by Kit Tunstall
“Next week.”
“Is that not rather soon?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, but the godparents have decided to return to England. Justin is Philip's dear friend and only agreed to wait until Andrew arrived before taking their leave. Helen is with child herself and wishes to be home with her family before their baby arrives.”
“Oh.” She squashed a dart of disappointment at not being asked to be Andrew's godmother. After all, she was his aunt and would see him all the time, while the godparents would obviously be far away. “I do hope Alex is back in time. I promised not to venture forth until he returned.”
A frown marred Elizabeth's features. “You cannot miss your nephew's christening and the garden party to follow.”
Rebecca sighed. “Will it not make things awkward?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It will be a small gathering, sister. Only our true friends will be invited.”
“Very well.” There was no getting out of the event. She hoped Alex would understand why she had to face society without him. Surely, he would have returned home before the event.
Chapter 17
The day of the christening arrived without Alex's return. Rebecca's gray mood was in direct contrast to the brightly shining day. The October skies had cooperated with Elizabeth's plans, shedding their clouds to bring sunshine for her little one's celebration.
She tried to muster a bit of enthusiasm for the event as Georgina assisted her into a white muslin afternoon dress covered with a mint-green Persian robe in lightweight satin. A deep-green train extended from the high-cut waist to the ankle, much to her annoyance. Rebecca would be grateful when they went out of fashion, since they were a bother to deal with. She shifted in the tight white shoes, trimmed with white ribbons. They had not been so tight when she first received them from Hardwick's. Nor had the bosom of the dress fit so snugly when Madam Brovay delivered it weeks ago. Small signs of her condition were making themselves known.
“How would you like your hair, m'lady?”
“Ringlets, I suppose.” Rebecca sat as she fussed, creating ringlets, and swept the sides and top back with a gold comb. When Georgina finished, Rebecca pulled on long, tan gloves, wincing as she eased them into place high on her upper arms. Even they had grown tighter. Soon, she would have to order a maternity wardrobe, and everyone would know her secret.
“Henry is waiting for you, Lady Hanover.”
With a nod, Rebecca rose from the seat and paused only to take a long cape and matching forest-green reticule from the dressing room before walking down the stairs. When she exited the townhouse, she shivered at the unexpected nip in the air and draped the velvet cape over the dress, mindful not to snag the train. She climbed into the coach with Henry's assistance, then concentrated on remaining calm during the drive from their home to St. Mary's near the Gallows' home, knowing the only way to face any snide remarks was with equanimity.
When they drew up, she saw more than a dozen carriages and several people milling around the steps, basking in the sun. Most of the ladies wore afternoon dresses, but an occasional opera or evening gown could be spotted among the milieu.
After Henry handed her from the carriage, Rebecca made her way up the steps of the church, keeping her head held high. Few whispers followed her progress, and no eyes turned from her in shame or horror. Could they have not heard the news?
She entered the small church, scanning the rows of pews for her sister. She spotted Elizabeth seated beside Philip in the front row, near the font. She heard Andrew before she saw him as she moved toward them.
Rebecca halted when William Bradleaf stepped into her path. “Mr. Bradleaf.”
“Lady Stanhope.” His eyes narrowed. “Pardon me, Lady Hanover.” He gave a half bow. “Congratulations on your marriage.”
She inclined her head. “If you will excuse me—” She gasped when he lifted her hand.
“What is your hurry, m'lady? I have heard your groom abandoned you within days of your marriage, so where might you be rushing to?”
She pulled her hand from his tight grasp. “My sister is expecting me.”
He nodded, stepping out of her way. “Of course. Forgive me for delaying you.”
“Not at all.” She kept her spine stiff as she moved away from him, hoping he could not see the way her hands trembled. Did everyone truly believe Alex had left her so quickly? What would they think if he didn't return before her pregnancy became obvious? Would they imagine he had been forced into doing the honorable thing, and then dropped her as quickly as possible?
Elizabeth smiled up at her as she joined them. The yellow of her half dress brought out light tones in her golden-blond hair and accentuated her fair skin. She had lost the puffy look acquired during the last months of her pregnancy, and now glowed with a combination of health and pride. Philip looked just as proud. “Welcome, sister.”
“Good afternoon.” Rebecca moved to her sister's side and held out her arms for her nephew. She had held him during two visits to Elizabeth's in the past week, but couldn't seem to get enough of cuddling his tiny body in her arms.
His appearance had dramatically improved, until he truly was beautiful. Each time she held her nephew, it was that much easier to imagine what it would feel like to hold her own child, and to imagine what their baby might look like.
“Has Alex returned?”
“Nay, Philip. Nor have I had a missive from him.”
He nodded. “I do not expect you will. It takes as long for a letter to arrive as it would for him to do so.”
Rebecca handed Andrew back to Elizabeth. “I know, but still I hope.”
Elizabeth patted her leg. “He will return soon, Rebecca.”
She forced a confident smile for her sister before subsiding into silence. The church soon filled and Father Shaunessy appeared.
After a brief prayer, he waved Philip and Elizabeth forward, followed by Justin and Helen, who sat nearer the end of the pew. Justin put an arm around his petite wife, over the auburn hair sweeping down her back, as they took their position. Helen took the baby as the priest spoke another prayer and motioned them closer to the font.
Andrew screamed when Father Shaunessy sprinkled water over his thin brown hair and didn't stop until Helen handed him back to Elizabeth. With a final blessing, the priest dismissed the congregation. Rebecca slipped away before the lingering guests disbursed and reached their conveyances, hoping to avoid the inevitable congestion.
She arrived at the Gallows a few minutes before the first guests and made her way to the room she had occupied during her stay, where she freshened up and regrouped.
The christening had been the easy part, since everyone was confined to the pews during the ceremony and did not have the opportunity to ask awkward questions. There would be no such restraints during the mingling in the gardens.
* * * * *
Rebecca counted herself fortunate to have been mostly overlooked by the assemblage. She had stolen away from the rows of roses and milling guests to a secluded stone bench with a marble lion serving as the base. She clutched a glass of lemonade in her hand. The chill had long since abated during the hour spent avoiding the questioning eyes.
She had lulled herself into a semi-trance by watching the water spilling gently over a wooden wheel into the reflecting pool near her feet. It took her a moment to realize the thunking sound wasn't in her head, but rather approaching her.
She contemplated hiding, but had nowhere to go, and no time to look for a new hiding place before her unwanted company arrived. She bit back a groan as William Bradleaf stepped out from behind a hedge.
“Lady Hanover. Whatever are you doing out here?” His lips curled. “Hiding, perhaps?”
She forced herself to laugh. “Hiding? From what, pray tell?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “The gossip mongers.”
She firmed her shoulders. “They would find little to gossip about.”
His expression was blatantly skeptical as he pushed
his way down onto the bench beside her. He touched her hand. “I have heard the rumors circulating about your father. I am certain he was not an entirely selfish man, and he thought he was doing the best for your family.”
“Your understanding overwhelms me.” She couldn't quite keep the edge from her voice. “In any event, they are fabrications.”
“And the rumors of his debts?” He arched a brow.
Rebecca sighed. “Father was not the most astute of businessmen.”
He nodded. “It is difficult to balance familial responsibilities, business debts, and estate management with an over fondness of drink, gambling, and ladies of the night.”
She gasped, lifting her hand to slap him before thinking better of it. They were too far from the other guests. She shivered, realizing just how isolated they were. “Your information is faulty,” she said in a cold voice. “If you will excuse me, I have shirked my duties long enough.”
He grasped her wrist. “What duties, Rebecca? Your sister is hostess, and a veritable army of servants is ensuring all flows smoothly. We have plenty of time to continue our chat.”
“I find the subject distasteful, and we are not on a first name basis, Mr. Bradleaf.” She tugged at her hand, succeeding only in chafing the skin. “Release me, sir.”
“Perhaps a change of subject is in order. Shall we discuss wagers?” He grimaced. “Have you any idea how much I lost when you married Lord Hanover?”
“I would say whatever the sum, it was not sufficient.”
His mouth tightened, but he forced a laugh. “No matter. I shall recoup my money.”
Something in his tone made her stomach clench. “How?”
“There are new wagers, m'lady.”
Her eyes widened. “What sort of wagers?”
“One is when Lord Hanover's first child will arrive.” His eyes sparkled. “I placed my bet for eight months after your marriage.”
“How dare you?” Rebecca pulled away from him easily that time, suspecting he let her.
“There are more, my dear. Another wager speculates whether Lord Hanover's heir will resemble him. I wagered heavily on that one being a nay.”
Her mouth fell open. “What are you implying?”
“My guess is your first child will closely resemble the rogue pirate who claimed your maidenhead during your voyage to America.”
Rebecca bit her tongue just in time to keep from blurting out anything incriminating. She turned her head from him. “Again, your source is misinformed.”
He turned her head back to him by grasping her chin. “This man, Stokes, claims he was first mate on the Margaret. That was the ship you arrived on, was it not, m'lady?” He sounded innocent, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.
“How do you know Stokes?”
“We became acquainted during one of my infrequent stops at the harbor taverns. The fellow was deep in his cups and quite angry with his former employer. It seems she turned him away without references and deprived him of his rightful position of captain.” He chuckled, a husky sound low in his throat that held more cruelty than mirth. “For a few mugs of ale, he was more than happy to tell me his sad tale.”
Rebecca took a deep breath, struggling to keep her expression bland. “Stokes was on the ship, Mr. Bradleaf, but I know nothing of pirates. The voyage was uneventful, except for a lapse of duty on his part. That was the only reason he was dismissed.”
“Along with most of the crew?”
Her brow furrowed. “How I run Stanhope Shipping is none of your affair, sir. I have indulged your morbid curiosity to its exhaustion. I must return to the party.” Rebecca stood up and cried out when he pulled her back to her seat. “Unhand me, or I shall scream.”
“There is one more wager, m'lady.”
She swallowed. “Really? Have the gentlemen nothing better to do than bet on my personal life?”
“The last wager asks when Lord Hanover will become disenchanted with his bride.” His voice lowered. “Many placed bets coinciding with the birth of your first child, but not I.” He tapped his temple. “I am much too canny to share the profits from that pool.”
“I do not understand.”
“Smile, Rebecca. Your husband has returned.”
“What—?” The rest of her sentence was lost under the onslaught of his forceful mouth. She whimpered as he ground his lips against hers, raking her bottom lip with his teeth.
The glass fell from her hand and shattered against the stone walkway. Rebecca pushed against his chest, but couldn't dislodge him. When he grabbed her breast, she balled her hand into a fist and rammed it into his stomach.
He released her abruptly. Rebecca felt a surge of power before realizing his gaze was centered on something over her shoulder. There was no trace of pain on his face—only satisfaction. Her stomach clenched when she turned her head and saw Alex standing by the hedge with his arms crossed.
His expression was beyond angry. He took a single step forward and crooked his finger at her.
Rebecca hurried to obey his unspoken command. She left the glass where it had shattered and rushed to him. She didn't hesitate before throwing herself into his arms. She heard him grunt as she collided with him.
For a long moment, he remained stiff, and her heart stuttered with dread. Finally, his arms wrapped around her waist, and his stiff spine relaxed. She buried her face against his fawn-colored jacket. “Impeccable timing,” she whispered, and lifted her head.
His expression was no less angry. Alex's blue eyes remained focused on Bradleaf. “Explain yourself.” His tone was glacier.
Bradleaf shrugged, but his hands trembled. “You interrupted our assignation.”
Alex snorted. “Any fool can see Rebecca loves only me. Try again.”
His eyes widened. “You saw for yourself—”
“I saw a carefully staged scene. Now, I suggest you give me an explanation, or I shan't wait for the dawn and seconds to end your miserable life.”
“What?” Bradleaf's mouth opened and closed a few times. “You would call me out over this?”
“I would kill you for looking at my wife in any way other than respectful. For forcing your attentions on her, I would rip you apart with my bare hands.” Despite the tender way he held Rebecca against him, there was no mistaking his resolve. Alex's feet were spread wide, and his shoulders were thrown back. In direct contrast to his fierce words and tone, his hands were gentle as they patted her back. “Speak.”
“It was to win the wager, and nothing more.”
“What wager?”
“The one speculating about when you will lose interest in your new bride.”
“Let me answer that for you now, Bradleaf.” His voice dropped lower, and he turned to look down at Rebecca. “Never.”
“Even when she delivers the bastard child of a pirate and passes it off as your heir?” Bradleaf's voice shook, but he had regained most of his composure. “I wager you had no knowledge of her deflowering when you wed her.”
Alex's head turned back to Bradleaf so quickly his neck popped. “Rebecca was pure when she came to me. I will suffer no more speculation otherwise.” His lips curled into a feral smile. “After our dawn appointment, your tales will not be heard by anyone. Dead men do not spread rumors.”
Bradleaf's shoulders squared. “If you wish to meet over pistols, it will culminate in your death, Lord Hanover. Three men have met their ends at my hand over the years.”
“It is indeed time to end your reign of terror.” Alex gave him a mocking bow while managing not to lose his hold on Rebecca. “My second shall call on yours. Name him.”
“Barnard Fowler.”
“Edward Robbins.”
Rebecca blinked as Alex rushed her through the gardens. She tried to stop, but his momentum carried them forward. He was practically carrying her as they neared the party. “What just happened, Alex?”
“We have an appointment.”
“You are going to duel with him?”
He nodded, final
ly slowing as they reentered the melee.
“You cannot.”
“Lower your voice, love,” he said from the corner of his mouth. “We must maintain appearances.”
“I wish to leave.”
He shrugged. “Very well.” Alex steered them in the direction of Elizabeth and Andrew. As they neared, guests moved out of his way without so much as a “pardon” crossing his lips. “Rebecca does not feel well.”
Elizabeth looked up from her squirming infant. “Oh, dear. Would you like to rest upstairs?”
Rebecca shook her head. “I should like to go home, Elizabeth.”
Her sister nodded. “Of course.” She lifted a hand, grasping Rebecca's. “We shall see you soon.”
“Congratulations on your son,” Alex said as he steered her toward the open doors, not waiting for a response. He was equally quick to hustle her into the carriage.
As Henry got them underway, Rebecca opened her mouth to protest the duel, but blinked as he claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss.
Alex’s lips pressed against hers, no less insistently than Bradleaf's had, but with a degree of tenderness the other man’s kiss had lacked. She met his tongue eagerly when it swept into her mouth, caressing it with her own, and pushing against his. Their battle of wills continued until he broke free and lifted his head.
“How I have missed you.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly?”
“Aye.” He pushed her back against her seat and settled on top of her. His mouth found hers again as his hands pushed up her afternoon dress and slip.
Rebecca gasped when he pressed his groin against her lawn drawers. His cock was hard when he thrust it against her. If not for the barrier of his tan breeches between them, he could have entered her through the slit in the crotch.
She pushed back against him just as eagerly, moaning softly as he slipped his hand inside the opening and pushed firmly on her clit with his thumb. She tried to pull away from him. “We are in a carriage.”
He nodded, but did not stop massaging her pussy.
“Alex!”
He ignored her protest and continued to manipulate her clitoris. As he did so, his other hand tangled in her hair and pulled her mouth back to his for another deep kiss.
