In the Wake of the Wind (16 page)

“You—you did? Oh, and then Janie must have changed my clothes,” she said with infinite relief, that puzzle answered.

“No, actually, I did that. You were in no state to have the servants see you. I think they assumed when they saw me convey you upstairs in my arms, your head lolling in my shoulder, that impending nuptial matters were well on their way, and I saw no reason to disillusion them. So I took the task of undressing you upon myself.”

Serafina
wanted to die from mortification. “Oh, no …” she said, her hand creeping to her mouth. “Oh, how dreadful.”

“I didn’t find it so,” he said wickedly. “Actually, I rather enjoyed it. And I thought we orchestrated the situation perfectly, even if completely by accident. Everyone will now assume that the marriage stands where it should, which will spread like wildfire through the servants’ quarters and back upstairs where it most needs to be heard.”

“Yes … yes, I can see that,”
Serafina
said, still mortified, not only by her behavior, but also that he’d seen her unclothed, even though that was her own fault entirely. “Aiden, I swear to you that I’m not in the habit of drinking myself into a stupor, truly I’m not. I’ve never even had wine before, except a sip at Communion.”

“I suspected as much,” he said, clearly amused. “Not to worry. I imagine you just drank too much too quickly on a mostly empty stomach.”

“I—I must have been overcome by nerves. I don’t even remember having more than a glass.” She managed to look up at him. “Did I make a terrible fool of myself?”

“Not at all, and actually, you didn’t have more than a glass. You merely went from complete coherency into a near swoon in the blink of an eye. And you didn’t make a fool out of yourself, other than calling me by the wrong name.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “If I were a jealous man I might have taken exception, but I put it down to a slip of the tongue.”

Serafina’s hand crept to her mouth. “What did I call you?” she asked, not wanting to know the answer, terrified that she knew what it was.

“Adam,” he said. “Close enough, and rather appealing, actually, the way you said it. Now if you’d called me Oberon, I really might have flown into a jealous rage.”

Serafina
blanched, utterly undone. She truly must have been out of her mind to make such a terrible mistake. “I—I’m sorry,” she said, desperately relieved that nothing else had come out. Had it? “I didn’t say anything else, did I?” she forced herself to ask.

“No, nothing. Why? Is there an Adam in your deep dark past?” he said, regarding her curiously. “I can hardly think so, but I have to wonder why you’re looking so guilty.”

“I have nothing to feel guilty about,” she said, swearing she’d never drink another glass of wine again. She couldn’t bear it Aiden ever found out about her foolish dream, and wine apparently not only made her tongue loose but her senses go wandering. “You know perfectly well that Aunt Elspeth kept me locked away all these years.”

“Yes—a little too much so, I think.” He buttered a piece of toast and handed it to her. “Here, eat this. It will help with your head.”

“There’s not a thing wrong with my head,” she said, but she took the toast and hungrily bit into it, feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in days. “I feel perfectly well,” she mumbled through the mouthful.

“Then thank God for your good fortune, for I’ve had enough sore heads for us both in my time.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she said tightly. “I suppose that’s another prerequisite of being a rogue.”

“Just put it down to asinine youthful indiscretion like so much else. Look,
Serafina,
I really do have to leave if I’m to arrive in London in decent time,” he said, buttering another piece of toast and putting it into her hand. “Tinkerby has offered to drive me in your carriage, which I consider most generous of him.”

“Oh, but Aiden … he only arrived two days ago. I don’t want you to exhaust him by having him drive all the way to London.”

“Nonsense. I can share the driving. I’d take my own carriage, but I don’t seem to have one at the moment.” He smiled. “That, however, I plan to remedy in no short order along with a number of other matters—which is why I have to leave today. Are you sure you won’t reconsider and come with me?”

“No. I won’t.” The very idea of going to London struck fear into Serafina’s heart. It was bad enough to be ridiculed at Townsend by the duke and Aiden’s sister, but to have an entire city of fashionable people look upon her with mocking disdain was truly more than she could bear.

“I can see you’re not going to budge. Very well. I think I have a fair idea of your size.”

Serafina
glared at him, thinking that he’d probably memorized every miserable feature of her naked body the night before when he’d stripped her. “I’m sure you have an excellent idea of my size, my lord, although that’s not going to get you anywhere.”

“I thought I’d give your measurements to the dressmaker I mentioned,” he said, ignoring her barb. “She’s fast, faster if I give her a little extra incentive.”

“I wonder what that might be?”
Serafina
said, unaccountably jealous that Aiden would exert his considerable charms on a dressmaker. She could just see him now, tumbling her in bed while whispering his wife’s measurements into her ear. “Haste is everything, Colette, even if my wife is a wretched creature.” And Madame Colette cooing in return in a fine French accent, “Such a pity, my lord, that she isn’t more amply endowed. But never worry, your wish is my command. I will turn her out in a fashion fitting for your countess, even if she is not worthy of the title. For you, your worship, anything at all.”

Serafina
angrily set her jaw. “I do not need a trousseau, my lord. I will do well with what I have. What need do I have for pretty dresses when I plan to spend my days here, working in your gardens with no one to see me?”

“You may work in the gardens to your heart’s content, but you will be dressed appropriate to your station in life, like it or not,” Aiden said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “In the garden or out of it. We will compromise,
Serafina,
so it’s no good throwing your temper up at me. I am not asking of you all that I might, so I expect you to meet me halfway in this matter, especially since I’m giving up far more than you at the moment.”

Serafina
opened her mouth to object, but realized that he had a point, and one that she didn’t care to push. “Very well, my lord,” she said demurely, wanting to throw her teacup at him.

“And you will desist from calling me ‘my lord,’” he added, his voice tinged with severe annoyance. “I have a name. I’d appreciate your using it.”

“Very well, if you desist from calling me ‘sweetheart,’” she replied with cloying sweetness. “It irritates me in the extreme, since it’s obviously not the truth.”

“It’s less of a mouthful than
Serafina,”
he said, the humor returning to his face. “I suppose I could call you ‘bloody harridan’ since that’s how you’re behaving, but I think you’d take to that even less kindly.”

“It’s also one more syllable than
Serafina,”
she said tartly. “And I don’t wish to be a harridan, but you give me little choice when you try to push me into your way of doing things.”

“I don’t wish to push you anywhere.” He put his cup back on the tray. “As I told you last night, you can’t avoid moving forward. You can do it at your own pace, but you can’t put it off forever. And I intend to dress you in a fitting manner while you get used to the idea of being my wife.”

Serafina
saw that there was little point in trying to argue, since he had no intention of listening to her. “Dress me as you will, but just keep in mind that you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I am what I am, Aiden, and no manner of dressing me up is going to change that, no matter what you might wish.”

“Stubborn, but not entirely intractable,” he said with a little smile. “I’d say we were making progress. I’ll have a willing wife on my arm yet.”

“You may have a wife, but I’m certainly not willing,”
Serafina
retorted.

Aiden stood abruptly, his smile disappearing. “Maybe intractable after all. Very well,
Serafina,
have it as you wish. I’ll be back in a month.”

“A month?” she gasped. She thought he’d be gone a few days at the outside. A month seemed like an eternity.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I have a company to rescue and some outstanding debts to pay, as well as a number of other pressing affairs to put into order.”

“Oh … oh yes, of course. I can see that would take some time. Well, please don’t rush home on my account,” she said, telling herself that she couldn’t wait for him to take himself away. A full month of sleeping alone, of not having to worry about what he might do to her would be a balm to her battered soul—and she should count herself lucky that was the only thing that had been battered. So far, she added glumly to herself.

“I was about to tell you that I’ll miss you, but after that last remark, I’d be a fool. It’s a lucky thing for you that I’m a patient man,
Serafina,
but don’t try my patience for too long. It’s liable to wear thin.”

She shot him a look of poison. “Maybe you should start lining up your stable of mistresses now,” she said. “I’d hate for you to feel deprived any longer than necessary.”

To her surprise, Aiden burst into laughter. “Ah, well. If you really hated for me to feel deprived, you’d come over here and give me a sweet parting kiss. But since I don’t really think you care how I feel one way or the other, I won’t hold my breath.”

Serafina
crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what I think about kissing you.”

“A fate worse than death, or something like that? Can you honestly tell me it was really that bad,
Serafina?”
he asked softly.

She colored, remembering exactly how nice it had been. “It’s the principle,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes, for fear he’d see the truth.

“Oh, yes—the principle. The principle being that I shouldn’t have kissed the woman I was going to marry, simply because I didn’t know I was going to marry her. A lot of prospective marriages would be scuttled if that was the operating principle,
Titania.
I wonder if you realize just how many illicit kisses are exchanged every single day with no harm done?”

“That’s different, and don’t try to confuse me, because you know exactly what I object to.”

“As far as I can gather, you object to anything to do with me.” He moved around to her side of the bed, and
Serafina
shrank back against the pillows in alarm.

“Relax. Despite what you think of my morals, I’m not a wolf who’s about to devour you on my way out the door. I only want to say good-bye.” He bent down and dropped a light kiss on her head, the faint scent of lime and sandalwood mixed with his own unique masculine smell drifting down to her. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Serafina
couldn’t answer. The truth was that every time he touched her she felt hot and flustered and started to tremble uncontrollably. Which was an unfathomable reaction when she didn’t even like one square inch of his beautiful male body.

“Be happy,” he said softly. “Or at least as happy as you can manage under the circumstances. And
Serafina
—believe it or not, I really am going to miss you.”

And then he was gone, leaving
Serafina
alone in his big bed.

She didn’t understand why she wanted to cry.

S
erafina pruned another stem from the dormant rosebush, then rubbed her hand over her cheek and gazed up at the sky with a heavy sigh. As much as she enjoyed toiling in the gardens, the constant work wasn’t enough to take her mind off her troubles, and they were considerable.

The last week had been more difficult than she’d ever imagined. The wedding had been disastrous enough, but the reality of her marriage had truly sunk in over the last few days, and all she could see ahead was a life of misery.

The days weren’t so bad, and at least the weather had been fine. She took breakfast in her room and chatted with Janie, which helped to alleviate her loneliness. She walked in the mornings, then settled down to work outside. She ate a simple luncheon with her aunt in Elspeth’s quarters and returned to the gardens, digging and weeding for hours on end, trying to forget about the unhappy fate that had been doled out to her.

But then inevitably came dusk, and after going to her room to wash and change and find numerous excuses to delay, she was faced with the drawing room and Charlotte, an inescapable presence, always watching and listening and judging.

Charlotte behaved as if she and Elspeth had brought a communicable disease into the house, for although Charlotte sat quietly in her chair before dinner, working on her ever-present embroidery, her tight-lipped expression spoke worlds of disapproval.

Serafina
had no illusions about what Charlotte disapproved of; she clearly thought that her brother’s new wife was uncouth and ill-mannered and not suited to an elevated life at Townsend. Her expression turned particularly sour if
Serafina
addressed any of the staff in a friendly fashion. It turned even more sour if
Serafina
was ill-advised enough to speak kindly to Lord Delaware on the rare occasions that he appeared, and sourest of all when Elspeth and Lord Delaware embarked on one of their convoluted conversations, which
Serafina
enjoyed mightily even though they rarely made any sense.

Then came dinner which
Serafina
truly dreaded, for that was Charlotte’s appointed hour to speak, and she never failed to speak of God. Hers was a God
Serafina
wasn’t acquainted with, and didn’t wish acquaintanceship with. Even the vicar at the little church in Abersoch hadn’t droned on in such an alarming manner about sin and salvation.

So far Elspeth had kept her lips buttoned, but
Serafina
knew that state of affairs wouldn’t last long, not with the way that Elspeth glowered across the table, noisily chewing her food as Charlotte banged on and on, Elspeth looking as if she were ready to do murder to the woman, or at least cast a spell of silence on her. Thank God her aunt hadn’t tried that, for it was bound to go all wrong and Charlotte would end up preaching twice as much as before.

There were times when
Serafina
actually wished Aiden back, hoping he would know how to silence his impossible sister. Aiden of all people wouldn’t put up with such nonsense—she doubted he even believed in God. But since she’d never seen Aiden interact with his sister, she couldn’t know how he behaved around her.

All she did know was that she couldn’t go on day after day, night after night like this, her appetite fleeing in the face of Charlotte’s diatribes. She’d even taken to dashing around comers when she heard Charlotte’s chair approach, hiding in rooms or even closets until she could be sure Charlotte had vanished again. It was no wonder that the servants all looked so cowed. Charlotte was a hard taskmaster, ever demanding perfection, her eyes and ears everywhere.
Serafina
felt as if she were living in a prison, the only reprieve between the hours of four and six when Charlotte took a nap.

Even dear Elspeth was no help. “I don’t like Charlotte Delaware, and I don’t want to discuss her beyond saying that
I
intend to stay as far away from the woman as possible,” she’d informed
Serafina
in no uncertain terms. As a result, with the exception of dinner, Elspeth spent her time holed up in her own quarters, happily concentrating on making a mess with her magic potions now that she had nothing else to distract her from what she considered to be her life’s purpose.

Janie, ever curious, had asked
Serafina
what was in the various jars and bottles that Elspeth had stacked all over her room, and
Serafina,
stumped for an answer, told her it was medicine, which was true enough, depending on how one chose to view Elspeth’s hobby.

The explanation satisfied Janie easily enough. “I’ll just pass the information on down to the chambermaids who are concerned about the smells,” she said in her cheerful fashion. “They believed they might be coming from that bird of your auntie’s, sickening for something, you know, so they’ll be relieved to know he’s not catching. And hasn’t that bird just got a mouth on him! Says the most peculiar things, he does. Called me a saucebox the other day when I told him to stop his screeching…”

Serafina
shook her head. Eccentric Aunt Elspeth and her equally eccentric parrot were the least of her worries. She didn’t even have the comfort of escaping her miserable life in her sleep, for she hadn’t dreamt since the night she’d had the wonderful vision of Adam and herself at their wedding feast.

She wished her dreams would return, for at least they would help to stave off her loneliness, make her feel loved and appreciated, even if for only an hour or two.

A shadow fell over
Serafina,
and her head shot up in alarm. The imposing figure of the Duke of Southwell hovered over her, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight.

“Your—your dukedom …” she stammered, trying to collect herself. She pushed away a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes and blinked up at him. “You’re back.”

“I am indeed. How are you getting along,
Serafina?”
he asked pleasantly enough.

She shrugged, thinking that she needed to ask Aunt Elspeth for a spell to make people disappear. “I’m managing. But you’ve wasted a trip. Aiden isn’t here.”

“I didn’t come to see Aiden; I came to see you. And Charlotte, of course.”

“Oh yes … Charlotte,”
Serafina
said with an inward sigh. “She said you lived nearby.”

“That’s right, Southwell is five miles away, on the other side of the forest. So,
Serafina,
how do you find life at Townsend?”

Serafina
considered. She sincerely doubted that he wanted to hear the truth, and since she wouldn’t lie, she decided to use a little selective editing in her reply. She really didn’t think she could bear to be subjected to another reprimand about how ungrateful and unworthy she was.

“Townsend has its merits, I suppose. It’s a pretty place, and I’m enjoying my work in the gardens.”

“That I can see,” he said, removing a fine linen handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her. “Here. You have mud on your cheek.”

She took it from him and rubbed it over her face, wanting to throw the handkerchief at him. She supposed he expected a perfectly turned-out lady, even though she was laboring in the dirt. “Why did you come to see me?” she asked bluntly. “I thought you made your feelings about me perfectly clear last week.”

“I had a letter from Aiden. He asked that I look in on you, make sure you were comfortable.”

“How very thoughtful of him,” she said caustically. “I suppose what you really mean is that you wanted to make sure I wasn’t disgracing him again.”

Raphael chuckled. “That’s not what I meant at all. I honestly do want to know if you’re comfortable.” He reached a hand down to her to help her to her feet.

Serafina
reluctantly took it and stood. “Comfortable enough,” she said. “Did Aiden really write to you, or was that just an excuse for you to come by and spy on me?”

“He really did write, and I have no reason to make excuses, or to spy. You’re Aiden’s wife now,
Serafina,
and I have every wish to see that you’re happy. So I ask again. Are you?”

She looked away, hoping her face didn’t betray her.

“Answer enough,” he said, taking the secateurs from her hand and placing them in the basket on the ground. “So my next question is obvious. What is making you unhappy? Is it Aiden’s absence?”

Serafina
stared at him, nonplussed, for she assumed he’d understood the situation. “Aiden’s—Aiden’s absence? No! That is, I hardly know him, so how could I miss him?”

“You have a point. But on the other hand, I find you and Aiden eminently well suited to each other, and I assumed you must have discovered that for yourself, given the tone of Aiden’s letter.”

“What tone?” she asked suspiciously, not believing for a minute that Raphael thought them well suited. “What did he say?”

“Oh, just that he was concerned that he had to be away during a trying time of adjustment for you, and he worried you’d be at sixes and sevens in his absence. Can you blame him? Actually, you are looking a little peaked.”

Serafina
colored hotly. “I can’t think my appearance is any concern of yours. But I suppose Aiden told you he was intent on improving it since he finds me sadly lacking as I am now. That’s something else the two of you have in common.”

“He only mentioned that he planned on buying you some new clothes, since you didn’t have many of your own.
Serafina,”
he said, gazing down at her intently, “I wish you wouldn’t view me as your enemy. I swear to you that I come in friendship, whether you believe it or not. I admit that I wasn’t as pleasant as I might have been to you initially, but that stemmed from a lack of understanding of your situation.”

“Oh, you mean that you thought I was hanging after Aiden’s tide,” she said bitterly. “And that I purposely meant to demean him. And that—”

“Enough,” he said quietly. “I was wrong and I freely admit it. Aiden filled in all the bits and pieces in his letter, about how you had no idea of what his father had done, that you had no involvement in the matter. He absolved you absolutely, said that you’d come to the marriage in good faith. Actually, I gathered that much the last time we talked, so the news came as no surprise.”

“What—what else did he tell you?” she asked with a gulp, wondering if the duke knew how truly awful things were between them.

“Only that you’d lived a very simple life with your aunt, that you were unprepared for your new circumstances. He’s concerned,
Serafina,
as I am. It is no easy thing to be thrown into a life where expectations of you are high and you’ve had no training.”

“Aiden has already given me this speech. I told him I wasn’t interested in being trained. I’m not a dog.”

“No, my dear, you most certainly are not. You’re a sweet girl who has found herself placed in a very difficult position with nowhere to turn.”

Serafina
covered her face with her hands, trying desperately not to cry. The last thing she’d expected was a friendly voice, for compassion to come from a man she thought hated her. To her utter dismay, the tears came anyway. And so did Raphael’s arms around her, pulling her close. Too overwrought to pull away, she let him hold her, grateful that at least someone showed a shred of caring.

“I’m sorry your situation gives you so much distress,” he murmured. “What can I do to help you?”

“N-Nothing. It’s—it’s just so awful … everything is awful,” she sobbed, taking comfort in the refuge of his hard shoulder, all of her unhappiness pouring out like a dam released. “Ch-Charlotte is impossible, treating me like a piece of vermin that’s entered her house, and—and she reprimands me every time I don’t get something right, and—and,” she added, with a hiccup, “I don’t know whether I can bear to hear another word about sin. I think she believes me the most sinful person who ever walked the earth and I don’t even know why,” she cried.

Raphael’s chest rumbled with laughter against her cheek. “I wouldn’t let Charlotte upset you unduly. It’s only her way,
Serafina.
She dedicated her life to God as a way of coping with her situation, and if she does it a little too brown, it’s only because she has nothing else to do with herself and no other company to speak of.”

Serafina
raised her tear-streaked face to Raphael’s. “But—but why does she keep reading scriptures about Sodom and Gomorrah and Lot’s wife being turned into a pillar of salt? I keep thinking that she means me, but I haven’t done anything to warrant her disregard, other than being forced to marry her brother.” She hiccupped again. “I think she’d like to turn me into a pillar of salt herself.”

“I’ll have a word with Charlotte,” he said, stroking her back in a comforting manner. “You have to remember that she has been very much on her own at Townsend. It can’t be easy for her to have her world turned topsy-turvy because Aiden took a wife.”

“I know, I thought of that. But I haven’t interfered in any way with her household management. I wouldn’t even know how to go about ordering people around.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t,” he said, his voice kind. “And that’s something we need to change. Not that I expect you to start issuing orders right and left, but there is a subject we need to address.” He released her.
“Serafina
… I think this might be an area I can help you with.”