Lord Devere's Ward

by Sue Swift

“Sir, what are all these people doing here?” Kate asked as Devere removed the license from his pocket.

  “And where are Sir Willoughby and Sir Pen?” The reverend raised his white eyebrows. “So impatient, these young ones,” he murmured. “I believe your witnesses have arrived.”

  Sir Willoughby and Sir Pen hurried up the main aisle of the nave. Anna, who walked behind them, carried a bouquet of red roses. She handed it to Kate, then dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Weddings always make me weep.” She smiled mistily at Kate. “Welcome to our family, darling Kate.”

  “Thank you.” Kate could barely force the words out. Thank heavens for Lady Anna, who could make Kate feel cherished with a mere glance. “But who are all these people? And why are they here?” Devere cast a glance over the room. “Quite a few familiar faces, what?”

  “No,” said Kate. “I’ve never seen any of them before.”

  “Ah, but we have,” said Sir Willoughby. “The pink of the ton have decided to grace your wedding with their presence.”

  “I don’t want them here,” Kate grumbled.

  “We can’t toss them out, Kate, it’s a church.” Quinn pointed out.

  “I don’t even know them. How can they wish me happy?”

  “They don’t. They are merely curious.” Sighing, Quinn glanced at Anna. “Can’t stop the servants from talking, can we?”

  “So that’s it?” asked Kate.

  “Almost certainly,” Quinn said. “I am familiar with my neighbors. Virtually everyone here lives in the vicinity of Berkeley Square, or is acquainted with someone who does.”

  Hawkes looked out over the throng. “Good Lord,” he murmured. “There’s Staveley.” Kate frowned. The name rang a tiny bell in her disheveled brain.

  “You’re joking.” Devere raised his lorgnon.

  “Weren’t you lurking about her for a while, Quinn?” Pen asked in a soft tone.

  “Yes, but that was before I met Kate.”

  “Whatever for? Widows, however wealthy, aren’t your style,” Anna said.

  “Staveley’s all right. Got brats already. Proven breeder, and all.”

  “A proven breeder? Let me see that!” Kate reached for Devere’s eyeglass.

  He evaded her grab. “See here, Kate, you mustn’t stare! You’re causing a scene.”

  “I’m causing a scene? Tell me, my lord, is this why you’re marrying me? To breed? Aren’t you taking a bit of a chance? After all, I am not a proven breeder.” She again tried to snatch the lorgnon.

  The group at the altar was about to break into an unseemly scuffle when Kate heard the soft slap of running feet clad in slippers. She turned to look down the nave. A small figure fashionably dressed in rose-pink sarcenet dashed toward the altar, bearing a bouquet of pink roses. She was followed more decorously by a servant.

  “Ah, so she made it,” said Quinn, with satisfaction in his voice. He cocked his head to Katherine. “I did arrange for one of your friends to attend, Kate.”

  Lady Sybilla Farland reached the altar, puffing in a manner certain to draw censure from the watching biddies. “Oh, so you already have flowers?” Kate squashed the bouquet against her friend’s chest as she ruthlessly hugged Sybilla without a care for the condition of the sarcenet. Sybilla squeaked, then hugged Kate back, and whispered in her ear.

  “I just received Lord Devere’s message. You sly minx, I had guessed after that day at Hampton Court, but I didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t either. It all happened so fast! We can talk about it later.”

  “Where is Mr. St. Wills?” asked Sybilla. “He’s your oldest friend. Didn’t he come?”

  “Ahem!” The cleric coughed for their attention.

  “If I may begin?”

  Katherine examined Quinn as the reverend’s sonorous voice lulled her through the wedding service. Her lover, dressed in his finest for the occasion, had become livelier as the day had progressed. She became aware of his scent, his newly trimmed hair, his shaved chin. Watching his mobile lips as he gave the proper responses during the service, she remembered how those lips felt sucking on her breasts. Distracted, she stumbled over her words.

  She came apart when Sir Pen withdrew two rings from his pocket and presented one to each of them.

  “Robert’s ring,” she whispered. Tears came to her eyes. She held the heavy signet in her palm, remembering the last time she had seen it. The ring had adorned her grandfather’s hand as he lay dying.

  Bennett, Kate’s father, had worn this ring, and it had been returned to Kate’s grandfather when Bennett had been killed.

  “Who’s Robert?” asked Quinn, sotto voce.

  “Robert Scoville was the first Earl,” murmured Kate. She sniffed, then handed her bouquet to Sybilla.

  She hunted in her reticule for a handkerchief. “Henry the Eighth gave that ring to Robert along with the earldom.”

  “And this one?” asked Quinn, holding aloft another ring for her inspection. It featured a large cabochon sapphire set in gold.

  “That one’s almost as old,” said Kate. “It’s the countess’s wedding ring. My mother wore it.” She blotted tears from her eyes and nose. “From where did you get them?”

  “Ahem!” The cleric interrupted their quiet conversation. “If I may conclude?”

  “Ah, yes. Quite. Sorry.” Quinn favored the officiant with a brief smile.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” instructed the minister.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” sang out Quinn, slipping the ring onto Kate’s finger.

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” murmured Kate.

  “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Quinn pulled Katherine into his arms and kissed her thoroughly and possessively. He whispered into her ear, “Everything will work itself out, sweet Kate, you’ll see!” She hugged him back and burst into tears.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A bit embarrassing, her conduct at the church.

  Quinn knew from her tears had sprung from her tender heart, but had also heard the whispers which had flowed in their wake as they walked back down the nave, and climbed into their carriage for the short ride to Clarendon’s. She doesn’t look happy….did you know she’s his ward? Devere’s married an underage chit with the wealth of Croesus…understandable, I’d do it myself….probably a pretty creature when she isn’t imitating a watering pot! No one knows her…of course not, she isn’t even out yet! He does prefer virgins… He hoped Kate hadn’t heard that last. His affection, no, his adoration, for his wife far exceeded anything he’d ever felt for the other women he’d used for his pleasure in the past.

  He glanced at Katherine, who sat a few inches away from him in the barouche. Too far. He slid next to her, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She turned her face up to him, accepting his kiss. He didn’t release her until the equipage stopped at Clarendon’s for their wedding feast.

  The conversation over the meal was also lively but general. No one mentioned the forthcoming duel.

  Sybilla again asked about the whereabouts of Bryan St. Wills.

  “We don’t know.” Quinn fidgeted with his napkin. “I hunted for Kate along the Great North Road, and Hawkes went south to Dover. We asked St.

  Wills to go to Badham Abbey, in Wiltshire. I sent a message there, but I’m not quite sure what’s happened to our friend.”

  “I am quite troubled,” said Kate. “Bryan is so very reliable.”

  “P’raps I’ll ask my father to check on it,” said Sybilla. “What’s the use of having the ear of royalty if you can’t use it once on a while?”

  The chef at the Clarendon, who had served Napoleon, outdid himself, but Quinn couldn’t taste a bite. His sole desire was getting his lovely wife back into his bed.

  His wife. What wonderful words.

  He’d missed her last night, but felt he needed to prove a point, to himself, if not to her. Neither of them had spoken of their quarrel all day, but it was there, like a half-healed bruise. ’Twas
only a matter of time until one or the other pushed on the spot to see if it still hurt. He guessed it would be Kate, especially since he planned to go to Signor Angelo’s on the morrow to practice. He also knew she was too honest to make love with him if she were angry, and he’d be damned if he forced her.

  * * *

  Quinn opened the door adjoining their rooms, attired in a nightshirt. Kate was seated in front of a vanity as her maid brushed her hair. He caught her eye in the mirror.

  “That will be all, Bettina,” he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. He noticed the servant did not leave until Kate nodded.

  “Well, Countess Devere, my bedroom or yours?”

  “This doesn’t truly feel like my bedroom.”

  “If the decor is not to your taste, you may of course change it in any way you please,” he said.

  “Perhaps we shall visit a draper’s on the morrow to purchase new fabric for hangings and bedclothes.” Her visage brightened. “I’d enjoy that, my lord.”

  “I’m your husband now. No more ‘my lord’

  except in public.” The conversation was stilted, but he hadn’t any idea how to put her at ease. Dash it, they should be more easy with each other now that they were married, shouldn’t they?

  Perhaps she would not feel truly married until they shared a bed. Yes, that was it. A good bout of sex would surely improve her mood. It always made him feel better. Why should she be different?

  “Come,” he said, taking her arm to lead her to his room. She pulled away gently.

  “I’m sorry, Quinn, but we really have to talk.” Kate’s voice had only the merest hint of a tremble.

  He smiled as he took back her arm, kissing her on her forehead. “Are you still upset about the duel?”

  “Very much so, my l—Quinn.” She sat on her bed.

  “Some actions cannot be ignored, sweet Kate.”

  “I know.” Her voice was miserable as her hands twisted in her nightgown.

  “I thought you would be relieved to be rid of your detestable uncle and his whelp.” He sat next to her to cover her hands with his own.

  “I will be. Are you also going to duel Osborn?”

  “I am not sure. It would be unattractive for me to kill an underage child, especially since I have already wounded him.”

  She rubbed her face against his arm. “My lord, please call off the duel.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, God, Quinn.” She turned her face into his chest and cried without shame or restraint.

  He took her in his arms and waited out the flood.

  It was shorter than forty days and nights, but no less damp. When she lay against him, quiet, limp, and weak, he pulled back the covers and put them both into her bed. He found her a handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry. This is our wedding night, and I’m spoiling everything.” She blew her nose with a small but appealing honk.

  He kissed her moist cheeks and her forehead.

  “You’re not spoiling anything, sweetheart. We’ll have many nights together. But I must say your attitude does not betoken much confidence in me.”

  “I hate to take any chances. He’s so absolutely wicked. What if he arranges to stab you in the back, or whatever?”

  “I hardly think that is a possibility, but I shall arrange to, er, watch my back.” He cuddled her close.

  “I say, would you like to come to Signor Angelo’s fencing establishment with me tomorrow? Then you will see that I’m not so helpless.”

  “I’d like that. Will they allow me in?”

  “I’ll arrange everything. Not to worry.” Reaching over, she stroked his shaft. “You’re so thoughtful.”

  “Hmph.”

  “And very sweet.”

  “Hmph.” What the devil is she planning?

  “Quinn, darling, may I go to the duel?”

  “What?” He sat up.

  “It just seems that I’m quite involved. What harm would it cause?” She continued to touch him through his nightshirt.

  “It would be entirely unsuitable, Kate.” His rod twitched and rose.

  “Oh, nonsense. We are married now. What do we care what other people think?”

  “Hmph.” He was very hard. With some shock, he realized she was seducing him. This was not the plan.

  “Say yes, darling Quinn.” Her hand wrapped around his tool, which was as hard as a tree trunk.

  He groaned. “Kate, you minx.”

  “You cannot stop me, you know.” Stroke, stroke.

  “You will not step foot out of this house on Thursday morning without my say-so!” He jerked away from her.

  She giggled. “What’s wrong, Quinn?”

  “You know very well what’s wrong! From where did you learn this scandalous conduct?”

  “I thought you liked this. You liked this on the way back to Town.”

  “I don’t like it when you’re asking for something outrageous. I will not be bribed!” He jumped out of bed.

  “If you don’t like it, why are you so—so—so—”

  “Ready?” He loomed over her.

  She grinned up at him saucily. She leaned over and flicked at the tip, which tented his nightshirt.

  He’d had enough of her teasing, so he leaped upon her and started to tickle her. She squealed and tried to roll away, but became entangled in both the bedclothes and her long nightgown, laughing helplessly.

  “Stop, Quinn, stop!” Kate tried to wipe the tears from her eyes while squirming away.

  Laughing, Quinn continued to scrabble with his fingertips up and down her sides while she wriggled and writhed. He slid down the bed as she struggled in the opposite direction. She gasped when he grabbed her ankle and tried to pull away without success. He laughed harder as he mercilessly scratched the tender underside of her arched foot.

  He nibbled on her big toe.

  “What on earth are you doing? That’s dirty!”

  “Your toes had better not be dirty. You got from your bath into this bed. If the carpet is dirty, one of the housemaids will be sacked.” He bit gently, enjoying her helpless squeals and futile kicks, letting her go only because he wanted to keep his teeth in his head a while longer. He slid up the bed until he was level with her. He slipped a hand between her legs while he smiled into her eyes.

  She felt luscious and ready, so he pulled up his nightshirt and lowered himself into her with more abandon than at the inn, where he’d had to be concerned for her welfare. This time he could take what was his with no restraints.

  He swived his wife with a sense of primitive male satisfaction, prolonging the act as long as he could, drinking in each of her moans and whimpers far more greedily than he’d eaten their wedding dinner.

  He lusted for her body and wanted desperately to fill her with his children. Imagining her belly big and round with his baby only served to make him even more eager. He flooded her with his seed hoping she’d be pregnant soon.

  Lying beside her after their love, he wondered about his peers. The married ones complained about their state while the bachelors slandered a condition about which they clearly knew nothing.

  Marriage is grossly underrated….if I’d known how good it was to make love to one’s wife, I might have married before! But in his heart, he knew there was only one woman for him—the one he’d waited for. The one who cuddled beside him in their marriage bed.

  Katherine, Countess Devere.

  * * *

  Kate awakened with a sense of delightful lassitude as the first rays of the sun struggled past the heavy dark hangings of the Dowager Countess’

  bedroom. Her mood abruptly evaporated as she realized she was alone.

  Damn and blast! Quinn had sneaked out, the wretch, without waking her up for the duel. She leaped out of bed and yanked on the bell pull, screaming for Bettina.

  She fumbled through her belongings for her oldest gown and Blucher boots. As with the day before, her relationship with Quinn had led her into a social situation for which she had no idea of
proper attire, but she assumed a dueling field was no place for flimsy muslin or silk. She pulled on her stuff gown.

  “Has he been gone long?” She demanded of Bettina when her maid bustled in, tray in hand.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady?” Bettina stared at Kate as though she were a Bedlamite.

  “Devere. When did he leave?”

  “Leave? The Earl? At this hour? Are you feeling quite the thing, my lady?” Bettina put the salver down on a dresser and advanced toward Katherine, hand outstretched.

  “Tell me, at once, Bettina, where the Earl is at this moment.”

  Bettina touched Kate’s forehead with a reflective look on her face. “No fever,” she muttered.

  Kate pushed her maid’s hand away. “Of course I am well! Where is my husband?”

  “I do not go into the Earl’s bedroom, my lady,” said Bettina stiffly, “but I believe my lord is there. I don’t mean to be saucy, but I hope you do not ask me to check.”

  Kate stared. “Yes. Quite. The duel is tomorrow, is it not?”

  Bettina reached for the fastenings of the stuff gown. “Yes, my lady. It’s to be at Parliament Hill at dawn. Tomorrow.” The maid pulled the gown off Katherine’s shoulders. “I am sure it will not be necessary for you to wear this dress.” She put it back in the press, nose wrinkling with disapproval.

  “You’re quite right, Bettina.” Kate spoke meekly.

  “Please get me my wrapper.”

  She tied the strings of her dressing gown and regarded her maid, who was still busy at the clothespress.

  “Bettina.”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “I have never asked you to do anything which would endanger your position.” Kate sat on her bed and poured chocolate from a silver jug into a china cup.

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  “Tomorrow may be an exception.” The cup was decorated with red roses painted around the gilded rim. Very tasteful.

  Bettina turned. “Is that so, my lady?”

  “Please be assured that you are now my employee, not the Earl’s. I will not allow you to be sacked.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  “I wish to attend the duel on the morrow.”

  “Of course, my lady.” Bettina bustled to the dresser. She began dusting the bottles and brushes which were set out.