Rapturous Rakes Bundle (38 page)

Chapter
Fourteen

The third of the recent Midwinter weddings took

place on a bright, cold day, two weeks before Christ-

mas. A wedding breakfast was held at Kestrel Court

and the entire Kestrel family assembled to drink to the

health of the bride and groom. It was late by the time

that the bride managed to escape from her guests and

find a little solitude. She slipped open the terrace doors

and went outside, making sure that she latched the

door softly behind her and that no one had seen her

leave.

The gardens were filled with shadows. Rebecca

went slowly down the mossy steps that led from the

terrace to the lawn. The air was crisp and cold and the

grass was frosty beneath her feet. Behind her the light

from the ballroom spilled across the darkness and the

rise and fall of the music floated on the winter air.

‘All
secrets
known...’

The full moon was as bright as it had been on the

night she had seen
The
Defiance
sail into Kestrel

Cove.

‘All
villains
caught
save
one...’

288

The
Rake’s
Mistress

Daniel was safe, and that was what counted, and

perhaps one day they would meet again.

The winter jasmine smelled sweet and wistful.

There was the crunch of frost; a footfall close by.

Rebecca swung round. ‘Who is there?’

There was no sound but the breeze in the pines and

the distant slap of the waves on the shore, but the

silence was heavy with waiting. Rebecca shivered, her

breath clouding the night air. ‘Come out, whoever you

are!’

A shadow detached itself from the deeper shadows

under the frozen branches of the firs and started to

walk towards her in the bright moonlight. Rebecca

stared and caught her breath on a gasp. ‘Daniel? Dan-

iel!’

He reached her at a run and his arms went about

her, hard and strong, scooping her up off the ground

and spinning her around in an exultant pirouette. Re-

becca hugged him close. He smelled of woodsmoke

and tobacco. He was warm and solid and real. He was

here...

‘You should not have come,’ she said, torn between

laughter and tears.

Daniel De Lancey laughed. ‘Did you think that I

would miss my sister’s wedding day?’ he said.

Rebecca stood back a little so that she could scan

his face. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for

being here.’

For a moment they looked at each other, then Daniel

gave her another convulsive hug before loosening his

grip a little. He scanned her face in the moonlight.

‘Are you happy, Beck?’

Nicola
Cornick

289

Rebecca did not misunderstand him. ‘With Lucas?

Yes, I am. I am very happy.’

‘You are sure you love him?’

The wind stirred in the treetops again. Rebecca shiv-

ered. ‘Yes. I love him more than anything. I never

thought...never imagined it could be so...’

She saw the flash of Daniel’s teeth as he smiled.

‘That is all I wanted to know. He is a good man,

Beck.’

Rebecca laughed. ‘I know.’ Urgency stirred in her.

‘You must go, Daniel. I thought that you were safely

away. They have been looking for you.’

‘I know they have,’ Daniel said, ‘but I needed to be

sure, Beck.’

Rebecca reached up and kissed his cheek. ‘And now

you may be. Good luck and godspeed.’

‘And to you, little sister. Be happy.’ Daniel returned

the clasp of her hand for a brief second and then he

was drawing away with one final backward glance,

one last promise: ‘I will see you again before too long,

I swear it...’

The tears misted Rebecca’s eyes and chilled on her

wet cheeks and she turned, unable to watch him walk

away. Perhaps it would always be as difficult as this

to say goodbye to Daniel. She would never know if

they would meet again. But Daniel had come to her

wedding day and now she had to go back to her hus-

band. Lucas would be wondering what had happened

to her.

She retraced her steps around the side of the shut-

tered summerhouse and started along the topiary av-

enue towards the terrace, but before she had taken

290

The
Rake’s
Mistress

more than three steps, Lucas came out from the

shadow of the firs and fell into step beside her, and

she knew without a word being spoken between them

that he had seen exactly what had happened. She

stopped and looked at him. The moonlight fell on his

face but she could not read his expression.

‘You saw him,’ she whispered.

Lucas smiled then. ‘I did,’ he said.

Rebecca started to smile as well. She felt so full of

love she was afraid she might burst. ‘And you let him

go.’

‘I would let him go time and time again to make

you happy, my love,’ Lucas said, then laughed. ‘Be-

sides, I do not wish to be remembered as the man who

shot his brother-in-law on his wedding day!’

They stood and looked at each other for a long mo-

ment and then Rebecca raised her hand to his cheek.

‘I love you, Lucas Kestrel.’

‘I love you too.’

‘You have shown that many times,’ Rebecca said.

‘And I am not sure that I deserve you—’

Lucas stopped her words with his lips. It was cold;

they felt fused together, sealed one to the other for all

time.

‘I have one more secret to tell you,’ Rebecca said

hesitantly.

Lucas gave a little heartfelt groan, but Rebecca

smiled. ‘No, I believe...I hope...you may like this

one. I am expecting a child.’

Lucas stared at her for a long, long moment, then

he bent forward and kissed her lips very softly.

‘When? After the masque?’ he whispered.

Nicola
Cornick

291

Rebecca shook her head. ‘No. Last time—in the stu-

dio.’ She paused a little nervously. ‘You are pleased?’

Lucas drew her into his arms so that she was held

gently but securely. ‘Nothing could make me happier,

Rebecca.’

They stood clasped together and then Lucas

laughed. ‘Justin had better hurry. Who would have

thought that he would be shown up by his younger

brothers?’

‘I wondered if Deb—’ Rebecca said thoughtfully.

‘Yes, I do believe she may be
enceinte.
Certainly

Richard is looking extremely pleased with himself!’

Rebecca laughed. ‘Poor Justin. Will Lady Sally ac-

cept him?’

‘Who knows?’ Lucas said. ‘She is a law unto her-

self.’

He let Rebecca go and she glanced towards the

lighted windows of the house. ‘It is ungrateful in me,

but this wedding party seems interminable. Do you

think we might respectably retire now?’

‘Not respectably,’ Lucas said. ‘However, you must

be chilled to the bone and it is my duty as your new

husband to help you become warm again...’

Rebecca nestled close to him. ‘Could you?’

‘I can try. I know several methods.’

Rebecca laughed. ‘Then let us go inside and, with-

out further ado, try them.’ And together, entwined,

they made their way towards the light.

Lady Sally Saltire awoke suddenly in her bedroom

at Saltires. The moonlight was very bright, flooding

her bedchamber and bathing the room in a curious,

cold white light. She lay still for a moment, staring at

the canopy of the bed. She had woken alone on so

many nights. For most of her widowhood she had en-

joyed the freedom her solitary state had granted her.

It was only recently that the loneliness had crept in,

invading the corners of her mind, so that she woke

sometimes hoping to find that she was not alone, al-

ways to be disappointed.

She sat up with a sigh. She was wide awake now

and a little sad. That was the trouble with weddings,

Lady Sally thought with a flash of annoyance. It was

all very well for Rachel and Cory, and Deborah and

Richard and Olivia and Ross and Rebecca and Lucas,

of course. They had each other. Worse, they were all

quite ridiculously, unfashionably in love. Even that en-

croaching chit Helena Lang was likely to finally catch

a husband before long. Which just left her wearing the

willow, since Justin had made his feelings for her quite

Nicola
Cornick

293

plain. She still felt shocked as she remembered his

words to her at the wedding breakfast, words spoken

low, for her ears only.

‘Your
lease
has
expired,
Sally.
Time
has
run
out.
I
want
you
out
of
that
Dower
House
as
soon
as
possible...’

She gave a little, irritable sigh. Damn him! Recently

she had thought... But it was too late for thoughts and

regrets now. She had had her chance to marry Justin

Kestrel fifteen years before and one could not turn

back the clock. She vowed that she would be out of

his house before her officious landlord even woke in

the morning. Her pride demanded it. He had even told

her to make sure that she did not take a single thing

that did not belong to her when she left.

‘I
shall
take
nothing
from
you
unless
you
take
something
of
mine,’
he had said. Perhaps he was tight-fisted

and she had never before realised.

She felt that she needed a drink. There was water

in the ewer on the washstand, but that was no good.

Port, brandy, even sherry would be acceptable, but

they were all downstairs.

Lady Sally climbed out of the bed and reached for

the saucy ne´glige´ that barely covered the equally sheer

nightdress she had fallen for on a recent visit to Lon-

don. The sight and the slippery, sensuous feel of it

gave her an obscure feeling of anger. It was more suit-

able for a trousseau than for a middle-aged widow on

her own in the depths of the country.

The house was as silent as the grave. Lady Sally

tiptoed down the staircase, flitting between patches of

moonlight and finding her way to the study without

294

The
Rake’s
Mistress

difficulty in the bright light. She did not bother to light

a candle. She could see the sideboard illuminated

clearly because the curtains were not drawn. They bil-

lowed in the breeze. Some careless maid had left a

window open.

Lady Sally shivered in the draught. She reached for

the port decanter, then hesitated, her hand hovering

over the bottle of brandy that Justin Kestrel had left

behind on his last visit. She felt a sharp pain inside as

she remembered that she had teased him about the

dubious morality of the Duke of Kestrel patronising

the smuggling trade. They had laughed together. It

seemed a very long time ago now.

She had been intending to return the bottle to him,

but now it seemed a pleasing if small act of revenge

to drink his best French brandy instead. She opened

the seal and reached for one of the crystal glasses. The

neck of the bottle had not even touched the edge of

the glass when a hand closed about her wrist and

gripped it hard. Lady Sally did not cry out. Some sixth

sense had warned her that she was not alone; besides,

she recognised his touch.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

‘At last. I thought that you would never give me

my chance, Sally.’

He let go of her. There was a scrape as he struck a

light. The candles flared. Lady Sally looked at Justin,

Duke of Kestrel, in the mix of candlelight and moon-

light.

‘Your chance?’ She was annoyed to hear that her

voice was not quite steady.

‘To win the third wager.’

Nicola
Cornick

295

‘I was not aware that there was one.’

She saw the flash of his smile. ‘Your mistake. I told

you at the wedding breakfast.’ He quoted drily:
‘I
shall