Elusive Flame

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  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.”

  “Beau being kind again,” Germaine remarked thoughtfully. “How terribly noble of him. Did he marry you out of kindness?”

  The statement was slipped in with a smile so adroitly that Cerynise was momentarily taken aback. She had forgotten how malicious Germaine could be, but by quickening degrees Cerynise was growing more experienced in her dealings with the woman. As a child she had just wanted the raven-haired beauty to leave her alone, but her ire now rose and her back stiffened at the implication of her words. The time seemed ripe for Germaine Hollingsworth to rue the day that she had ever tried to make a public spectacle of Sticks.

  “Do you actually imagine that Beau would have married any woman out of kindness, Germaine? If so, you’re greatly mistaken about what he wants from a wife. Beau is no simple, mild-mannered, benevolent gentleman who waits upon the whimsical moods of his wife. He is much more demanding than that. But I suppose only a wife would be cognizant of that.” The smile with which she concluded her remarks was
enigmatic, hinting at what more she could have said about her husband to enlighten Germaine and the rest of her attentive audience. She had said enough to imply that as a modest young woman, she was being, at best, discreet.

  Heather grinned in glee. “More tea, anyone?” she inquired cheerily and, with a slight movement of her hand, summoned a servant to put out more sandwiches and cakes for the ladies.

  Abegail Clark shifted her meager weight in a chair with the help of her cane. “All this interrogation reminds me of what Heather went through when Brandon first brought her back from England. I didn’t like it any better then than I do now.”

  The deciding factor came when Martha Devonshire, who was linked by birth and marriage with every family of significance in the Carolinas, gazed through her lorgnette at the Birmingham bride. “I was never of the opinion that travel benefited a woman of quality. Yet I must admit that I may have been mistaken. Never have I met a young lady with such poise and graciousness.”

  That judgment rendered, the formidable matron sat back to observe the obedient nods of the assembled females, the vast majority of whom would never have dreamed of gainsaying her.

  An hour later, the assembly ended and the guests reluctantly left. More than a few were inclined to linger, having discovered that Cerynise was a genuinely interesting person to talk with. Having been the recipient of a meaningful frown from her son, Heather graciously eased them on their ways with cheerful reminders that they would be seeing Cerynise at Suzanne’s engagement ball. Even so, by the time the last guest departed, it was nigh the middle of the afternoon.

  Beau strode in from outside, where he had gone to walk off his frustration and, upon his reentry, hurriedly collected his wife’s cloak and bonnet. “Pardon my haste, Mama, but I’ve got to get back to Charleston. This tea took much longer than I expected.”

  He brushed a kiss on his mother’s cheek as they bade farewell, and Brandon came out on the porch to stand beside his wife and to wave them off. When the carriage had rolled away, he slipped an arm about Heather’s narrow waist and leaned over her ear to whisper, “How would you like to have another son, madam?”

  Heather’s head snapped up in surprise. “For mercy sake, what brought that on?”

  “Beau doesn’t think we’re still capable of copulating.”

  She chortled in amusement as she slipped her arms around her husband’s lean waist. “He doesn’t know you very well, does he? But he’ll find out differently when he’s your age. Until then, I think we should consider a sea voyage on the Audacious instead of another child. Beau is planning on taking Cerynise with him after their baby is born, and you know you’ve never forgotten your love of sailing.”

  “’Tis your grandchild that lures you, madam,” Brandon accused with a grin.

  Heather rubbed his hardened chest admiringly as she lifted blue eyes coyly to meet his. “We could spend a lot of time in our cabin making love. And who knows what will come of it?”

  “When did you say Beau was leaving?”

  Beau reached for the knob to open the front portal for his wife, but before he could turn it, the dark green, white-trimmed door was pulled inward by a man outfitted as a butler.

  “Jasper?” Cerynise gaped in astonishment. “My goodness, what are you doing here?”

  The butler’s eyes swept down her briefly before he smiled. “Your husband invited me to come and work for him, madam. He even paid our fare.”

  “Our fare?”

  “Yes, madam,” Jasper replied with a nod and another smile. “Bridget and the others are here, too. In fact, the lot of us were able to personally escort your paintings to Charleston. They arrived undamaged, and I took the liberty of putting them in the study with your other ones.”

  Bridget had heard the muted voices from the back of the house and approached rather hesitantly as she made her way down the hallway leading from the kitchen. Cerynise took one look at her and, sweeping inward, hurried to greet the maid. They embraced and wept a little, but only with joy.

  “Ye’re lookin’ grand, mum…I mean…Mrs. Birmingham. Never have I seen ye lookin’ so fine.” Her twinkling eyes dropped to the slight curve of Cerynise’s belly, which had now become evident even beneath a shawl. “And ye’re going to have a wee one. Oh, I’m so happy for you, mum.”

  “Thank you, Bridget,” Cerynise replied, patting the woman’s hand affectionately. “But tell me, have you met my husband?”

  “I only saw Captain Birmingham on the ship that day we brought yer clothes, mum. But had ye asked me at the time, I’d have told ye somethin’ would come o’ the two o’ ye bein’ together. I just never dreamt ye’d be married afore ye left London. At least, that’s what Monsieur Monét told us. Ye must’ve been fairly dazzled by it all, what with it happenin’ so fast an’ all.”

  “I’ve known my husband ever since I was a child, Bridget, and have been in love with him for just about as long, so it wasn’t all that sudden for me.” She giggled as she added, “For him, perhaps.”

  Beau joined them, and after his wife made the formal introductions, he asked the maid, “Did Philippe show you where you’re going to be housed?”

  “Oh yes, sir. Past the garden in the servants’ quarters, an’ may I say, sir, I’ve seen no finer accommodations for servants.”

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable there.”

  “I’m sure we will be, sir, an’ thank ye most kindly for helpin’ us out with our passage an’ all. We couldna’ve made it here without ye givin’ us so generous a purse. Jasper kept a careful accountin’ sir, so’s ye’d know what exactly was spent.”

  “Good servants are hard to find, so I performed a better service for myself by paying your way here,” Beau assured her.

  “Just the same, sir, we all appreciate what ye’ve done for us.”

  Cerynise cocked her head musefully at her husband as a sudden realization dawned. “Are they the reason why you were so anxious to get home?”

  Beau moved his shoulders briefly upward and grinned. “I thought they’d be arriving any day now, but since there were so many factors that could hinder their arrival, I could only guess at the approximate date. I’ve been checking the ships arriving from England on a daily basis, but I didn’t have time this morning.”

  “You seem to enjoy keeping secrets from me, sir,” Cerynise accused with a soft chuckle.

  His smiling eyes dipped to her small, protruding belly before they met hers again. “Aye, madam, but no more than you.”

  * * *

  The night of Suzanne’s engagement ball arrived, and Cerynise took special pains with her appearance, knowing that she’d not only be confronting Germaine again but others who might have once set their hopeful sights on Beau as a possible husband. Madame Feroux and her assistants had worked tirelessly on an ice-blue creation to have it ready in time. At Beau’s request, the gown had been made similarly to the pink one his wife had worn the night he had entertained his hunting companions on board his ship in England. The design had been changed slightly in that it had a longer bodice to conceal the curve of her stomach as much as possible. The weighty skirt of beaded silk was gently gathered beneath it. The sleeves were long and flowing, much like in the days of knights and ladies fair, but the neckline had definitely been made on the order of the pink gown and was cut squarely across her breasts. Beau had found it the most intriguing asset about the earlier version and had insisted that it remain exactly the same.

  Cerynise’s hair had been dressed high on her head to display the pearl-and-diamond earrings that dangled prettily from her dainty ears. For a belated wedding gift, Beau had given her an eight-strand pearl choker bedecked with a beautiful pink-and-white cameo encircled by diamonds. Cerynise had expressed her gratitude with gushing pleasure, for she had never seen anything as exquisite, much less owned it. Yet, even as costly and fine as the necklace was, the method by which it was given failed to compare with the ceremony of devotion with which her husband had presented her a new wedding band. He had gone
down on one knee before her and, after removing the gold filigreed band from her finger, had ardently pledged his troth to be a faithful, loving husband. He had slipped the diamond ring on her third finger, kissed it, and then rose to seal his pact with a more thorough caress of her lips. What had followed was an evening that neither of them would likely forget, starting with a private dinner in their bedroom, a shared bath in Beau’s huge tub wherein they had lain side by side, and ending in a night of love such as one would expect of a newly wedded couple.

  When Beau requested help in folding his cravat in the late afternoon preceding his sister’s engagement ball, it was no longer such a rare occasion that Cerynise had cause to be dubious about his motives. She only began to sense that something was different when he bent his head near hers and warmly whispered, “Delectable view.”

  Cerynise glanced down to find her breasts generously displayed by a gaping neckline and the shallow bodice of the lace chemise she wore beneath. Lifting her head, she smiled into his shining eyes. “I was sure you had seen it all before.”

  “Aye, but this time I don’t need to keep my hands in my pockets. I can handle the sights to my heart’s content, anytime or anywhere we can find a bit of privacy, madam,” he breathed, brushing a kiss against her temple as his fingers plucked open the back placket of her gown. The heavily bejeweled bodice slid from her shoulders like weighted silk and plummeted to her waist, leaving the gossamer batiste and lace chemise molding the fullness of her breasts.

  Cerynise stood before him like one bewitched by a strange enchantment, her eyes glowing with sultry warmth as he tugged the straps down and hastened the descent of the undergarment with his hands until that, too, lay bunched around her waist. The pale, pink-crested orbs thrust forward proudly, seeming to invite him to taste and touch. His mouth took possession, moving over the tempting fullness in a leisured caress, savoring the sweet nectar from the soft peaks and drawing blissful sighs from his wife, who stood in assenting, quiescent rapture as his lips and tongue stroked across her naked skin. Her nipples tingled for more, and she arched her back to make them more accessible to him. Her breath was snatched inward in small gasps as he availed himself of the opportunity. He devoured them completely, leaving them glistening with moisture from his warmly licking strokes. A long moment later he traced his lips upward along her graceful neck and captured her mouth in the same greedy quest.