The Elusive Flame (38 page)

It was also rumored that Cerynise was from a good family, albeit one that had always been a bit outside the social mainstream. The Kendalls were of a scholarly background, and Cerynise, it was said, was no exception, a notion that frankly astounded those who had known Beau for some time. In their opinion, it wasn’t the female mind he valued as much as other things, which made them all wonder privately if she pleased him in bed.

In the last week or so, Madame Feroux had eagerly yielded a few more details about Cerynise to every lady who came into her shop.
Mr. Beau’s gifts of jewelry to his young bride are exquisite! Miss Cerynise brought the pearl necklace with her just to see how it would look with the gown I’m making for her, and my dear, I must say the beauty of the piece is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Why, it’s simply extravagant. Which reminds me, did you happen to see her wedding band? It’s entirely crusted with diamonds! And the gown she intends to wear at Miss Suzanne’s engagement ball is probably the costliest I’ve ever made. Mr. Beau personally requested it after he accompanied his wife to my shop. Oh, and you should have seen the way they touched! Why, it was divine! Never have I seen a gentleman display so much affection for his bride with only a casual grazing of his hand. And Miss Cerynise is as elegant as a swan, even if she is in a motherly way.…She’s at least four months along, you know, but I have it on good authority that they were married in England. Can you imagine meeting there by coincidence
after knowing each other here for so long a time?
And so on and so forth.

All of this talk served to whet the ladies’ curiosity even more than it had already been, and of course, they decided that they’d have to view Cerynise Birmingham for themselves just to see what sort of wife Beau had chosen for himself. Thus, a veritable avalanche of women descended upon Harthaven.

“Your mother said that no one declined her invitation,” Brandon remarked over his shoulder as he stood before the French doors in his study, where he and his son had adjourned in search of a peaceful haven amid a houseful of prating women. Another carriage rolled to a stop in the circular drive, and this time a white-haired ancient was handed down by her driver and assisted in her ascent of the front steps. “Good heavens, there must be a hundred or more already here, and now it looks like even the greatgrannies are toddling in.”

Beau joined his father at the doors and peered out across the porch. “Why, that’s Mrs. Clark, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Abegail Clark.”

“I haven’t seen her in years. In fact, I thought she was dead.”

“That old woman is too feisty to lie down and die.”

Beau glanced at the grandfather clock in the room and then, stepping near the interior door, opened it and peered out like a small, wary mouse from a peephole. He was vividly aware of his own dismay when he realized that even the entry hall was filled wall to wall with guests. “I think you’re right, Pa. There must be a hundred or more in the house. How long is this damned thing going to last anyway?”

“Not long enough for what you’re planning,” Brandon responded with a wayward grin.

Beau turned with a question. “What am I planning?”

“The way you keep looking at the clock, I’d guess you’re wanting to escape here with Cerynise fairly soon.
I think your expectations are much too high to be believable.”

Beau’s eyebrows shrugged upward briefly. “Well, I had hoped to. I’ve been expecting a shipment of goods from England to be arriving at the dock any day now, and I wanted Cerynise to go with me.”

“What is it this time?”

“Well, her paintings for one thing.”

Brandon couldn’t curb a grin. “I thought you were just wanting to get her back to your bed.”

Beau shot his father a look of surprise. “Why should you think that?”

“Well, boy, you’ve been drooling over her ever since she moved into your house, and from your obvious good humor, I must assume she pleases you very much. I can only commend your wisdom in not waiting a whole year before you settled her into your bed. Some men aren’t that smart.”

Beau laughed at his father’s dry wit. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Pa. You have a better relationship with Mama than most men have with their mistresses.”

“Aye, but she’s better than any mistress.”

Beau’s lips twitched as he sought to restrain his amusement. Teasing his father was much more fun now that he was married, too. “Tell me, Pa, when a man gets as old as you, are you still able to…function…well, you know…in bed?”

Brandon looked appalled at his son’s suggestion that he couldn’t perform his husbandly duties. “Egads, boy! What do you take me for? A damned eunuch? It may well surprise you to be told that your mother still wonders on a monthly basis if she’s pregnant.”

“I’m sorry!” Beau spread his hands and backed away, as if afraid that he was going to be thrashed. Of course, the merry gleam in his eyes contradicted that idea. Puckishly he rubbed more salt into his father’s tender hide. “One never knows with older couples…if they have the strength to…ah…finish…what they start.”

Brandon snorted. “I have half a mind to get your mother pregnant just to show you, boy. Why, you’re not even dry behind the ears yet, and you’re wondering if I’m too old. Ha!”

“Mighty touchy about your age, aren’t you, Pa?” Beau needled, having difficulty keeping a straight face. “Seeing as how Mama is so young, maybe you’re worrying that in a few years you won’t be able to satisfy her.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you that I’d like to wash out,” Brandon retorted.

Beau dared to get close enough to settle a hand consolingly on his father’s shoulder. The fact that it was just as hard as his own was clear testimony that no weakness of any kind troubled his sire. “That’s all right, Pa. I’m sure Mama will understand when that time comes.”

“I swear, this damned house just isn’t big enough for the two of us…and it’s not your mother I’m talking about.”

Grinning, Beau casually shrugged his shoulders. “I know that, Pa. That’s why I have a house in Charleston.”

“Good thing.” Brandon relented enough to chuckle. “Although with the baby coming, your mother is definitely wishing you lived closer.”

“I gather she’s as pleased as a cat with cream over my marriage to Cerynise.”

“Oh, indeed. She couldn’t be more delighted, especially since it seemed for a time that you were headed in a more…ah…worldly direction.”

Beau had to decipher that statement a long moment before he asked in surprise, “You don’t actually mean Germaine Hollingsworth, do you?”

“I never thought you’d go that way,” Brandon assured him. “’Twas your mother who worried.”

Beau laughed at the very idea. “Mama would have gotten her dander up for sure if I had brought Germaine home as my wife.”

“Now how can you say that?” Brandon queried with a
chuckle. “We both know your mother is the sweetest, gentlest woman imaginable.”

“Never mind that Irish temper of hers or that pure steel backbone?”

Brandon grinned. “Well, I’ve never minded any of that. She never gave me cause to. Germaine might have, though.”

At that very moment, Germaine was indeed feeling some antagonism toward the mistress of Harthaven. Scarcely a room away from where Beau and his father were chatting, she sat with a false smile pasted on an equally stiff face, but inwardly she was seething. She couldn’t abide the fuss presently being made over the girl whom she and her friends had delighted in mocking years ago. From every direction she was hearing extravagant praises heaped upon the one whom she had once derided as “Sticks.” Cerynise certainly didn’t seem so tall now after filling out. Germaine accepted that fact almost as a personal affront and mentally jeered,
How dare the twit return so lovely, serene and self-possessed? Like some otherworldly creature.

Heather Birmingham evidently doted on her new daughter-in-law and was making every effort to protect her, at times even displaying the ferocity of a mother cat. For years now people had been generously inclined to describe Heather as such a nice person, so kind and compassionate, so gentle and lovely, and so on. Well, the fact of the matter was that those sapphire eyes could freeze a person with a positively frightening chill that even now sent shivers up Germaine’s spine. It didn’t matter that the icy glare was being bestowed upon the culprit who zinged Cerynise with a sharp barb. It was still the deadliest glower Germaine had ever been the recipient of.

Perhaps that was how Heather had thus far managed to keep a firm grasp on her husband, Germaine mused sullenly as she picked up her cup and sipped the tea. Being the wife of a strong-willed man like Brandon Birmingham all these many years couldn’t have been easy. Yet, by all
reports, Heather had handled him amazingly well, and at times, even strangers had remarked that the sensual richness of their marriage could almost be felt when the couple came together in a room.

If Germaine had ever suffered any qualms about her goal to marry Beau Birmingham, those trepidations had primarily been caused by the worry that he was too much like his father and couldn’t be easily maneuvered. Then, too, she had been half-afraid that he wouldn’t indulge her in a manner to which she had become accustomed. Her parents had always seen her every wish fulfilled, and she had often wondered if Beau would prove more stubborn, but that possibility hadn’t been borne out in Cerynise’s case, considering the fact that the tawny-haired twit was now wearing a sapphire ring and a diamond wedding band that almost made Germaine choke with envy.

Germaine set her cup down on her saucer and, seizing an opportunity presented by a lull in the conversation, remarked sweetly, “You know, Cerynise, I don’t believe we’ve heard how you and Beau actually met. Was it terribly romantic?”

Despite the fact that she had grown leery of the woman and her snide questions, Cerynise laughed gaily. “Oh, I’ve been in love with Beau Birmingham ever since he was a student in my father’s school.”

Germaine managed a tight smile as she corrected her rival. “That’s not really what I meant. We all know that he was your father’s student. I was wondering how you met up with him in London. Surely your guardian forbade you to fraternize with seamen.”

Cerynise had learned how to respond to catty girls and women during the five years she had been away. Dealing with them calmly, efficiently and as truthfully as possible was always the best way to blunt their thorny pricks. “It seemed reasonable for me to return to Charleston after Mrs. Winthrop’s death. When I started making inquiries about the ships bound for the Carolinas, I was told that
Beau had a ship in port. One thing led to another, and we decided to get married before we sailed.”

Heather smiled with delight at the gracious way in which Cerynise had answered her would-be tormentor. Heather knew there was much more to the story than either her son had cared to elaborate on or her daughter-in-law was now revealing, and that she hadn’t personally been informed of all the details. Nor did she think she needed to be. Contrary to what everyone in the family imagined, she knew her son was no saint. He was too much like his father for her to have nurtured such a farfetched notion. And she really didn’t care whether it was by hook or rook or by the book, she was immensely relieved that Beau had managed to marry a woman of whom she could be proud and who all but idolized her son.

“I really don’t understand,” Germaine responded, frowning prettily as if greatly perplexed. “Was Beau in London long enough for a formal courtship? Or should I dare imagine that your marriage happened through a whirlwind romance?” She tilted her head aside and laid a fingertip to her chin reflectively. “It seems terribly odd that when we met that day outside of Madame Feroux’s shop, it was almost as if the two of you barely knew each other.”

The little conversations that had been going on among some of the other ladies died away. Soon every ear was attentive and every eye was fastened on the guest of honor.

“Beau and I were trying to keep our marriage a secret,” Cerynise answered smoothly. “I believe that has been explained to you. I was naturally shocked when I saw him with you, but he later told me that you had asked for a ride after he went to a wedding of a friend with whom you both were acquainted. Beau also told me that once inside of Madame Feroux’s, he was there ten minutes at the most.”

Germaine felt as if she had just surprised a porcupine at very close range. She had hoped to embarrass the girl by letting everyone know that Beau had actually escorted
another woman to the dressmaker’s, but when Cerynise explained precisely how everything had taken place, as if she had been lovingly reassured by her husband, it was she, Germaine, who was now abashed because it was now obvious to every lady present that the man had been in a hurry to leave her.

“You were staying with your uncle, Professor Kendall, when you returned, were you not?” Irma Parrish inquired. She was a woman past her prime, yet she clung to youth with raiment far more suitable for someone half her age. She was also a notorious busybody and Germaine’s cousin, which made her a natural ally. “Was there some reason for that?”

“I hadn’t seen my uncle in five years,” Cerynise replied. “And since Beau and I didn’t want anyone to know we were married, staying with Uncle Sterling seemed the appropriate thing to do.”

“But why were you trying to keep your marriage a secret?” Irma persisted.

“We
did
get married on very short notice, and with people wont to make much of our haste…Well, you can probably understand that it would have seemed far more proper for us to have a long courtship and a lengthy engagement before the nuptials. Do you not agree?”

Irma’s mouth opened and closed several times, similar to that of a fish drowning on land. Finally she answered lamely, “I suppose I do, but I really don’t see why you stayed with your uncle.…”

Either the woman was harping on the subject or she was a half-wit, Cerynise decided, but she deigned to answer as patiently as possible. “With whom should I have stayed? Uncle Sterling wanted me to, and of course Beau was kind enough to allow it, considering our efforts to appear no more than casual friends.”