Beguiling the Baron

by Keysian, Elizabeth

  “It is a great pity your memorial sculpture of Mary should be lost. It was a stunning piece of work.”

  “I’m honored you should think so. I’m sad for Polly’s sake I can no longer build the impressive monument to her mother I’d intended, but it can’t be helped.”

  Tia turned around slowly and gazed up into Hal’s eyes. “It’s possible it can.” She scanned his beloved face. Now the injuries caused by the fall of the folly had healed, he was more beautiful than ever. Especially when he regarded her with that particular expression, combining adoration and arousal.

  But she was going to make him wait a little longer before he received what his body so clearly wanted. There were two hearts, two souls, needing resolution.

  “Hal, I have a surprise for you. Can you dress quickly and come down to the cloisters with me?”

  His mouth drooped. “Not what I had in mind.” His tone was velvety soft and alluring.

  “Hal, please.” She used what she called her Schoolmistress Voice now. He and Polly were rapidly learning never to ignore it.

  “Very well. But we’d best take coats—the cloisters get so draughty this time of year. Are you positive you don’t want to wait until after breakfast?”

  “Hal!”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll get dressed.” He fell back to let her past him, and she experienced, as she always did, the lightning flash of awareness when their bodies were close, but not quite touching. Once she had given him her gift, breakfast would have to wait, while they attended to . . . other matters.

  Tia slipped through the door into her own bedchamber. The bed was aired, as usual, the covers turned down, but it was quite clear it hadn’t been slept in. What the servants must think of their new mistress, she daren’t imagine. Who could have known she’d become a total wanton so early in her marriage? Her heart fluttered, and she was all fingers and thumbs as she struggled into her chemise and petticoats.

  A front-fastening gown was necessary to attire herself without Hal’s help, for if she went to him demanding to be laced up, they would face another delay before she revealed her surprise.

  Would he like it? Would he hate it? Would he appreciate the reasoning behind her gift? A good deal was riding on whether or not she’d done the right thing.

  A soft tap on the adjoining door signaled Hal was ready and moments later they descended hand-in-hand down the stone steps into the cloisters. She lit a lantern and led him into the crypt.

  The shadows fled into the corners, where they congregated in the crisply cut lettering and marble drapes of the Pelham monuments. Resting atop the late baroness’s flat marble tomb was an oddly-shaped object, swathed in sacking.

  “Tia, what’s this?” Hal wore a bemused frown.

  She clasped her hands tightly together. “Take off the wrapping and see.” It was a struggle to keep the anxiety from her voice.

  He lifted the sacking and gasped. Was it a good gasp, or a bad one? She shifted from one foot to the other, living an eternity in a few seconds.

  He turned to her, amazed. “You had it mended? When? How? And more importantly, why?”

  Now revealed in all its glory, a plaster bust of the late Mary Pelham, complete with masterfully sculpted veil, stood at the head of her tomb.

  As soon as Tia had been well enough to get out and about after the accident, she’d paid some of the local children, headed by Sammy, the gardener’s boy, to sort through the rubble for any pieces of marble they could find. Once the heap was complete, she’d joined the children in the largest greenhouse, trying to find every single part of that broken, once-beautiful face.

  It was possible the whole monument might have been reconstructed, but she wanted all evidence of their activities cleared away by the time Hal resurfaced and was able to walk about his grounds again, so she’d settled for the head and shoulders only.

  With the assistance of her friend Lucy, Duchess of Finchingfield, whose husband was an expert on sculpture, Tia had been put in touch with a workshop where busts were produced, in both plaster and stone. Mary Pelham’s effigy had been glued back together and a mold made of it, including a reinforced stand with a wide base so the bust could sit upon any flat surface. Next, a plaster cast had been created and faint veins of gray, echoing the original marble, had been painted on the surface.

  The bust had been so expertly finished, no casual observer would have had any idea it was mere plaster. Nor would they have been aware the original had more adjoining pieces than dozens of children’s jigsaw puzzles.

  “I will tell you the when and the how shortly. As for the why, it’s because your work was too masterful to lose. I wished you to have the monument you wanted—at least in part. I wanted to give Polly somewhere to come if she ever needed to confide in her mama’s spirit. Most of all, I needed you to know it doesn’t matter to me anymore how you feel about Mary. I promise not to be jealous—”

  He interrupted her by sweeping her into his arms and kissing her so thoroughly, she feared she’d faint from joy. When he released her and looked down at her, his blue gaze was soft, his face shining with emotion.

  Her heart swelled to bursting with her love for him.

  “Thank you, Tia. It’s a fitting memorial to Mary, and I would never have thought of making a gesture like that, selfish, shortsighted fool that I am. Let me assure you right now there’s no longer any room in my heart for Mary. There is only you, and Polly, who utterly adores you. You have saved not one life, but two, Galatea Pelham, Lady Ansford, and I will thank you for it until my last breath. I promise never to neglect you in favor of any other business. I refuse to let you leave my side. Ever.”

  She was able to breathe again. Her gift had been a success. “Not even when you’re painting in your studio?”

  “No, for you will be sitting for me.”

  “Not even when you’re giving a speech in Parliament?”

  He grinned and stroked her waist, pulling her closer. “No, for you will be up in the gallery, listening.”

  “Not even when you’re asleep?”

  “Especially not then. For who would soothe me when I wake from the nightmare of Mary’s fall, but you? Who would wrap around me to keep off the chill of autumn, if not you? Who would willingly give themselves to me, mind, soul and body, when I had need of them, but you? You are all the world to me, my love. Now and forever.”

  “Now and forever.” Tia sent up a silent offer of thanks to the lingering spirit that had released him, finally, into her arms.

  And into her heart.