Sean’s unhappiness at last broke through his false cheer and he said sharply, “I have accepted that I must forego civilization in order to serve my country, sir. I have my land, my home and my people to see to. After all, I can’t leave them in the hands of the leigth bhrogan forever, now can I?”
Dinsworth’s smile disappeared and he looked as uncomfortable as a fish lifted from the water, his lips flapping and his jowls shaking, as he glanced to see if the duke had overheard the exchange. “Of course, of course. Meant no offense, my boy.”
Sean’s ready smile was back, but his eyes reflected anger, not joy. “I have taken no offense, sir. I assure you, I could see no reason to do so.”
Kate could see the bristling frustration that threatened to turn a pleasant conversation into an unpleasant one and she stepped in, taking Sean’s arm in hers. “My niece and nephews made me promise that you would come up to wish them good night, since they are too young to take part in the festivities.”
He softened at once, although she felt an undercurrent of nervous energy still running through him as she led him up the stairs. “One day you will make them understand that Ireland is not a country of poor papist, fey-fearing oafs, but today is not that day.”
“No. I suppose today I should concentrate on making you happy.” There was a wickedly joyful light in his eyes that touched her heart and set it aflame.
Before she could say a word, however, his uncle approached. His face was gray, from shock or illness she could not tell.
“What has gone wrong?” Sean asked with a fatalistic certainty that set a chill upon the heat that had been creeping up her spine.
Connor stared at him for a moment as if he had not understood Sean’s words. And then the older man blinked and frowned. “Let us not discuss grave matters here.” Without another word, Connor turned abruptly and strode away—obviously intending that Sean follow.
He turned to Kate and squeezed her hand. “Let me see what has rattled my uncle and then we can go upstairs.”
His smile was warm, if a bit distracted. Kate felt like a wife, truly, for the first time. “Of course. Would you like me to accompany you?”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers lightly. “No, this is family business. I’ll return to you as soon as it is done.”
Family business. Kate watched, hurt, as he ushered his uncle away. Did he not consider his own wife family? She’d heard enough from his uncle to know that there was little love for anything English at the abbey. Sean himself had never come out to say as much, except for a few oaths muttered under his breath whenever she set him to a new task to prove his love. What tasks must she perform before he considered her family?
Sean was aware of her quick, questioning glances, but still, he felt he could congratulate himself quietly. His bride was smiling more, and he had the sense she was adjusting well to the idea of being his wife at last. Hadn’t she even managed to step in and smooth over his disagreement with that pompous fool Dinsworth, just like a good political wife?
Things were looking up, he thought, as he followed his uncle to the library. Worried that Connor had been provoked into an unwise statement--he hoped not a duel, not on his wedding night, Sean faced his uncle. Just then he noticed the messenger--a boy no more than fourteen and Irish by his mop of wild red hair. Even the child looked sick with fear.
Connor, his expression dark as a thundercloud, said, “There’s trouble at home, lad. Bad trouble. Bridget went missing.”
“Missing?” He thought of fragile Bridget, and fleetingly wished he had heeded the advice of others to lock her up in the abbey tower before her wild ways got her into trouble. He started to rush from the room. “We’ll have to go find her.”
“She’s been found.” Connor’s bleak tone was not reassuring.
“Where?” He had the sick feeling that he was going to hear that Bridget had been found floating drowned in a nearby pond and resisted the childish urge to clap his hands over his ears.
Connor was so angry that foam flecked his lips and his eyes blazed. “Seems Jeffreys has had her taken up for attempted murder.”
At first he only processed that his sister was alive. And then the meaning of what his uncle had said crashed through him. “Murder?” Sean exploded with cold fear and rage, fed by the patronizing comments of the English peers who had attended his wedding, but still seemed to feel he was beneath them. Taken up for murder? Bridget? “Who would she try to murder? She’s gentle as a kitten.”
“The boy, of course.” Connor’s contempt was palpable. “I told you to separate them.”
The boy. They’d never get the old man to see reason if he was pressing charges against Bridget-- “It must be a mistake. I’ll talk to him. I’ll clear it up. Bridget would never do this.”
He turned to the boy who had brought the message. “When will the ship be ready to sail?”
The boy’s voice cracked as he stumbled over his tongue to say, “Captain said to hurry, winds are favorable now and no telling about tomorrow this time of year.”
“I’ll be ready before dawn,” Sean said, pacing to the window to survey the darkness beyond.
“Be sure to sign the papers before you go,” his uncle cautioned.
He’d forgotten for a moment that it was his wedding day. His wedding night. Suddenly, the dowry he had worked so hard to attain mattered very little to him. “Time enough when I return.”
Connor grasped him firmly. “You’re dealing with Jeffreys, lad. Sign the papers first--and say nothing to your bride or her family until you do, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Say nothing?” he asked blankly.
“They might not think kindly on having a murdering Irish girl in their family.”
He shook off his uncle’s grasp. “She is no murderer. She is twelve years old, for God’s sake.”
He might have ignored the old man’s words if he’d spoken angrily. But Connor’s voice was soft with true fear. “She’s Irish--that’s all they need. You know that well enough.”
He rejected the idea hotly, and then reconsidered. If it took funds to get Bridget released, he would not want to beg the duke. Connor was right. He would say nothing until the papers were signed. But they must be signed soon.
He returned to find they had already gone in to supper in his absence. He found his bride anxiously scanning for him and forced himself to smile at her as he approached.
“Is anything amiss?” she asked.
“Just family business,“ he reassured her, suppressing his urge to confess his fear for his sister to her. “Nothing you need worry about today of all days.” After the papers were signed he would tell her. He didn’t suppose she would be pleased to learn her bridegroom was leaving her on her wedding night. But it couldn’t be helped.
Kate would simply have to understand. She had sisters of her own, though they were all older and she the babe of the family. Surely they would, none of them, think Bridget didn’t deserve rescuing because she was Irish. Because she was accused of murder. He shook his head to rid himself of the unwelcome thought. It didn’t matter what they thought. Bridget was his sister.
He sighed with relief when, at the end of supper, the duchess came for her, the duke for him. Kate glanced once at him with a smile. “I believe it is time to retire.” There was a shy anticipation reflecting in her eyes.
“Go and let yourself be made even more beautiful, then while I settle matters with Kerstone.”
She said, with a bold smile, “I promise you, no matter how long you delay, my lord, I will be awake this time.”
The heat of the desire that flared between them took his breath away for a moment. “I will hold you to your word, then,“ he answered, knowing that it would not matter if she stayed awake all night long. He would not be coming to her bed tonight. The regret which sliced through him was sharp. But Bridget needed him.
The duke, as if sensing Sean’s impatience and mistaking it for the eagerness of a bridegroom for his bride, said apol
ogetically, “There are a few papers to sign, now that the ceremony is accomplished. Unless you wish to wait until tomorrow.”
Sean laughed as if he had nothing more serious than his wedding night on his mind. “Best do it now, tomorrow I may not be able.”
The duke nodded, his mouth quirked in a small smile, taking the words as Sean had meant him to--an implication that he might be worn out from fulfilling his duties to his bride.
He felt guilty for misleading the duke. For a moment he considered appealing to the man to help him ensure his sister’s release. But Kerstone was English to the core. He couldn’t trust him on this matter. He had learned early the truth of the saying “It is no secret if it is known by three people.”
He read each document and signed with a flourish. When the documents were sealed with the duke’s seal, and safely in his possession, he bowed formally. He liked the duke as much as was possible in the situation. He had seen to his sister-in-law very generously. And he obviously adored his wife, despite the fact that they had been married well over a decade and she had not yet produced an heir.
He knew that they all hoped for a son for the duchess--although the duke had often said he would not mind a houseful of daughters, and England would not suffer for one less duke. On that sentiment, they both agreed.
With the formalities at last concluded, Sean bowed and said quickly, “I have word that I may travel tonight, so I must take your leave.”
Kerstone showed his puzzlement with a slight lift of his brow. “I believe Miranda was under the impression that you and Kate would stay with us, at least through the holiday, before taking up residence in your townhouse. I’m not sure Miranda has the staff in place, yet.”
“I’m afraid my plans have changed suddenly.” Sean could not bring himself to be unkind to this man who had shown him such kinship. Nor could he trust him with the truth.
There was a slight shift in the duke’s expression, a chilly reserve that had not been there before. “Changed?”
What explanation would satisfy him? “I’m needed urgently at home and I must go.”
“Home?” The duke frowned, puzzled. “Ireland?”
“Yes.” Sean thought of elaborate lies that might make his leaving seem less callous. But he did not give them.
To his surprise, the duke did not question him further. “I will have Miranda prepare Kate for travel.”
“No need. I believe it would be better for her to stay here with you for now.” He did not want to drag Kate into these matters, they were delicate, and though she might mean well, she could also make things worse.
The duke made no attempt to mask his shock at that unexpected statement. “On your wedding night--
“Regrettably, yes.” Impatient, Sean suddenly thought of a way to avoid the torture of having to explain matters to Kate. “I would appreciate it if you might have your wife inform my wife of my departure?”
The flash of Kerstone temper came out then, at last. The imperious English sense of superiority. “I most certainly will not. If you do not at least do her the courtesy of telling her yourself, I will see that those papers are burned in the grate.”
Sean shrugged, as if the duke’s words did not make him want to throttle the man. He told himself that it would be a true test of his political abilities to reassure Kate before he took his leave, to pretend that he did not burn with fury because sister’s life rested in the hands of his enemy. Another Englishman, one they’d most likely all be more sympathetic to.
But a man’s true mettle showed when the battle was most terrible. All Kate could give him was a bloody nose or a blackened eye. Even she would not likely thrust a blade into his heart for hurrying home to take care of his sister. He needed her good will--and that of the duke--when he returned to take up his seat in Parliament.
CHAPTER FIVE
She waited for him by the window, wearing one of the new silk shifts that Miranda had had made for her trousseau.
The slide of the silk against her skin made her feel beautiful. Made her wish Sean would hurry the business he had with the duke. Waiting heightened the tension that had been drawing tighter within her all day long.
She was nervous, but not sure why. She knew well enough what was to happen. She had listened to her married sisters whispering—not to mention the more interesting gossip that occurred downstairs in the kitchen among the servants.
She and Sean would do no more than any other married man and woman did when they began their marriage. Still, that it would happen tonight seemed almost unbelievable.
She moved restlessly, and caught the delicate scent of the rose petals that had been packed in with the new clothing for her trousseau. She couldn’t doubt the truth of what was to be, though. Not dressed for seduction as she was.
Not in this bedroom, bigger than hers, decorated in a Spartan masculine style. Miranda had prepared it for them so they would have privacy, and she’d been glad. She had spent her life in rooms decorated for females—single females for the most part. Young females at that. The heaviness of the furnishings made the evening seem the most serious of her entire life.
Yet again she found herself wishing Sean would finish his business and come up to join her. She felt alone here in this unfamiliar room, waiting for her husband--almost as if her family were somewhere far away. Which was absurd.
She was not alone. A pull of the rope by the bed would bring a servant immediately. Her sisters and their husbands were, if not still downstairs dancing, then in their rooms preparing for bed or in the nursery tucking in tired children for the third or fourth time this evening.
Miranda had been here not that long ago, to help her dress, to congratulate her once more.
Her eldest sister had squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. There had been tears in her eyes when she gazed at the youngest of her sisters, the one she had raised like a mother for so many years.
Kate supposed she’d have offered reassurance on the events to come this evening--if she’d known that Sean had done nothing more than kiss her the night he came to her bed. However, Kate had kept that slightly embarrassing fact to herself and Miranda had not spoken to her about such things.
The sound of the door latch lifting sent her heart into a skittering response. She turned toward the window, suddenly afraid to see his face. The night was dark and shadowed outside, but the candle glow inside the room—from the dozen candles that had been lit to add yet another bit of romance for the newlyweds—caused his entry to reflect in the window glass.
He came in quietly, as if he thought she might be asleep despite her promise earlier in the evening. He glanced at the bed with a puzzled frown.
“I was afraid I’d break my promise if I waited there,” she said softly. “Besides, after last time, I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t climb in through the window again.”
She waited for him to cross the room to her, but he stood with his back against the door as if he weren’t certain what to do. She didn’t like to think what it boded for the night if he was as uncertain as she. Had he changed him mind, now that he had won and wed her?
She turned to face him.
He smiled at her, but his smile did not reach his eyes. Something was wrong. “I prefer doors, for the most part, if that sets your mind at ease for the future.”
“I wonder if the maids will dare enter this room before noon tomorrow,“ she said, smoothing the silk of her gown. Was he waiting for her to give him the signal that he could approach? Perhaps she should have confessed to Miranda that she had no idea what a bride should do with her new husband once they were alone together.
There was a puzzling hesitation in him, though she saw the warming of his attention when she shifted so that the silk slid against her curves. She felt a moment of weightlessness as his eyes kindled at the sight of his bride dressed to please a husband, and his eyes traveled the length of her hair, brushed to a shining fall.
“So, am I worth all the trouble you had to go through to get me?” She w
anted to hear an unequivocal yes.
“Of course.” His words confirmed her worst fears. “But I’m afraid I’ve had some fearful news from home. I’m to leave tonight for Ireland.”
Kate braced herself against the windowsill as the confusing haze of anticipation drained away so quickly her knees threatened to buckle. Leaving. Tonight. “It is our wedding night.”
For a moment she dared hope she had misunderstood, but his brows were drawn together in a serious frown that told her she had not--nor was he teasing her.
“I am devastated to have to postpone it, Katie, but I’ve no choice in the matter.” There was no hitch of indecision in his voice. Regret perhaps, but no doubt that he would indeed leave her to sleep alone tonight.
She struggled to understand, searching his expression for a sign that the dread creeping up her spine was uncalled for. She was a wife now, it was her job to understand, to make things easier for her husband. But she could not seem to get past the simple fact that he was willing to leave her on their wedding night. “Why?”
He moved beside her to gaze out the window into the moonlit darkness. “There is trouble that needs attending to at home.”
The tension she could feel thrumming through him was tenfold that of earlier this evening. His uncle’s news must have been bad indeed. “What trouble?”
He turned to her and smiled, but his eyes were dark jade and serious. “Nothing you need worry about.”
He was dismissing her again. Was this to be the pattern of her marriage in the future? Not without a fight, she thought. “Of course I must, if it takes my bridegroom away from me on my wedding night.”
He brushed her cheek with his palm and she leaned into the warm strength of his hand. “Do you not know without asking that I’ll be back as soon as I can?”
“Surely you could stay the night?” She brushed her thumb against the inside of his wrist restlessly. “What business can not wait until morning?”
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