The Elusive Flame (37 page)

Brandon eyed his son before stating carefully, “I think you and your sisters are well aware that your mother and I are very devoted to each other, but that hasn’t always been the case.”

It was a full moment before his father’s words registered on Beau and alerted him with a faint prickling of his senses. While living at home, he had overheard bits and parts of vague allusions to something that had happened very early in his parents’ marriage or, perhaps, even before. Uncle Jeff had seemed wont to tease his brother
about whatever had occurred back then, but no one had ever cared to enlighten the offspring of that union, and whenever Beau had asked what they were talking about, he had always been told that his father would tell him one day. He had a feeling this was the day.

“What was the case exactly?” Beau inquired cautiously, not at all certain at this point that he wanted to know. He set his coffee cup aside, lending his sire his undivided attention.

Brandon went back to stand near the window and looked out once again as the slashing rain pelted the window. With a sigh he finally faced his son. “There was a time when I was forced to do the honorable thing by your mother, and as a result, my own stubborn pride caused a great conflict between us. Heather was clearly afraid of me, and my resentment and anger incited much of that fear.”

Beau stared at his father, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You mean Mama was pregnant with me before the both of you were married?”

Even after so long a time, Brandon still suffered the blushing heat of deep chagrin over what he had done to the young girl who had been brought aboard his ship. “Aye.”

In all of his years, Beau had never experienced a moment of greater shock. He knew his parents were human beings. Even now, they were susceptible to being surprised during an intimate caress or a passionate kiss, but they seemed so honorable and respectable that he was stunned to learn that there had been a time when they had seriously transgressed the accepted boundaries of morality.

Very carefully Beau questioned his parent. “Are you telling me that Mama was your mistress before she became your wife?”

“Absolutely not!” Brandon shook his head emphatically. “It was what I wanted from her after I took her into my bed, but she would have none of it. She ran away from me instead. No, it was entirely different from that.…” He fell silent as he realized he was probably
confusing the issue. What he needed to do was to start from the beginning. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the mire of the story. “I had just docked in London and was feeling in need of some feminine companionship. Unbeknownst to me, Heather had been brought to the city under false pretenses and threatened with assault by her aunt’s brother. In defending herself she became convinced that she had killed the man and fled in fear. She was found wandering on the docks by two of my men who mistook her for what she most definitely was not.”

“But when you realized their mistake, surely you—”

“I didn’t realize she was an innocent until too late. Even then, I believed she had been led to sell her virginity.…” His skin darkened perceptibly. “It must be obvious what I thought. At any rate, I played the rutting stag and acted reprehensibly, even to the point of trying to force her to stay with me. She escaped me, and when next she was hauled before me, it was not only her aunt and uncle demanding satisfaction, but a prominent lord who had the ability to hinder my departure from England. I could do nothing else but placate their wishes. I took my resentment out on Heather, making her dread the very sight of me. I told her that I would own up to the fact that she was bearing my child, but in all other areas she would be no wife to me at all. I kept my distance, vowing no woman would get the better of me.” He laughed harshly. “Except the more I was around her, the more I wanted her, and it became a torturous rack that I had made for myself. She was everything I had dreamed of as a woman, and yet it wasn’t until after you were born that I finally submitted to what my heart was urging me to do. During that time I never once touched another woman, nor have I since.…”

Beau couldn’t help himself. His amusement was too much to bear in silence, and his laughter came spilling out, causing his father to cringe in growing discomfiture. For all that Brandon Birmingham was his father, Beau realized he was a man like himself, possessed of a fiery
nature and a keen appreciation of the joys a woman could provide. The idea that he had kept his distance from his beautiful wife for nigh to a year was absolutely on the far side of astounding.

“The reason I tell you this,” Brandon continued with a rueful smile, “is to warn you against the folly of making the same kind of mistake with Cerynise as I once made with your mother. Sterling Kendall has assured us that his niece is an honorable young woman who is in love with you. But he strongly suspects that she is carrying your child and, for some mysterious reason of her own, will not tell you that fact even though it may mean the babe will be born a bastard after the annulment. If you truly believe she is pregnant with your child, then search your heart well before you abandon your offspring and its mother to the consequences those two will surely reap.”

“Some changes have occurred which I think you should know about, Pa—”

Beau’s words were rudely interrupted by a loud, insistent tapping of the front door knocker, which was quickly followed by Philippe’s frantic assurances that he was coming. As the portal was swung open, a voice barked irately from the entrance hall.

“Where is he?”

“Excusez-moi, monsieur.
Do you mean
le capitaine
?” Philippe inquired, sounding a trifle haughty, as if he had been deeply offended by the other man’s harsh demand.

“Capitaine,
ha! I have better names for that despicable scoundrel!”

“I will see if
le capitaine
is at home,” the chef replied stiltedly. “If you would identify yourself—”

“Kendall! Professor Kendall!”

Upon hearing the name, Beau hastened from the study, followed by his father, and gestured for Philippe to let the visitor in. The gray-haired professor seemed clearly distraught as he stalked through the foyer. Upon espying Beau, the elder approached him with glaring eyes. Since an angry confrontation seemed imminent, Philippe took
himself briskly back to the kitchen, having no doubt that his captain could handle the situation without any help or listening ears.

“My niece has left for parts unknown! She has packed up her belongings and taken off like a scalded pup.” By this time Sterling Kendall was close enough to jab a forefinger repeatedly into Beau’s naked chest as he asked angrily, “It is
your
child she’s carrying, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m sure Cerynise has fled to another town,” Sterling raged on, giving the younger man no chance to explain. “I can’t much blame her for not wanting to face the trauma of bearing
your
child without a name to give it. The very idea that you would even consider an annulment under the circumstances makes me ashamed that I once mistook you for an honorable gentleman.”

“Beau?” a muted feminine voice called worriedly from upstairs. “Where are you?”

Beau could imagine that his wife was frightened by the storm after being left alone, and he raised his head to allow his voice to carry to the upper rooms. “I’m down here.”

Abruptly Sterling came to his own conclusions and, facing Brandon, jeered in distaste, “No wonder your son didn’t want to tie himself down to my niece. He’s too busy entertaining all the other women.”

Brandon was just as surprised as the professor and glanced at his son with a curious brow raised.

Beau held out a hand toward the interior door that he and his father had just stepped through a moment ago. “Professor Sterling, perhaps you’d care to come into my study, where we can discuss this matter rationally.…”

“Aren’t you anxious-to get back to your little doxy?” Sterling queried sarcastically.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Beau casually assured the man. “Now, please, come in here where we can talk.”

Brandon wasn’t at all certain that he shouldn’t join Philippe, considering the present predicament his son had gotten himself into, but when Beau motioned for him to
follow, he reluctantly complied. He was the last one through the door and made no effort to close it as he paced forward uneasily.

“You didn’t find a note from Cerynise?” Beau questioned, facing the professor.

“There was none that I know of,” Sterling rejoined tersely.

“In your study…”

“A blasted mess with that limb breaking a window and all my papers scattered about the house. I was too worried about Cerynise to do anything more than board up the window. If my niece left any kind of note there, then it will probably be weeks before I find it.”

Beau glanced toward his father, who seemed to be having some difficulty settling down. Perhaps Sterling’s accusations were coming too close to home for his sire to feel at ease with what the man was saying.

“Beau?” the feminine voice came again in a hushed, wavering tone, this time from the area of the parlor.

“In the study,” he called in response, realizing that Cerynise was searching the house for him.

Sterling rose to his feet, muttering sourly, “I’d better go so you can get back to your little wench.”

Beau waved the man back in his chair. “I think you should meet this little wench.”

He stepped outside the door and beckoned to his wife. “Come in here, my love. I have someone to whom I want to introduce you.”

“Oh, but, Beau, I’m not dressed,” Cerynise whispered in protest, clutching the collar of his robe up close around her neck. Her feet were bare, and her long hair was a tousled, swirling mess that fairly bedazzled the eye. “I can’t meet anyone looking like this.”

“I insist,” he announced, holding out his arm invitingly. As she came near, he slid his hand to the small of her back, where it rested comfortably as he propelled her into his study.

“Cerynise!” her uncle gasped upon seeing her. Immediately
he pushed himself to his feet as his eyes swept her in amazement. Then he glanced toward Beau to consider the younger man’s inadequate attire. It was all too obvious what the two had been doing in the middle of the afternoon. He blustered, his face burning. “’Twould seem you’ve been disturbed.”

“Cerynise, I’d like for you to meet my father,” Beau said, turning her to face his sire.

“Pa, this is my wife, Cerynise.”

Self-consciously she clasped the edges of the voluminous robe together and dipped into a nervous curtsy. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Birmingham.”

“Well, I’ll be dam—”

Beau cleared his throat and grinned pointedly at his father, who usually tried to restrain himself around young ladies. Brandon was visibly apologetic, evidenced by his wry smile and the sharp quirk in his eyebrow.

“It must run in the family,” Cerynise quipped with a teasing gleam in her eye.

“You’re looking at the one from whom I learned it,” Beau assured her.

“Your pardon, Cerynise,” Brandon begged, bending forward in a shallow bow. “My son seems to delight in astounding me out of my senses.”

She chuckled in sympathy. “I’ve had the same experience, sir.”

“Your wife, you say,” Sterling challenged, drawing their attention. “Does that mean the annulment is off?”

“Aye,” Beau affirmed with a grin. “And we’re extremely sorry that you didn’t get our note. I went to fetch Cerynise this afternoon and helped to pack up her possessions. She made a point of leaving the missive in your study, but no telling where it is now.” He paused briefly at his wife’s perplexed frown and explained what had happened. Then he directed his attention once more to her uncle. “I think you should know that neither Cerynise nor I wanted to be separated from one another, but we were
both confused by what the other wanted. We beg your apology for worrying you; we worried ourselves no less.”

“You’ll have to tell your mother all of this yourself,” Brandon broke in. “Tomorrow night at dinner will hardly be soon enough. If you have other plans, you’d better cancel them. Your mother is not going to take it kindly if she doesn’t get to meet her new daughter-in-law very, very soon.”

Beau chuckled. “We’ll be out, Pa.”

Brandon stepped forward and, taking Cerynise’s hand, gallantly bestowed a kiss upon it. “You do us up proud, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mr. Birmingham.”

“Pa will do,” he assured her. “Beau’s the only one who calls me that, so I give you leave to do the same.” His handsome lips twitched with amusement as he winked at her and added drolly, “That boy likes to make me feel old at times just to test my temper, but he knows that’s a damned lot of nonsense.”

Cerynise clapped a hand over her mouth to subdue her laughter, but it did little good as Beau threw back his head and gave way to his own mirth. They were soon in each other’s arms, relenting to their gaiety as Sterling Kendall joined in.

T
HE
B
IRMINGHAMS, ONE
and all, gathered at Harthaven to officially welcome Cerynise into the family. Sterling Kendall had been invited as well. Having led a singular life for a goodly number of years, he found himself a bit flabbergasted by all the effervescent chattering of the women and the sharp, witty humor of the men. Besides Beau’s immediate family, there was Suzanne’s fiancé, Michael York, and Brandon’s brother, Jeff, and his sister-in-law, Raelynn, and the couple’s four offspring, the oldest of whom was Barclay, a young man of twenty who preferred to be called Clay. Stephanie, an auburn-haired woman of eighteen, was engaged to be married the following year to Cleveland McGeorge, a prosperous art dealer. Although Cleve was originally from New York, in recent years he had moved to Charleston, where he presently owned a shop and lived in a townhouse. Jeff’s second son, Matthew or Matt, had just turned fifteen, and his youngest child, Tamarah, was nine. Of all of them, she looked the most like her father with her black hair and green eyes. After meeting and conversing for a time with each of the
family members, it didn’t take Sterling long to come to the conclusion that they were all an integral part of a vivacious collection of interesting, intelligent and extraordinarily fine people who were wont to make even strangers feel completely at home and at ease in their close-knit unity.

Cerynise was just as overwhelmed with their eager acceptance of her, and in no time at all she found herself exchanging confidences with Brenna, whom she could readily envision becoming a steadfast friend. Although she guessed Beau’s mother was less than two score and five years old, Heather Birmingham looked no older than a woman of thirty. She was small and petite, like Brenna, with no hint of gray in her black hair. Upon meeting her new daughter-in-law, Heather had smiled and gathered Cerynise’s hands in her own as she assured her how delighted she was to have her in the family. Then the mistress of Harthaven had ushered her through the introductions while Beau did the same for Sterling. Heather had also shown Cerynise around the house and led her on a tour of the bedrooms upstairs, starting with the one Beau had grown up in, which she assured Cerynise was now hers as well. Heather then made her acquainted with the help and did so lauding the praises of each and, most especially, a large, gray-haired black woman named Hatti. The fact that the old woman had helped to bring Brandon and, thereafter, all of the other Birminghams into the world solidified her as a respected pillar in the family.

It was not until everyone had taken seats around the long dining table that Cerynise glanced across the room and realized that the painting she had once warned Beau against buying was hanging in a prominent place on the wall above the sideboard between two large porcelain sconces. Lighted tapers cast a warm glow upon it, setting it off to perfection. Cerynise’s surprise was so complete, she gasped and looked around at Beau, who was just helping her into her chair.

“What can I say, madam?” He grinned as he shrugged. “I liked it well enough to buy it for my parents.”

“I think it’s absolutely beautiful,” Heather said proudly from her place of honor at the end of the table. “And it pleases me so much more to know that my daughter-in-law painted it. Stephanie’s fiancé thinks it’s the best thing he has ever seen and would be very interested in looking at more of your paintings with the idea of selling them for you. The fact that the artist is a woman didn’t seem to faze him in the least. Cleve assured us that what really counted was the quality of art, not the gender of the person who painted it.”

“More of her work should be arriving fairly soon,” Beau announced, “but I get first dibs…as her husband.”

“’Twould seem you rather enjoy that distinction,” Heather rejoined fondly.

“Aye, Mama,” Beau admitted, tossing her a grin as he settled into his own seat and gathered his wife’s slender fingers in his. And to remind his mother of all the times she had cautioned him not to waste his time with either this winsome maid or that one, he added, “This one is definitely worth keeping.”

“I can see that for myself, dear,” Heather sweetly averred. “Which, of course, reminds me. I must invite some of the ladies out from Charleston and the surrounding area to meet Cerynise.” Her gaze shifted to her new daughter by marriage. “Would that be amenable to you, my dear?”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Birmingham.”

“You’re in the family now, Cerynise,” Heather replied, waving off the formality with a soft chuckle. “None of that Mrs. Birmingham stuff now, or there’ll be a lot of confusion. Call me Heather or Mama or some such thing.”

“Hey, Tory,” Jeff called from near the opposite end of the table and winked aside at Brandon as he did so. “I hear you’re going to be a grandmother. Are you sure you’re old enough?”

“Hush up, you rascal,” Heather rebuked with another
graceful wave of her hand as she grinned back at him. “Just because you and your brother took your own sweet time finding the right woman to marry doesn’t mean that my Beau should have followed your examples. He’s done as well in nearly half the time.”

“Ouch!” Jeff chortled. “You do get wicked when you’re riled, Tory.”

Heather delivered a smiling riposte. “It only took you a score and five years to catch on to that fact. If I didn’t know better, I’d be inclined to think you’re a little backward.”

The exaggerated expression of distress that Jeff assumed evoked as much amusement as their bantering. Sitting beside him, Raelynn stifled a giggle behind a napkin and exchanged an amused glance with her sister-in-law before she dipped her head in approval.

“You’d best be warned, brother,” Brandon cautioned with a chortle. “Heather is feeling her oats with a new daughter under her wing.”

“She’s getting feistier by the day,” Jeff quipped. “I think I’m already bruised.”

Raelynn patted his hand consolingly. “No one deserves it more than you, darling.”

“Egads!” Jeff looked appalled. “What shrews we’ve married!”

“Oh, Uncle Jeff, you’re such a tease,” Suzanne accused, laughing along with her beau. “You know you love every one of the Birmingham women and wouldn’t trade any of them for all the gold in China.”

“Are there any other women in existence?” Jeff queried, feigning confusion as he glanced around.

When the hilarity died down, Suzanne looked across the table at Beau and Cerynise and eagerly asked, “You are coming to my engagement ball, are you not?”

“Of course, Princess,” Beau replied fondly. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I hope I can find something to wear that’s suitably
large,” Cerynise interjected wryly. “Otherwise I may have to wear a barrel.”

“Madame Feroux may be able to help you,” Brenna suggested. “I’m sure all the other ladies have had their gowns made for some time now.” She tossed her brother a mischievous look. “Madame Feroux is especially fond of Beau, and I’m sure if he asks her, she’ll work night and day to outfit you with a marvelous gown just to please him.”

“Hush, minx,” Beau cautioned. The teasing grin he wore belied the baleful gleam in his eyes. “You’re only trying to stir up trouble.”

Brenna’s blue eyes sparkled impishly as she turned her attention to the far end of the table. “Mama, you wouldn’t believe what I heard from Madame Feroux the other day. Can you believe that Germaine Hollingsworth had the nerve to tell the couturier that she thought it wouldn’t be long before Beau asked her to marry him? The dressmaker was all aflutter, thinking it was true.”

“No doubt,” Heather murmured, extremely grateful for the way things had turned out.

Though Brenna’s fine brows puckered in feigned confusion, a teasing glimmer could still be seen in her dancing eyes as she looked toward her brother. “What are you going to do with two wives, Beau?”

Acutely aware that Cerynise was awaiting his answer, Jeff chafed uneasily. “I merely gave Germaine a ride in my carriage the other day after we happened to find ourselves sitting beside each other at a wedding of a mutual friend.”

“Just happened?” Brenna rolled her eyes in disbelief. She had gotten wind of a whole plethora of rumors that Germaine had deliberately started, no doubt with the idea of keeping other eligible maidens a respectful distance from Beau. Brenna had no doubt that Cerynise would eventually hear the same stale rubbish from some unwitting soul if she frequented the shops in Charleston in months to come. Perhaps more than any member in the
family, Brenna had been confident of her brother’s indifference toward Germaine as a possible wife. She wanted Cerynise to be aware of that fact, as well. To bring Beau’s reluctance clearly into the open, she offered several conjectures. “I suppose you were sitting in the pew first, and Germaine
just happened
to sit beside you, and I
also suppose
that she asked you for a ride when her carriage was probably just around the corner. When are you ever going to learn, dear brother, that you’ve always been viewed as the large fish in a very small pond? Your admirers have been casting nets in hopes of scooping you up for some time now, which might explain Germaine’s overconfidence. She
was
the most dedicated.”

Heather exchanged a glance with Brandon, who sat at the head of the table. Only he had known the true depth of her concern when they had noticed Germaine’s zealous campaign to win their son for herself. In past years, there had been a lot of vague scuttlebutt about the beautiful young woman, but as yet, none of it had been established as true. They had been acutely aware of the hazard of their son relenting to Germaine’s appeal and taking her into his bed. Pregnant or not, she’d have gone to her highly volatile father and complained that she had been trifled with. Mr. Hollingsworth was certainly not above forcing appropriate responses in a wedding ceremony by surreptitiously holding a gun directed toward the groom’s head.

Brenna persisted with a sisterly penchant for needling her brother. “Madame Feroux said you came into the shop with Germaine the other day, Beau, and it was right after that that Germaine predicted her marriage to you. If you’re not going to marry Germaine, why would you go to the dressmaker’s with her?”

Beau sighed in exasperation. “Have you ever noticed that Madame Feroux has an amazing ability to spill everything she knows except what’s pertinent to the situation? What she probably failed to mention was the fact that I
stayed no longer than ten minutes at the most, and then I was on my way out again…without Germaine.”

“My goodness, Beau, you really don’t need to get so upset,” Brenna chided sweetly, amused by the ruddy hue that had swept into her brother’s face. She was rather pleased with herself, for she had goaded him into revealing his hasty departure, which she had known about through Madame Feroux. “I’m sure Cerynise hasn’t a jealous bone in her body.”

“On the contrary,” the tawny-haired beauty corrected with a smile. “I most certainly do where Beau is concerned. And since Germaine warned me away from him, I still suffer qualms whenever her name is mentioned.”

“You mean Germaine actually warned you away from Beau?” Heather gasped in astonishment. “How could she even dare?”

“Would this family allow me to change the subject for a moment?” Brandon begged in an effort to help his son out.

“All right, Pa,” Beau readily agreed, immensely relieved for the intrusion, for the topic of conversation had begun to nettle his good humor. “If you think you can get a word in edgewise in this family, go right ahead and try.”

“You’re just the one I wanted to talk to,” his father replied, cocking a brow at his son. “So just answer me one thing.”

Beau spread his hands to convey his willingness to comply. “I’m listening, Pa.”

“Now, I don’t have any argument against Monsieur Philippe. He’s quite an exceptional cook, but don’t you think that you’re taking advantage of the man by expecting him to serve as your butler and houseboy, too?”

His son shrugged casually. “When I returned from my voyage and walked into my house, only the housemaid was working while the others were lounging around on their backsides watching her doing their chores. Except
for her and Thomas, the rest have been let go. In fact, I couldn’t get rid of them fast enough.”

“That may well be, son,” his father responded dryly, “but I find it damned unnerving to have a front door opened and find myself confronting a man with a meat cleaver. My hackles may never go down again.”

The whole table erupted into guffaws and giggles at the vision of their tall, broad-shouldered host standing in wide-eyed alarm before the much smaller chef, who, if anything, had probably been oblivious to the reaction he had caused with his cleaver.

Cerynise was launched into a laughing fit that left her holding her arms across her midsection in misery. “Oh, this family is absolutely the most wonderful group of people I’ve ever met in all my life,” she declared, wiping away tears of mirth. “But now, I shouldn’t laugh anymore. It hurts too much.”

Brandon raised his glass of wine in salute and grinned at her. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”

An enthusiastic chorus of ayes followed, affirming the fact that the greeting was unanimous. Undisputedly Cerynise was now in the family.

A fortnight later Harthaven overflowed with women who had been invited out to meet Beau’s bride. All morning, carriages had been arriving at Harthaven, disgorging guests who were eager to take a close look at the new Mrs. Birmingham, who by all reports was already with child.

Certain things were known about Cerynise Birmingham. She was originally from the area, which some ladies accepted with relief, considering the obvious preferences the elder Birmingham brothers had displayed for foreign women. She had lived in England for a time and had finished her education there, which seemed a further point in her favor since the fading from memory of the unpleasantness surrounding the struggle for independence had presently made all things English fashionable. Her guardian, the late Lydia Winthrop, had indulged the girl’s love
of painting to the extent that she had been instructed by the very best teachers and, as a result, was quite talented with a brush. Heather and her two daughters were now sitting for a portrait, which Cerynise was in the process of painting, and the three usually went into Charleston for this, visiting the residence of Beau Birmingham at least twice a week. At times, they were even accompanied by the elder Birmingham, and on occasion, the whole family could be seen dining out or attending the theater, accompanied by Suzanne’s fiancé, Michael York.