April Kihlstrom (12 page)

He meant to go slowly, to pleasure her first—but she was too impatient for that. She wanted him, it seemed, as badly as he wanted her and soon, so very soon, together they found heaven.

* * *

Later, much later, as she lay in his arms, he thought to himself that he ought to leave and seek out his own bed. But it was so comfortable here. So warm and safe beside her. She was his wife and he was the luckiest man in the world to have found such a passionate bride and one who suited him so well.

It crossed his mind briefly that he would miss her once he settled her at his country estate and returned to London alone. But there was no hurry for that. First he had to beget a child on her and that might take a while. Until then, he could show her London and take her out and about and introduce her to the
ton
. There was a part of him that felt almost a primal satisfaction at the thought of how many men would envy him.

He should not stay the night in her bed. That was another rule his father had drummed into his head. And he would get up and go to his own bed. Soon. In a few minutes. After he had napped just a bit. What harm could there be in sleeping for a part of the night with his wife?

Chapter 11

Edmund stretched, feeling more content than he had in a very long time. He was not in his own bedchamber, but in his wife’s, and far from distressing him, he felt an odd satisfaction in that fact. At least he did so until he realized she was not in the bed with him. Where was she? Not in her room or her dressing room. Who had helped her dress and how had they done so without waking him? Which led to the rather unsettling thought that by now perhaps the entire staff knew he had spent the night in his wife’s bed! His father would have been appalled and while he was not his father, nonetheless he felt a distinct sense of unease in knowing he had fallen short of his father’s strictures.

Swiftly Edmund returned to his own bedchamber where his valet was waiting and helped him dress. Fortunately Collins had been with him long enough to know better than to comment on his not having slept in his own bed. Indeed, the poor fellow said not a word until Edmund asked, “I don’t suppose you know where my wife is at this moment?”

A slight hesitation. A cough. Then Collins replied, “I believe Lady Rothwood is in the garden cutting some flowers for the breakfast table. Unless, of course, she is already finished and is now seated at the breakfast table.”

“Curse it man, hurry up! I want to join her!”

Too late Edmund realized how his words would sound. But what the devil was he to do? He did want to join Beatrix and break his fast with her. To that end, he took the stairs almost two at a time. The footman he barked questions at assured him that Lady Rothwood had indeed just finished arranging the flowers she had cut and was to be found sitting down to toast and tea and other delicacies in the breakfast room.

The breakfast room? His father had not used that room in years, much preferring the formal dining room. He could understand that Beatrix did not yet know how things were managed. He would have to explain that only extraordinary circumstances could permit deviating from his established routine.

Except that when Edmund stepped into the breakfast room and she looked up at him and smiled, he could scarcely remember why such a thing was important. With the heavy draperies removed, it was far too sunny and bright and pleasant in this room for him to be able to recall why the formal dining room would have been better.

He seated himself opposite Beatrix, not sure what to say to her. She simply kept smiling as she took a sip of tea, for all the world as if she had presided over this breakfast table every day of her life. He could not help wishing she would do so every morning of the rest of
his
life. And that thought startled and dismayed him so much that Edmund abruptly stood and started to back out of the room.

“W-where are you going?”

“I-I just remembered an appointment I have this morning. I will see you later. This evening. For dinner. In the formal dining room.”

And with that he escaped the room. He did not precisely run but neither did he walk at his usual deliberate pace. No, the need to escape the house was far too strong. He could not let himself be distracted. He could not forget the rational, sensible plan he had worked out for his life. No matter how sweet his wife’s smile might be over the breakfast table.

And besides, he did have a need to go out. From the moment he had discovered the damage to the cinch on his saddle, when he was riding back to the Trowley household, special license in hand, he had vowed to find out who had tried to attack him. Now it was time to take action in doing so. His first step must be to go and see his cousin Harold and find out if he was behind these things. Granted, Harold was not the only one who would have benefited had he not married, but he was the one who would benefit the most. And if he was dismayed to be roused at such an early hour, all the better. He would be less likely to be on his guard and more likely to betray the truth.

* * *

Beatrix had watched her husband retreat from the breakfast room with a strong sense of dismay. Dismay she had to hide from the servants, for she knew he would hate it if they gossiped about a breach between husband and wife.

But what had she done to distress him so greatly that he fled the room rather than share a table with her? What had she done that was so terrible? To be sure, Henry, the majordomo, had tried to tell her that Lord Rothwood always ate in the formal dining room, but surely it was not that, or he wouldn’t have sat down at all.

Was it the food? She had requested a couple of changes when she learned that he never asked for foods the cook said he loved most. But why should that upset him? Besides, it did not seem as if he had even glanced at the sideboard before fleeing the room. No, it had been after looking at her that he fled.

Well, she was not going to let it overset her. Instead she would carry on with her own plans, the first of which was to go and see if Lady Kenrick had returned to London, and if so, beg her advice in procuring a wardrobe suitable to her position as Rothwood’s wife. Yes, and she would take great satisfaction in having the bill sent to him!

Her plans made, Beatrix allowed herself to finish eating at a leisurely pace. It would not do for the servants to believe Rothwood’s behavior had upset her. No, she would be seen to be calm and smiling pleasantly.

She was just as calm as she asked Henry to have Rothwood’s carriage brought round so that she might pay a visit to Lady Kenrick’s townhouse.

“My lady, usually such calls are made later in the day,” he tried to tell her.

“Yes, I know. But Lady Kenrick and I are family now, and I should like a comfortable coze with her in private. She will not mind, I assure you.”

“Very well, my lady.”

If he felt doubt, Henry was too well trained to say so. Beatrix went upstairs to gather her things and in a very short time she was at Lady Kenrick’s door. The majordomo there tried to persuade her that Lady Kenrick was not at home to visitors, but she smiled sweetly and said, “Please tell her that her nephew’s wife has come to call. I truly do think she will see me.”

That altered the man’s demeanor instantly. “Yes, my lady. Please come in and wait here while I see if her ladyship is awake.”

Lady Kenrick was indeed awake. It took no time at all before Beatrix was being shown into a breakfast room even brighter and more pleasant than the one at Rothwood’s townhouse.

“Please. Sit. Have something to eat,” her ladyship said with a wave of her hand.

Beatrix sat and allowed herself to be served tea but declined any of the offered food.

Lady Kenrick studied her with narrowed eyes and waited until all was arranged before she said, a hint of ice in her voice, “I am surprised to see you here and at such an early hour so soon after your wedding. I thought Rothwood meant to keep you all to himself for the first week or two.”

“He had an appointment. And I must refurbish my wardrobe if I am not to be a disgrace to him,” Beatrix said placidly. “I could think of no one better than you to guide me. You will know what is fashionable, as well as what will please Rothwood. And I do wish to please my husband.”

“Ah, that changes everything!” Lady Kenrick said with patent delight. “I know just the modiste to help you. Horrendously expensive, of course, but Rothwood will not mind that. You will outshine every other lady in London once she has worked her magic with you.”

“That sounds perfect,” Beatrix replied.

In truth, she had some doubts, for Lady Kenrick’s taste was not her own. But she silently waved those aside. She would not, after all, allow herself to be talked into anything she did not like, and she would only order a few gowns at first. If the results were not what she wished, she would choose a different modiste and begin again. At the very least, this would give her a start. If Rothwood did object to the expense, it would serve him right. After all, she could point out, he hadn’t been home for her to ask.

Energized by the delightful prospect before them, Lady Kenrick was ready for their shopping expedition in record time. Somewhat to Beatrix’s surprise, they did not simply begin and end with the modiste. It was their first stop, of course, and the woman was all that Lady Kenrick had promised. So delightful were her proposed creations that Beatrix found herself ordering three times the number of garments she had intended. She even found herself abandoning the gown she was wearing for one the modiste had on hand that could be fitted to her on the spot.

“The lady, she orders and then does not accept. I am
désolé.
But now, I see it fits you, flatters you far better than it would her. I am in alt! Everyone who sees you will want to know who made this dress. You will tell them, yes?”

“I will tell them,” Beatrix agreed, a little stunned by what she saw in the mirror. Suddenly she was no longer a drab creature garbed in a dress years out of date. Instead she looked every inch the fashionable lady in a gown of the richest shade of deep green that she had ever seen. In that moment, she would have promised the modiste anything.

Behind her, Beatrix could hear Lady Kenrick arranging with the modiste that two more dresses would be delivered to Rothwood’s townhouse by evening, and that the rest of her order would be the highest priority for the modiste and her staff. Finally her ladyship turned to Beatrix and said, “Now on to the rest of our shopping!”

“Th-the rest?”

“Well, you don’t think we stop at dresses and undergarments, do you? We need hats and gloves and slippers for you. Reticules, too, I think. Besides, it will give me a chance to introduce you to other ladies of the
ton
who are out on similar errands. By the end of the day, all of London will know Rothwood’s bride is a beauty and you will have callers by tomorrow. I shall come by and help you choose who should become part of your circle of friends.”

A trifle dazed, Beatrix let herself be swept away.

* * *

In another part of town, oblivious to the activities of his wife and aunt and having walked off some degree of emotion getting to his cousin’s, Rothwood faced a very sleepy Harold. His cousin yawned and grumbled.

“Dash it all, Rothwood! It’s unfair to rouse a fellow like this! You might at least have waited until I had time to shave and eat my breakfast. What the devil could be so urgent you had to behave in such a slapdash manner?”

“Your attempts to kill me,” Edmund said curtly.

Harold’s jaw fell open. “Have you gone mad?!” he demanded. “What attempts on your life? And why the devil would I do that?”

“You are next in line for the title. If I were to die you would inherit everything and even if I did not, you would inherit a great deal if I did not wed by the date stated in my father’s will. Everyone in the
ton
knows of that provision. You might have borrowed on your expectations. When you learned I meant to marry, perhaps you were desperate and arranged for someone to tamper with the wheel on my carriage. And when that didn’t work, you cut the cinch on my saddle. I came to tell you that I am on my guard.”

Harold blinked and shook his head, as if to shake off the last traces of sleepiness. When he spoke, his voice was sharp with concern. “Someone tried to kill you? It wasn’t me. But we’d best find out who it was before they succeed. Have you been to Bow Street yet? If not, that should be your next stop. Arrange for a Runner to find out who is behind this.”

“Believe me, I shall be consulting Bow Street,” Edmund answered grimly, “but who else would have a reason to attack me?”

Harold looked at him and didn’t try to hide the bitterness in his voice as he said, “I know you don’t think much of me. Never have. Nor have I ever wanted to be part of your set. But I wouldn’t kill you to inherit. My finances are not nearly in so terrible a state as you seem to believe.” He paused, then added dryly, “You may not have heard but I’ve an uncle from my mother’s side who died and left me a tidy estate and the funds to maintain it. I’ve paid off my creditors, and while I shall never aspire to the heights of your wealth, I can provide quite nicely for myself and any family I should choose to have and frankly should prefer to see you happily wed, with lots of sons to follow you, than to inherit the title myself.”

Harold paused, then added, in a more temperate voice, “There are many who would benefit had you not married in time.”

“Trifling bequests,” Edmund protested, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Trifling to you and me,” Harold conceded, “but perhaps not trifling to those who would have received the bequests.”

It was absurd and yet Edmund could not entirely dismiss Harold’s words. He regarded him steadily for several moments and Harold met his gaze without reserve. In the end, Rothwood said, “I’m sorry if I have accused you wrongly. I will admit it doesn’t seem like you to do such a thing. But if it was not you, then who?”

“Is it possible the wheel and the cinch simply failed?” Harold asked.

“I was told it was not.”

“Then I’ll say it again. You’d best go to Bow Street and engage a Runner to track down whoever is after you,” Harold advised.

Edmund nodded. “I shall.” He held out his hand to Harold. “I am sorry, cousin, to have accused you and very glad to discover I was wrong.”

Harold hesitated only a moment before he took the offered hand and they shook solemnly.

Moments later, on the steps of his cousin’s London townhouse, Edmund found himself thinking that perhaps, after all was said and done, he and Beatrix should invite his cousin to dinner. Perhaps he had been mistaken in dismissing his cousin as a poor fellow. The man he’d seen this morning was someone he might actually like to know.

But that left him at an impasse with no one else to suspect. Which meant that he had best follow his cousin’s advice and pay that visit to Bow Street. He’d hire a couple of Runners. The sooner this was all settled, the better. And he’d stop by his solicitor Lawton’s office and make a new will himself. One that would take away as much incentive as possible for anyone to harm him. Besides, he wanted to give Lawton a copy of the marriage settlements, for he was the one who would administer the estate if something happened to Edmund, and he wished to be certain the provisions of the marriage settlements were known and honored.