The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (12 page)

Grimacing, Cecelia dropped the leather curtain to keep the sudden cloud of dust from her face and nostrils. Traveling in an enclosed coach in the summer heat was not altogether pleasant. Had she been properly attired she would have demanded that she be allowed to ride. Not that demanding did much good where Rand was concerned. She still hadn’t quite decided the best way to deal with her husband. Cecelia fanned herself vigorously and looked over at him. He seemed none the worse for the heat. She felt the perspiration trickle between her breasts.
    “Why is it,” she grumbled. “That I appear to be baking in this rolling oven and you do not?”
    “Appearances can be deceiving,” he murmured. “I assure you that I am no more comfortable than you.”
    It wasn’t as if the heat weren’t bad enough but Rand had spent most of the journey with his nose in his ledgers and other assorted business matters that he had ignored of late. He was using the time they spent journeying through Hampshire as an opportunity to catch up. Cecelia couldn’t fault his reasoning, but she also couldn’t remember the last time she was this bored.
    Sighing loudly, she pulled back the leather curtains and shifted in her seat as she watched the country side roll by.
    He looked up at her. “You should have brought a book.”
    Irritated, she scowled. “You don’t want me reading anything in a moving carriage. I’m apt to cast up my accounts on your lovely boots.”
    He chuckled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
    That took her back a moment. “You’re fibbing. I would remember that.”
    “I’m sure you don’t. You weren’t yet two. I was twirling you about too soon after you’d had your pudding. Stratton thought it was enormously funny. At the time I failed to see the humor.”
    She dropped the curtain back into place. “I’d appreciate it if you would let that be our secret.” She smiled. “Otherwise I might have a long talk with your mama and she will probably be quite pleased to divulge a number of stories about your own childhood. Not the pranks you and Eugene pulled as I believe those are a source of pride, but I’m certain there must be things of an embarrassing nature that you would prefer I not bring up.”
    “What a conniving bit of goods you are. If you can’t read, then try to sleep.”
    “I’m not at all sleepy.”
    “Mmm.” His gaze dropped down to the sheath of papers he was holding and he scowled.
    “What are you scowling about? And don’t tell me it’s nothing to concern me. I won’t have it.”
    “You won’t have it,” he murmured. “Very well. If you insist. I’ve been going over a letter and some reports from the steward I sent to Fenton Abbey. The properties have been largely uncared for and I may need to spend more time there than I originally thought.”
    “We,” she corrected. “If you find it necessary to spend time at there, then I will too. I’ve grown quite used to bedding you.”
    He pulled a long face. “Alas, we’ve been married only a week and it seems I’m little more than a plaything.” He patted the spot next to him. “Come here. My fascination with facts and figures has deserted me.”
    She settled beside him. “I confess I’m a bit nervous about today.”
    He looked at her in surprise. “Why?”
    “Do you think they’ll like me?”
    He snorted. “Of course, they’ll like you. You charmed the old bats at Almack’s until they were practically eating out of your hand. If you can charm them, you can charm anyone. Why would you be nervous about meeting a few tykes?”
    “Nine,” she corrected. “And they aren’t all tykes. Some are only a few years younger than me.” She brushed a curl back from her cheek. “What are they like?”
    “Quiet spoken, well-mannered, and brilliant. And of course, they all adore me.”
    “Then it appears I have much in common with them. Except for possibly that last part.”
    “You don’t adore me? I am disconsolate.”
    She pursed her lips and tilted her head as if pondering the situation. “I haven’t decided.”
    “In truth, they are a mixed brood. The one thing they have in common is that on any level of society, they don’t quite fit. Neither fish nor fowl you might say. It took me awhile to realize that no matter what I or anyone else does, it will always be the case. Society doesn’t take kindly to by blows. The best I can do is encourage them in their endeavors in hope that pride in their accomplishments will see them over the difficulties that life throws their way. It will be easier on the boys, I think. They will have careers.”
    “They will have more freedom,” Cecelia said putting a heavy emphasis on the word freedom.
    “That too,” he admitted. “Though I’ve no wish to discuss it at the moment.”
    She shot him a petulant look then settled her head against his shoulder.
    “Cecelia.”
    “Mmm?”
    “I’m taking this blasted hat of yours off,” he said as he plucked out a hat pin. “I’d rather not have feathers in my face.”
    “Do you want me to move?”
    “No.” He tossed her hat onto the bench across from them. “For some strange reason I rather like having you next to me.”
    “That’s good,” she mumbled. The feel of his arm around her was very comforting and a few minutes later, the girl who wasn’t at all sleepy fell fast asleep.

“
W
elcome to Danfield House, my dear,” Rand drawled several hours later as he handed Cecelia down from their coach.
    Danfield House was a square, stone and timber, three-storied dwelling with bright red shutters and a large stone porch that ran the length of the house. It was by no means a mansion, but more than large enough to accommodate nine children and accompanying staff. The flower beds were informal but bright with color. The expanse of grass was kept sheared if a little unevenly and the grounds were flanked on two sides by a thick copse of trees.
    Cecelia thought it was a lovely place for children to grow up. “I like it.” She grinned as she spotted a little girl with long dark braids flying behind her as she came running toward them and added, “And I believe one of your quiet spoken, well mannered, adoring charges is coming our way.”
    Rand turned. “That would be Rosie,” he told her. “Small in stature, but a force of energy to be reckoned with.”
    “Thomas!” she shrieked just before she vaulted herself into his arms. “You came to see us!”
    He gave her an affectionate hug before untangling the arms and legs wrapped tightly around him and setting her on the ground. He tweaked her nose and said, “I did come to see you midget, but I’ve brought someone with me this time. Rosie, I would like you to meet the Marchioness of Clarendon. She’s my wife. We were married last week.”
    The little girl seemed more interested than surprised as she scrutinized Cecelia with large brown eyes and a solemn expression. “You aren’t wearing a hat. I thought ladies always wore hats. I have three bonnets. Would you like to see them?”
    Cecelia was completely engaged by her candor. “I’m happy to meet you, Rosie. And yes, ladies normally do wear hats, but I’m afraid I left mine in the coach. It was very remiss of me as the sun is quite bright today. I would like to see your bonnets, but not right now. We must get settled in first. Maybe you could show them to me tomorrow.”
    “Mind your manners Rosie,” Rand scolded. “What does a young lady do when she is introduced to someone?”
    She wrinkled her forehead as she pondered the question. Then her face brightened and she bobbed a curtsy. “’How do you do, mum?”
    “How do you do, my lady?” Rand corrected.
    “My lady,” she added.
    Cecelia grinned at her. “Very well done, Rosie.”
    Rosie continued to stare at her and then announced, “David put a frog in my bed.” Before she could get out any more details, a plump middle-aged woman with brown hair wiping her hands on her apron, came down the steps to greet them.
    Her face was wreathed with smiles as she said, “It’s good to see you, sir, ma’am. We hadn’t expected you quite this soon. And I do apologize for Rosie. She and David have been a handful since Susan left.”
    “Hello, Doreen. I would like to present my bride, Lady Clarendon. Cecelia, this is Miss Peters.”
    With a puzzled look on her face, Doreen curtsied, “Welcome to Danfield House, my lady.”
    Cecelia smiled graciously and said, “Thank you, Miss Peters.”
    “I didn’t give any details in my missive, but it seems I have acquired the title of Marquis of Clarendon,” Rand went on to explain. “We are on our way to view the Clarendon estates in Devon after we leave here.”
    She appeared truly delighted by the news. “You are deserving of a title. Congratulations, my lord.”
    “Thank you, though, I’d prefer that you forgo the formalities. The brood has called me Thomas as long as they’ve known me and I don’t wish to make any changes. It would be far too confusing.”
    “If you’re certain,” she said hesitantly.
    “I am. I’ll send the riders on to the inn, but my valet and Lady Clarendon’s maid will need beds. Billy can bunk in the boy’s room again, if you’ve enough room.”
    “Oh, mercy me, yes. Of course, we’ve more than enough.”
    “Are the children at their lessons?” Rand asked.
    Rosie chose that moment to resume her previous conversation. “David’s sitting in the corner in the nursery ‘cause ‘e put a frog…”
    “In your bed,” Rand finished for her. “You must say
he
not
‘e.
When you get older you will find life much easier if you can remember to pronounce your words correctly.”
    The little girl gave him such an odd look that Cecelia barely held back her laughter.
    “But there are too many words,” Rosie grumbled. “I can’t ‘member all of them. I’m only five years old.”
    “You mustn’t complain.” Doreen scolded. “Lady Clarendon will wonder what has happened to your manners.”
    Rosie looked very dejected by her set down. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Cecelia took pity on her and was about to offer a few words of encouragement as Rand nodded for the driver to open the door of the second carriage. Mattie stepped out first, jostling her arm against the side of the carriage. She dropped the basket she was holding and a gray bundle of feline fur escaped onto the grass.
    “What the devil,” Rand started.
    “A kitty!” Rosie shrieked. “Thomas brought us a kitty!”
    Rand caught her up in his arms before she had the opportunity to chase after the kitten. In unfamiliar territory and wary of unfamiliar faces, Ashley stood frozen with the exception of the fluffy gray tail flicking back and forth, as she considered her next move.
    Cecelia inched forward. “Come here Ashley,” she said softly, as she held her hand out. “Here kitty.” It was a slow process as she continued to move forward and everyone held their breath in fear any sound would cause the kitten to run. A piebald nickered, but Cecelia was fast enough to snatch the kitten before she could bolt. “I’ve got her!” she said triumphantly.
    Rosie and several of the outriders were clapping. Cecelia turned to smile at the little group of onlookers. They all appeared to be quite pleased with her success with the exception of one. Her husband was not pleased. His face had darkened and his mouth was set in a tight line. Unless she was mistaken, he was furious.
    “Would you see that everyone gets settled in, Doreen?” he said in a tight voice. “I believe I’ll take Lady Clarendon on a tour of the grounds.”
    “May I come with you?” Rosie asked. “Please?”
    “No, you may not,” he said sharply. He plucked the frightened kitten from Cecelia’s arms and handed her over to Mattie. “For God’s sake, don’t let her get loose again,” he told her. “I’ll not spend the remainder of my day tracking down some blasted feline.”
    Cecelia made to step out of reach, but he placed his hand firmly in the small of her back and propelled her forward. “Come along, my dear. We have things to discuss.”
    Unless she wanted to make a scene, she had no choice but to do as she was bid.
    "I thought we had decided to leave her at home,” he said when they had put some distance between themselves and the others. “Or am I mistaken?” His tone told her he knew he was not.
    “We agreed not to have her ride in our carriage,” she responded realizing how lame her reasoning sounded.
    “Damn it, Cecelia! You know that wasn’t what I meant!”
    “I didn’t think you would be this upset. I’ve never seen you get really angry. You’re normally very jolly.”
    “Jolly or no, I’m responsible for everyone in this party. Everyone who lives in this house. I have to make my decisions with that in mind. I expect you to respect my decisions even if you don’t understand them. I can’t have you undermining my orders. It sets a bad example.”
    Her face grew hot with anger. “Your orders? I’m not some servant for you to order about! And neither am I a biddable wife.”

“Believe me,” he said dryly. “I know that you are not biddable.” He paused, searching for the words that would provoke her least. “I will admit that what I just said was badly put. I don’t expect you to behave as a lap dog. And you’re neither an employee nor servant.” He rubbed his hand across his cheek. “I’m not accustomed to this.”
    “What do you mean by this?”
    “Having a wife. Being married.”
    Her hands clenched. “If you recall, this marriage was your idea not mine.”
    He stared at her. Obviously, he still could have put it better. “I don’t regret it, Cecelia. I really don’t. And if you do, well I’m sorry for it. But marriage makes life different. And it takes getting used to. It simply didn’t occur to me how much you wanted bring the kitten. I just thought of the inconvenience she might cause.”
    “Everything is different!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “That’s why I brought her. She’s mine and I needed something to be the same.”
    He closed his eyes a moment and sighed. “Sometimes I forget how impulsive you are. And how young.” He gently wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Had Ashley run off you would have been devastated. Despite what she thinks she isn’t particularly ferocious and I doubt she would have survived the night in these woods.”
    Cecelia sniffed. “Are you planning to send her back?”
    “No, but I strongly suggest you find a traveling cage or a leash.”
    “Thank you. I’ll make certain she doesn’t cause any more trouble.”
    “And who will make certain that you don’t cause any more trouble?”
    She smiled at him and the genuineness of it struck him to the core. He reached out to touch her cheek. Her skin was slightly flushed with no hint of paint or powder, her hair blazed in the sunlight, her green eyes glittered. But her true beauty came from within. She embraced life with a joy that he envied. The simplest things in life could make her happy; fishing, the feel of the sun on her face, ginger biscuits and lemon tarts and, he now realized, a small, gray kitten. She could drive him to mayhem and back, but if he could survive the ride he didn’t want her to change. She covered his hand with hers and he unexpectedly wanted her with a fierceness he couldn’t ignore. “Come with me.” He took her hand and made for a bank of trees that grew north of the house.
    “What are we going?” she asked breathlessly as she increased her pace to keep up with him.
    “The shed.”
    “What? You’re not about to take me behind the woodshed are you?” she said laughingly. “I thought I was forgiven.” When he didn’t answer she said with a touch more concern, “You aren’t, are you?”
    “That’s exactly where I’m taking you. Except it’s a storage shed. The woodshed is too close to the house. I don’t want anyone to hear your shrieking. It might disturb the children.”
    “I’m not a child,” she protested. “You can’t do this.” She tried to pull her hand away but he had a firm grip on it. “Let go of me!”
    “No,” he replied calmly. “The urge to put my hands on your bottom is irresistible.”
    “You are the most loathsome creature. Even Papa never spanked me. I shall tell him. And Eugene,” she said weakly. “If you touch me, I’ll write them both.”
    He chuckled. “Something tells me that you won’t.” Moments later he stopped in front of a whitewashed shed with several high windows that ran along one side. “Which would you prefer? Inside the shed or behind it?”