by Cheryl Howe
Darien tried to breathe. Ivy laid a comforting hand on his back. “You must turn this over to the magistrate, Darien.”
“An inquest will ruin our family name,” Lily said from their father’s bedside. “Not to mention Arianna and her mother.”
“And if you murder me, there will be a thorough investigation.” Maddox seemed to find his swagger. He gripped the lapels of his expensive coat and rocked on his feet. “I might be a commoner, but I am a wealthy one with interests throughout the empire. His majesty would notice my absence if only for the loss of taxable income.”
Darien lowered the weapon. “Be on the next ship to one of those interests. If I ever see your face again, you will be exposed for the fraud you are.”
Maddox bowed but his grin remained. He straightened to his full height, but slunk back at the force of the Elkhorn knife that suddenly imbedded in his chest. Both Darien and Maddox stared in the direction from which the silver blur came. Collin Jacobson remained in a crouched position. He must have pulled the hunting knife from his boot. Maddox fell to his knees with a hard thud.
“He was not to be trusted, my lord.” Jacobson straightened. “He’d not stop until he’d seen you dead. I don’t intend to run from my punishment. I’ll admit to everything.”
“Someone should get Dr. Shipley. Maddox might not be dead.” By the copious amounts of blood spilling onto the floor, Darien should have added the word yet. He lowered his musket and placed an arm around Ivy. He hugged her to him tightly.
On his first day as earl, he had two dead bodies on his hands and a murderer, who in Darien’s opinion, did him a great service and should not be handed over to hang. He would be completely overwhelmed if he did not have Ivy by his side, now and forever.
He gazed down at Ivy, amazed at her strength. “You must be exhausted as I but we still have work to do. There is going to be another hunting accident. ”
Ivy eased out of his grip. “What are you going to do?”
“Only what my father would have done. Go change, Lady Westhaven, we’ll have an audience with the local magistrate as soon as someone can fetch him from the village. You’ll find him quite charming.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh. Did I forget to mention that according to local custom, we’re practically married? We just need to stop by Robert’s room with a couple of witnesses to make our union plausibly legal.”
***
Ivy shouldn’t be so nervous. Darien and she sat like royalty upon a high-backed, brocade-covered settee in a cavernous formal receiving room that dominated the west corner of the first floor. Their inquisitors—the local magistrate from the village, a cheerful gentleman lawyer, and a thin-lipped bishop—perched upon short, small-seated chairs while balancing their refreshments on their knees. The magistrate, who had been offered a glass of champagne after his short journey, seemed more interested in congratulating Darien on his inheritance than questioning their story.
In contrast, the bishop, summoned by Henry Maddox with the special license, arrived earlier in the day, hot and irritated, from London. His mood had not seemed to improve in the least. He continued to read over the yellowed, hand-written schedule for a Sunday service performed in the estate’s small chapel over a decade ago. The scowl that had settled over the middle-aged clergy’s long face when he’d learned he would not be performing a wedding had not softened with his third glass of sherry.
Ivy stared down at the ruby and pearl-clustered ring on her left hand. Darien had slipped his mother’s ring on her finger during their brief but well attended ceremony in Robert’s bedroom. Despite the cheers of Darien’s immediate family and the entire Westhaven House staff lining the hall and spilling down the formal staircase, Ivy still could not believe that she could actually claim Darien as her husband. She had read the fading script more times than the bishop, though she plainly recognized her own name scrawled in bold letters.
“Now if you don’t mind, my lord, I’ll need to speak to a few of the parties involved.” The magistrate drained his champagne and carefully returned the crystal glass to the silver tray held by the butler who hovered like an armed guard behind the guests. “Just for the records, you understand. This is the second hunting accident on the Westhaven estate. Not that I consider the incidents anything but terrible tragedies.”
“Please, speak to whomever you must. My brother-in-law, who witnessed the accident, should return shortly. Considering the circumstances, the last of the guests have chosen to leave. Except for my father’s close friends, who will all stay for the funeral, of course.” Darien bowed his head and covered his eyes with his manicured hand. A large monogrammed ring weighed heavily on his finger.
“And what of Mr. Maddox? He remains the victim here, even if you claim that your father accidently shot him then collapsed from the shock.” The bishop neatly folded their only written proof that their banns had been officially called in Westhaven’s chapel, then moved to slip the fraying paper into the overlarge pocket of his black wool frock coat. “I find that quite odd, especially considering that Henry Maddox was not a regular outdoorsman.”
Darien cleared his throat and held out his hand. The bishop laid the notice gently upon Darien’s open palm.
“Surely you are not accusing his lordship of wrong doing?” The magistrate, who was dependent on the Blackmore family for the majority of his livelihood, feigned utter shock.
“I believe, dear bishop, that you personally consoled both Mrs. Maddox and her daughter. Did either of the women cast doubt upon my father or me?”
“No, they did not, my lord.”
Darien nodded with a smug smile. He’d been trimmed, groomed and properly dressed by his father’s valet. He made a stunning earl in a black velvet jacket and blindingly white ruffled shirt. The stockings he had not complained on wearing complimented his muscular calves so often hidden by boots.
“Well, then.” The magistrate clapped his hands together. “I’ve already spoken to Doctor Shipley, who promises to have the death certificates for our records before I leave. I’ll just speak to a few of the servants, and Major Fitzgerald upon his return, of course. I believe that’s all we shall need.” The magistrate bowed. Darien stood and so did Ivy.
Her gown seemed completely too opulent for the solemn occasion but Darien had convinced her that she was better suited to bold statements rather than demure ones.
“I’ve asked that a meal be prepared for you both,” Ivy said. “Any of the servants will be glad to show you to the dining room when you are ready.”
“Thank you, Lady Westhaven. May I say on behalf of the village and surrounding hamlets that we are pleased to see a Lady Westhaven again in residence. And my condolences on your loss, my lord.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawson. We shall be seeing much of each other. Lady Westhaven and I prefer the country to London and will reside on the estate much of the time.”
“Very well, my lord. Very well, indeed.” The local magistrate bowed and exited the room.
The bishop from London watched him go, then turned a harsh gaze on Ivy.
“This marriage is all rather unusual, Lord Westhaven. Surely you are aware that the law changed with the marriage act some decades ago to prevent just such complications. Even so, I don’t see why you would keep your union a secret for so long?”
“My brother had been killed. My family was grieving. And I will admit, my father did not approve of the marriage after I became the heir. My darling, Lady Westhaven, agreed to the secrecy for everyone’s sake.”
The bishop nodded, but he kept his harsh gaze on Ivy. “How convenient for the child in the nursery. I don’t suppose the sudden outing of your secret marriage had anything to do with her?”
“But, of course. Melody is the joy of our lives.” Darien lifted Ivy’s hand and kissed her knuckles a bit too enthusiastically, forcing the bishop to finally drop his gaze. “Unfortunately, we shall have to postpone her christening for a month or so.” Darien released her hand, but
rested his palm firmly on her shoulder. “Do write your sister, my love, to inform her of the change of plans. I’m sure she will wish to be in attendance, with her entire family, of course.”
Ivy glared at Darien, fearing the bishop might visit her sister. Darien’s newfound power had obviously decided to run unfettered. Thankfully Faith’s Puritan husband detested the Anglican Church and would no doubt slam the door in the bishop’s face. Darien brushed back her hair and leaned in as if he intended to kiss her mouth.
The bishop cleared his throat. “And I’ll find both your signatures in the church’s registry?”
“You will indeed find our signatures in the church. We have dozens of witnesses for both our ceremony and the calling of the banns three consecutive Sundays. My own dear mother had been in attendance for one of those days, and I can assure you, she had no objections. That meets the current requirement for legal matrimony, does it not?”
“Most nobles prefer to be wed by special license by the archbishop but your country nuptials seem to be in order, Lord Westhaven, if all is as you say it is.” The bishop smiled and bowed slightly, but he could not hide his curled lip of contempt.
“Our little chapel has been sorely neglected but I will be more than happy to direct you to our signatures.” Darien plucked at the cuffs of his sleeves, a mannerism that was not his own, but brought attention to a spill of expensive lace and the jeweled rings on his fingers. “Oh, but I hope Robert did not catch something from the chapel. The stone is crumbling and the entire structure is quite infested with mold and rodents.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lord. I plan to return to London immediately. Mr. Maddox was quite revered in certain circles. There might be some who will question the circumstance of his death.”
“Well, then, I shall be glad to entertain any inquiries into the matter. If that is all, my wife and I are quite distraught. I must bury my father tomorrow and I have not yet adjusted to the shock.”
The bishop nodded, bowed to Darien and left the room, followed by the silent butler who no doubt would trail the hostile bishop until he left the grounds all together.
Ivy sighed with relief that the interview was finally over. “He doesn’t believe us.”
“He doesn’t have to.” Darien stared at the closed door. “It’s not his place to question his betters. The good bishop knows that as well as anyone.”
“Are we really married, Darien? She touched his velvet-clad shoulder. His solidness beneath the jacket forced her to believe something she would have claimed a week ago impossible. Darien Blackmore would be in her life for a very long time.
He turned and grabbed her hands. “If it will ease your mind, we can be married in the chapel when Robert is feeling better. We shall share the day with Hank and Evelyn because I’m quite sure their union isn’t recognized under the bishop’s marriage act either.”
“Darien! This is serious. Melody’s legitimacy must not be questioned.” She tried to jerk her hands away, but he held them tight.
“No one will question anything. The old lord has passed and everyone will want to court favor with the new earl.” Darien’s sad gaze urged Ivy to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head on his chest.
The door swung open and Major Fitzgerald marched into the room. Ivy tried to pull from Darien’s arms but he held her against him. He finally released her but continued to hold her hand, keeping her inappropriately close to his side.
“Jacobson’s on his way back to Scotland.” Rand smirked and raised an eyebrow at their embrace. “I settled on twelve lashes instead of twenty. He took them well. Better to have him cross the border as soon as possible.”
“You’re satisfied?”
“Aye, my lord.” Rand bowed.
“The magistrate wishes you to recount your story.”
“Spotted him on my way in. I promised to take him to the location of the accident. I crushed some grass and fired a few musket balls into a denser part of the forest. He’ll be convinced, not that he isn’t already.”
“Thank you, Rand. You and Lily should get some rest. I scheduled the funeral for in the morning while all the old man’s friends are still here.”
“Lily hasn’t slept since Robert’s injury. She must collapse sometime. If that will be all, my lord.” Rand bowed again.
“You don’t have to address me as such,” Darien said, even his speech sounding suddenly different.
“You’re doing a fine job and we don’t want to see you muck it up. We’re all depending on you, Lord Westhaven.”
Before he could leave, Lily came through the door carrying a screaming Melody. She strode across the room and placed Melody into Ivy’s arms. Melody ceased her high-pitched wails immediately. Though Ivy recognized the cry as a yearning for attention rather than any real discomfort, Melody rubbed wet eyelashes with a curled fist.
“Indeed.” Lily raised an eyebrow. “The nurse claimed she missed her mother. Melody is certainly your daughter, isn’t she, Darien? You should break her of her attachment at once, Ivy. It shall make her weak-willed.”
Darien came behind Ivy and let Melody grab his finger. “Melody has certainly gotten you to do her bidding, Lily. Not an easy task for anyone. Aye, Rand?”
Rand stood behind his wife, touched her shoulder and she grabbed his hand. Their gazes met and they seemed to exchange something significant.
“Robert is sleeping.” She directed her gaze to Darien. “Mrs. Maddox and Arianna are leaving right after the funeral. The girl is quite upset, though Mrs. Maddox revealed she knew of her husband’s manipulations for years. She plans to take her daughter to visit relatives in the Lake District until the rumors die down.”
“Perhaps I should talk to Arianna.” Ivy gazed down at Melody, then kissed her soft head. Her daughter clung to her as if she knew how close they’d come to being separated. “How is Robert taking all this?”
“He won’t speak of it.” Lily shrugged but it was clear by her slight frown that her son did not regularly shut her from his thoughts. “As I’ve always said, love will find a way. Look at you two.”
“Arianna shall come around.” Darien slung an arm around Ivy’s shoulder. “Losing one’s father is devastating no matter the circumstances. Arianna needs time to adjust to the shock.”
“Ivy, do you think our father heard that Philip did not kill himself? I think that would have eased his mind considerably.” Though Lily asked the question, Darien tensed beside her.
“Indeed, I do.” Ivy had been too engrossed with her own shock to know if the old earl had been aware of the chaos erupting in his bedroom. Darien’s almost imperceptible sigh at her revelation assured Ivy that a little white lie was most appropriate for the occasion. “The late Lord Westhaven squeezed my hand when Darien revealed the truth. He must have slipped away shortly after. I know the knowledge eased his passing.”
“Thank you,” Lily whispered. Her sad smile trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
Rand rested his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Why don’t you lie down, Lily? As soon as I finish with the magistrate, I shall join you.”
“That is an excellent idea. Lady Westhaven and I shall do the same.” Darien tightened his hold on Ivy.
“Very good, my lord.” Lily’s strained smile finally reached her eyes. “Philip was right, Darien. You shall make a smashing earl.”
Darien embraced his sister then escorted her and her husband to the door.
Ivy followed Darien, anxious to retreat into a private room. Her trunks had been fetched from the cottage. She craved nothing more than to change from her gown and collapse into a soft bed, though she feared this dream might end as soon as she woke.
“Shall we, love?” Darien took her arm and led her from the downstairs salon.
Servants gathered in their wake, bowing and curtsying to the new lord and lady. Instead of directing her up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms, Darien escorted her out the front door.
A polished burgundy carriage with a
gold W on the door waited with six matching bay stallions. A liveried servant jumped from the driver’s bench and bowed. Another footman strode from the back of the carriage and opened the door. Darien helped her and Melody into the coach then climbed in behind them.
Once settled in the seat in front of them, Darien shrugged out of his coat and ruthlessly yanked at his neatly tied cravat.
“Where are we going?” Ivy finally asked as they pulled from the gravel drive.
“Home, of course.”
Ivy glanced out the window at the stately stone mansion. “Don’t you think we should stay in the manor? All my gowns are back there.”
Darien grinned. “I know.”
“If we are going to convince society we are reformed ne’er-do-wells, we must curtail some of your more bizarre behavior. I feel living in a former crofter’s hut falls into that category.”
“Why would we want to convince anyone of anything?”
“For Melody, of course. The talk of a second hunting accident and our alleged secret marriage will create scandal enough.”
“Exactly.” Darien took his daughter from Ivy’s arms. “What do you think, Melody? Should I turn into a proper peer of the realm?”
Melody giggled and squeezed Darien’s nose, refusing to let go despite his half-hearted efforts to free himself.
Ivy slipped onto the seat beside him. “I believe that was a yes. I think she fell in love with your family home.”
“I suppose Lady Melody should be raised in a style befitting her station.” Darien kissed Ivy on the mouth. “Don’t worry, Ivy. No one will question your right to every luxury a countess deserves.”
“Countess.” Ivy shook her head. “All I ever wanted was to be your wife.”
“Well, both our wishes have come true.”
Ivy laid her head on Darien’s shoulder. “I wonder if your brother realized how important his letter to you would be.”
“I don’t know, but I shall follow his advice for the rest of our long lives, Lady Westhaven. With you by my side, any sacrifice I must make in the name of propriety shall be my greatest joy.”
