Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (31 page)

“I understand, Michael. Believe me, I will never allow him to come within a mile of my wife. As much as it might pain me to kill my kin, I will.”

“I didn’t hear that,” his friend and solicitor said.

“And I didn’t say it,” Ren whispered, as he stroked his wife’s glove-encased arm.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

L
ia stirred and snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blankets, hugging the pillow closer. She opened one eye and saw the deep even breathing of her husband beside her, thankful he still slept. Last night he’d played the part of a man in love, fulfilling his role in order to pull the wool over the eyes of society. Making them all believe theirs was a happy union was important, so that their marriage would not be contested by the crown, thus invalidating it and this child if she was truly carrying his heir.

There was a movement next to her and she feigned sleep as best she could. Ren’s warm, gentle hand caressed her bare waist, sliding around her, pulling her closer into the curve of his body. She held her breathing steady, as he attempted to wake her with his feather-soft caresses.

As difficult as it was, she continued to pretend sleep, because she didn’t want his loving this morning. There was so much to think about, discuss and plan. She needed her wits about her, not her husband on top of her.

She felt the bed dip as he came to rest on his elbow, and turned her over. He stared at her. Lia squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I know you’re not asleep,” Ren whispered. “You haven’t been for quite some time.” A hand came forward to gently brush the hair back from her face.

Rubbing her eyes awake, she looked up at him and asked, “What makes you think that?”

“You have been in my bed now for over a month. I notice a lot of things.”

Her eyes must have given her away, because he smiled.

“I wasn’t wrong last night, was I, when I told the prince you may be carrying my child?”

“I’m not sure yet. I think it’s too soon,” she said.

“You have had some sickness though, and that is a sign, is it not?”

Lia nodded. “But that could just be stress from our travels finally catching up with me. I will have to think back to my last....” She felt color rising in her cheeks. “I will have to remember when....”

“To when you last had your monthly flux?” His eyes danced with mirth, and a grin spread across his face.

“You, sir, are beyond resembling a gentleman,” she said, pushing his hand away from her breast.

“I could call my physician to verify your delicate state, if you so choose.” He lifted his arm and placed it behind his head on the pillow, grinning mischievously.

“It truly is too soon.” No sooner had the words left her mouth, than she scrambled from the bed to run across the room and hide behind her screen. Reappearing minutes later, she gave her husband a wan smile. “We
have
been trying.”

“Rather diligently,” he grinned, holding the covers for her to climb back under.

Ren’s index finger trailed a light, almost reverent, path from the lower lip, over her chin, down the sensitive skin of her neck, and into the valley between her breasts, finally resting the palm of his hand gently over her abdomen, in the same spot where, if there were a child, the babe would now be growing. “I am very pleased, wife.” His expression changed, and he sighed. “We must get you home quickly. You will have more room to move about the house and garden as the entire estate is currently under guard to protect my grandmother and sisters. I haven’t been overly concerned about their safety because there is nothing to be gained by harming them and he knows this. But you...,” their gazes met and she understood his fear. “You will be a target. I must get you home to safety. And once we reach Haldenwood, our family physician, Prescott, will have to be notified. I want you to have the best medical care during this time.” Her husband beamed with pride. He sat up in the bed, “We should hurry, too. I would not want you to summer in Town, where it can get hot and smelly. The country air is better for you and the babe.”

The entire time he went on about leaving London, she fought another surge of bile rising. She ran for the pot again, and when she reappeared from behind the screen she collapsed in a heap on the floral pattern rug when everything went black. She awoke to her husband’s voice calling for someone to fetch the physician.

“I am well, really. I just need a bath and some rest.”

“Prescott will determine if you are well, and if you’re able to travel,” her husband argued.

Ghita entered the room with some lukewarm tea and a slice of toast. Her husband sat at her side on the bed, and watched as she sipped from the cup and nibbled from the bread. When she’d had enough, she motioned for him to remove the tray, then lay back down to rest.

An hour later brought a knock to her door. Her husband crossed the room to open it. A gray-haired gentleman of medium height and build, soft-spoken and wizened, crossed the carpet to her bedside.

“I hear congratulations are due, Your Grace,” the man said to her husband. Turning to her, he said, “Your Grace, my most sincere felicitations on your marriage.”

What followed was an inquisition unlike any she’d ever experienced. Of course, she’d never been with child either. In the end the physician proclaimed her a normal expectant mother with a babe due around the turn of the year.

“Of course, for safety’s sake, I’d like to see you remain abed for the next few months.”

“Can I bring her home to Haldenwood, and put her on bed rest there?” her husband asked.

“I’ll not argue that fresh country air is preferred for the good of her health, but travel must be very slow with frequent breaks. Do not jostle the babe.” His brown eyes bored into hers, “No stairs while you are having dizzy spells, Your Grace,” he stressed. “The morning sickness could last a few months or the entire duration. Eat what you can keep down, and I will see you in a few weeks, unless needed sooner.”

As the physician wrote his notes, Ren excused himself and went into the hallway. Lia took the opportunity to ask the physician a question about something he hadn’t addressed during the interview and instructions. Satisfied with his reply, she thanked the man, and made small talk while he finished gathering his bag. Her husband returned just as the physician picked up his belongings and looked at her husband and smiled. “I delivered you when I was fresh out of medical school, and now I have the pleasure of seeing your child delivered. This is a good day, Your Grace. A good day, indeed.”

“Thank you, Prescott, you have relieved my mind.” He shook the man’s hand and pat the physician on the back. “Cook is putting together a basket of those cherry tarts you like so much.”

“It just so happens I have room in here,” the elderly man pat his flat belly, “for one or two of those.”

Her husband chuckled. “Before this child is born you will have gotten plump on those tarts because I will see to it you have as many as you want.” Ren turned to her and gave her a wink, then followed the physician from the room.

When the door shut behind them, Lia scrambled from the bed again and dashed behind the screen. This time Ghita was there to help her. She looked at her maid and said, “Never bring a fruit tart near me. Just the thought of how it smells is enough to make me sick.”

Ghita assisted her back to bed and soon she slept.

R
en shared a table in the dining room at his club with Michael and one of his father’s friends, Lord Hepplewhite. The foreign office official happened to be on his way home to Wallingford from a stay at his current post in Portugal. The man’s home was not far from Haldenwood, and his lordship’s only child, a daughter, was Elise’s best friend, Lady Beverly Hepplewhite.

“I must hurry home, Your Grace, or I would take you up on your offer to travel with you. It seems my daughter’s most recent governess has suddenly quit my employ for an unknown reason. I shall now have to hire another quickly so I may return to my office.”

“I understand your concern for her welfare, and your desire not to bring her with you while you travel about the continent. My offer of having Lady Beverly remain with us is sincere and open-ended.”

“Your Grace, the offer is generous,” said the silver-haired diplomat. “I just may have to take you up on it, as you know there is no female relation to stay with her.”

“My grandmother and now my wife will both be in the home to provide female guidance to both Lady Beverly and my sisters.”

His friend stifled a snort, and Ren bumped him with the toe of his shoe. He remembered his joyful news and with barely a lift of his hand, he had a waiter at his side and asked the man for a bottle of his favorite Spanish red wine.

Michael raised a brow, and Ren said, “Tonight, gentlemen, we drink to my lady wife who shall present me with a child for Christmas.”

“Congratulations, Your Grace!” Lord Hepplewhite cheered, turning the heads of the dozen or so patrons in the club that evening. Michael chimed in and congratulated him, then handed him a cigar. Soon Hepplewhite was off to a hotel, as his home had been let for the season, leaving he and Michael alone.

At half-six in the evening, it was too early for the dinner crowds, too late for tea, and the club was only sparsely populated. Populated with just the right group of gossips sure to help his news spread.

“This might work,” Michael said as he scanned the room. “The entire time you were gone, he was seen perhaps a couple of times. We’re not sure how, but he slipped in and out Southwark without anyone capturing him.”

Ren nodded. “We leave for Haldenwood in a few days, for Lia and the babe’s well-being. We will be heavily guarded, but I expect him to come out.” He scanned the room to make sure no one paid attention to them, “I want him to slip up, Michael. Badly.”

“Be careful what you wish for my friend,” Michael said.

“I need to have him in custody or dead. That will be the only way I can sleep comfortably.”

Two mornings later, his wife was still not well enough to travel. Ren sat in his study going over the household accounts from when he was away, and making arrangements with his secretary to have them paid. He looked up when the owner of the security firm he hired, Mr. Cartland, entered the room.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” he said. “I must have a word with you, if you please.”

The man looked around the room and Ren understood his meaning. He dismissed his secretary and the footman, and when the door had closed behind them and they were alone, he prompted the man to speak.

“Are there any new maids in this home, kitchen, household, or scullery? I ask because it has come to my attention that Lord Whitby was seen talking to a woman in a maid’s uniform, on a busy street corner yesterday eve. He slipped through our grasp yet again, but the maid we questioned said the gent was looking to hire someone to work on this very block. She responded to his advertisement for employment because she is unhappy in her current situation, and wanted to verify the job existed before she quit her current post.”

“Did she take the job?

“No,” the investigator replied. “She wanted to give proper notice to her employer so as to get a reference. She’s a proud housemaid who has worked her way up from the scullery, and is the conscientious sort. Whitby told her he didn’t care about her references and wanted her to start that day. The young maid said his demeanor spooked her off and and she refused.”

Ren went to the door and asked a footman to locate Niles and Mrs. Steen. When the two arrived, he asked them about newly hired employees and neither said they were looking for help, nor had they hired any recently. He turned back to Cartland. “I shall check with my staff when we arrive at Haldenwood in a few days, to make certain the same is true there. I can furlough anyone hired after the shooting with pay until this is resolved. Which shouldn’t be too much longer, from the looks of it.”

T
he day for traveling to Haldenwood dawned cold and misty. After eating a plain breakfast of tea and toast, Lia supervised the packing of her few necessities, then went to her brother’s room to do the same. Ghita made certain the new sewing kit Lia asked for got into the correct coach, as Lia was going to attempt needlework now that she was expecting a child. Mrs. Steen and Ghita both said it was what ladies did when they were carrying. Lia was just thankful that the things she was about to embroider were napkins to be used on the child’s bottom, and not something seen by anyone other than the babe’s nurse.

More and more, she dreaded the next eight months. She was miserable already and couldn’t imagine feeling so run down while getting larger. If the doctor’s calculations were correct, the babe would be born just after Christmas, which gave her plenty of time to prepare the dressing gowns, linen napkins, blankets, and bed clothing needed for the babe’s first months.

Her brother and Ghita rode in a separate coach. When she asked why, her husband replied, “Your brother and his puppy are too rambunctious to have them in here with you. Prescott wanted you to have a safe, quiet ride.”

She didn’t agree, but accepted his decision. Lia then took her needlework out and began to embroider the corners of the baby napkins. On one corner she placed a tiny letter “C.” On the opposing corner she put either a lamb, pony, puppy, kitten, or rabbit. On one napkin, a lamb came out looking like a kitten, on another, a pony had donkey ears. But to Lia, it didn’t matter. Simply making the baby’s things relaxed her and helped her pass the time, for while she learned to embroider, her love for her child grew with each stitch.