by Tessa Candle
“I admit, my forecast did not differ. But it appears we were both wrong. Mr. Johnstone informs me that they truly have had a change of heart, and the funds will be transferred over to me.”
“This news makes me feel a bit better. Perhaps they have recovered their senses."
Mill nodded. "It seems so."
"And I suppose as a woman I must be satisfied with my inheritance being in your hands.” She lifted a brow.
Mill laughed and stole a kiss. “You know very well that I will make all that trust your own. I do not think I have denied you anything, have I?”
“You are a wonderful husband. But for accuracy's sake, I must point out that I have never asked for anything.”
“It is true. I have to trouble myself with thinking up expensive baubles and little charming things to please you, for you will not take the trouble of voicing your own wishes.” He gave a pained look of martyrdom. “No, no. All of the work falls upon me.”
“You take too much upon yourself.” Elizabeth picked a wild flower and threw it at him.
“Oh but I must, for I cannot leave you to your own devices, or you will yield to the tutelage of Miss Berger and become an ascetic.”
Elizabeth sighed happily. “It is so nice to have her settled in her own little cottage next door. I feel like she has enough privacy, and so do we, but we are still very intimate. It is a cosy arrangement. We shall have to hide her beautiful face from would-be suitors, for I selfishly wish her to stay with us always and be my companion—and our children's godmother.”
“You may well wish for that, but she is devout as Catholics come. I doubt we could persuade her to transplant her loyalties to the Church of England. However, I think you may desire her to be a godmother even more when you hear the other item of news that the solicitor conveyed.”
“What more?” Elizabeth could not guess what further news there might be, and it made her apprehensive.
“I do not know the particulars, for the letter was sealed. I passed it on to Miss Berger this morning while you were still at your toilette. But it seems that your friend was to receive something from the estate of the late Lord Orefados, as she was his ward. She may be on the cusp of great wealth.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “You cannot feel so light of heart about this as you pretend, Mill.” She looked up at him in earnest. “How did she take it?”
“In her usual way, with quiet dignity.”
“She did not look frightened?”
“No. I believe she accepted it in the light of a normal, fairly mundane document. She did not betray the least hint of fear.”
“Hmm. But she is so stoic. Shall we walk to her cottage and call on her?”
“Yes, let us do that. Then you may ask her to be godmother to our children. And I hope she agrees to it. She is brave and virtuous—and probably about to become outrageously rich. She would make an excellent godmother. Only first,” he lifted Elizabeth up and swung her around with a roguish grin, “we must provide the children.”
When he set her down, he kissed her deeply. “And I hope we shall do so soon.”
A beam of sunlight pierced the canopy of the tree they stood under and lit up his tawny hair as a gentle breeze tousled it.
“I am sure we shall, Mill. I believe we are meant to be everything to our babes that our own parents were not to us. It is yet another way that our love will put all matters to right.”
“I promise you,” he kissed her hand and fixed her gaze in his own, “that I shall do everything in my power to put all those matters to right that can be influenced by an undying love for you and for our children.”
Silverloo yipped at them impatiently and led the way down the path to Lenore's cottage. The sun warmed their backs as they walked arm in arm.
Afterword
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And then, turn the page and read a little snippet from Book 2 in Parvenues & Paramours, Mistress of Two Fortunes and a Duke…
Sample Chapter 1
Tilly Ravelsham smiled at the rays of morning light peeking from the corner of the window, passing through the crystal jars on her table and casting little rainbows about the room. One of them played mischievously across the nose of Mr. Rutherford, her paramour, who was dozing beside her. She grinned and fought the urge to wake him by kissing it.
It was the first time in a month she had slept in her own bed. She loved Amsterdam, but this last trip had been exhausting, in part because it was dominated by tedious visits with her fiancé's puritanical grandfather. And then they had carted him back to London.
Grandfather Fowler was sickly, but wished to attend the upcoming nuptials of his heir—or his would be heir. There was first the little matter of matrimony and conceiving a child. Controlling old tyrant. She yawned and returned to watching the rainbows.
The constant travelling about was growing extremely tiresome. It was good to be home, and it had been an especially nice surprise when Rutherford, whom she missed more than she liked to admit, sneaked in through her bedroom window.
She finally gave in to temptation and kissed Rutherford on the cheek to wake him, then rolled over and popped a confection into her mouth from the tray by the bedside. He stirred beside her.
She beamed when his beautiful hazel eyes opened. “Mmm. Last night was just what I needed, darling. I see your technique has not suffered while I was away. And it is lovely to wake up to such a luscious specimen of manhood.”
Rutherford smiled sleepily, then, as an afterthought, his entire face pursed into a scowl. “But it seems to me that you could have given a fellow a little more notice of your departure than merely sending a letter posted from the port before you made the crossing. Dear Stallion, off to the continent. Back in a trice. Ta-ta!”
“What, and have to look at a face like that for a fortnight before I left? I think not.” She traced a finger affectionately over the scar on his bare shoulder.
He had been wounded last season while rescuing their mutual friend, Lady Aldley, from an abduction. The site was completely healed now, but the silver scar tissue formed a lopsided heart. It lent such an air of intrigue to his already intriguing, smooth, muscular and irresistible torso.
Tilly had hungered for him the whole time she had been away. But he had seemed a little blue-deviled when she returned. There had always been a slightly dark, sardonic twist to Rutherford's humour, but now it seemed short on the humour and long on the dark twist.
Rutherford was still pouting. “You know you do not love DeGroen. Why should you cart off and visit his relations at their whim?”
“Well, there is the trifling matter of our being engaged, I suppose.”
“Do not remind me. I beg you.” He rubbed the scar on his shoulder unconsciously, as if to soothe the little, lopsided heart.
“You do realize my parents were in Amsterdam, as well? And you know how important cultivating the relationship with Mr. DeGroen's grandfather is for our future prospects.”
“You mean for your and Mr. DeGroen's future prospects. Quite. Inheriting all that extra money is not to be resisted. But how much ruddy money do you need, Tilly? You are already as rich as Lucifer. Why can you not just marry for love?” His eyes were wide, and his long lashes had tangled themselves together in the night. He looked, for a moment, like a little boy lost.
Tilly sighed. He looked so worn down that her heart twinged, but it was hard having this discussion with Rutherford over and over again. She wondered if she should just give him up, let h
im move on and be happy with someone else, someone with a less complex and secretive life.
He had seemed like a Corinthian rake in Lord Byron's clothes when she first met him. Invincible, completely indifferent to her engagement, roguish and ready for some fun. But he had since shown himself to be quite conservative in his views and idealistic in his hopes about marriage.
It was very sweet, but with a life like hers, Tilly could not afford anything as messy as true love. “You know very well that I am disinclined to marry for… affection. Marriage is about status, property and money. I am not a fanciful young girl, and I have never concealed this from you.”
“No.” His face was glum as he stood and began to dress. “You have been perfectly clear. I have just been foolishly kindling a little flame of hope that you would get tired of committing adultery and would commit to me instead.”
“I am not committing adultery.”
Rutherford laughed, then winced at how bitter it sounded. “What do you call this then?”
“If you must give it a label, it is fornication.” She ate another sweet and contemplated whether she should tell him that she was not deceiving Mr. DeGroen. She dismissed the idea, as it would require explanations that she could not give. “And although the Church of England inexplicably seems to think the topic worthy of mention in wedding vows, the ten commandments could not be bothered to forbid it.”
“You have a convenient interpretation of holy scripture.”
She tossed her head and snorted. “Does not every one?” She was distracted for a few moments, watching him dress. It was almost as alluring as watching him undress, even if his choice of colours was shockingly loud. “And having attended church every Sunday whilst in Amsterdam, as well as having my fill of all the pious conversation Grandfather Fowler's failing health would permit, I find myself feeling quite devout.” She assumed her blandest, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth smile.
He rewarded her with a real laugh. “One of these days you will be struck by lightning, you saucy little libertine fraud.”
She wiggled her brows and pertly replied, “That is the risk one runs in consorting with the god of thunder.”
He fastened his trousers, then gave her a cheeky smile.
Could she give up this beautiful stallion of a man? It was surely in his best interest for her to do so. But as much as Tilly needed to have her intrusive little fingers in the lives of others for their own good, she was growing weary of always putting everyone else's happiness before her own.
As he finished putting on his clothing, he turned to look at her. His eyes were full of love and sadness. A beam of sunlight penetrated the partly open curtain and lit up his chestnut brown hair where it curled adorably around his ears. Rutherford sighed. “I wish I could stay, darling, but I must go see Aldley.”
“It is just as well. I am to go pay call on Grandfather Fowler and see that he is settled in.” She winced at Rutherford’s expression as he rubbed his shoulder. Thoughtless. Why did she mention it? Her upcoming marriage was a dagger in his heart, and she knew it. He had to get used to it, but there was no need to keep throwing matters in his face. “Tell Lady Aldley that I miss her, and will come to call soon.” She paused. “And I missed you, too, Rutherford.”
Rutherford's smile fell flat. “Welcome home, my dearest one.” He left.
She covered her face with her hands. This was supposed to be diverting, not painful. Why did watching him leave pull at her heart, so? Tilly shook her head and began to straighten herself. She could not be all maudlin. There was a lot to do today.
She sighed. There was a lot to do every day. She rang for her lady's maid.
Sample Chapter 2
Rutherford went home and had his valet, Smythe, freshen him up before stepping out in his smart barouche and four. He brought along his two favourite dogs, Dolly, his best pointer, and Mack, the bloodhound who had helped locate him when he was injured the previous year while rescuing Lady Aldley.
Mack had saved his life and obtained a special place in his heart. Dolly was in a delicate condition, and Rutherford found in her a glimmer of happiness and hope for the future. He did not wish to be away from her for the long hours he would be at Aldley House. Aldley would surely understand.
He thus arrived at the Aldley home in style, with dogs, and only a little fuzzy from the previous late night and the dose of laudanum he had taken for the pain in his shoulder. Funny how it always seemed to flare up when he thought of Tilly's upcoming wedding.
He knew it was dangerous to keep using the medicine, for he had seen the effects of opium on Lord Aldley's brother-in-law, Lord Essington. But it was the only thing that helped his blasted shoulder when Tilly had left suddenly for Amsterdam.
“Rutherford! Good to see you!” The Earl of Aldley came to the door to greet his guest personally, then stood back and examined Rutherford's clothing. “And hard to miss you in that colourful ensemble. I see you have brought your dogs. Did we have some hunting appointment that has simply slipped my mind?”
“Of course not. But I could not leave them behind, for I have the most wonderful news.” Rutherford smiled stupidly. “My bitch is pregnant!”
Aldley squinted in momentary confusion at his friend, then cast his eye to Dolly's belly which Rutherford was rubbing. “Ah, yes. Oh, I see. Well, that is excellent news, Rutherford. Wonderful. When is she due?”
“I should guess about a month from now. I had her bred just before Tilly left town.” Rutherford frowned at the memory. He had wanted to share the experience with her, but discovered she had abandoned him. It was stupid, really. It wasn't a decent topic for a young lady. But then Tilly was no prude. He was certain that she would have seen the fun in it. Except that she was gone, left town without a word, and only sending a quick note from Dover.
He had taken a few stabs in his time, but that one had really hurt. He rubbed his shoulder, then stopped himself and petted Dolly and Mack instead. At least they were loyal. They would never abandon him.
He recovered and stood, slapping on a smile for Aldley. “The sire is a champion pointer. Samson they call him. Cost me a pretty penny for the appointment, but her babes are going to be champions, too.” He scratched Dolly's ears and cooed to her. “Isn't that right, little princess? The best little pointer babies in all of England.”
“Em. Not babies, old boy, pups.” Aldley laughed, and gave Rutherford a quizzical look of superiority. “Get a hold of yourself, man.”
Rutherford waved the comment aside and continued to beam at the future mother of his grand-puppies. “Not planning to offer me a drink, then?” he drawled lazily.
“Yes, of course.” Aldley ordered champagne, and led Rutherford through to his den.
“Champagne, hmm?”
“Yes. I did not interrupt your announcement, for I did not wish to steal your thunder. And, frankly, the juxtaposition did not quite seem flattering to my wife. But I believe champagne is in order, for the countess and I are also expecting a new addition.” Aldley could no longer contain his joy, and grinned openly at Rutherford.
“Ah. Congratulations, Aldley. That is wonderful news.” Rutherford had been suspicious before, but as nothing had been announced, he had let himself believe that Aldley was just as devoid of paternal prospects as Rutherford was. But now—well, he would not permit himself to be jealous. He would not. Such thoughts were unmanly.
“Yes, only you must not say anything about it, for no one knows yet. And I cannot get Lydia to enter her confinement, so we have to be discreet. I love her to distraction, but she has a will of iron.”
“A proper countess, then.” Rutherford smirked. “I am not sure what you expected. She is an original, Aldley. She climbed trees for sport when you met her. Of course she would object to sitting about at home.”
Aldley scowled. “You would take her side. You sport loving people all flock together. At least I have persuaded her to stop riding.”
“Well, that is good.” Rutherford looked glum, but the champ
agne had arrived, so he raised an ironic toast. “To the women. May God preserve us from madness.”
“To the women.” Aldley nearly agreed.
Rutherford savoured the drink and let the bubbles tease his nose, then finished it without realizing what he had done. Aldley refreshed his glass, and Rutherford continued, “Forgive me if I am not wholly sympathetic, Aldley. But the woman I love refuses to marry me, so I cannot think that you have it so terribly hard.”
“Do not take this the wrong way, Rutherford, but I think you complicate things unnecessarily. I like Miss Ravelsham, truly I do, but I hate to see you so miserable. You are hardly yourself half the time. Why do you not just give her up and find someone respectable to marry?”
“I do not wish to marry someone respectable. Respectable maidens are total bores.”
Aldley scoffed and refilled both glasses. “You sound like that rakehell that got blackballed from White's last month. And good riddance.”
“Lord Screwe? I should imagine some hell fire club would suit him better. I am not so corrupt as all that, but surely you of all people understand how much more fun interesting women are.”
Aldley wore his best sternly superior earl expression when he replied, “I will try to ignore the implication that my wife is interesting.”
The earl gave Rutherford a quizzical look over the rim of his glass as he sipped his champagne. “But if you are indeed so devil-may-care as that, then why should you marry at all? A man of your energies will surely tire quickly of the marriage state. It sounds like a recipe for more of your listless ennui, and I shall have the brunt of your doldrums. You are barely tolerable as it is.”
“You are quite droll, but this is nothing to the point. It is not that I wish to be married. It is that I wish to marry Miss Ravelsham.”
“Well then, not to be blunt, but you had best get on with it, for she is scheduled to marry another rather soon.”
