Elusive Flame

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “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.

  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?”