“A gaggle?” they had questioned in unison.
Swenton smiled easily. “How else should I have described an unorganized group dealing with a pompous cleric? In military terms, a ‘gaggle’ is a group on a mission, which is exactly what we were.”
After another round of laughter, Worthing related the tale of Lord and Lady Godown’s reuniting. Tears had misted Mercy’s eyes when Lord Worthing had announced the expected arrival of the marquis’s carriage on the morrow.
“Oh, Aidan!” Mercy had clutched at his hand. “Grace will be with me when I marry!”
“The marquis knew nothing of his wife’s return when he appeared at Doctors’ Commons to support Swenton’s application in your name. Of course, he did not join us for a hearty meal and drink after our success. The marquis and Viscount Stafford conducted their usual posturing, while Thornhill took great pleasure in siding with the viscount. I had thought after the duke won his duchess and the marquis Lady Godown that such foolishness would die out.”
Aidan said sagaciously, “When Godown learns the lessons of family, he will no longer need to claim prominence. Some hold on to their vanity as protection for bruised pride.”
Worthing nodded his agreement. “It is a generous lesson.” As if he could not deny her, Worthing reached for his wife’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
Mercy pleaded, “Does my sister not know of our joining?”
“Grace knows,” Lady Worthing assured. “When James disclosed Lord Lexford’s plans to marry at Linton Park, I sent word to the marquise. She welcomed my interruption of her reunion with Lord Godown. The Godowns will arrive tomorrow; have no fear.”
Epilogue
“Dearly Beloved,” Doctor Perry’s voice rang out across the chapel. Four months had passed since the vicar had pronounced his vows, and Aidan had never been happier. He glanced to his wife, and her fingers wrapped about his arm. Reflexively, Aidan’s muscle tightened. From where her hand rested at the crook of his elbow, heat radiated down his arm to his fingertips. His obsession with the woman had grown, and Aidan had generously surrendered to the heat that always sizzled between them.
Mercy’s other hand surreptitiously rested on her lap–splayed across her abdomen. Just this morning, she had shared her hopes of being with child. His lady had sworn him to secrecy, at least, until they were certain, but Aidan wished to climb to the highest church spire and shout to the world of his good fortune.
Good fortune, he thought ironically. Until recently, those were two words rarely associated with his life. When they had returned to Lexington Arms, their farce had taken on a second life. The neighborhood had rejoiced at his marrying his “cousin.” When those within the village learned he and Mercy meant to welcome Aaron as part of their family, they had received great praise for their benevolence. Within a month of their return to Cheshire, they had successfully hosted a house full of aristocrats for a weeklong party. The presence of so many excellent examples of the socially elite recognizing Aidan and Mercy as equals had gone a long way in defining his household. Each of his friends had arrived on Lexington Arms’ doorstep with one mission: naming Aidan’s reign as Viscount Lexford as a successful one.
He had pensioned off Mr. Poley and Mr. Payne, the former for the obvious reason and the latter because the butler had been aware of Mrs. Babcock’s relationship with Arlen Kimbolt. Aidan wished no remnants of his family’s shame under his root.
With Pennington’s assistance, he had seen Sophia Rhodes placed in a facility for those suffering from hallucinations. The lady’s husband had reluctantly agreed to sell his estate to Aidan and to leave the area, but Aidan’s knowledge of Rhodes’s connection to the Trents had been the proper leverage to drive the man from the neighborhood. Aidan wanted nothing to cloud his marriage.
Mathias Trent had been captured along the Scottish coastline. Sir Lesley had foolishly financed a scheme to save his eldest son, and now faced resettlement charges.
Aidan glanced about the church. They were all in attendance–the Realm–even Aristotle Pennington. All had come to witness the joining of Henry Lucifer Hill to Hannah Louise Tolliver. A room full of aristocrats honoring a common man and a lady’s maid.
Hill had returned with him to Lexington Arms to assist Aidan with the turmoil they had left behind while they raced to rescue Mercy. When Rhodes abandoned his estate, Aidan had attempted to thrust it upon his friend.
“I would be pleased to call you neighbor,” he had said.
Of course, Hill had laughed in that self-deprecating way he always used to remind Aidan they were not of the same social class. “I extend my gratitude, my Lord, but I mean to make Hannah my wife, and my lady would refuse such a grand home. Something simpler with land for farming would suit me well.”
And so, Aidan had found a farm some fifteen miles south of Manchester–larger than Hill would have chosen for himself, but Aidan had convinced Hill it was an excellent purchase. “Large enough to fill the halls with children of your own,” Aidan had baldly suggested when Hill had protested.
Doctor Perry continued, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as Henry and Hannah have consented together in hold wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a Ring, and by joining hands; I pronounce that they are Man and Wife. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
After the vicar’s blessing, Hill and his bride turned to face their guests. Aidan enjoyed the lopsided smile upon his friend’s countenance. Behind where he and Mercy sat, he heard Lady Worthing sniffle into her linen. “Hannah has been with me since I was a young girl,” she said for the hundredth time.
Aidan chuckled when James Kerrington soothed his wife’s woes with, “Yet, we wish Hannah the best, my Dear.”
As Lucifer and Hannah disappeared into the holding room to sign the church’s ledger, Aidan rose to follow the others to the wedding breakfast. “Godown,” he called as the marquis stepped into the aisle. “When do you return to Staffordshire?”
“I mean to depart as soon as I give my best regards to the bride and Hill.”
Mercy teased, “Missing my sister, Lord Godown?” With Lady Godown’s encouragement, Aidan’s wife had quickly forgiven the marquis’s earlier misunderstandings.
Godown brought Mercy’s gloved hand to his lips, and even though Aidan knew the marquis meant nothing by the gesture, a bead of jealousy slipped down his spine. “You speak the truth, Lady Lexford.” The marquis winked at Mercy. “Your sister possesses many charms, as do you, Sister Dear.”
Aidan recovered his wife’s hand. “And you are wild about your son,” Aidan reminded the marquis.
“The child is perfection, Lexford.” Godown’s smile grew. “And, yes, I am in great need of both my wife and the boy.”
Mercy said, “I have a gift for Baby Renard. I will fetch it when we return to the house. And you must ferry my love to Grace.”
“Your brother has come to keep Lady Godown company in my absence. You will be pleased to know within another year, two at the most, the baron’s estate will be solvent again.”
Mercy’s eyes sparkled with happiness, and Aidan thought her the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. “Did you hear, Aidan? Geoffrey will soon be restored.”
“Yes, Dear. The marquis has been quite clever. Now come along. I wish private words with Hill before the man becomes too enamored with his wife.”
Godown laughed easily, “We each realize that is not a possibility.”
*
It had taken Aidan longer than he had expected to isolate Hill. Finally, a moment arrived, and he had whisked Lucifer into a nearby drawing room while Lady Worthing assisted Hannah with a change of clothing before her departure. “I will only require a moment,” he assured his friend when Lucifer protested leaving Hannah’s side.
“I did not predict a farewell, my Lord
,” Lucifer said in amusement. “We will only be a two hours’ ride in separation.”
The man’s happiness had erased ten years from Hill’s countenance. His friend’s eyes danced with light-hearted delight. “I have been designated by the others to present you with a small gift,” Aidan began.
Hill interrupted, “There is no need, my Lord,” Lucifer protested. “You and the others gave me my life. If you had done nothing more, it would be enough. Instead, you opened your home to me–gave me your companionship–treated me as an equal. You took a struggling soul and showed him the gift of learning–of seeing the world. Through you, I met Hannah. I have more than ten men.”
Aidan swallowed hard. From Hill, he had learned compassion and reasoning. Hill had brought Mercy into Aidan’s life–had restored Aidan’s faith in others. He owed the man everything. “Men, such as those with whom we have served, do not speak easily of their respect and their loyalty. Yet, there are means to name their fidelity.” Aidan reached for a rolled paper resting upon a side table. “This represents such devotion from those with whom you served.”
Hill cautiously accepted the scroll and unfurled the page. Aidan watched as Hill first swayed in place and then his Adam’s apple worked hard to breathe. “It is too…too much, my Lord.”
“It was by consensus,” Aidan said with determination. “The men celebrating your nuptials mean to offer their gratitude, Lucifer. Surely you can find it in you to be gracious in your receiving.”
“I served because it was my personal vow,” Hill protested. “I never meant to seek a reward.”
Aidan assured, “Neither did any of us, Lucifer, and it is not a reward. Your Realm brothers offer you their hands in friendship. Do not slap them away because of your stubborn nature.” When Hill’s eyes returned to the paper, Aidan pressed, “Be reasonable. It is too late in the summer to plant, and without a harvest, you could lose everything before you begin. This way, you will have time to prepare the land.”
“How do I repay the men’s loyalty?” Hill asked honestly.
“By being a success,” Aidan said simply. “Prove their confidence was well placed.” Hill extended his hand in acceptance, but Aidan pulled the man into a male embrace. “My home will seem empty until your return. Lady Lexford and I mean to have you visit often.”
Hill nodded sharply as he stepped away. “I should return to the gathering.”
As Lucifer slipped from the room, Mercy entered seconds later. “How did Mr. Hill react?” she asked as she slid into Aidan’s loose embrace.
He rested his chin on the top of his wife’s head. “Very much as predicted, but Mr. Hill did not rip the deed to shreds,” he said. He inhaled the lilac scent as she rested her cheek against his chest. Such moments had gone a long way in soothing Aidan’s troubled soul. It was in a similar embrace that a major piece of his lost memory had returned. Evidently, he had found his mother’s diary and had read the truth of Andrew’s parentage before he had traveled to Manchester to court Cashémere Aldridge. With his appearance at Chesterfield Manor, he had meant to win the lady’s agreement and to place his father’s exploitations firmly in the past.
When he had shared this new reality with Mercy, his wife had shed tears of sorrow for his painful discovery, as well as tears of joy at their finding each other. “If you had been successful, my Lord,” she said as he dabbed away her tears with his linen, “we would both have had very different lives.”
Aidan had assured her through a slow seduction that he would face it all again for the pleasure of knowing her as his wife. “One need only to look upon my countenance to realize I have found perfection in my life.”
Mercy chuckled as she snuggled closer. They had spent a month in London enjoying the accolades of the haut ton. He had danced with her and taken Mercy shopping on Bond Street. While there, Aidan had set connections in place for Miss Chadwick’s entrance in the design field by finding a girl a position in a prestigious shop, as well as proper lodging. Miss Chadwick’s first commission had been the renovations at Fugol Hall for the marquis’s heir. Lord and Lady Godown had adored the nursery for Aaron. Contentedly, his wife nibbled along Aidan’s chin line, and he adored every seductive gesture. “What should we expect when Mr. Hill discovers you have stocked his barns and his house for the winter?” she asked on a rasp.
Aidan smiled widely as he gathered her closer. “Until your news this morning,” he kissed the column of his wife’s neck, “I thought a journey to China and back might provide Mr. Hill’s indignity time to subside,” he said teasingly.
“And now?” Her voice held the huskiness he relished hearing.
He paused to kiss her tenderly. “Now,” Aidan said distractedly. “Now, I will…” Kiss. “Will need…” Kiss. “Need to…” Kiss. “Need to hire…” Kiss. “Extra guards…” Longer kiss. “To protect the estate. Mr. Hill will bring his protests to my door.” His mouth found hers in a feast. It was how Aidan enjoyed knowing his wife. How he began each day and ended each night. The air became thick and close. His blood pumped savagely, always on fire with need for her.
Mercy clung to him, her fingers tight against his lapels. She placed a hand against his cheek. He breathed through the simmering connection that buzzed through his body. One hand traced light circles on the back of his wife’s neck. His hands cupped her hips and edged her closer. Aidan’s erection throbbed for release, but the scuff of a foot in the hall invaded his desire-filled mind. He broke the kiss and shielded her against him as he looked up to see Thornhill with a smirk of amusement on his lips.
“It appears, Lexford, it is my turn to find you in a compromising situation,” the duke taunted.
Aidan said through gritted teeth, “You are a prat, Fowler. What do you wish of me?”
The duke’s silly grin widened. “I meant to find Sir Carter. A friend is in need of the baronet’s special talents.”
Instinctively, Aidan asked, “What friend? May we not all be of service?”
Thornhill shook off the offer. “Sir Carter holds the administrative power to save Mrs. Warren.”
Aidan kept Mercy’s countenance hidden, but he loosened his grip on her. “Mrs. Warren?” he asked curiously.
Thornhill gestured to Mercy. “It is a long, complicated story. I will share it a bit later. For now, my Lord, enjoy your life.” With a quick bow and a lazy salute, the duke withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Aidan glanced at his wife. He expected to discover her embarrassment. Instead, Mercy tugged at her bottom lip to stifle her giggles. As awkward as the moment had been, he, too, began to chuckle. “Next time, remind me to close and lock the door.”
She buried her face once again, but her shoulders shook with glee. Nervous laughter peppered her speech. “I assumed once I…once I married…the opportunity…to be the source…of gossip…would dissipate.” His jacket muffled the words, but Aidan understood her sentiment.
“I cannot promise it will be the last time others may observe the full extent of my regard for you,” he said softly against her ear.
His wife rose on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. Her eyes luminous. “I certainly should hope not,” she pronounced baldly. “But for now, I suppose I will suggest we wait until later.”
Aidan’s fingers caressed the softness of her cheek. “Later is such a morbid term,” he teased. Since the day Mercy Nelson had appeared on his doorstep, his time as a loner had disappeared. She had invaded every inch of his soul. The lost boy deep inside him had been found.
“How often do I use the word later?” his wife taunted, and her eyes darkened in that delightful way that signaled her desire. “Especially with you.” Her breath hitched, and Aidan could not wipe the smile from his countenance. He tasted her, knowing the pleasure of the warmth of her mouth. She clung brazenly to him, and Aidan celebrated love.
“I would adore you even if you would choose to use the word all the time.” And with that, he kissed her again. “You, Mercy Kimbolt, are the answer to all my questions. Finally, after a
lifetime of searching, I have found exactly where I belong–in the arms of a spirited wood sprite.”
Finis
“Teach me to feel another’s woe, to hide the fault I see, that mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me.”
- Alexander Pope
Excerpt from Book 6 of the Realm Series
A Touch of Love
Lucinda had stood on the busy street corner for a quarter hour, attempting to shore up her nerves. She had carefully read the social register for the past few weeks, waiting for the return of the Duke of Thornhill to his London townhouse. A single line of type had reported Brantley Fowler’s presence at Briar House, and Lucinda had wasted no time in sending a note around, requesting an audience with the duke. Thornhill had responded immediately, setting the date and time.
Self-consciously, she checked Matthew’s pocket watch for the time. She regularly carried her late husband’s watch in her reticule. It was one of the few items she had kept to mark her days as Matthew Warren’s wife. “Time,” she murmured. Matthew never found the time to speak the truth, Lucinda thought bitterly. As she set her shoulders to cross the street, she wondered how Thornhill would take to her report of his old friend. I have no choice, she assured her rapid pulse.
She sidestepped a fresh pile of horse dung while dodging a young gentleman’s poorly driven curricle to step upon the curb before Briar House. It was a magnificent house: plenty of windows to permit the light and warmth of even a weak sun, as well as beautiful columns giving the exterior the look of a Roman theatre. Briar House spoke to the Fowlers’ place in Society. Her breath hitched, and Lucinda chastised herself for the very feminine desire to break into tears again. Her eyes swept the townhouse’s façade. Splendor she would never know.
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