“What a romantic you are, Gallet!”
“I beg to differ, Your Grace,” Michel Gallet replied and bowed respectfully. “My twin is the romantic. I merely offer you my observations as one who has come to know Miss Crisp, and who knows His Lordship intimately.”
“Do you indeed, Gallet?”
“I do, Your Grace.”
The Duke threw up a hand and capitulated. There was no harm in asking.
“What would you advise?”
The major domo did not hesitate in his response.
“That you allow me to handle this state of affairs. I will ensure Miss Crisp is returned to the Gatehouse Lodge, and that His Lordship returns to his apartment, all in good time for the ceremony tomorrow.”
“And if I do not let you handle it?”
“Then I am afraid, Your Grace, that there will follow an estrangement between you and His Lordship.”
Michel Gallet held out the sealed note the Duke had given him for his master. Roxton looked at it but did not take it immediately. And when he finally did, and thrust it back in his pocket, the major domo dared to breathe a small sigh.
“So tell me, Gallet. Tell me the reason my brother and I would have a falling out over this girl from Soho.”
Michel Gallet held the Duke’s gaze and his voice was steady and clear.
“Because Lord Henri-Antoine is deeply in love with her.”
TWENTY-FOUR
THEY LAY IN BED, bathed in candlelight. Still and silent, and content to gaze at each other from opposite ends of the mattress. Lisa leaned against the headboard, hair tumbled about her bare shoulders, while Henri-Antoine was propped on an elbow by the bedpost. Between them was a jumble of bedlinen and pillows. He had hold of her bare foot and she was fiddling with a handful of her long hair, curling strands around her finger. Words were unnecessary. Everything that needed to be said or asked had been communicated in other, more vital ways. All doubt and hesitancy had evaporated, and so too had apprehension. They were completely at their ease and wildy happy, and that left them a little in awe of what had just occurred. Yet, he still felt the need to ask, given the occasion.
He gently pulled her toe. “Are you—happy?”
She nodded and beamed, adding for good measure, “Very.”
And yet, while he was relieved and overjoyed by her response he was soon frowning and suddenly awkward. “I’ve never asked before… That was thoughtless and arrogant…”
“Oh? I imagine it was unnecessary for you to do so with your previous lovers. Was I supposed to tell you?”
“Tell me?” His top lip twitched. He kissed the bridge of her foot. “But you did, my darling, in the best way possible. And you have every time. It was just that this was—in the strictest sense of the phrase—our first time making love. And his first time with you…”
She regarded him curiously. “I hope he wasn’t disappointed. You did make him wait.”
He let go of her foot and sat up, and pulled the hair out of his eyes. “Disa—disappointed? How could you think that? He thinks you’re the most marvelous, the most divine, creature he has ever had the privilege to pleasure. You’ve certainly ruined him—and me—for anyone else.”
“Good!” She sat up off the headboard and crawled across the covers to his end of the bed to kiss him. Her blue eyes twinkled and she put her arms around his neck. “Because now that you have shown me all the delicious ingredients that go into making a most wondrous cake, I find that I enjoy baking with you very much. And I certainly do not want you—or him—making a cake with anyone else ever again!”
He tenderly brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Cake?”
She told him.
His laughter could be heard downstairs.
Michel Gallet didn’t have the heart to interrupt, but he knew that he must.
~ ~ ~
THE SUN WAS not yet up when Lisa alighted from the Duchess of Roxton’s carriage and was ushered into the Gatehouse Lodge by a bleary-eyed maid, who was resetting the fires. She tip-toed up the staircase and was on the landing when the Lady Mary appeared in her dressing gown, holding a taper. She took one sweeping look at Lisa and while her expression did not change Lisa became acutely aware that her attitude most certainly had. Gone was the warmth in her voice, and her manner was decidedly chilly.
“Is there to be a wedding today, Miss Crisp?”
Lisa bobbed a curtsy and kept her eyes lowered. “Yes, my lady.”
“Then you had best get a few hours’ rest. You have a big task ahead of you making certain my daughter has the happiest day of her life.”
“Yes, my lady. My lady, I—”
“No. I do not want or care to know. Teddy’s happiness is all that matters.”
“Yes, my lady.”
When Lisa finally slipped into bed beside Teddy, she lay there staring up at the canopy, not moving, hoping she had not woken her friend, and wondering what she knew and what to tell her. Michel Gallet had told her what to say, and she was mortified to think the Duke of Roxton had gone to the trouble of putting it about she had a fever and had been confined to the house until it passed. And so if he had done that, then he knew the rest. And if the Duke knew, then so did Henri-Antoine’s mother… So much for staying in the background as her cousins had demanded of her. Still, she could not do anything to change their opinion of her now, nor did she want to if it meant never having spent time with Henri-Antoine at the folly. She had no regrets. What was required of her now was to get through the rest of her stay without causing a scandal, or doing anything that might interfere with Teddy’s happiness.
“You’ve returned,” a drowsy Teddy muttered, sliding across the bed to snuggle in beside Lisa. “Are you feeling better…?”
“Yes. Yes. Much better.”
“I’m glad. Because I would have been very sad had you not been able to be with me on this of all days.”
“I would not miss your wedding for anything, Teddy. You are going to be a most beautiful bride…”
“And Sir John a handsome groom.”
“Yes! The handsomest! Now sleep.”
Lisa turned her head on the pillow and tried to sleep.
~ ~ ~
TEDDY’S WEDDING dress was of blue silk, the bodice and over-gown adorned with delicate white lace rushes, with engageantes at her elbows; the pearl choker about her throat had been presented to her at breakfast by her parents. Pearls strung on blue ribbons were threaded through the braids of her fiery hair, and diamond clasps and pearl-headed pins helped keep her coiffure in place. Lisa wore a similar gown in shell pink silk, the fabric without lace embellishment, except at the elbows, the bodice cut so low across her breasts that a sheer fichu was strategically criss-crossed over her décolletage and tied in a large bow in the small of her back. Matching pink ribbons adorned her hair, which was similarly styled to Teddy’s, fat curls brought forward to cascade over one shoulder.
The girls and Christopher Bryce were the last to leave the Gatehouse Lodge for the Treat Family chapel. And by the time their carriage arrived at the big house, family and guests were seated and waiting, the groom and his four male attendants the most anxious of all, Jack pacing up and down before the congregation, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Henri-Antoine, far from offering soothing words of reassurance, teased his best friend mercilessly, and the two were soon bantering back and forth in their usual manner that had family and friends smiling and laughing along with them, none more pleased at this reconciliation than their immediate family.
And then there she was, Teddy as a beautiful bride escorted down the aisle on the arm of her proud step-papa. She could not stop smiling, and when Jack turned and saw her, he could not stop smiling either. And when she was brought to stand beside him before the Duke’s chaplain, the couple gave a little joyous hunch of the shoulders, they were so happy. The bouquet was passed to Lisa to care for during the ceremony, once Christopher Bryce had done his part and gave Teddy’s hand to Jack.
And while the service
celebrated the coming together of two young people clearly in love, it was not lost on the congregation that this was a highly desirable dynastic union. It joined two branches of the same family, further strengthening the Roxton family tree. Theodora Charlotte Cavendish, as the new Lady Cavendish, walked down the aisle on the arm of her husband, Sir John George Cavendish, without the inconvenience of ever having to change her surname.
The newly-married couple left the chapel showered in white rose petals, handfuls thrown from baskets held by the young girls of the family dressed in their best silks. Lisa followed the couple and behind her were the groomsmen, the Duke and Duchess of Roxton, and the mother and step-papa of the bride, and finally the rest of the congregation spilled out into the expansive black-and-white marble paved courtyard. Bride and groom were surrounded by well wishers wanting to offer their congratulations, while the younger children were finally able to run about, watched over by their nurses and maids, the army of liveried footmen with trays of drinks doing their best to avoid these small personages dressed in outfits that replicated those worn by their parents.
Finding herself jostled to the outer rim of this circle of feathers and finery, Lisa retreated to stand by one of the enormous marble urns planted with topiary that were placed around the perimeter of this courtyard. Here she remained a spectator to the comings and goings of the liveried footmen; the little boys weaving in and out amongst the adults, chasing each other; the little girls in a cluster on the other side, twirling about so that their silk gowns lifted to show their white stockings, and throwing the remainder of the rose petals above their heads, so that the petals fell into their hair; and small groups of guests in non-stop conversation, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. And in the center of it all, a radiant Teddy and Jack, so happy to finally be able to begin their married life, and surrounded by their loving family and friends.
Lisa had never felt more alone in a crowd. London streets were friendlier than this. And while it was nonsense to think she was being deliberately forgotten, it was an easy thing for her to feel she was being shunned. And all the while she stood alone by the urn, in her peripheral vision she was acutely aware of Henri-Antoine, one of a group of young gentlemen in conversation by a set of open French doors. He was dressed in a pink ensemble, the matching frock coat and waistcoat smothered in gold thread and spangles; a pink ribbon tied back his hair, and he leaned lightly on his diamond-topped walking stick. It had not escaped her notice that Jack had chosen to wear a similar outfit in blue silk so that he matched Teddy’s color choice, just as Henri-Antoine matched hers. It was fanciful for her to believe this was deliberate, but the romantic in her liked to think so, and it made her smile.
Yet she dare not look his way for fear she would be unable to hide her feelings, and with the growing suspicion that perhaps their time at the folly, as secluded as that spot was on the estate, had not been kept as private as she had hoped, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to him or to her, or to them. This suspicion was realized, and a cold dread seized her when through the chatter and the laughter she heard her name mentioned on the other side of the urn, and by The Horribles. And while she could pretend to deafness and continue to smile and watch the activity in the courtyard, she could not help overhearing snippets, and she was certain said loud enough for her benefit: Both naked; hedge whore; just another conquest; fortune hunting mopsqueezer; Chelsea Bun House all over again; athanasian wench; Roxton to have her gone by morning…
“Miss Crisp, I thought you might care for a glass of wine? I do beg your pardon, did I startle you?”
Lisa mentally shook herself and looked about to find Jamie Fitzstuart-Banks at her elbow. He held two glasses of wine, and she readily accepted one and drank gratefully. Doing her best to ignore those on the other side of the urn, who were, no doubt, alert and listening that Jamie had sought her out, she turned her shoulder to them and smiled brightly.
“Thank you. Not at all. I was miles away. In London, in fact.”
“Do you return to Gerrard Street soon?”
“Yes. Yes. I suspect in the next day or two. When a carriage can be arranged to take me to Alston for the stagecoach.”
“I leave for Banks House in the morning. Perhaps you would care to journey up to London with me and my father’s family?
“That is very kind in you. But I have my companion with me—”
“There are two carriages, and Papa and I always ride. So plenty of room for you and your companion.”
“Thank you, but I would not wish to inconvenience Lord and Lady Strathsay and their children, or you.”
“It is no trouble at all. In fact, it was Papa who suggested it, and my stepmama who agreed to it,” Jamie admitted with a self-conscious smile and heightened color to his cheeks. “So you see,” he said apologetically, “your travel is all arranged.”
“I see that it is…” Lisa replied and made no further protest, though she felt color in her face, too, realizing her return to London must have been a topic of discussion within the family. Her departure arranged with the minimum of fuss or whiff of scandal attached to their good names, and that her separation from Henri-Antoine could not come soon enough for all concerned. “Please thank your parents. I will be sure to have our trunks packed tonight, if a servant could be sent to collect them and let us know the time for us to be ready in the morning, I would be most grateful.”
Jamie bowed and soon excused himself, disappearing back into the crowd, his commission accomplished, and she finished off her wine and looked about for a footman to collect her empty glass. She revised her earlier estimation that she had never felt more alone in a crowd; this was the moment, knowing she was considered an embarrassment, and unwanted by these almost mythical beings in their fairy land; she almost wished the Duchess of Kinross had not made the effort to find her. But she quickly took back that sentiment because she loved Teddy and it was wonderful to see her married to “her Jack” at last. Nor did she regret her time with Henri-Antoine, or that she had given herself to him. She would cherish those few precious hours spent with him forever. And just as tears welled behind her eyes and she was castigating herself for her self-pity, small fingers slipped into her hand. She turned to find Elsie looking up at her with a frown.
“Are you sad, Lisa?” the little girl asked gravely.
Lisa went down on her haunches and kissed Elsie’s cheek.
“Thank you for rescuing me. I was feeling a little bit lonely. But now you are here I am very much better.” Lisa admired the girl’s exquisitely-painted silk gown and the pearls threaded in her hair, and gently repinned a diamond pin that had come loose in her coiffure. “There. You won’t lose that pretty pin. And you look beautiful in your gown, Elsie.”
“You are too pretty to be sad, Lisa. I like your hair with ribbons in your braids. Henri-Antoine is wearing pink too. Did you see him? Would you like to sit at my table at the breakfast?”
“I would like that very much, but perhaps you have a special place at a special table?”
Elsie shook her head and then smiled and whispered in French behind her hand at Lisa’s ear, “I do and your seat it is next to mine. Maman she promised me.”
Lisa was genuinely surprised and delighted. “That makes me so happy. We shall have the most wondrous time together.”
Elsie hunched her shoulders and held her hands close to her bodice, and she would have said more, except a hand placed lightly on her shoulder had her looking up and around. It was her older brother, and she said to him, “Julian, this is Lisa and she has a seat next to mine at the wedding breakfast. Maman promised.”
“How delightful, ma petite. I wonder if you would allow Miss Crisp and me a few moments to talk?” the Duke of Roxton asked in French, and with a smile that softened his features making him appear almost approachable. It was clear he loved his little sister very much. “You will see her again as we are all going in to the State Dining Room very soon. She will find you there. You may wish to find Maman and
tell her it is almost time. Would you do that for me, ma soeur chérie?” He waited until his little sister had skipped off into the crowd before turning to Lisa and saying conversationally, the warmth gone from this voice, “I am pleased you accepted the Strathsays’ offer of a place in their carriage. Your return journey to London will be much more comfortable than the one coming here.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Your Grace,” Lisa replied levelly, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. At least shaking knees did not make a noise. “And thank you for permitting me to attend Teddy’s wedding. My stay here has provided me with a lifetime of memories.”
The Duke arched a brow at this, but as Lisa’s gaze remained steady and there was nothing in her manner to imply she was being insincere, he made no comment, inclined his head and walked off, just as Teddy, with Jack in tow, pounced on her.
She hugged Lisa to her, kissed her cheek and grabbing her hand said, “Sir John and I won’t allow you to hide behind the topiary! Come! We’re going indoors for the breakfast, and you must sit with us—”
“I would love to, but I promised Elsie—”
“Oh? Then you must not disappoint her. But promise me you will sit with us when the pudding arrives. I’m certain Elsie will let you go then. Doesn’t Sir John’s eye look much better today?”
“Much better. And Teddy…”
Teddy looked around at Lisa from kissing her new husband’s cheek and frowned when she saw she was making her curtsy. “Lisa? No! You do not curtsy to me—”
“But I must make my curtsy to Lady Cavendish. Is that not so, Sir John?”
“It is a lovely gesture, and you are Lady Cavendish now, my love.”
“Walnut pickle to that!” Teddy pouted. “I won’t have my best friend curtsy to me!”
“Walnut—walnut pickle?” Jack was surprised. He had never heard that expression before.
Lisa laughed and quickly put a hand to her mouth before saying, “Oh Teddy! I haven’t heard you say that since Blacklands.”
Satyr’s Son: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Family Saga Book 5) Page 37