Unveiling Love (2 page)

The lenses of his spectacles reflected the tall candelabras brightening the room. He tugged on his gloves. "Good, I wish to dance with the loveliest woman here."

Her cheeks heated. "After all this time, you still make me blush as if I wore pigtails."
 

She wished she'd stayed a hope-filled girl, not jaded, or tormented, or fear-laden.
 

Barrington cleared his face of wanting, that caress until dawn heat in his gaze. He must have remembered they were in a public place and reigned in his passions.
 

She winced, put her hand to her stomach, then told herself it was nothing. A man had no time for a sick wife. He definitely wouldn't share a bed with one. And she needed him to be with her, distracting and holding her. The nightmares had returned.

"Your gloves, my dear?"

"Gloves?" Oh, the boring beige things. Twisting her naked fingers, she pivoted and searched her seat. They were missing. "They were here, Barrington."

The young servant who had attended her came from the edges holding the fallen mitts. "Here, ma'am."

The young man, blonde with pretty eyes of airy azure helped her tug on the satin, one after the other. With that hair, the servant could be a grown-up version of the little miracle, the orphan she'd read to this morning at the Foundling Hospital.
 

"Ma'am, is there anything else you need?"

"No, but thank you." Before she could pivot to her husband, the poor boy coughed and swallowed hard.
 

Amora's heart melted as she observed the creases under his young eyes. He looked so tired. Working at these long balls required so much, and an event for the Duke of Cheshire introducing his new duchess, must consume even more.
 

Called to that need, Amora put her hand to her half-filled water goblet and started to lift it to the servant, but Barrington claimed Amora's elbow. "Now, we are ready for a proper dance."

Proper. Barrington's need to be above reproach. The desire to help slipped away in a useless sigh. "Of course."

She was here for Barrington, not to make a spectacle of herself acting out of station. What she wanted didn't matter anymore, never mattered, so she acquiesced to his gentle pull.

He led her to the center of the room and twirled her in the first motion of the reel.
 

Her husband looked handsome in his dark silken waistcoat with jingly silver buttons. The onyx jacket and pure white cravat covered his strong form. His gaze met hers, not looking over her head to find someone to ramble on about trials. But, this would end. It always ended, and she would be alone.

The set parted. His fingers stayed and lightly brushed her abdomen. His voice kissed her ear. He bent his tall frame closer. "Want some air?"

No, she wanted to leave and abandon the ball before something or someone stole his attention. Yet, a niggle of guilt swirled in her innards alongside his babe.
I should do more in public to benefit his career.
He so loved his career.

Borrowing some resiliency from the Egyptian kings within her bloodline, she reached for his cheek. "The Dowager Clanville is seated near the entrance. Go speak with your patroness. Her attention upon you will do more than mine. I've had you all evening."

His chin lifted then lowered as his nose wriggled beneath his silver frames. "I'll let her rakish son keep her company. Only you tonight."
 

Did he mean it? Her heart beat again, tapping faster and louder as his words penetrated her mind. "For me, it's always been you."

He dimpled. "Then to the balcony before Mr. Charleton presses this way and insists upon a dance."

Her husband was so fine-looking with his jet colored hair lightly winged with gray, his swarthy brown skin. Built to be a warrior, he fought for justice with everything in his soul. Yet, that zeal seemed to blind him to other's faults and many times his own worth. "You needn't be concerned of any other."
 

"Well, I have a wide jealous streak and a boring road cut down my middle. And you've been so wonderful, Amora, never flirting or entertaining rakes, even whilst I was away three years at war."
 

"You're dependable and strong."

If tonight and every day forward, he used that strength to protect their marriage, to protect her and this baby, maybe her joy might be full again.
 

The smile forming his lips could be no better than one of his kisses. His hand brushed the tiny swell of her abdomen as he steered her through the mob. Three months of carrying his babe had changed things between them, in so many good ways. Knowing where Barrington was, that he was safe, and that he'd always come home to her also did her much good.

He danced her onto the balcony. One step, two. He spun her under the bright stars then held her, sweeping her to the bricked corner along the stone railing.
 

Barrington ran a thumb under her chin. "You are very patient to attend these tedious things with me. The Duke of Cheshire hinted at needing my assistance. Perhaps that is no longer the case."
 

A sigh left his full lips, surely kissed with disappointment.
 

"You have nothing to prove to the ton, to anyone."

He pushed up his slipping lenses. "I like proving things. I like winning even more. But you must be rewarded. What bauble may I procure? Say a locket for the babe's first curl?"
 

"I want nothing but your love. To know you love all of me." She wedged her hands beneath his tailcoat and roamed the solid muscles of his back. This moment was not a dream, not a waking vision. Things had finally meshed. After his baby was born, their marriage would grow strong, strong enough to survive anything, even her secrets.
 

"Do you think it's a boy? I think so. I want to be a good father, a good man like my grandfather."

He would be a good one like her own, nothing like his. She peered up, catching Barrington's delighted gaze. "In a little more than a half year, we'll know. But if it is a son, may he grow as tall as you."

In the soft light, she made out his grin, heard the music of his chuckles. "I've never complained of your height, or lack thereof. You are the right size for me. I can pick you up in one arm and shelter you. And you've such wondrous raven hair. Is it a gift from your Spanish side or the Egyptian? A gift none the less."

They were both of mixed blood. That had to be why they belonged together. And yet it had to be why it was so hard to survive in London. They were different than this place, sunshine and shade. Back in Clanville, where his grandfather and her father ruled, no one dared question their marriage. If only home were an option.

Her pulse raced as Barrington's lips anointed her wrist. "What say you, my love?"

"Tomàs. Everything good is from Papa."
 

"I'm glad I can see that hue and your violet eyes, two colors to ever worship."

"You don't need to see the other colors." She stopped wearing them for him so he wouldn't struggle or get headaches from his blindness to them. "I want you to see me."

His mouth claimed hers, but she dared not shut her lids. To awaken away from this pleasure would surely crush what remained of her soul.
 

"Ahh humph." A masculine cough followed.
 

"Barrister Norton, I've found you. The Duke of Cheshire requests a private audience."

Barrington smiled broadly and spun letting the cold air separate them. His joy at gaining the duke's notice was palatable, heart-crumbling.
 

"Where is he, young man?"

The servant adjusted the collar of his shiny livery. "In the study, sir."

Barrington took a step. Then, as if it dawned upon him that he'd be leaving her, he turned and extended his hand. "This will only take a few minutes."

She took his arm and allowed him to lead her back to her seat.
 

He kissed her forehead, then disappeared into the crowd.

She should be used to this by now, but every time he left, it felt fresh, cutting a little deeper. Someday he wouldn't return. Then the blade would run clean through.

The servant behind her coughed. He tried muffling the repeated cough by turning his face into his sleeve.

The poor dear thirsted. A dry throat, scorched and sore was almost the worst. Amora lifted a finger, summoning him. When the boy popped near, she pushed her glass of water towards him.

Kneeling, the young servant choked and sputtered. His mouth trembled. "I…I couldn't, ma'am."
 

Flipping her fan, she covered him from the glare of onlookers, then slid the goblet into the servant's hands. "I insist. It's never good to be in want."

A smile bloomed beneath brightening blue eyes and blonde lashes. He downed the liquid. "Thank you, ma'am. Please don't tell."

Amora nodded. The one thing she'd learned well was keeping secrets.

Barrington plodded behind the servant toward the duke's study. Could his heart hold both joy and sadness? Amora tried to appear supportive, but those eyes of hers said everything, more than he wanted to know. Did she have to think of this as an example of him choosing his work over her again? Did she not know what the duke's support would mean for his career? Imagine London's first mulatto judge.

"This will only take a few moments." He said the words under his breath and tried to make sense of the apprehension she'd cast onto him. Perhaps being with child made her more anxious. Five years of barrenness might do that, too.

"Excuse me, Mr. Norton. Did ye say something?"

Barrington shook his head and returned his focus to Cheshire and the dimly lit corridor. The sound of the music was squelched as if the walls had smothered it within a minute of this trek.
 

A rush of joy raced up his spine, tightening the knots of expectation in his neck. Battling every day to become the man known for finding and winning with truth had come to fruition. All the questions of his appointment to Lincoln's Inn had been trampled by a perfect court record. Now the Duke of Cheshire, one of the lead reformers in Parliament had need of him.

The servant pointed down a final hall. "The door at the end, sir."

The man bowed and returned to the party, leaving Barrington to take the final leg alone. What did the duke have to discuss and why do so in such privacy, away from all his guests, even his servants?

Getting close to the door, Barrington found it cracked. Voices stirred inside.

"Gaia, I know you are nervous about tonight. Don't be. You are beautiful. The ton will love you, my new duchess."

"William, I should be with Mary. Your daughter said her first words. Mute for so long. You don't know my joy."

"I've prayed for this." His tone sounded of a father's pride, loud and hopeful. "But
our
daughter will have her new mother tomorrow. Tonight at the ball, I need my duchess."

From the small slit between the double doors, the lady, the new Duchess of Cheshire, leaned into the duke. "I will try harder to do this public show for you, if that is what you desire."

The duke chuckled. His tall form enveloped her. "For now. But, later tonight in our chambers, I'll need my wife."

She backed away. Her gauzy gown billowed with each step of retreat. "William, you… I will…be so tired. Mary needs…"

The tall man folded his arms against his waistcoat. "You seem to be avoiding the subject of our chambers. I can be a jealous man, but I didn't think that tendency would be stirred from your devotion to Mary. Gaia, do I not make you happy?"

She pushed back into his arms. "More than anything. Yes. But I…I like just us three. A baby may come. It's so dangerous. My mother died--"
 

"Gaia, you are a strong woman. When it is time, all will be well." The duke dipped his head to his new bride.

Barrington removed his spectacles and knocked on the door. He didn't like eavesdropping, nor interrupting this moment of privacy, but he needed to tend to his own wife.

The duke came to the door and opened it wide. "Lady Cheshire, I will see you in the main hall. Go mingle with our guests. Find your aunt and sister, but stay out of… I'll be along in a moment."

The lady was pretty with spectacles that glowed. Her face dimpled as she clasped the duke's hand. She was younger than he'd expected and more tan, more so than Amora's creamy cheeks. Neither had the milky-white complexion his fellow barrister's boasted of in their wives. Neither's tone was as indicting as his own.

When she swept by him, Barrington saw the crinkly pattern of her shiny bun, the slight flare to her nose. He knew why the duke wanted to talk privately. His stomach knotted from his deflated ego. Barrington marched inside and waited for the man to confess it.

Cheshire closed the door. "Mr. Norton, I am glad you've come tonight. I've a matter that only you can help with. I'm trying to find records on a relative of my wife's. You've been able to locate all types of documents and secrets."

Barrington looked over his lenses at the man who was almost his height. "I don't typically locate missing items unless it is a part of a crime." He pivoted and moved back to the door. "I can recommend my solicitor, Mr. Beakes."

"It has to be you. No one else will be as sensitive."

Barrington wasn't about games. The truth plain and simple was the best course. He rubbed his chin and turned. "Why would that be? I have a feeling this hasn't anything to do with my trial record."

Cheshire brushed the buttons of his waistcoat. "You are perceptive, and you are known to be a man who can find truth. That is what I need for my wife."

"Then say it plainly. For every moment I'm here, my wife is without me. All who I work for understand I need the complete truth or I cannot help. I despise lies and deception."

The duke squared his shoulders. "My wife is like you. She is a mulatto. I need to find out what happened to the man whose blood she shares. I want shipping records or even a bill of sale uncovered."

Bill of Sale? "The duchess's father was enslaved?"