Whirlwind Wedding

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  "Very nice for me as well," she said with a sassy wink that made him smile.

  Yes indeed the last three days had been the happiest he'd ever known. They'd ventured out only once, yesterday, for a leisurely carriage ride through Hyde Park, then window shopping along Bond Street. Austin had admired a pair of diamond and pearl ear bobs at a fashionable jeweler's and purchased them for his bride in spite of her protests. Elizabeth then discovered a small bookshop on a cobbled side street and dragged him inside.

  "I thought you said you didn't like to shop," he'd teased as she browsed the shelves.

  "I don't care for shopping for things. These are books."

  He wasn't sure he understood the distinction, but he was more than happy to indulge her. He bought her over a dozen volumes, and he noted with amusement, she was more thrilled with them than the fabulously expensive ear bobs.

  Aside from their outing yesterday, their time had been spent almost exclusively in his bedchamber. Naked. Touching. Learning. Exploring. Enjoying each other. Sharing their bodies. They even took most of their meals there, emerging only for dinner in the formal dining room. But once that was over, they escaped into their own private world where he taught his bride about passion, and in the process discovered that while he'd had many lovers, he'd never experienced the heartfelt tenderness he felt with Elizabeth.

  They'd made one midnight excursion down to Austin's private study on their second night together. Saying he had a surprise for her, he made her close her eyes while he led her by the hand into his study. A fire glowed in the grate, bathing the room with gentle warmth. She looked around the room and spotted the framed sketch she'd given him hung in a place of honor on the wall opposite his desk.

  He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Every time I look up I'll see it and think of you," he said quietly. He'd then spent the next hour teaching her to waltz, only to learn that the dance was much more sensuous than he'd ever believed. While Elizabeth may not have been the most graceful dancer he'd ever partnered he'd never enjoyed himself more.

  They ended up making slow, leisurely love on the thick carpet in front of the fire, and Austin knew he would never again enter his study without envisioning Elizabeth on the rug, her eyes filled with desire, her arms reaching out to him.

  Now, her lips brushed the side of his neck. God, this woman made him happy, a fact that simultaneously unsettled, confused, and elated him. They'd spent many tender moments together over the past few days, laughing, talking, yet she hadn't confided her secrets about the sadness that had driven her from America. He'd broached the subject once, but she'd immediately turned the conversation to something else. To his surprise, her reluctance to discuss her past bothered him and he found himself waiting for her to tell him, hoping that she'd tell him.

  "What would you like to do today?" he asked his hands lightly caressing her soft skin.

  "Hmmm… I'm doing it right now."

  "Indeed? What's that?"

  "Holding you. Feeling you next to me. Feeling you inside me." Tipping her head back, she looked at him with somber eyes that swam with emotion. She tenderly placed her hand against his face. "Touching you. Loving you."

  Did she mean she loved him? Or simply "loving you" to equate "making love with you"? He didn't know, and although he'd never wanted a woman's love before, he suddenly found himself wanting to hear words of love for him pass Elizabeth's lips.

  There was no denying his marriage of convenience was taking a very unexpected turn. And the vulnerable, confusing feelings hitting him were something he wasn't sure he liked at all.

  She traced her fingertips over his brows. "What would you like to do today?"

  "I'd like to stay right here with you and make love all afternoon, but I'm afraid there's some work that needs my attention."

  "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

  He smiled at the eagerness in her voice. "I'm afraid not. My work involves several errands and a great deal of boring correspondence."

  "Perhaps I could accompany you on your errands?"

  "I fear I must handle them alone." He was not about to bring her to the riverfront. "You'd be far too much of a distraction. My mind would be on you, not business."

  She stilled and laid her hands against his face. "You're keeping something from me. You're going somewhere you don't want me to go." A sigh escaped her. "Austin. Let me help you."

  Damn, could the woman see straight into his soul? An unsettling question at best. Could she see his growing affection for her?

  Affection? He nearly rolled his eyes at the flavorless word that in no way adequately described what he felt for her. The idea that she might see or feel things he was not yet prepared to share disconcerted him, but she'd made no further mention of her visions or reading his thoughts.

  He ran his finger down the bridge of her nose. As for taking her to the places he needed to go, it was out of the question. He couldn't expose her to danger or-

  "You don't want to expose me to danger. I understand. But I'll be with you. I'll be perfectly safe."

  "I cannot take you to these places, Elizabeth. They're seedy, to say the least. Not at all the sort of places a lady goes to."

  "Exactly what are you planning?"

  He considered not telling her, but he found he was oddly reluctant to lie to her.

  "Do you recall my telling you at the ruins that I'd hired a Bow Street Runner to find information about a Frenchman I saw with William shortly before he died?"

  "Yes. You'd planned to meet the Runner that night."

  "Correct. Well, I've received information that the Frenchman I seek-a man I know only as Gaspard-was recently seen in a pub and gaming hell near the riverfront. I'm going there to find him."

  "Why?"

  Because the bastard is threatening everything I hold dear. He could destroy my family… which you are now a part of. In spite of his reluctance, he knew he'd have to lie. "I have reason to believe he stole several items from William. I want them back."

  "Why not let your investigator find him?"

  "I wish to follow up on this lead while it's still hot."

  She regarded him steadily through serious eyes. "I want to accompany you."

  "Absolutely not."

  "Don't you realize that I could help you? Can you not at least try to believe that I could? I might sense something that could aid you in your search. If I touch something he touched or a person he spoke to, perhaps I could feel him… his whereabouts."

  "Damn it, I know you want to help me, and while I cannot deny you possess a keen intuition, you're not a magician. There is simply no way you can assist me with this. And the idea of taking you to the slums of London is out of the question. I appreciate your concern, but-"

  "But you won't allow me to come with you."

  "No. The riverfront is dangerous. If any harm came to you, I'd never forgive himself."

  "Yet you put yourself in danger."

  "The risk is not nearly as great for a man."

  Frustration simmered in her eyes. "What must I do to prove to you that I can help you?"

  Prove that her so-called visions would lead him to Gaspard? A man Bow Street's finest talent could not find? He wished to hell he could believe that, but he'd given up on fairy tales long ago.

  "There is nothing you can do," he said quietly, hating the hurt his words brought to her eyes, but he had no choice.

  Elizabeth could not help him. Of that he was certain.

  Elizabeth walked down the stairs carrying a copy of Sense and Sensibility, one of the many books Austin had bought her yesterday. She had no desire to read but with her stomach cramped with tension from worrying about Austin being at the riverfront, she was desperate for any diversion.

  Standing in the marble-tiled foyer, she looked uncertainly from left to right. Perhaps she could first find the kitchens and pilfer a cup of cider?

  "May I help you, your grace?" a deep voice intoned.

  "Oh!" Her hand flew to h
er breast. "Carters! You startled me."

  "Please forgive me, your grace." He bowed from the waist, then stood so stiffly erect she wondered if someone had stuck a plank down the back of his breeches.

  "Think nothing of it, Carters," she said with a smile that went unanswered. "Can you please direct me to the kitchens?"

  Carters stared at her, his face devoid of all expression. "The kitchens, your grace?"

  A wave of dismay washed over her at the butler's forbidding tone. She drew herself up and smiled at him again. "Yes. I would like some cider."

  "There's no need for you to ever enter the kitchens, your grace. I'll arrange at once for a footman to bring you some cider." He turned on his heel and started walking away, presumably to summon a footman.

  She noticed his limp immediately. She was certain he hadn't been limping when she first met him. She studied his retreating form for several seconds, assessing his uneven gait. "Carters?"

  The butler stopped and turned to face her. "Yes, your grace?"

  "I hope you won't think me rude, but I couldn't help but notice your limp."

  For a split second he looked startled. Then his mask of blandness fell back into place. "It's nothing, your grace."

  "Nonsense. It's obviously something." She approached him, and when she stood directly before him, she suppressed a laugh. The top of his bald head came only to her nose. "Have you suffered an accident of some sort?"

  "No, your grace. 'Tis merely my new footwear. The leather is quite stiff and not broken in yet."

  "I see." She glanced down at his shiny black shoes and nodded in understanding. "You're suffering from a blister?"

  "Yes, your grace. Several." He raised his chin. "But they'd never prevent me from fulfilling my duties."

  "Heavens, I never thought they would. Anyone can see you're the soul of competence. I'm merely concerned that you're suffering." She smiled at the dour-faced man. "Has anyone treated your blisters? The doctor, perhaps?"

  "Certainly not, your grace," he huffed his shoulders thrown back so far Elizabeth marveled that he remained upright instead of falling over backward.

  "I see. Where is the library, Carters?"

  The butler pointed. "'Tis the third door on the left down this corridor, your grace."

  "Fine. Meet me there in five minutes, please." She turned to go back up the stairs.

  "In the library, your grace?"

  "Yes. In five minutes." With that she swept up the stairs.

  "Do you know what's become of my duchess?" Austin asked an under butler, striding into the foyer. He'd returned from the riverfront and had been looking for Elizabeth for nearly a quarter hour without success.

  "She is in the library, your grace."

  Austin gazed around the otherwise empty foyer. "Where is Carters?"

  "I believe he's with the duchess in the library, your grace."

  A moment later Austin strode into the library and stopped dead in his tracks. His wife was kneeling before his butler, who sat in Austin's favorite wing chair. Carters was barefoot, and the legs of his breeches had been rolled back several times, revealing skinny, hairy calves.

  Austin watched from the doorway in stupefied disbelief as Elizabeth deftly placed Carters's bare foot upon her lap and proceeded to rub his heel and sole with some sort of cream. Just when Austin believed he could not possibly be more astonished, something happened that made his jaw drop.

  He saw Carters smile. Smile!

  A more proper, dour, chillingly correct butler than Carters didn't draw breath in all of England. In all the years Carters had served his family, Austin had never seen the man so much as crack a grin. Not even a tiny twitching of his lips. Until now.

  But what happened next caused Austin's jaw to drop farther. He heard a deep-throated chuckle come from Carters's throat. The man was chuckling, for God's sake.

  Austin shook his head to clear it. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the scene before him was the result of too much brandy. But he was stone cold sober. So it had to be real. Didn't it? Gathering his startled wits, he walked across the room.

  "What's going on here?" he asked approaching his wife who never ceased to amaze him and his butler whom he apparently didn't know at all. Elizabeth sent him a searching gaze, her eyes filled with concern. Carters looked absolutely stricken. Austin nodded to Elizabeth and sent her a reassuring look that drained the tension from her face.

  "Your grace!" the butler exclaimed, his face flushing a mottled red. He attempted to stand, but Elizabeth shook her head.

  "Stay seated, Carters," she ordered firmly. "I'm almost finished." Carters coughed and sank back into the chair. She lowered his one foot to the floor and picked up the other one, gently applying a small amount of salve from a wooden bowl. Her bag of medicines sat open on the floor beside her.

  Austin cleared his throat. "What on earth are you doing to Carters, Elizabeth?" he asked his eyes riveted to the extraordinary sight of his duchess tenderly administering to his formidable butler's feet.

  "Poor Carters has terrible blisters from his new shoes," she explained wrapping the foot with a clean bandage. "They were bleeding and stood a good chance of becoming infected so I cleaned his wounds and prepared a healing salve to relieve his discomfort." She tucked the end of the bandage in and set Carters' trousers to rights. "There! All finished. You may replace your stockings and shoes now, Carters."

  Carters hurriedly complied.

  "How do your feet feel?" Elizabeth asked.

  Carters stood bounced several times on the balls of his feet, then took a few tentative steps. Pure amazement spread across his thin face. "Why, they don't hurt a bit, your grace." He walked back and forth in front of her several times.

  "Excellent." She handed Carters the bowl. "Put this in your quarters and place a wet handkerchief over it to keep it moist. Apply the cream before you go to sleep and again in the morning. Your blisters will be gone in no time."

  Carters accepted the bowl from Elizabeth and shot an uncertain glance at Austin. "Thank you, your grace. You've been most kind."

  "It was my pleasure, Carters. If you need any help applying your bandages, let me know. And I'll have that poultice ready for you to bring to your mother tomorrow." Elizabeth smiled an angel's smile at him and Carters grinned back like a besotted schoolboy.

  "That will be all, Carters," Austin said cocking his head toward the door in a pointed fashion.

  At the sound of his employer's voice, Carters apparently remembered himself. He straightened jerked his jacket into place, and wiped his face clean of all expression. Turning smartly on his heel, he quit the room with barely a limp, closing the door behind him.

  The instant the door clicked shut, Elizabeth jumped to her feet and asked "Did you discover anything?"

  "No. I was able to confirm that Gaspard has indeed been in the area, but I didn't find him."

  "I'm sorry." Her gaze searched his face. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. Disappointed but fine." Needing to touch her, he slid his arms around her waist and drew her to him. She felt so damn good in his arms, and he resolutely pushed away the memories of the filth he'd seen that afternoon. "I am also amazed. I've never seen Carters so much as crack a grin, and you had him laughing? He dropped a quick kiss onto her nose. "Unbelievable."

  "He's not nearly as formidable as I thought," she remarked resting her palms on his lapels. "He's actually rather sweet."

  "Carters? Sweet? Good God, now I've heard everything." He rolled his eyes heavenward and she laughed. "I must say, seeing you kneeling before my butler, doctoring his feet, surprised me."

  "Why is that?"

  "It's not something normally done by a duchess, Elizabeth. You shouldn't be so familiar with the servants. And you certainly shouldn't have their bare feet perched on your lap." He smiled to take some of the sting out of his rebuke, but she took immediate umbrage.

  "Carters was in pain, Austin. You cannot expect me to allow someone to suffer simply because I'm a duchess a
nd it is therefore deemed improper to help." She raised her chin a notch, her eyes shooting sparks of challenge. "I'm afraid I feel quite strongly about this."

  A mixture of respect and irritation suffused him. He wasn't used to being defied but it had been obvious since the moment they'd met, Elizabeth cared not a fig for his lofty title or position. The fact that she stood before him, eyes flashing, gaze unflinching, not backing away from his possible anger, filled him with pride and respect for her. She knew how to doctor people, and she was going to do it, by God whether he liked it or not.

  And who the hell was he to argue about her flouting propriety? God knows he'd done so himself on many occasions, most recently when he'd taken an American as his duchess. Bloody hell, he felt like hugging her. Of course, it wasn't necessary to let her know that. Instead he arranged his face into a suitably serious expression.

  "Well, I suppose if helping those who suffer is that important to you-"

  "I assure you it is."

  "And it would please you to have my blessing and approval?"

  "Very much."

  "And if I refuse?"

  She didn't hesitate for a second. "Then I shall be forced to help people without your blessing and approval."

  "I see." She was so magnificent, he wanted to applaud her for her courage and spirit in spite of her defiance.

  Cupping a gentle hand to his face, she said, "Please understand, Austin. I have no wish to defy you or anger you, but I simply cannot stand to see suffering. Neither can you, you know. You're far too kind and noble to allow others to be in pain."

  Austin drew her closer to him, inordinately pleased that his wife thought him kind and noble.

  "I'm so relieved that you're home," she whispered next to his ear. Her warm breath tickled him, sending a legion of pleasurable chills down his back. "I was so worried… I couldn't have borne it had anything happened to you."

  The "Elizabeth" feeling rushed through him like the floodgates had opened. She cared about him. And if this extraordinary woman cared about him, perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

  Emotion welled in his throat. Leaning back, he framed her face between his hands and gently stroked his thumbs over her smooth cheeks. "I'm fine, Elizabeth." A teasing grin pulled at his lips. "Perhaps not so robust as you, but fine nonetheless. And you have my blessing and approval to heal anyone you wish. On one condition."