by Emma V Leech
His jaw tightened.
I haven’t been able to breathe, have not had a moment’s peace since I heard of your accident, he didn’t say. My heart hurts. I have been living in a nightmare, an agony of suspense, unable to do anything for you, unable to come to you, to take care of you. I have been so unspeakably miserable it defies description.
“Of course,” he said. “My brother would have been devastated if you had not recovered.”
“Yes, your brother. Of course,” she said, a tight smile at her lips. She turned her head away from him, her profile so lovely to him it was like an arrow shaft piercing his heart.
She looked unhappy. Was she unhappy? Did she want him to care?
“Are you well, Eliza, truly?”
The words escaped him before he could stop them, before he could crush them and force them back down into the darkness. That was his brother’s question to ask, not his, and there had been too much emotion there, the words revealing too much. She might… she might think....
She turned sharply towards him, her beautiful eyes alight with a question he wanted to answer but could not, but the movement seemed to unbalance her, and she swayed.
He moved, sweeping her up into his arms as he had longed to do from the first and, good Lord, she weighed nothing at all. She fit against him so perfectly, her hand a fist on the lapel of his coat as she stared up at him in astonishment.
“You m-must put me down,” she said, a sunrise blush of colour at her cheeks, upon skin as fine and pale as porcelain.
Nic shook his head. He could not speak, did not dare. He could not even look at her, certain he would give into the overwhelming desire to steal a kiss if he did. Instead he carried her back towards the house. What the devil was she doing out here alone? Was no one taking care of her? What were her family thinking? Did no one look after her as they ought? Instinct demanded he take her back to the carriage and drive away with her and never come back, but that was madness. He was not mad. He was not uncivilised either, not anymore.
“Put me down, sir.”
He ignored her. His heart was beating too fast, panic and fear competing for dominance in his heart. What if he’d not been here, what if she’d fainted? They ought never to let her out of their sight. They ought to fetch a doctor. Dr Archambeau ought to have stayed longer. Why had the devil left when she was still so frail, so ill? She needed caring for, she needed—
“I can walk!” she protested.
Her hand was still fisted upon his lapel, against his chest and he was desperately aware of it there, close to his heart. The ridiculous organ seemed to be trying to get even closer, beating almost out from behind his ribs. Nic’s jaw felt too tight and he could not open his mouth. His chest was a snarl of emotion that he did not know what to do with, had no experience of.
“Mr Demarteau.”
That clipped English voice again, speaking his name in that delicious way, like a governess. He experienced a savage desire for her to scold him. Well, she’d have to do better than that if she wanted him to put her down. Someone had to take care of her.
He walked on.
“Nic.”
His breath caught and he hesitated, chest heaving. He dared to look down at her to see something soft and understanding in her eyes.
“I was just dizzy for a moment. Do not worry so. I know I have lost weight, but I am not so frail as I look, I assure you.”
“You would have fallen. You’re too weak, there’s nothing of you,” he ground out. “Don’t they feed you? What did the doctor say? Isn’t anyone—”
The words stopped as she raised her hand to his cheek. His breath caught in his throat, at the impossibility of it, that she would touch him, voluntarily, and with such tenderness. Though she wore a fine silk glove, the contact seared him, branded him as hers. Despite himself he closed his eyes, savouring the moment as her thumb moved gently over his skin. Oh God, if she knew… if she had the slightest idea what her touch did to him, she would not give away her caresses so easily.
“I am well,” she said gently. “Now put me down before someone sees.”
He did not want to. Every instinct rebelled against the idea, but he could not resist the gentle command. Nic set her down as carefully as if she were made of spun glass, and she smiled at him. Inwardly he cursed her for it, for tying his heart up into a tighter knot, for binding him to her so inextricably.
“I must go back to the house before they worry for me. Lottie and Cassius got married this morning, and the breakfast will begin shortly.”
She smiled at the outrage in his eyes.
“I’m happy for them. Cassius was right, we would never have suited.”
Nic could say nothing. If he tried, he’d say something ridiculous and make a fool of himself and then she’d know and she’d pity him or be kind to him and… and he’d rather die.
“Did you send me all those lovely flowers?” she asked.
To his horror, he felt heat prickle down his spine, his face growing hot at her having guessed. Him. Of all men. Blushing? Good God, he was in a world of trouble, but he was damned if he’d confirm her suspicions. Instead he turned away, forcing himself to leave her. She was safe now, close enough to the house.
“Will you come and see me again?” she called after him.
Nic ground to a halt, hardly daring to believe she had asked him—asked him—to come to her again. Was she out of her mind? But she had asked him.
No.
No.
Too dangerous.
He shook his head before his senses deserted him completely, scowling at the ground and avoiding her eyes. “No.”
She walked around so she was facing him again, her voice soft, cajoling. “Not even if I ask nicely?”
Though he knew better, he looked at her. He wanted to plead with her not to put temptation in his way when every fibre of his being wanted to do just as she asked, but… it was impossible.
He folded his arms.
“Non.”
“Oh,” she said with a sigh, and… was that disappointment in her eyes, the foolish girl? “Then I must wait until the season begins. No doubt our paths will cross again.”
“No,” he said, fighting to hide the regret in his words. “They will not.”
And he forced himself to turn and walk away.
“There you are, Eliza,” Lottie said, relieved to see her sister had returned from her walk. “Oh, the fresh air has done you good. There’s some colour in your cheeks at last, and look, I have a surprise for you!”
Eliza smiled as Louis César moved to greet her but did not look as surprised as Lottie might have expected.
“How lovely to see you,” she said, as the comte raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Lady Elizabeth. We have been so dreadfully worried about you. I simply could not stay away a moment longer without seeing with my own eyes that you were recovering well. Yet, I seem to be intruding on a family celebration.”
Cassius smiled at him, his arm going around Lottie. “Not intruding, but it is certainly a celebration.”
“So I see,” Louis said, his bright blue eyes studying them both for a moment before glancing at Eliza.
Eliza laughed. “I am delighted for them. Cassius is my brother at last, just as he was always meant to be. Everything is perfect.”
Louis nodded, smiling. “In that case, I believe I shall take my leave of you before your fathers discover my presence and decide to throw me in the lake for disturbing this wonderful day. I am very happy for you both, and delighted to see you looking so well, my lady. I shall hope to see you again, very soon.”
Finally. Finally, the wedding breakfast was done, and the family gathered in front of the house to wave them off. Not a moment too soon for Cassius, who was far too eager to get his wife to their new home and, more importantly, into their new bed. Tonight, though, they had a lovely suite of rooms booked in a hotel in London, to break the journey to Aylesbury.
/> “Thanks for taking her off our hands, old man,” Jules said, slapping Cassius on the back and smirking, their fight long since forgotten. “Life will be so much more peaceful.”
Lottie stuck her tongue out at her brother, who tsked and rolled his eyes. “Such a perfect young lady you’ve got yourself. Good God, to think she’s Viscountess Oakley now.”
Cassius laughed. “All right, Jules, quit whilst you’re ahead or she’ll find something to hit you with.”
“I won’t,” Lottie retorted. “I shall just kick him in the—”
“Best if we leave it at that,” her father remarked dryly, giving his son and heir a look. “It is your sister’s wedding day, Blackstone.”
The reproving tone and the use of Jules’s title was indication enough that Jules had better be nice.
Jules gave a long-suffering sigh, but held his arms out to his sister. “Good luck, Snottie. I suppose I’ll miss you.”
Lottie huffed but hugged him back. “I suppose I’ll miss you too, Crackedstone.”
“Ha-ha, that’s a good one! Crackedstone, because he’s cracked in the head,” chortled their thirteen-year old-cousin, Felix, Florence’s little brother.
Jules sent him a glacial look and the boy turned a startling shade of scarlet, subsiding at once.
“Yes, yes, that’s enough familial affection,” drawled the long-suffering duke. “Away with you now.”
Cassius could not have agreed more. He turned to where his parents were waiting to see them off.
“Promise you’ll write,” his mother said thickly as she accepted the handkerchief his father handed her. “More than you did when you were in France you dreadful boy.”
“Harry, they’re going to Aylesbury, not India. Not yet anyway,” Papa said fondly, hugging his wife and kissing the top of her head.
“I know, I know,” she said. “But he’s still my little boy.”
Cassius shared an amused glance with his father before hugging his mama tightly. “You may come and visit us soon, Mama, so do stop it.”
“But not too soon, hmmm?” his father murmured before adding a sotto voce whisper into his mother’s ear. “We have the house to ourselves.” Mama blushed furiously and Cassius cleared his throat, deciding it was certainly time to go. Gathering his new wife, he hurried Lottie into the carriage.
“The bouquet!” all the girls squealed, running forward as Cassius gave the driver the nod.
Lottie laughed to see little Cat pushing to the front. He watched as Lottie stood in the open carriage with her back to them all before tossing the bouquet over her shoulder. She sat down with a shriek as the carriage jerked into motion, tumbling into Cassius’s lap, much to his amusement.
She scrambled up before he could enjoy it though, looking to see who had caught the flowers. Cassius watched a slight scuffle between Greer and Florence, and then saw the bouquet go sailing again, landing at Eliza’s feet.
“Oh!” Lottie exclaimed, clapping with delight. “You’re next, sis! Just you wait.”
Eliza laughed as Jules picked up the bouquet and shoved it at his sister, looking faintly disgusted. Eliza took it and waved it at Lottie.
“Write to me!” she called, before mouthing the words and tell me everything.
Chapter 22
Dear Florence,
It was so lovely to see you at Lottie’s wedding and so nice to have someone sensible to talk to. Greer is such a henwit. I swear I shall murder her if I am forced to be cooped up with her all winter. Oh, my dear friend, please be my saviour, rescue me from the prospect of sororicide (yes, I looked it up) and invite me to stay with you for at least a few weeks. I promise to help entertain Felix and little Emmeline.
Either that, or Greer’s demise will be on your head. You have been warned.
―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Elspeth Cadogan (daughter of Mrs Bonnie and Mr Jerome Cadogan) to Miss Florence Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).
22nd September 1838, on the London Road.
Cassius had arranged the open carriage for their departure as it was romantic and beautiful, and it was a lovely sunny day. He knew his bride would be delighted by the picture they made as they drove down Holbrook’s impressive driveway, and she could wave goodbye to their family in style. However, being a sensible chap at heart, and taking on board a word of advice from his father, he also had a closed carriage waiting a few miles down the road.
“Oh,” Lottie said, as the carriage halted and she spied the luxurious closed carriage that would carry them to London. “It’s such a lovely sunny day. It seems a shame to be shut up in a stuffy carriage.”
Cassius said nothing, only helped her down from one carriage and up into the next. The moment their new equipage was in motion however, he dragged her into his lap.
“It might be a lovely day for an open carriage,” he said, his tone dry. “But one cannot do this.”
He slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her close, pressing his mouth to hers.
Lottie sighed, at once pliant in his arms.
“Silly me,” she said dreamily, blinking at him through thick golden lashes when he finally let her go “Whatever was I thinking?”
“You weren’t thinking, love,” he chastised her, knowing she could tell he was only teasing. “But I was. Indeed, I’ve thought of nothing else but getting you alone since… forever!”
She snorted at that. “You didn’t know I existed until a few months ago.”
“Oh, come now. You know that isn’t true.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I’m not sure I believe that, but never mind. I insist you show me what it is you’ve been thinking of.”
Cassius was not about to make love to his new wife in a carriage, but he was not averse to giving her a taste of what was to come. By the time they got to London, she was flushed and rumpled and utterly delicious.
They were staying the night at Brown’s in Mayfair, far from one of the most lavish hotels in the capital, but Lottie had been desperately curious to see it. The place had been open barely more than a year, the proprietors being a Mr and Mrs Brown, previously valet and personal maid to Lord and Lady Byron. Cassius had heard good things about the comfortable and well-run establishment, and so was more than happy to accede to Lottie’s wishes.
They were shown up to what Mr Brown himself proudly informed them was their best suite of rooms. It was light and airy and beautifully furnished. Lottie’s flattering comments on the style of the décor clearly pleased Mr Brown enormously and he promised to pass this onto his wife, who he said was responsible for much of it. If they hadn’t been due it before, Lottie had guaranteed them exemplary service, not that anything was wanting.
Flowers adorned several surfaces in pretty glass vases, a small intimate table was laid with a selection of delectable pastries, cold meat, cheese, bread, and fresh fruit, and a bottle of champagne. More importantly, as far as Cassius was concerned as he moved through to their chamber, the bed was large and inviting.
“Are you hungry?” Lottie called out to him, plucking a grape from the fruit bowl and popping it into her mouth.
“Famished,” Cassius replied.
Lottie tugged another grape free and turned to look at him. She stilled, the grape suspended halfway to her mouth. Her lips quirked upwards and one eyebrow lifted. “You… are not speaking of the food.”
“I am not.”
“Oh.”
She put the next grape into her mouth, watching him and chewing thoughtfully. “Can you be hungry for… well, you know?”
“Do I?”
“Certainly, you do,” she said, tart now, though her eyes sparkled. “Don’t tease me.”
“But it is my ambition to spend the entire night teasing you,” he said, leaning against the door jamb and watching her pull another grape from the bunch.
“I would have thought you’d done enough of that on the way here,” she remarked, a subtle tinge of colour at her cheeks.
“Oh, love,” he s
aid, shaking his head. “Not nearly enough. Indeed, I regret to inform you that I suspect there is no such thing as enough where you are concerned.”
“Really?” she said, pursing her lips.
“Really.”
“Oh, well. In that case… I am your wife after all, and duty bound to please you.” She lifted her chin and spread her arms out wide. “You may ravish me.”
Cassius snorted. “Not with all that lot on, I can’t. I nearly died of suffocation the last time. Death by petticoats.”
“What a way to go,” Lottie retorted, walking to him and rustling her petticoats at him in a provocative manner.
He gave a bark of laughter and pushed off the door jamb. Cassius crossed the room and swept her up in his arms as the froth of lace and silk rustled and swished.
“Have I told you how extraordinarily beautiful you look today? That gown is quite breathtaking. Indeed, I could not breathe when I saw you for the first time. In truth, I was perilously close to weeping. Happily, Ash beat me to it and diverted attention.”
Her eyes grew wide and soft with adoration and he was glad he’d told her, even if he felt a little silly doing so.
“I’m glad,” she whispered. “For my heart was beating out of my chest and it was the hardest thing not to just run across the room and throw myself at you, but I promised Papa I should behave like a lady, not a hoyden, and I almost managed it.”
“Almost?” he replied, grinning at her.
She nodded. “Until you kissed me and I couldn’t let you go. Those kisses are supposed to be shy and demure.”
Cassius chuckled. “Well, we were among family and friends, so I don’t think they would be so dreadfully shocked, though I’m glad enough to put distance between me and your father.”
“Poor Papa,” Lottie said with a sigh.
Cassius shook his head, carrying her through to the bedroom. “And that is the last mention we shall have of him, I thank you.”
Lottie glanced at the bed as Cassius carried her through. Despite everything they’d done together, her heart was beating very fast. Mostly, it was anticipation. After all, Mama had said it was more discomfort than pain, and only for the first time, if the man was an attentive lover and prepared the way well.