gawked at.”
“We know,” they all said in unison.
“But today you must accept your place as the center of attention and accept it as your due,” the duchess murmured, coming closer to the jittery bride. “And well deserved it is. Rafferty told me only yesterday that he is quite the catch.”
“So was Papa.” Rebecca scowled. “Father deprived you of your due by marrying you in London by special license and not inviting more than a handful.”
Gillian shrugged. “But I’ve been gawked at ever since the news spread around. You’re well known in society so the gawking will cease very soon, I’d expect, as people accept that you are both happy. Whereas the novelty of my marriage to your father seems determined to endure forever.”
To Fanny’s surprise, Rebecca captured Gillian’s hand. “They gawk because you are so beautiful and smile so often.”
“Thank you. Loving your father does that,” Gillian promised, a blush brightening her cheeks.
“He needed you,” Rebecca insisted with a soft smile.
Fanny blinked several times in shock as the exchange continued. What an alteration love had brought to her sister’s attitudes in recent weeks. Rebecca had been against Gillian right from the outset of her arrival at Stapleton. Vocally so. Now, though, the pair seemed almost the best of friends.
“I had better go take my place with the guests and have Nicolas waiting to collect you from the hall,” Gillian whispered. “I’ll see you all downstairs.”
“Could you take Jessica with you and tell father I’ll be delayed a few more minutes. I’d like to speak with Fanny alone if you don’t mind.”
Jessica, always agreeable, kissed Rebecca’s cheek and left with Gillian.
Fanny cocked her head when they were gone. “What did you want to talk to me about at a time like this?”
“Nothing.” Rebecca looked up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh. “I just needed a minute and used talking to you as an excuse.”
Fanny didn’t mind but she was curious. “Having doubts?”
“About Rafferty? No,” she sighed. “He’s been wonderful.”
“What then?”
Rebecca glanced down at her posy. “In a few minutes, my whole life will change. I will no longer be Mrs. Rebecca Warner.”
“Widow of a heartless scoundrel who betrayed you with his housekeeper right under her nose?” Fanny suggested, getting to the humiliating truth straight away rather than sugarcoating it. Rebecca usually preferred that.
“Yes.” Rebecca shook her head. “I have to let it all go. My anger and mistrust. I need to reinvent myself as Adam’s countess.”
Fanny put her arm about Rebecca’s shoulders. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you have already changed in so many ways because of him and love. You are different already. Less offended by men.”
“I worry.”
Fanny knew her sister well. “That he’ll turn away to another love?”
Rebecca chewed her lip and then nodded.
“Adam and your late husband are so dissimilar it is impossible to imagine it could happen. Rafferty adores you. Always wears a smile when you are around. If he should ever stray, or you were to give up on him, I would give up my fortune and go live in a hay field and wear rags.”
“Well, I cannot have that.” Rebecca chuckled. “My favorite sister must always be the most elegant woman in the room. I insist upon that.”
Fanny moved to stand behind Rebecca as she stood before an arc of mirrors. She put her arm around Rebecca again, the way she had often done when they were younger. “The gown becomes you. Makes you seem a young bride again.”
“I was happy then.”
Fanny gave her a squeeze. “But not as much in love as I suspect you are now. Why, you are positively radiant.”
Rebecca’s eyes flashed to hers through the mirror’s reflection and held for a long minute. “You know, don’t you?”
Fanny winked. “I cannot know anything until I’m told. Officially.”
Rebecca’s hand slipped to her belly where Fanny’s hands still rested over a small bump.
Fanny chuckled softly. “That’s how I know you and Adam will endure. You would never have allowed Warner the same liberties before you married him.”
“No. I wouldn’t have. I wanted to be, tried to be…freer. A little bit more like you.”
“Like me?”
“Freer with my affections. Less concerned with the consequences of a dalliance as you have been.”
“I have no dalliances, Rebecca.”
“We share a bedchamber wall, sister.” Rebecca’s brow lifted. “You can confide in me, you know. I would never tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she promised, drawing away from her sister. Surely a dalliance required a kiss. Jeremy hadn’t even tried. “Are you ready to wed now, Becca dear?”
“We’re talking.” Rebecca shook her head. “Rivers would understand.”
Fanny frowned. She didn’t want to have this conversation, but Rebecca seemed disinclined to let the matter drop. “You know why I will not marry.”
“I’m not speaking of marriage. The idea is ludicrous, unless you want that. But the future is easier to face with someone to hold you when you are lonely. There’s no good reason to deny yourself the warmth of a human connection out of fear they might die one day. Everyone needs hope. Affection. Perhaps a little lovemaking.”
Fanny gaped. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”
“I can hardly keep to the moral high ground when I’m about to marry a man like Rafferty,” Rebecca complained. “He’s opened my eyes and assaulted my ears with all manner of indelicate conversation. The odd thing is, I don’t even seem to mind anymore. As long as it’s not his exploits with other women I hear about, I am content to let society be as scandalous as it pleases. That includes you and our brothers, too.”
“I think I must already love Rafferty like a brother for bringing about this change in you.” Rafferty wasn’t a prude, and his relaxed morality was already rubbing off on her often-too-serious sister. “He will make an excellent addition to the family.”
“Yes. Oh, and speaking of additions, that reminds me. Rafferty heard that the Thwaite family finances are under additional strain. The son, Wilks, is rumored to have run up gambling debts all over Town. Thwaite is trying to keep it quiet.”
Fanny frowned. “Lord Thwaite is seeking out investors for a new venture.”
“Yes, I thought you said something to that effect a few nights ago. Will it make a difference not to have him involved or his funds in it?”
“Without him… Yes, it definitely could.” It might be nothing but gossip, but Fanny would make sure of Thwaite’s involvement before she made her final decision on the project. “He was very keen to have me agree to invest but I put him off until after the wedding.” Fanny rushed to her sister’s writing desk and scrawled a quick note to remind herself to investigate Thwaite’s financial affairs more thoroughly in the morning.
She already suspected it had been him in her chambers, seeking information about the extent of her business dealings with Maxwell Danvers. And he might now have leverage to use against her in the future with regard to Jeremy Dawes, too. But she could not think of herself until after the wedding. She would never spoil her sister’s happy day.
Rebecca clucked her tongue. “Come on, Fanny. Rafferty will start to think that I’m not co
ming down to marry him. You’re making me late.”
“I wasn’t the one dragging her feet,” Fanny reminded Rebecca as she slipped the note into her glove for safekeeping until she could return to her room later that day.
“Well, I can’t blame myself,” Rebecca said with a haughty expression. “What would people say if they thought I had any doubts?”
Fanny threw up her hands in resignation and hurried to beat Rebecca out the door, managing to slip into the hall ahead of her to hold out her arm. “Shall we?”
“Indeed, we shall.”
They moved briskly toward the staircase but started down more slowly.
Before too long, they heard the low murmur of dozens of voices from the drawing room. Father was pacing the hall.
“Finally,” he cried when he spotted them descending, but then his face went soft and adoring. “Becca.”
“Hello, Papa. How do I look?”
His eyes filled with emotion. “So much like your mother that for a moment, I thought you were her come back to life.”
Fanny’s own eyes welled with happy tears to hear that, but she quickly dashed them away. Rebecca was the only one who resembled their mother in any fashion.
She even had her volatile temper.
A footman was waiting at the doorway and, at Father’s signal, the man stamped his cane on the floor to announce them. The crowd inside was immediately silenced.
Father bent to murmur in Rebecca’s ear, whispering something meant for her alone. Fanny turned away to give them privacy, experiencing a touch of resentment, too.
Fanny’s wedding day had been darkened because her father had not truly approved her choice the first time. Perhaps that was why from time to time he suggested she reconsider her solitary life but married to someone he approved of. She could be happily married if she wanted to be. If she ever found a good man, someone she could trust, she might consider it one day. But all the gentlemen she had encountered in society since becoming a widow were not remotely interesting and coveted her fortune.
She moved to the doorway and paused, taking stock and smiling at everyone assembled in the drawing room looking back at her. There were lords and ladies, locals, and many who had traveled to honor the couple on this special day.
The Lady Tamed Page 9