How to Beguile a Beauty (28 page)

Jasmine's eyes went wide, and she quickly shut her mouth.

But it was too late.

Lydia remembered the rosette, and the secret cubbyhole that had been revealed. It really was a clever hiding place. But if someone was really looking for it, and had the time to invest in a prolonged search…

“Excuse me,” she said, just as if she'd asked to retire from the dinner table, to leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars. “I'll be back momentarily. Mr. Flanagan? With your permission?”

When he didn't answer, she turned on her heel and left the study, her steps firm and quick as she brushed past Rosswell and an entire gaggle of servants, on her way up the stairs to Jasmine's bedchamber. “Mildred,” she called out as she headed for the dressing room.
“Has Miss Harburton asked you to pack her clothing for her removal to her aunt's residence?”

Mildred who appeared from the dressing room at the sound of her name, curtsied when she saw Lydia. “Yes, my lady. I'm doing that right now. And that's the last thing I'll be doing for Miss Harburton, seeing as she told me plain that I'm not to come with her when she leaves tomorrow. Just turned me off, just like that.”

“You can stay with us, Mildred. My Sarah has told me you're a very good worker. There will always be a place for you here. Now, may I see the bags you've packed?”

“Yes, my lady, and thank you. I packed all but the one. Miss Harburton packed that herself, saying she couldn't trust me with her most precious possessions. As if I ever broke a single thing.”

“I'm sure you haven't. I'll begin with that bag, if you don't mind.”

Five minutes later, she was heading for the study once more, carrying a surprisingly heavy square, velvet-covered box containing the most beautiful necklace she'd ever seen. And not only a necklace, but two bracelets, a pair of earbobs, a large brooch, some delicate hairpins, and three rings holding stones the size of quail eggs—or so said a thoroughly impressed Mildred.

She entered the room, holding up the box, only to find a fussing Wigglesworth kneeling beside Justin, who was bare to the waist and clearly not at all embarrassed about it, and Tanner pouring out two glasses of wine.

“Where…where is Mr. Flanagan? And Jasmine?”

Tanner looked to Justin, and then shrugged his shoulders as if to say events had somehow just rolled along. “My cousin is being detained in the morning room until such time as I can arrange transport to her aunt. She did say that was where she wanted to go, remember?”

“To a home for reformed prostitutes? She never planned to go to Wales.”

“No, darling, I'm sure she didn't. But that is where she's headed, just as soon as I can pen a letter of warning to her aunt. Jasmine begged me to send her off to gaol instead, but she could probably lie and wheedle her way past any warden. But not her aunt.”

“How she must have hated her father, to coldly arrange to have him killed.”

“She explained that. Thomas told her if she couldn't bring me up to snuff by the end of the Season, he was going to accept the vicar's request for her hand before she reached her majority in another six months. The vicar has been looking for a mother for his seven children for the past year. Thomas said marriage would mature her.”

Lydia's mind conjured up a vision of the dour-faced man who had presided at Thomas's funeral. “He really would have done that? To his only daughter?”

“We'll never know, will we? I never showed the least sign of being interested in marrying her, so I imagine it was a chance Jasmine simply wasn't willing to take. If she'd only come to me, I would have found a way to help her. Instead, she found her own way. She said her
way seemed much more profitable, and that once she met Flanagan, all the pieces just seemed to fall neatly into place.”

“She also could have lied to you about the vicar,” Lydia pointed out. “She's lied about everything else.”

“That's true enough. I believed an admitted murderer more than I did your cousin, Tanner. And he wasn't even pretty. Is that the Malvern Pride you're holding, my dear?” Justin asked, and Lydia handed him the box, careful to avoid looking at him. She'd only ever seen Tanner without his shirt, and she'd not be unhappy to keep it that way.

He lifted the lid. “Ah! Magnificent.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a jeweler's loupe, pressing it to his eye as he held up the necklace. “Yes. Truly magnificent. Ouch! Good God, Wigglesworth, have a care there with whatever you're doing. I'm already injured.”

“And you've ruined a perfectly fine suit of clothes by bleeding all over them,” Wigglesworth responded, sounding near tears. “How many times must I ask you not to do that?”

Lydia worried that she was very close to hysterical laughter. “Are either of you going to tell me where Mr. Flanagan is?”

Tanner took the box from Justin and handed him a glass of wine in return. “We let him go,” he said, and then took a drink from his own glass. “Actually, we turned our backs and counted to ten, and when we turned around again, the man was gone.”

“He's suffered enough, poor sot. I think he still loves
her, actually,” Justin said. “Besides, it did come down to Tanner standing here with his pistol, and Brice standing over there, with his pistol, and a bad end for somebody if we didn't reach an amicable solution. I'm sure he'll be a much reformed character once he's back in Ireland, which is where I would be heading were I him.”

Lydia thought about this for some moments, as Tanner watched her, a small smile playing about his lips. Almost as if he knew what she would say next.

“Then that's done, isn't it?” she said at last, because she was who she was, and she was very comfortable with who she was, and Tanner actually seemed delighted with who she was. “Roswell is waiting just outside in the hallway. Would anyone care for a cup of tea?”

T
HE LATE
A
UGUST SUN
was beating down with some intensity as they all stood on the steps of the quaint white wooden church set just off the village green, and Lydia was grateful for her new bonnet and its wide brim. She was particularly fond of the sky blue ribbons that tied beneath her chin, ribbon that perfectly matched the small bit of blue ribbon pinned inside her reticule; her good luck charm that went with her everywhere.

Tanner had approved, and that meant everything to her.

They'd arrived at Ashurst Hall only yesterday morning, having begged off arriving sooner, as neither was eager to leave Malvern and the first glorious weeks of their marriage.

Nicole had greeted her with squeals and hugs and exclamations of how beautiful her twin looked, how happy she seemed. “You found just what I hoped for you, sweetheart,” her sister had said. “A nice, quiet love.”

Lydia smiled now, as she had smiled then, although she hadn't disabused Nicole of her assumption. But
she somehow doubted that her sister's idea of a “nice, quiet love” included impassioned moments beneath the stars, or stolen hours in their favorite hunting blind…or the night Tanner had stripped them both of every scrap of clothing, picked her up so that she could wrap her legs about him, and walked the two of them into a moonlight-streaked stream.

Although he'd informed her that they needed to be more careful now, the sweet darling, ever since she'd first become nauseous upon waking in the mornings. She'd told him that Sarah had said feeling sick to her stomach was a sign that the seed had been firmly planted and assured a good pregnancy, but Tanner would take no chances with her.

Lydia reached down and took his hand in hers. He was so sweet. She loved him so very much.

“Charlotte looks well,” he whispered, and Lydia looked across the expanse of steps, to where her brother and his wife stood, also holding hands. Behind them, a mobcapped nanny held the heir to the dukedom, born only a month earlier. Today was to be both a wedding and a christening, although young Rafael Fitzgerald Daughtry seemed unimpressed as he slept in the nanny's arms.

Her Aunt Emmaline's daughter had been left behind at Ashurst Hall, as she'd been awake half the night, cutting another tooth, the now Duchess of Warrington had informed them, just before she yawned behind her hand, then looked sternly at her husband as he'd put forth the notion that his wife might wish a small nap after the ceremony. The way he'd made the suggestion
had Tanner chuckling quietly, and both Emmaline and Lydia had rolled their eyes…proving that some traits ran in families.

“Lucas looks terrified,” Lydia commented as she looked toward her soon to be brother-in-law, and both she and Tanner smiled as they watched the bridegroom reach up and run a finger beneath his neckcloth, as if it had suddenly become too tight.

“I can't believe he let her dress him all in white,” Tanner whispered. “Thank you yet again, darling, for not putting me through such hoops.”

“You're very welcome. But he does look quite handsome, if somewhat uncomfortable for a man of his consequence. He really must love my sister very much.”

“I gladly would have done the same for you, had you asked. And may I say again, thank God you didn't. I'd also have enjoyed hearing Justin's opinion on all of this grandeur, but part of the price he paid to return to England was to be at Prinney's beck and call if he was needed.”

“I still don't understand why the Prince Regent would need him,” Lydia said as a murmur began to rise among the crowd of villagers lining both sides of the grassy walk leading to the church.

“Justin is a man of many talents, none of which he'd most likely want you to know about, darling. Oh, good Lord, here she comes.”

Still holding tight to Tanner's hand, Lydia leaned forward, to better see her sister as she approached.

First came the little girls, a dozen sweet, cherubic
creatures dressed all in white, long pink streamers in their hair. They danced about prettily, tossing pink rose petals in front of them as they approached—all but one obviously shy little beauty who held tightly to her basket with both hands, refusing to be parted from her petals.

That's it, sweetheart,
Lydia applauded the child silently,
you hold onto what is yours. Hold on tight.

And then Nicole appeared, riding sidesaddle atop her beloved Juliet, the mare sporting a white satin blanket and white satin ribbons braided into her mane and tail. Juliet held her head high as if proud of her appearance, and seemed to prance, her forelegs lifted high, set down delicately.

Nicole, too, was dressed all in white, her glorious coal black curls hanging loose down past her shoulders, a garland of pink roses cunningly wrapping about her head, low on her lightly freckled forehead. A veil attached to the back of the flowery ring and floated in the breeze that seemed to have agreed to appear as if on cue.

Lydia watched as a thoroughly bemused Marquess of Basingstoke came down the steps and walked over to assist Nicole from the saddle. She was close enough to see that her sister's marvelous violet eyes were awash in tears, and to hear her whispered
I love you
.

She felt Tanner's arms sliding around her waist as he gently pulled her back against him, bending his head to place a kiss on the side of her neck.

The world was beautiful. With no shadows, no
regrets, but only wonderful memories. Life was good, and to be lived every day, because every day spent with those you loved was more precious than any diamond.

And, maybe, after the ceremony, she and Tanner would find time to escape for a small nap…