by Ava Stone
Anna and David both took a step back.
“It canna harm ye if ye doona open the case.”
As they would have to also cut through the many ropes tied around it, they did not need to fear it accidently springing open. Still, David wished to stay as far away from that item as he could.
“I was going to send it on the next ship, but fear what might happen if someone were to become curious.”
David well understood his concern. He could just imagine the havoc a sailor could cause if he decided to rummage through the cargo.
“If ye have it with ye and deliver it to Rome, I ken it will not be opened. It’s much too dangerous ta leave ta chance.”
“Are you sure it is safe to keep with us?” Anna asked while she studied the box.
“It’s been in this castle for centuries, if not longer, without causing a bit of harm. Nothing happened until it was opened.”
Though, David did not like the idea of having it within his possession, it was far safer with him and Anna than anyone else.
“I’ll bury it in the bottom of my trunk and deliver it as you ask.”
Father Matthew visibly relaxed and handed him the box and a sealed parchment. “When you get to Rome, go to the Vatican and ask for Father Peter, the archivist. This letter will explain to him what is in the box. He’ll know what to do.”
“We promise to take care of it.” A shiver raced down her spine. “We won’t let it part from us until we hand it to Father Peter.”
Father Matthew smiled at her. “Thank you.” He stepped back. “Many blessings to ye both and may ye have a long and happy life.”
Anna stared at the box her husband held as Father Matthew entered his carriage. “How soon can we leave for Italy?”
David laughed. “Never fear, dear.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “The first week of December, and I promise not to let anything happen to you, or this box.”
“We can’t leave earlier?” she hedged.
“And have my mother angry with us for years to come?” He turned and escorted her back into the castle. “We will face her, let her fawn and proclaim to the world that her son has finally wed, and then we will set sail.”
“But, to have the box with us for a full month…”
“Don’t worry, darling. I have ways of making you forget all about it.”
Heat smoldered in his brown eyes and Anna’s heart skipped more than one beat. Yes, her husband would be very good at distracting her, and she looked forward to every moment he wished to direct her attention to more pleasant pursuits.
Tilly dressed for the Chetwey baby’s baptism the next morning, not feeling holy in the least. She was angry. Angry with her father, angry with God, angry with herself, her sister, her cousin…Sidney.
Well, she wasn’t exactly angry with him. He hadn’t forced her into bed with him that night—she’d gone rather willingly. And he wasn’t the one who had denied their relationship to her father. No, she’d done that all on her own, and now the guilt that sat in her belly was almost too much to bear.
The only consolation she had this morning was that Sidney would never darken the doorstep of her father’s church, even to witness the baptism of his friend’s child. Surely he’d already left for London, anyway—there wasn’t any reason for him to hang about in Ravenglass anymore. He’d left the wedding rather abruptly yesterday, no doubt to pack his things and prepare Sebastian for the ride back to the city.
So it came as quite a shock when Tilly walked through the doors of the parish church to find Sidney Garrick sitting in the back pew. He wore his finest morning suit, his blond hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, and his blue eyes stared at her above a half smile. How was it that he was actually smiling at her? Didn’t he want to tear her limb from limb, get some kind of revenge? Perhaps he was here to publicly make a mockery of her.
Tilly’s heart raced. To be truthful, she didn’t really know him all that well. She’d only met him less than a week ago, as impossible as that seemed. Part of her felt as if she’d known him all her life.
She shook her head, and blinked her eyes over and over, wondering if perhaps she was hallucinating.
“Good morning, Miss Matilda,” he said smoothly. Could one hear hallucinations? “There’s a spot here, next to me.” He patted the hard, wooden pew.
“I-I-” Blast, where was her tongue when she needed it?
“I’m certain Miss Matilda is expected to sit on the front row, Mr. Garrick,” came a familiar feminine voice from behind her.
“Daphne?” Tilly said as her friend linked arms with her. “What—”
“Then I shall join her there,” Sidney said, coming to his feet. “Please, lead the way.”
He winked at her, in church, of all places. Tilly felt hot all over, but she didn’t care to make a scene, so she turned tail, dragging Daphne with her, and headed toward the front pew. She deliberately sat with Daphne between her and Sidney. There was no way she would last an entire sermon sitting so close to him. But then Wolverly arrived, his dark looks and buttoned-up demeanor in stark contrast to Sidney, the fallen angel.
“Daphne, darling,” he said nonchalantly, “do trade places with Miss Matilda.”
Daphne jumped out of her seat as if her backside was on fire. “Oh, yes, dearest!” Then she turned to Tilly. “You don’t mind, do you, Tilly?”
What was Tilly to say? No, you can’t sit next to your wife?
Daphne moved to the other side of Tilly, and shimmied her way between Tilly and Lord Wolverly, forcing Tilly to scoot closer to Sidney. Heavens. She was afraid to even breathe, let alone look his way. But she could feel his gaze on her, blast him.
Blessedly, Father took the podium only a moment later, relieving Tilly of having to make conversation, for what on earth would that conversation even be? Father briefly looked their way, and a hint of displeasure crossed his features before he continued with the ceremony.
When the service was finally over, Tilly wasn’t quite certain how to proceed, but apparently Sidney did.
“Might I interest you in a walk about the grounds, Miss Matilda?” he asked, standing before her, his hand outstretched for her to take.
“I, um…” She glanced behind her toward the door where her father greeted his parishioners as they left the building. “I should really be with my father right now.”
But Sidney wasn’t going to let her get away with it. “I’m certain your father will get on fine without you for a few minutes.” He flicked his wrist, encouraging her to take hold of his hand. “Come. I promise I won’t keep you long.”
Tilly cast a sideways glance at Daphne, who sat beside her, watching the exchange.
“Go on,” her friend encouraged. “I will make your excuses to your father should I need to.”
Left with little choice, Tilly grabbed onto Sidney’s hand and allowed him to lead her out the side door of the church. They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Tilly couldn’t take it any longer.
“I thought for certain you’d be on your way back to London by now,” she ventured.
Sidney turned sideways, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Did you now?”
“Well,” Tilly cleared her throat, “after yesterday, I just thought…”
At this Sidney came to a full stop and stepped in front of her. He reached down and grabbed both her hands, then brought them up to his chest, clutching them firmly.
“I had every intention of leaving for London first thing this morning,” he began, “but you see, I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave.”
“But why?” Tilly wondered. “I was…horrible to you.”
For some strange reason, that brought a genuine smile to his face. “Yes, but you see, when you love someone, you don’t give up on them just because they were horrible. Especially not when you know what is truly in their heart.”
Tilly’s breath caught in her throat. Had he just said he loved her? Love? Wasn’t it too so
on? They’d only known each other the better part of a week. Certainly, Lila’s and Anna’s marriages seemed abrupt and rushed, but in truth, they’d known their gentlemen for a year. They’d met before, and they’d spent twelve long months pining for the other, whether they knew their true identites or not.
But Sidney, well…he’d never set eyes on Tilly until just last week.
“Perhaps I ought to be clearer,” Sidney said when Tilly didn’t respond. He tugged her closer, clutching her hands against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. “I love you, Matilda Southward, and I will not be giving up on you…on us.”
“But my father—”
“Leave that to me.”
Tilly swallowed over the lump that had formed in her throat. She could hardly believe this was happening, that he was here, standing before her, professing his love to her.
“That is,” he continued, “if you want me. I’m only assuming you said that yesterday out of fear.”
“I’m only seventeen,” she said by way of an explanation. “Anna was already married—there wasn’t much Father could do about that. Lila is the eldest, and Lord Quentin was awfully persuasive.”
“You think I’m not able to match Lord Quentin in persuasiveness?” he purred, intentionally reminding her of just how persuasive he could be.
She smiled. “You have a point.”
“I only need to hear it from you, Tilly,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Do you want to marry me?”
“More than anything in the world.”
A wide smile spread Sidney’s lips. “Then I shall see you at the altar.”
December 10, 1816 – Marisdùn Castle, Cumberland
The last six weeks had been, with a doubt, the best in Quent’s life. As strange as it was to believe, the castle really had been quiet and calm, the furthest thing from haunted, ever since Father Matthew had blessed the place. It felt lighter as though a fog had been lifted. And even though they’d remained in Ravenglass and his now-father-in-law still wasn’t terribly fond of Quent, Vicar Southward had been quite preoccupied with Sidney Garrick’s courtship of Tilly to pay Quent much attention at all, not even on Sundays, which was a blessing, indeed. But mostly, the best part of Quent’s new life was Lila.
Just the thought of his angelic wife brought a smile to his face, as he sat there alone in his study, looking over Marisdùn’s ledgers. He’d spent so much time avoiding matrimony that he’d never considered how wonderful his life could be with a wife. Well, of course, how wonderful his life could be with the perfect wife. And Lila was most definitely the most perfect wife. She was kind, intelligent, passionate, beautiful and as in love with Quent as he was with her.
He glanced down at his pocket fob and noted the time. Four o’clock. She’d just be leaving her Dorcas Society meeting and heading back home. He smiled again and could hardly wait for her walk into the castle so he could wrap her in his arms, press kisses all across her brow and sweep her up into his arms and into their bedchamber. It was, after, all the best possible way to spend any afternoon.
“This just arrived for you, sir,” Bendle began as he stepped over the threshold into the study, lifting a missive out towards Quent.
He frowned as he took the letter from the butler and noted the Bradenham crest pressed into the melted wax seal. Braden wasn’t the most frequent letter writer, so the missive was slightly alarming, especially as they’d recently discovered that Callie was expecting their first child. Of course that letter had come from Callie to Lila as Braden, true to form, was a terribly correspondent.
Anxiety crawling down his spine, Quent dismissed Bendle and then tore the letter open.
Dear Quentin,
I do hope that you and Lila are doing well. Callie sends her love and best wishes to both of you. For the most part, she is in good health. Her health will be better when I successfully expunge a certain kitten Patience has brought into Highfield, but that is another matter for another day. In regards to our sisters, I am certain they would send their own love if they knew I was writing to you. However, it is on their behalf that I am writing this letter.
Good God! Had something happened to one of the triplets?
I have recently been in communication with our stepmother’s uncle, the Duke of Danby, who does appear to be as crafty as reports of him have previously indicated. Danby has taken special interest in our sisters and their respective futures. He will be sending a summons to our stepmother, demanding her attendance and that of the triplets at Danby Castle in Yorkshire this Christmas. He has assured me that he has Grace, Hope and Patience’s best interest at heart and would like to see each of them settled to decent, respectable men within the next twelve months.
Within the next twelve months? Damn it all. Did the duke already have candidates for Quent’s sisters already picked out? That seemed hasty. Shouldn’t their sisters enjoy the same opportunity to find true love just as Braden and Quent had done?
After the scene Hope caused last season, the idea of seeing her settled to a decent and respectable man seems like a dream that may be too good to come true.
Well, Braden had a point there. And after all the nonsense with Kilworth this past year, it could very well be a miracle for any decent man to look past her reputation. Did Danby really think he could find a decent man for her too?
However, Danby is certain he can chart a course for each of them and that we will be satisfied with the end results. I do not think it is wise to reject his offer, and if he is as true to his word as I believe him to be, our sisters could not have a better benefactor as Danby is still one of the most powerful men in England.
Terrifying as many found him, the duke was powerful. That was for certain. Still, it seemed less than sporting to let the old duke select husbands for the triplets even considering Hope’s idioic missteps.
Our stepmother has yet to receive the duke’s summons, but when she does, I will insist upon the four of them attending Danby this Christmas. In a perfect world, I would travel with them and see to the duke’s plan myself, but in Callie’s delicate condition, I cannot ask her travel to Yorkshire. The return home from Ravenglass last month was quite miserable for her, and I am certain you would not want her to travel in her condition at this time either.
As you are much closer to Danby Castle than I am at Highfield, I would ask that you and Lila also celebrate this Christmas in Yorkshire. I do hate to drag you both from Marisdùn during your first Christmas together, but I am certain you will share my concern for our sisters. While I do believe that Danby has their best interests at heart, no one is as devoted to them or loves them as much as you and I.
It was good Braden hadn’t decided to turn everything over to the duke, Quent supposed. And if they did go to Yorkshire, he’d make certain that no matches were secured without his sisters’ approval. They should have a say in their own futures, after all.
Please pass on my love to Lila. I do hope the two of you will have a delightful time in Yorkshire this holiday, and with any luck one or more of our sisters will have the happiest of Christmases. God speed and safe travels.
Your devoted brother,
Braden
Quent dropped the letter to his desk. Well, that was certainly not what he’d expected to learn when he’d torn open his brother’s letter. And while he would truly like to remain in Marisdùn for his first Christmas with Lila, they would have many more Christmases together in Ravenglass in the years to come. But how was he going to convince his wife to leave her father and sister for Christmas? That was going to be the chall—
“Bendle said a letter arrived from Highfield,” Lila said from the doorway. Her cheeks were rosy from the chilly outdoor temperatures and her silvery eyes were filled with concern. “Is everything all right? Is Callie—”
“Callie’s fine,” he assured his wife, pushing out of his chair and navigating his desk to draw her into his arms.
She fit against him so perfectly, and Quent held her tight. If he live
d another hundred years, he would never tire of holding this woman in his arms. She pressed up on her toes and brushed her lips across his and Quent couldn’t help but growl in response. She still heated his blood as much now as she had the day they married and the entire year before that.
Lila giggled against his lips. “I do love you.”
“Good thing.” Quent squeezed her a little tighter before releasing her completely. “You’re stuck with me now.”
She blushed slightly as she grinned up at him. “The only man I ever wanted to be stuck with.”
Quent grinned back. “Even if that man, hypothetically, wanted to whisk you away to Yorkshire, away from your family for Christmas? Would you still be happy to be stuck with him, then?”
“Hypothetically?” She tilted her head to the side as though she was trying to sort him out.
“Well, not so hypothetically. Braden’s asked for us to spend Christmas in Yorkshire at Danby Castle to keep an eye on our sisters.”
Lila’s brow furrowed as though she was thoroughly confused. “Anna goes to Italy and we’re headed to Yorkshire?”
Quent chuckled. “Would you rather head to Italy?”
Lila shook her head. “Not if your sisters need you in Yorkshire. I don’t care where we are or where we go, Quent, not as long as you’re with me. Besides who knows when Tilly and Mr. Garrick will finally get married? She'd never forgive us if we weren't there.”
Braden pressed a kiss to her brow. “On my word, Lila, we will be home for Tilly’s wedding. Garrick wouldn’t dare marry her while we’re away.”
She grinned again. “In that case, I’ve never been to Yorkshire.”
