The Wild Child (Bride Trilogy)

by Mary Jo Putney

  “The formal announcement hasn’t been made yet.” She shook her twisted hair free. “Actually, that’s why Papa and I are here. We’re on our way to Robert’s family in Lancashire. The notices will be sent after the settlements are signed.”

  Dominic grinned. “And you’d rather be there instead of wasting time in Shropshire. Wrexham must be glad you finally accepted someone. Another year or two, and you’d be on the shelf.”

  She laughed. “You’re right, Papa is much relieved, even though he’s not enthusiastic about the match. He keeps muttering that I could have done better than the son of a mere baron.”

  “Obviously you don’t think so.” He picked up one of the small glass cosmetic jars from his sister’s dressing table. Did Meriel have pretty little feminine trinkets like these? Would she want them? “Who’s the lucky man? Some handsome devil, I’m sure.”

  Lucia leaned forward on her stool eagerly. “Robert Justice, Lord Justice’s heir. He isn’t exactly handsome, not like you and Kyle, but Robin has such a twinkle in his eyes, and he’s so wonderful to talk to, and…” She broke off, blushing again.

  “And wonderful to kiss, I daresay.” Dominic searched his memory, and a solid, brown-haired young man with an easy smile came to mind. Not showy, but good for the long haul. Lucia had sound judgment. He hugged her again. “I wish you happy, little sister. I’ve met him once or twice. He’s a good fellow.”

  “I know.” Lucia’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. Emerging from his embrace, she continued, “What about Lady Meriel? Do you think she’ll make Kyle happy? There are some very…very odd stories about her.”

  He stiffened at the reminder that Meriel was destined for Kyle. “She’s unusual, but very…charming. If Kyle takes the time to really get to know her, I’m sure they’ll deal well together.”

  Lucia nodded, clearly unconvinced. “She’s rather pretty, though her gown was terribly out of date.”

  Dominic bit back a desire to point out that Meriel was not merely pretty but beautiful, and that a gown that had been handsome twenty years earlier was handsome still. If he said that, his too-perceptive sister might notice that his feelings were not exactly brotherly. “She has no need of a new wardrobe in the country, but she has skills other than fashion. For example, she’s a wonderful gardener. Also, in India she learned how to paint interesting henna decorations on the skin.” He grinned. “Perhaps you should ask her to draw Robert’s name in a place where not just anyone would see it.”

  “Dominic, you have a low mind.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed pensively. “Still…the designs are temporary?”

  “Yes. I promise you that Robert would be most intrigued.” He covered a yawn. “Time I went to bed. I need my rest if I’m to persuade Wrexham that I’m really Kyle tomorrow. I was never very good at dealing with him.”

  “Papa really isn’t so bad, Dom, except when his gout is hurting him,” she said earnestly. “Just be more patient. If you lose your temper and stamp off, you’ll give yourself away. Kyle is always very cool and polite, even when Papa is being difficult.”

  Dominic had always had more freedom to lose his temper and leave when Wrexham was being impossible. As the heir, Kyle had been forced to stay and endure. For the first time, it occurred to Dominic to wonder if his brother came by his rigid control naturally, or if it had evolved out of the necessity of dealing with the earl. “Will you keep silent, Lucia? I know it’s a lot to ask, but if Wrexham realizes what we’ve done….” Dominic made an expressive gesture.

  “I won’t tell. I don’t want to even think about the unpleasantness that would result if Papa discovers you aren’t Kyle.” She caught her breath. “The valets! Papa’s Wilcox must have already seen your valet in the servants’ hall.”

  “Kyle lent me Morrison. He doesn’t want Kyle to get into trouble, either.”

  “Then you might be able to carry this off. Try to say as little as possible.” Lucia shook her head. “But what about later? Surely the next time Kyle comes to Warfield, people will notice the difference.”

  Dominic shrugged. “I said the same thing, but he wasn’t concerned. He thought that the opinions of Mrs. Rector and Mrs. Marks and the servants didn’t matter, and Lady Meriel wouldn’t know the difference.”

  Lucia sniffed. “Do you believe that?”

  “I have to hope he’s right.” Uneasily Dominic considered the future. Exchanging twins would probably work if months passed between Dominic’s departure and Kyle’s appearance. But if the marriage were to take place before Lord Grahame returned, there wouldn’t be enough time for memories to become obscured.

  Damnation, he didn’t want Kyle to marry Meriel. Yet if Dominic revealed their deception now, the situation would only get worse.

  Mind chasing in futile circles, he bid his sister good night and went to bed.

  Meriel waited until a few minutes after Renbourne had left his sister’s room. Then she took a flower arrangement to the bedroom door and knocked. Seeing Jena Ames again had sharpened her curiosity about other young women. Especially one who was Renbourne’s sister.

  Lady Lucia opened the door. She shared her brother’s dark brown hair and blue eyes. Though she was inches taller than Meriel and very grand, the two girls were probably about the same age. “Oh! Good evening, Lady Meriel.”

  Meriel held out her floral offering, a tall glass cylinder once used for storage in the pantry. Now it held clusters of fragrant lilac and trailing vines of dark, glossy ivy. Meriel had deliberately made the bouquet rather conventional, since she doubted that a London lady would appreciate one of her wilder creations. Renbourne was the only one who’d ever really understood her arrangements.

  Lucia took the vase with a pleased smile. “Why, thank you.” She buried her pretty nose in lilac blossoms. “How lovely this smells.” Glancing up, she said, “Would you like to come in? Since we are going to be sisters-in-law, I should like to become better acquainted.” She stepped back and made a welcoming gesture.

  Meriel had hoped for such an invitation. With someone else she might have simply entered the room without being asked, but she didn’t want Renbourne’s sister to dislike her. Odd to care what a stranger thought; she wasn’t sure she liked the experience, but there it was. She did care.

  Lucia set the flowers on her bedside table, then turned, expression uncertain. “I’m told you can’t speak, and I…I don’t know quite how to behave. Please excuse me if I accidentally offend you. I don’t mean to.”

  Meriel liked her for her directness. Truly Renbourne’s sister. She made a small gesture encouraging Lucia to talk.

  The other woman dropped onto the bed in a swirl of blue silk. “It’s not official yet, but I’m to be married soon. Papa and I are on our way to visit my betrothed and his family in Lancashire.” She looked hopeful. “May I tell you about him? My father thinks I’m silly to want to talk about Robin all the time, but another female might understand.”

  Meriel had to smile. Donning an expression of interest, she settled into the sofa as Lady Lucia began to describe the manifold wonders of the Honorable Robert Justice. The glow on her face was intriguing. A sign of being in love, apparently.

  Did Lucia also feel the fierce physical craving that drew Meriel to Renbourne? If so, she was too well bred to show it. But passion might well be the fuel behind the tumbling words and sparkling eyes.

  Eventually Lucia stopped and gave a deprecatory laugh. “Sorry, I’m talking your ears off. You’re very patient to indulge me.” Absently she leaned against the carved bedpost. “I hope you come to love my brother as I love Robin. I think of him all the time. Though we’ll be married in early autumn, I can scarcely endure the waiting.”

  Meriel looked away, not wishing to show the other girl what lived in her own eyes. She did not understand love or marriage, and she was having precious little luck learning about passion. But she knew what it was to think of a man constantly.

  Lucia interrupted her thoughts, her voice hesitant. “My brother said that you k
now how to paint henna designs on the skin. I thought it sounded…very interesting.” Her voice rose questioningly at the end.

  Meriel stood and crossed the room, rolling back her right sleeve as she did. On her wrist was a delicately traced bracelet of linked paisley patterns.

  “How charming.” Lucia carefully touched the henna design, as if fearing she would damage it. “My brother says this is temporary?”

  Meriel nodded, thinking that they were having a true conversation even though she responded with gestures, not words. It seemed safe because Lucia would be leaving soon and not give her away. She had to admit that Renbourne was right—a conversation was more enjoyable when both parties participated, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to let her usual circle of people know how much she understood.

  The other girl blushed. “Would you be willing…would you mind…putting a design on my shoulder? Where it would be covered by a gown.” She indicated the area she meant. “And if you did…could it include the initials R and L?”

  Meriel almost laughed aloud. So the grand young lady wanted to surprise her intended. Passion was definitely part of Lucia’s love. Had Renbourne suggested that a man would be intrigued by a hidden design? If so, did that mean he would be?

  Meriel gestured to Lucia to wait, then returned to her room to mix a bowl of henna. She liked Renbourne’s sister.

  And Lucia had given her a most interesting idea….

  Chapter 22

  Kind sea winds brought them swiftly to Cádiz, a city of white turrets that rose from the ocean like a shining dream. Though Constancia had been raised in the north of Spain, far from the coast, she had visited Cádiz and never forgotten the city’s beauty.

  Kyle paced along the seafront promenade, wishing she were beside him, but she was resting under the balm of laudanum.

  Too restless to spend all day in the villa, waiting, he had chosen to explore the city on foot. The lofty buildings and squares were haunted by the ghostly presence of the Phoenician traders who had founded Cádiz three thousand years earlier, and the Romans who had made the city a great imperial port. More recently, Cádiz had been the Spanish colonial gateway, with the wealth of the Americas pouring into its coffers.

  Best of all were the promenades that fringed the great Atlantic harbor. As he watched the ships sail in and out, his excitement was underlaid by corrosive guilt at finding such pleasure in the city when Constancia lay dying. Yet he could not still the race of his blood at hearing sailors shouting in a dozen strange tongues, nor could he suppress his speculation about what distant lands these ships had seen.

  The scents of the port still tingled in his nostrils as he returned to the villa. It was a handsome place, owned by a London friend who had grown rich shipping sherry from Cádiz. Wrexham didn’t approve of having merchants for friends, but Kyle found that such men were usually more interesting than the nobles of his own class.

  He had just entered the cool tiled hall of the villa when Constancia’s maid, Teresa, raced up to him. “My lord!” she gasped, her eyes huge and dark. “Come quickly!”

  Oh, God, no, not yet. Not so soon. Heart hammering, he raced past the maid to Constancia’s room, which opened onto the courtyard garden. The scent of orange blossoms wafted through the windows, painfully alive in contrast to Constancia’s utter stillness. For a horrible moment he feared she was dead, until she drew a slow, harshly rattling breath.

  He took her hand, as if he could call her back from whatever distant place she had gone. “Teresa, has the physician been called?”

  “Sí, my lord. But I do not know when he will come.”

  Unable to just watch helplessly, he ordered, “Bring brandy and a spoon.”

  Grateful to have passed responsibility to him, Teresa obeyed. Then, while Kyle prayed that spirits would stimulate Constancia, the maid carefully spooned brandy between her mistress’s lips, a few drops at a time so she wouldn’t choke.

  Constancia’s lids fluttered up, revealing dark exhausted eyes. “I have worried you, querido,” she murmured. “Forgive me.”

  He exhaled a sigh of relief. “No matter, as long as you are still here.”

  She squeezed his hand with a pressure so light he could barely feel it. “My time…has not yet come. I will tell you when to send for the priest.”

  He smiled at her, but inside he was still quaking. Instinctively he sensed that she had been very, very near to passing away. And he wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

  He wasn’t ready.

  Chapter 23

  Vaguely hoping he could disappear into the gardens and avoid his father for most of the day, Dominic rose early, but he didn’t have the breakfast parlor to himself for long. He’d barely surveyed the dishes on the sideboard before other members of the household began to appear.

  First came Mrs. Marks, followed shortly by Mrs. Rector. Then Meriel, looking so well behaved that he wondered what she was up to. She cast a demure sideways glance as she served herself coddled eggs and toast, then sat opposite him at the table. Her manners were impeccable when she chose to exercise them.

  Lucia appeared, eyes sparkling. As she passed Dominic, she said under her breath, “Lady Meriel’s henna designs are wonderful!” Then she moved on, gaily greeting the ladies and Meriel before he could learn more.

  The group was actually quite convivial, until the Earl of Wrexham appeared. A pall of silence fell over the breakfast parlor. Dominic silently cursed himself for not eating more quickly.

  His father was limping, a sign that his gout was acting up, but he said with gruff good cheer, “Morning. Nothing like a sound night’s sleep after a long journey.” He glanced out the window. “A pleasant day. Good for viewing the estate.”

  Dominic was tempted to point out that it was vulgar to let his lust for Meriel’s acres show so much, but he held his tongue, as Kyle would have.

  “Good morning, Lord Wrexham.” Mrs. Marks started to rise.

  The earl waved her back. “Don’t interrupt your meal on my behalf. I’ll just help myself.” After collecting a substantial mound of eggs, ham, deviled kidneys, sliced tongue, and toast, he limped to the table. Meriel ignored him, but Dominic saw her draw inward when the earl set his plate next to her.

  Instead of sitting himself, Wrexham studied Meriel’s downcast profile. “She’s a pretty puss. A pity she’s so small, but she seems healthy enough. Come, look at me.”

  He grasped her chin and raised her face. Her eyes flashed and she jerked her head away, not letting their gazes connect. Wrexham laughed. “Here, girl, don’t be shy. I want to see what my grandchildren will look like.” He reached for her chin again.

  Meriel bit his finger. Hard. A collective gasp rose around the table as everyone stared in shock.

  “Bloody hell!” The earl snatched his hand back, his stunned expression turning to fury. “How dare you! Has no one ever taught you manners?”

  Seeing his father’s hand tighten into a fist, Dominic leaped from his chair and unobtrusively caught the older man’s wrist. Keeping his voice smooth, as Kyle would, he said, “You startled her, sir.”

  He gave Meriel a swift glance. Eyes glittering, she looked ready to bite again. Dominic shifted his weight, moving his father a step farther away.

  The interruption gave the earl time to regain his temper, but he glowered as he said, “Amworth assured me that the chit wasn’t violent.”

  Irritated on Meriel’s behalf, Dominic retorted, “Would you enjoy being handled like this by a stranger?” He grasped his father’s chin, forcing the older man to look up into his eyes. It was startling to realize he was a full three inches taller. The earl always seemed larger, dominating any group he was in.

  “Damn you, boy, you’re worse than she is!” his father roared as he broke his son’s grip. “How dare you raise a hand to me!”

  Help arrived from an unexpected quarter when Lucia said brightly, “As Maxwell just demonstrated, it’s not very pleasant to be treated like a horse whose teeth must be checked for wear,
Papa.” She gave her father a dazzling smile. “Though I know it’s kindly meant, I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished to bite aging dowagers and elderly gentlemen who pinched my cheeks and told me what a sweet creature I am.” Glancing at Meriel, she said tolerantly, “Never having gone out in society, Lady Meriel hasn’t learned that one really mustn’t bite, no matter how tempted.”

  Rising from her chair, Lucia deftly transferred her father’s plate to the empty place setting next to her own. “Here, Papa, come sit by me. The view of the gardens from this window is quite extraordinary.” Taking his arm, she escorted him to the chair. “I’ll get your coffee for you.”

  While Lucia performed her doting daughter role, Meriel turned and stalked from the breakfast parlor like an angry cat. Dominic could only be grateful that she and his father were no longer in the same room. But God help them all, the day had just begun.

  Lucia’s advice was sound; speaking only when it was unavoidable simplified Dominic’s time with his father. They left the park and rode over the estate under the guidance of the steward. Kerr did most of the talking. Wrexham eyed the fields and grazing herds shrewdly, making occasional comments. Dominic was impressed. Having received most of his own agricultural instruction from the Dornleigh steward, he hadn’t fully appreciated the depth of his father’s knowledge.

  After the tour they returned to the house in time to join the ladies for a light midday meal. Dominic concentrated on his plate rather than the conversation. When he finished, he considered slipping away, but doing so would be suspiciously discourteous, so he suggested to his father, “Would you like to walk in the gardens? They are Lady Meriel’s particular interest, and quite splendid.”

  The earl hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ll spend a quiet afternoon inside, away from the heat. You find that little hellcat you’re courting, and teach her some manners.”

  Dominic’s stab of irritation at the description of Meriel vanished when he looked at his father and saw him as if for the first time. Wrexham had married late and his sons had not been born right away, so he was nearing seventy. In the years since Dominic had left home to go into the army, the earl had gone from the prime of life to old age. A hazing of his eyes hinted at developing cataracts, and surely diminished hearing was part of the reason for his booming voice.