The constable had lit a torch from a candle inside the house, and used it now to look closely at Archie. It had now been over two hours, and Nicholas felt a pang of fear—if he has not awoken in that time, perhaps I have killed him. He would not cry over the loss of a madman who had kidnapped his true love, but he did not fancy himself a killer.
Nicholas pulled Archie from the horse, and placed him on the ground. From this position he could see the rise and fall of Archie’s chest, and felt a moment of relief, followed immediately by a resurgence of anger. He kicked Archie in the side, not so gently now, and heard a satisfying groan from his victim.
The constable stepped forward to examine Archie. “This is him?” he asked. “The one who kidnapped Miss Baxter?”
“This is him,” Nicholas replied. “Archie Mowbray, Mr. Baxter’s apprentice for the past several years.”
“All right, then, get up Mr. Mowbray!” Mr. Keating said as Archie began to stir on the ground in front of them.
“What?” Archie said, sounding groggy as he sat up and looked at the scene around him. “What is happening? Who are you?”
“I am Robert Keating, Constable. I am here because you have been accused of kidnapping Miss Cecilia Baxter.”
“What?” Archie said again, still sounding confused and groggy. He shook his head in disbelief, as though he thought the scene in front of him might disappear if he could only shake it loose from his head.
“Archie Mowbray, did you or did you not kidnap Cecilia Baxter?” the constable said, speaking slowly and clearly to ensure that he was understood.
“I…” Archie said, standing up and looking around him. “I didn’t kidnap her. I merely brought her to my uncle’s house to talk. We are going to be married, and I wanted to show her the house. My uncle’s house. Well, really, it will be my house when we are wed.”
“Well, you see now, Mr. Mowbray, the funny thing is, Miss Baxter says that you brought her to your uncle’s house against her will and held her hostage.” Mr. Keating said. “She says that she will not marry you. Now, what am I to make of that?”
“Well, I’m not sure what would make her say that,” Archie said, looking at his feet.
“I have an idea of what would make her say that,” Nicholas said coldly. “Perhaps it might be because she is engaged to marry me.”
“You!” Archie said, contemptuously, “Engaged to marry you! It’s absurd! You cannot possibly love her as I do! You could never really understand her like I can!”
To Nicholas’ surprise, Archie began to cry then. Mr. Keating made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “All right now, there’s no need for that Mr. Mowbray.”
Archie continued to cry in spite of Mr. Keating’s words. “Cecilia belongs to me!” he said, sounding like a petulant child, arguing over a favorite toy.
“That is not for you to decide!” Nicholas yelled at Archie in disgust.
“Enough!” said the constable, in a booming, authoritative voice, “now that’s enough from both of you. Mr. Mowbray, you are under arrest for kidnapping, and now I must escort you to gaol to await your trial.”
Archie’s hands were still bound together at the wrist, so there was no need for Mr. Keating to use any additional restraints. He pulled Archie to his feet and began to lead him out of the yard. “Thank you for your help with this matter, My Lord,” he said, with a slight bow to Nicholas.
“Thank you, constable, I’m sure that my fiancé will sleep more securely tonight knowing that Mr. Mowbray is in gaol.”
Nicholas returned to the kitchen, where he found Cecilia sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea. Her father sat next to her with his arm around her shoulder, and they both looked exhausted.
Nicholas told them what had happened in the yard, and both Cecilia and her father expressed feelings of relief that Archie had been taken away. Still, Nicholas could not help noting that Cecilia looked more numb than relieved. I suppose I would feel quite numb in her position, as well.
“Cecilia, perhaps you should try to get some sleep,” Nicholas suggested.
She looked up at him, and he thought he could read a myriad of competing emotions in her eyes. She was exhausted, that was clear, but she also looked at him longingly, as though she wanted him to stay.
“I promise that I shall return to check on you tomorrow,” he assured her.
“All right,” Cecilia said, stifling a yawn. “I suppose that a good night’s sleep would do me some good.”
“I quite agree with Lord Nicholas!” her father said, “Shall I help you upstairs?”
“No, Papa, thank you, but I don’t need any help.”
Nicholas longed to take her in his arms and kiss her goodnight, but he knew that he could not do that in front of her father. He supposed that Cecilia really did need sleep more than anything else at this point, and kissing her was unlikely to help her get to sleep.
“Good night, Cecilia,” Nicholas said. “I shall see you tomorrow.” And with that, he walked out of the house, mounted his stallion, and headed back to Huxley Manor.
* * *
Cecilia woke the next morning relieved to find herself in her own bed, in her own room. Her head was still aching, but less than it had been the night before. Her body was stiff as she got up from bed, but as she walked across the room to the washstand, she felt her muscles begin to loosen.
Cecilia poured water from the pitcher into the basin and splashed her face. She examined her face in the looking glass. The shadow of a bruise covered the left side of her jaw, and she winced when her fingertips grazed it.
Memories of the previous day came flooding back to her all at once, and she felt the urge to run rising in her chest. Cecilia took three deep breaths, in…and out…, to calm herself. Nicholas rescued me—I am home, and I am safe. She repeated this process a few times until she felt herself returning to a calm state of mind.
Carefully, Cecilia changed from her nightgown into a simple work dress before going downstairs to breakfast. Mrs. Williams and her father were waiting for her in the kitchen. They had been speaking in hushed tones, but fell silent when she entered the room. Mrs. Williams turned immediately to the hearth and began stoking the fire.
“Will you be wanting some tea, Miss Baxter?” she asked cheerfully. “And perhaps a bit of toast? Or would you prefer eggs this morning, we have some fresh if you like.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Williams,” Cecilia said, sitting down at the kitchen table, “tea and toast would be lovely.”
“How are you feeling this morning, Cece?” her father asked, sounding grave and looking concerned.
“I’m all right, Papa, truly,” she replied, feeling tired but not unwell. “It is only a few bumps and bruises, but fortunately I was rescued before…he could do any real harm.”
She had meant to say Archie’s name, but found that the word stuck in her throat. She could not believe that after all of their years of friendship he could betray her so terribly. I trusted him; how could I have been so foolish?
“Cece, I promise you, if he ever shows his face here again, he will sorely regret it!” Her father slammed his fist on the table with uncharacteristic force. He was a gentle soul, in spite of his strength, and Cecilia had rarely seen him so angry. His anger caught her off guard, but it felt comforting to know that between him and Nicholas, Archie would never be able to hurt her again.
Cecilia ate her toast and drank her tea in silence. The tea warmed her thoroughly and she felt more comfortable with each sip that she took. When she had finished her breakfast, her father spoke again.
“Cece, why don’t you take today to rest? Perhaps you could read a book, or get some sleep. After the ordeal that you have been through, it might be best.”
“No!” she said firmly, causing her father to look shocked by her tone. “I’m sorry, I just mean that I would prefer to keep myself busy today. Surely there is plenty of work still to be done, and now that…now that it is only you and me working, we cannot afford to be idle.”
“I promise that I shall go carefully, Papa,” Cecilia said in a soothing voice. “If I grow weary, or I am feeling unwell, I promise that I shall leave the shop straight away and return to my bed without a word of protest.”
“All right then, I suppose we should be getting to work after all,” he replied with a rueful grin that Cecilia recognized as the face he always made when she had bested him in an argument.
* * *
An hour later, Cecilia and her father were at work in the shop when they heard the door open. Cecilia finished sanding the spoke of a wagon wheel and set it down carefully before turning to see Mrs. Williams in the doorway.
“The Marquess of Clive is here to see you, Miss,” Mrs. Williams said, winking to her as she said it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Williams,” Cecilia replied, smiling kindly at the old housekeeper. “Please show him in.”
Nicholas walked into the shop, and Cecilia’s heart beat faster in her chest. No matter how many times she saw him, she never grew accustomed to how handsome he was. Perhaps when they were man and wife, spending all of their days and nights together for the rest of their lives, she would grow used to it, but perhaps I might not.
“Mr. Baxter, Miss Baxter, I wanted to come and see how you are doing today,” he said, removing his hat and bowing his head slightly.
“That is very kind of you, My Lord,” Cecilia’s father replied. “I’ve suggested that Cecilia might like to rest today, but she insists that working will do her more good.”
Her father looked from Cecilia to Nicholas and back again. He seemed to be hoping that Nicholas would reinforce his view on the matter. Nicholas looked at Cecilia with a smile.
“I’m sure that Cecilia knows best what she needs right now,” he said firmly, but kindly. “If I could steal her away from her work for just a moment though, I had hoped that we might discuss some wedding preparations?”
“Oh, certainly, I see no problem with that,” her father replied, “as long as Cecilia agrees, of course.”
Cecilia laughed at the two men talking about her. “Of course,” she said, and led Nicholas into the kitchen, where they sat at the table.
Mrs. Williams was working in the kitchen and offered them tea while they talked. Cecilia took another cup, even though she had just had some with her breakfast, and Nicholas joined her.
“I have spoken with Isobel, and she has no objection to us marrying before her debut,” Nicholas said. “Cecilia, would you do me the honor of marrying me tomorrow?”
Cecilia’s jaw dropped open momentarily. They had discussed having the wedding soon, but she had not really thought that it would happen so quickly.
“Of course, if you would prefer to wait…” Nicholas began to say, sounding uncertain.
“No!” Cecilia said, firmly. “I would love to marry you tomorrow! I would love to marry you right now, but I suppose tomorrow will have to do.”
“It will have to be a small wedding, something simple. Will you mind terribly if it is not a formal affair?”
“I think that I should prefer it that way,” she said, feeling a sense of relief. She did not care about the wedding, she cared only about being Nicholas’ wife, and everything that entailed. The sooner they were wed, the sooner they could spend hours alone together. The mere idea made Cecilia’s pulse quicken and her mouth go dry.
Chapter 32
The Bishop gave Nicholas and Cecilia a dispensation–in exchange for a generous donation–allowing them to be married right away in the parish church near Cecilia’s childhood home. Her father and Mrs. Williams were in attendance, along with Nicholas’ parents, the Duke and Duchess of Huxley. Lady Isobel Lymington stood up for Cecilia as her maid of honor, and the Duke of Westfield was Nicholas’ best man.
Before the ceremony began, the Duchess of Huxley had taken Cecilia aside to speak to her privately.
“Miss Baxter, I feel that I owe you an apology,” she had said. “I’m sure that you can understand why I did not wish for my son to marry you.”
Cecilia said nothing to this, but raised one eyebrow in what she thought was a good impression of the cold look the Duchess had so often given to her.
The Duchess sighed, “All right, perhaps you cannot understand why. The truth is that it does not matter. After today we shall be family. In time you shall give me grandchildren. It is not right that there should be bad feelings between us.”
“I agree, Your Grace,” Cecilia said, keeping her voice cool and emotionless.
“Well,” the Duchess continued, “please accept my apology for the way that I treated you and your father in the past several months. I hope that we can move past our differences. My only hope is for Nicholas to be happy.”
“That is my only hope as well, Your Grace,” Cecilia said firmly. At that she had bowed her head and walked away to finish preparing for the ceremony.
She had considered wearing the gown Lady Isobel had given her for her upcoming debut, as it was by far the finest thing that she owned. However, in the end, she decided to wear a simpler gown that had been her mother’s.
When she walked down the aisle of the church, arm in arm with her father, wearing her mother’s gown, Cecilia felt surrounded by love. Waiting for her at the end of the aisle, was the man she loved. The man who had rescued her from kidnapping, who had risked scandal, and the wrath of his family to be with her.
Nicholas wore a velvet waistcoat of a deep-plum color that complemented his auburn hair perfectly. Cecilia felt a sudden urge to run to him and lose herself in his arms, but she knew that she must control herself. It only took a few seconds longer to walk down the aisle at a respectable pace, after all.
When the priest pronounced them “man and wife” and told Nicholas “You may now kiss the bride,” Cecilia felt suddenly shy. Kissing Nicholas was one of her greatest pleasures in life, but it had always been done in private. Nicholas seemed to have no such reservations, though, and Cecilia soon lost sight of hers.
* * *
Once the ceremony had ended, and the wedding party had toasted the happy couple at Mr. Baxter’s cottage, Cecilia and Nicholas set off for London by carriage. The Duke of Westfield would be remaining in Huxley Manor, but had offered the newlyweds the use of his townhouse for a short honeymoon.
Nicholas insisted that he would take Cecilia on a proper honeymoon to Europe in the spring, but Cecilia thought that a few days alone together in London sounded extremely luxurious.
“Perhaps I can take some time to acquaint myself with the house and make some sketches for the pieces my father and I will be making for you,” Cecilia had said, when the Duke of Westfield made his offer.
The Duke had merely laughed at this and said, “Oh, you needn’t worry about that, My Lady. Please just enjoy your honeymoon!”
* * *
Cecilia and Nicholas arrived in London later that afternoon. They had spent the carriage ride kissing and embracing, but had done no more than that. When they finally arrived at the Duke of Westfield’s townhouse, Cecilia felt as though every nerve in her body was on fire. She was filled with so much desire that she felt she might burst.
Upon their arrival, the Duke of Westfield’s servants greeted them and brought their things into the house. Cecilia found it strange to be called “My Lady,” but she supposed she would get used to it eventually. Once they had brought their trunks into the house, the servants made themselves scarce.
Knowing very little about the usual behavior of servants, Cecilia could not be sure whether this was normal. Perhaps the Duke of Westfield had instructed his servants to leave the newlyweds alone. Cecilia blushed at this thought, but could hardly be mad if this were true. Now that she was finally alone with her husband, she felt a thrill of desire course through her whole body.
Once they were alone, they could not wait to touch each another. They began to
kiss, passionately, in the drawing room, not bothering to move to the bedchamber. Swiftly, Nicholas began to unlace the bodice of her gown. Cecilia raised her hands to help him, eager to be rid of the fabric separating her body from his.
“I’m sorry my love,” he said, breathless, when her hands touched his, “shall I stop?”
“No!” Cecilia said, desperately wanting him to continue. “I was merely helping you along.” She untied the laces and pulled her gown over her head, so that she stood before him in only a thin linen shift.
Nicholas looked at her, a glint in his eyes, and his lips slightly parted. Quickly, he removed his vest, breeches, and shirt. Cecilia had never seen anything so beautiful. She lunged toward him and kissed him once again, urgently, possessively.
The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 25
