Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (29 page)

“While you were gone she led everyone to believe the wedding was only postponed due to her
illness
. She then left for Bath to take the waters. Or to let the gossip die down.” His friend sipped from his coffee cup. “Being one of the few who knew the truth, and not one to go about much in society, I said nothing, knowing that when you returned matters would be set aright.”

“Damn!” Ren rose from the chair and went to stare out the window facing the street below. He puffed on his cigar as he thought. He didn’t need the added aggravation of Margaret upsetting his wife, even though she was aware of the entire situation. “Well, she can try, but she’s the one who would lose if she were to attempt to humiliate me. I have a wife now, and soon will have my heir. And even if I weren’t married, I would hardly reconsider taking her as my duchess.”

Michael continued, “As you requested, I met with Cartland each Monday for a report. There’s been no sighting of Thomas. Cartland’s got men watching the streets surrounding the Mint for your cousin, as that’s where he and his agents thinks Thomas has gone to ground. But, I’m not so certain. You see, there has been an unconfirmed sighting of him up in Yorkshire, with Margaret, at the home of her sister and brother-in-law.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ren said. “When he surfaces he will be taken care of.”

Michael nodded. “As your legal counsel, it would be remiss of me to not remind you that you are not to take matters into your own hands. Leave him for the authorities.”

“I will, unless he is threatening my family or my life. In that case, I am prepared to kill him.”

“What of Lady Margaret?” his friend asked.

“She’s not my problem. I’m confident she will not cause trouble. Think about it, Michael, she stands to lose more than I, because if the truth were known about her illness, her reputation would be in shreds and no decent man would have her. I did all I could to keep quiet about what happened. You and my grandmother are the only ones who know the whole of what transpired. I left the country within days to avoid the questions, and to let her handle the gossip-mongers. At the time, I just prayed it didn’t make the front page of the
Times
.”

“It didn’t, which is why so many still believe you have an agreement with her.”

Michael stood and straightened his jacket. “Well, I must be on my way. Hadn’t meant to stay this long, as I have three days of paperwork awaiting me.”

Ren told Michael about the summons he’d received the night before. “Will you be there tonight? I’d like for you to meet my duchess. I know you will like her.”

His friend nodded. “No one is looking forward to this more than I, my friend,” Michael said as the two strode toward the door of Ren’s office.

“Until tonight then.”

“Until tonight,” Michael echoed. Then Ren heard Michael’s laughter down the hall and out the front door.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

“H
ave someone tell my wife the hour grows late,” Ren snarled at the footman. The man just happened to be the unfortunate soul passing the open drawing room door at that moment. He barely heard the man’s reply as Ren continued his pacing. When he reached the bank of windows at the opposite end of the room, he turned at the slight rustle coming from the hallway. Snapping his watch shut, he lifted his eyes to the sight before him.

“That will be unnecessary, Your Grace.”

Glowing radiantly, skin flawless as his finest porcelain, an angel wrapped in ivory satin and tulle stood in the doorway. Her long dark curls were pulled up on the sides and arranged on top of her head with wispy tendrils curled in front of her ears. She was more beautiful than an angel.

This was his duchess. His wife. His Lia.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said softly. “After the modiste left, I was uncomfortable with...,” she tugged at the top of her bodice, then readjusted the fichu. “And, well, I had to find a scarf that would work to cover....”

“The woman came highly recommended. Was her work not to your liking?” he asked.

“No, the woman and her assistants were very accommodating. It’s just that I...” She glanced downward and a rosy glow warmed her cheeks. “The bodice was far too low, and I was unable to raise it. So I had to get...,” he watched her mental search for the correct word, “
creativo
, and fix the problem.”

He couldn’t see that there had been a problem. The satin creation fit her perfectly, hugging her full breasts in a manner that he wished he could at that moment. A fine fichu draped the outer edges of her shoulders, pleated precisely, then came together, disappearing into the square bodice. The skirt and sheer overlay fell loosely to the matching satin slippers.

“Madam DuBorgne always was a trend setter,” Ren took his wife’s hand, placing an intimate kiss in the center of her gloved palm. “Your dress will soon be duplicated by every woman in attendance tonight.”

Lia pulled her hand away and stared at him, her emerald eyes suddenly wide with fear. “I know not where we are going, and with whom we are to dine. How am I to know if I am appropriately attired? Will there be dancing? You have been rather secretive about our evening.”

“We’re just having dinner with a distant relative. And your dress is perfect. It will surely be all the rage in a day or two.” This seemed to calm her somewhat. “My sweet Lia,” he whispered, as his thumb played lightly over the inside of her wrist. “You are the most beautiful of all women.”

Her lips curved in a slight smile.

“Do you enjoy being told you’re beautiful?”

She turned and looked up at him. “Only by you.”

With his free hand, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long rectangular jewelers case. “For my duchess.” Opening it, he showed her its contents, watching her eyes grow in amazement, then close. She took another deep breath, this one obviously to calm herself. When her eyes opened and met his, they were the shimmering green of morning grass with frost still on the tips.

“Your Grace, you must not think I want you to buy me such jewels,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “These are family heirlooms. They belonged to my stepmother, my mother, my grandmother, and every Duchess of Caversham before her, just as they will be worn by the ones to come. As my wife, you are the current keeper of the Caversham jewels.”

Her gaze turned to the book-lined wall, and Ren swore he saw tears forming in her eyes, and he couldn’t understand why. What did she have to cry about? He was giving her diamonds, not a string of sea shells. But when she turned back to him, there were no tears. Her eyes were dry, and she appeared chastised, although he hadn’t intended to sound critical.

“You are right,” she said. “I’m sorry I made assumptions. I should have remembered my place.”

He softened his tone, and stroked her cheek. Where in blazes did she think her place was? “Your place is by my side, as my wife.” He motioned for her to turn, and presenting her back to him, she allowed him access to the smooth nape of her neck. Her roses and musk scent wafted up, and his breeches suddenly felt tight.
Damn
. His lips burned with want to taste her, but he held himself in check, as his arms encircled her neck and laid the diamond necklace in place. He fastened it quickly, removing his hands without touching her more than he had to for fear they’d never make it to their appointed dinner.

“May I have your left hand, wife?” She held out her gloved and trembling hand as he reached into another pocket and removed a tiny leather-encased box. Lifting the lid he set it on the table, and removed the wedding ring that had been his grandmother’s. The square yellow sapphire surrounded by tiny white diamonds looked too large for her hand, but it was all he had for now. As he slid the ring on her finger he made a mental note to find a suitable one that fit her better.

Taking out the final box, he opened it and showed her the diamond drop earrings. “Do you need help with these?”

“No, I should be able to....” She trailed off as she reached out with a still-shaking hand.

Taking the jewel case, she walked to the gilt-framed looking glass mounted on the foyer wall. Ren followed. Once she had the earrings securely in place, he helped her into her evening pelisse. Lia stepped into it and reached up to fasten the hook beneath her chin. Her hands met his, and she startled, stepping out of his reach. Why did she always refuse his aid?

“I can dress myself,” she whispered.

“I’m sure you can.” He stepped closer and took the hook and eye clasp from her fingers. “But, I would much rather do this than watch you.” His fingers lingered over the fine mesh at the swell of her breasts. “Let me correct that statement,” he said as he leaned in and caught a whiff of her perfume. “I’d rather be doing this in the reverse.” Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, and Ren wished he could take her to his room for the night, instead of going somewhere he had no desire to go.

“I think we will not be out long. I have discovered I have an ailment that can only be cured by being in bed.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her mouth. A light, feathery meeting of lips. A kiss that held the promise of what was to come.

L
ia stared in amazement as their carriage entered the drive of a palace unlike any she’d ever seen before. Set back from a very busy street in Pall Mall, and hidden from the traffic by a screen of pillars and trees, was an impressive showcase home for an aristocratic family to be sure.

Once their carriage entered the courtyard, they pulled up the long drive to an expansive Corinthian portico which fronted the house. Their carriage stopped and a liveried footman opened the door. Lia held her expression in check, not wanting to let everyone know she was in awe of her surroundings. They might think her an unworthy bride for her husband. Ren alighted first, then taking her shaking hand in his, he assisted her to the ground.

“No need to be frightened, sweetheart.” He placed her hand on his arm. “He is but a man.”

“You never told me who we were to dine with this evening, husband. Thus, I have no idea to whom this magnificent home belongs.”

“Then you are in for a treat my dear, for this is Carlton House.” Ren smiled down at her. She was sure he meant to be reassuring, but she still had no idea with whom they were to dine. Lingering confusion must have graced her brow. “The home of our illustrious Prince Regent, who is a distant relative,” he clarified.

“Yes, well, I’m related to the Borgias but do not claim the connection.” Another footman held the door open for them. Once in the brightly lit, green and gold foyer, still another finely attired man came forward, first bowing low, then he smiled and greeted them.

“Good evening, Your Graces.”

Her husband nodded a greeting to the man. “Good evening, sir,” Lia replied. Ren gave her a quizzical look, and handed the footman his coat and hat. He then turned to Lia to help her remove her pelisse.

She continued to gape at the luxurious appointments in the entryway of the home as they walked. This portion of the home was magnificently decorated in the current fashionable gold and black Chinese style, with statues set in architectural niches and a glass-domed, tray ceiling painted to match. It took all Lia had to not stare at her sumptuous surroundings, and when she did, she hoped no one noticed.

Another footman led them down a corridor to the left, and held open a door to a grand salon, this with red silk walls and gold and ivory painted trim. Portraits of the Regent’s royal ancestors adorned the walls and a crystal chandelier hung from the center of a painted tray ceiling. A footman stood at the door, as her husband went to a chair and lowered himself to await their host.

She meandered through the room, appreciating the paintings and asked her husband, “Why were we summoned here? You never did say.”

“I’m sure he wishes to meet you, my dear,” her husband said, as he absently studied his manicure.

At the sound of the door opening behind her, Lia turned, and watched as an elderly man entered the room. So this was England’s Prince Regent. With gray curls styled high to make him appear taller, a heavy-set man, dressed in dark burgundy, gold and white, headed directly for her. He was followed by two women and two gentlemen, and the regent waved them away at the door. Lia instinctively drew closer to Ren’s side as he stopped before she and her husband. Ren made the introduction and Lia curtsied low. Holding out his hand to her to assist her rising, she placed her hand in his, and the regent kissed the air above her knuckles.

“My dear Duchess, how wonderful to meet you,” he said. Without releasing her hand, he gave his attention to her husband. “Well, Caversham,” the man said, “I see you’ve finally arrived.” He took in Ren’s attire, then commented, “I don’t see an arm band. I hope you’re not in mourning again.” When her husband didn’t answer, the regent added, “A little color is fashionable too, you know. You should try it sometime.”

Ren took the criticism calmly, stating only, “Wearing one color makes getting dressed so much less complicated.”

A uniformed footman bearing a tray with refreshments stopped next to their party, Ren lifted two glasses, handing one to Lia. Taking a long sip, she took a moment to see if anyone else was in the room with them. Other than two guards and a footman, they were alone.