Dinah admired her from head to toe. ‘You look like a dream. Now hurry to see your earl before Dashwood or your sister arrives there first.’
‘What do you know?’ She strode towards the door not waiting for an answer, and just as Dinah had predicted, Whimsy and her husband stood sentry outside the guestroom in some type of serious conversation that fell silent once she stepped within earshot.
‘Good morning, Livie. How beautiful you are in that gown.’ Whimsy smiled, her greeting sincere. ‘We’ll be down to the breakfast room shortly.’
Livie slanted a peek at Dash who flicked his gaze to the ceiling. Then she stared at the guestroom door as if wishing would enable her to see through the panel. ‘I’m not ready to eat just yet.’
‘Well,’ Dash replied with sudden interest in the conversation. ‘You can’t go in there.’
‘Why not?’ Livie straightened her shoulders. ‘Randolph and I are to be married.’
‘Livie.’ Whimsy’s tone expressed censure. ‘So much has happened. You shouldn’t presume the Earl will propose. He has indicated as much to Dash, but with light of the recent occurrences it may be best to allow the man to heal first.’
‘What?’ Livie’s voice rose in kind to her temper. ‘How many trials must I endure before you realise Randolph and I belong together? I expect opposition at every turn from your husband. It’s his nature.’ She skewered Dashwood with a sharp stare to drive her point home. ‘But you? I would have thought you’d know my heart better and understand my wishes.’ She covered her face with her hands, praying for patience and simultaneously fighting back tears. The charm bracelet slid down her wrist with a tinkling reminder of all that had transpired during Wilhelmina and Dashwood’s courtship and suddenly, she didn’t give a fig about pleasing her sister or garnering her brother-in-law’s approval. She removed her hands from her face and, in a lightning-fast action, twisted the knob to Randolph’s room, but it held tight.
‘What’s happened? Why is the door locked?’ At her sister’s silence and brother-in-law’s stony expression, Livie’s heart plummeted to her soles.
‘There’s been a recent development.’ Dashwood’s voice sounded grave.
‘The vicar should arrive shortly. We need his immediate assistance.’ Wilhelmina patted Livie’s hand in a show of reassurance. ‘Why don’t you go downstairs…’
‘The vicar? I’ve caused a fever? Good heavens, worse, last rites?’ Livie’s trembling whispers exposed her fear of either condition being true.
‘Lavinia,’ Whimsy chastised. ‘Please calm down. Don’t jump to unwarranted conclusions.’
‘Then let me inside.’ She almost stamped her slipper, and would have if she believed it would grant her entry.
Dash cleared his throat and gained Livie’s avid attention. ‘I think you’ve made enough visits to this chamber the past three days.’
Mortification caused heat to steal up Livie’s neck, robbing her ability to argue, no matter his chafing undertone prodded she reply.
‘I cannot allow it to continue and furthermore…’ – he glanced at the pocket watch he retrieved from his waistcoat – ‘…I have no more patience for the subject.’ He snapped his watch closed and replaced it. ‘Whimsy, please take your sister downstairs to the drawing room at once. All of us will assemble there and discuss what is to be done.’
Wilhelmina clasped her hand and tugged. Confounded about more than a few things, Livie followed, though she grumbled all the way. ‘Why does Dashwood have to be such a boorish, cantankerous man? How you put up with his overbearing nature I cannot fathom. Randolph would never order me about with such blasé dismissal.’ She said the latter in a way which clearly boasted my earl is better than yours.
But Wilhelmina could not be goaded and only smiled as they took the stairs and headed towards the front of the house. Once they entered the front hall Aunt Kate intercepted their path in a flurry of nervous energy.
‘There you are, Livie. Why you look as elegant as I’ve ever seen you. You have a becoming glow about you and a beguiling twinkle in your eye.’ Aunt Kate beamed, her compliments stated in loud exclamation. ‘I’m so happy you’ve finally come down.’
Livie’s eyes flitted over Aunt Kate with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. Her silvery grey hair was pulled back in a tidy bun and she, too, wore an elaborate gown only seen on special occasions. Livie pushed her spectacles higher, hoping to gain clarity, but her attention quickly strayed beyond her aunt to the ambience of low conversation and muffled laughter coming from the drawing room. Someone’s masculine chuckle escaped when the door opened and she could have sworn she detected the subtle notes of a violin. She rose on her toes and extended her neck in a search for more clues. ‘What exactly is happening this morning? Do we have company?’ Again she attempted to peer around her sister who now blocked the closed entrance to the front of house with the efficiency of a stone wall.
Jasper appeared out of nowhere. He held a glass of champagne, or at least it appeared the beverage filled his glass. It certainly wasn’t tea or coffee despite the hour was incredibly early, just half nine if the clock in the hall stood correct. Dash joined him and the two stopped beside the trio of ladies as, in the front hall, the butler opened the door and Esme entered, swathed in a long cloak of blue velvet that lent her the appearance of a princess seeking shelter from the inhospitable cold. Her maid trailed two steps behind, a gloriously wrapped package with ribboned bow in her grasp.
‘Thank heavens I’m not too late.’ Esme thrust her wrap into a nearby servant’s waiting hands. ‘The traffic leaving London centre was ridiculous. I worried I wouldn’t make it here in time.’ She rushed across the tiles and embraced Livie before she caught her breath. ‘Does Penwick know how lucky he is? I doubt it, but he has the rest of his life to find out, doesn’t he?’
Dash interceded as soon as Esme released her. ‘That’s enough conversation. I think, at last, we have it all arranged.’
Livie’s stomach coiled into a knot and then she caught the gleam of mischief in her brother-in-law’s eyes before he blinked it away. Caught within his own charade, his face let loose with a grand smile as obvious as a white flag of surrender.
‘Come along, Livie.’ He looped his arm through hers to provide escort. ‘You’ve waited long enough to take this walk.’
Pure recognition, wonderful and enthralling, flooded to her toes. The tender notes of a violin beckoned her forward and, as she turned the corner and crossed the threshold of double doors, every person in the crowded room rose to line a petal-littered aisle. Her eyes followed the path to her beloved in full formalwear and sword at the front of the drawing room. Her heart skipped, pounded, leapt to join his in promise.
Aside Randolph, the vicar smiled in the golden glow of two crystal candelabras and her vision blurred as the fresh rush of tears threatened to spill over. She managed to chase them away in time to meet Randolph’s gaze, though her breath caught at the realisation all her worry was for naught.
Emotions whirled. Words evaporated on her tongue. How had this all been planned so efficiently while she had no inkling of the arrangements? Wilhelmina. Her wonderful, sometimes exasperating and bothersome, always loving sister. All her clever subterfuge aimed at this achievement.
‘Is this my wedding?’ Livie begged an explanation but no one supplied an answer. She glanced to where Whimsy and Aunt Kate stood in a well-matched pair of adoration and responsibility and her heart grew another measure. Still, there was no time for nostalgic revelry. Dashwood did not pause. He ushered her past Jasper and Emily, then further, to where Esme stood at the corner of the first row of chairs.
‘This is it,’ her friend whispered, ‘the moment you’ve dreamed of forever.’
Livie hardly had a chance to appreciate Esme’s sentiment. Dash stopped as they reached their destination and, without looking back, for there was no longer any reason to regard old letters or bittersweet memories, she accepted Randolph’s gloved hand and took her place beside him as
the vicar opened his bible and addressed the seated crowd.
‘I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful.’
Lavinia heard a few sniffles from the front row and smiled, her deepest emotions on a short tether. That is, until Dashwood cleared his throat loudly as if to speak. Her heart palpitated with his teasing gesture, drawing the wait for objections while the vicar attended the audience to an unbearable tension. Such a ridiculous notion, yet she breathed a sigh of relief when the vicar resumed the ceremony.
‘With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’
Randolph’s vow spoke directly to her heart. Her hand trembled within his as he slid his signet ring, heavy and far too large, to the base of her finger. They’d seen and heard enough of diamonds to last a lifetime. Perhaps a new goldsmith could design a wedding band with the Penwick crest in just her size. The thought pleased and she smiled up at her new husband, her pulse pounding in her ears, every breath brimming with the most joyous emotion imaginable.
‘God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen.’
Her legs quivered when she turned to face the crowd, but her heart danced the most beautiful waltz, as enchanting as she had ever dreamed possible. And then, a burst of exuberant applause filled the room, the serenade of the violinist a sweet accompaniment to her pure elation.
Epilogue
Like the disobedient tail of a kite, the biting February wind whipped the lengths of Livie’s hair. The soft, mahogany ribbons escaped from the ermine-lined winter cap and floated with weightless joy as she glided on the frozen Serpentine, her divine skates perfectly fitted and gloriously warm. It was the gloaming, the mystical in-between time when the sun traded position with the moon. A frisson of enchantment charged the air and a lively bonfire burned bright on a distant hilltop to crown the evening’s festivities and welcome the night.
Learning to skate had posed a difficult challenge, but with Randolph beside her, his encouraging guidance at her elbow and his unmatched strength quick to provide rescue, she soon accomplished the balance needed to glide upon the blades as agile as Lord Braven, the old man’s skill a respected achievement on the ice. To her credit, unswerving determination compelled her to persist until she’d mastered the ability, although knowing it unlikely her bottom would hit the ice before Randolph lifted her to safety proved a remarkable boost to her courage.
He shadowed her now and, with a quick glance over her shoulder, appeared beside her, always present and protective, a luxury she cherished.
‘Would you like a cup of chocolate?’
Randolph’s deep tenor met her ear despite her cap pulled tight to guard against the chill. She slowed, coasting to a stop near the wrought-iron railing placed at the edge of the riverbank for that exact purpose. Her gloves found purchase and she smiled with her reply. ‘What a delicious suggestion.’
Randolph leaned closer. ‘I know something twice as delectable.’ Obscured by the breadth of his shoulders, he dipped down for a stolen kiss.
‘You’re fogging my spectacles.’ Her feigned indignation was laughable, her breath little puffs of steam and amusement.
‘Better still.’ His voice rumbled with pleasure. ‘Then you won’t see me do this.’
Being swaddled in layers of wool kept her comfortable despite the frigid temperature; still, nothing warmed like her husband’s affection. Another grin broke free, prompted by his teasing proposition, until, indeed, his hand stole beneath her cloak to brush against her breast.
‘Randolph.’ She strove for a strident tone, though a wave of heat swept through her. ‘Can’t you wait until we get home?’
‘My thoughts exactly.’ His reply was all seductive invitation and now he grinned, his eyes aglitter with sly mischief as if she’d played right into his hands – and well, she usually did. ‘Why don’t you tell your sister we’re leaving?’
They moved beyond the railing and further from the edge of the ice to where wooden benches lined the gravel walkway. People sat in conversation, a line of boots and skates standing sentry to the activities.
‘Whimsy will know exactly why we’re making an abrupt exit. I daresay my face is crimson with embarrassment.’ She fanned her hot cheeks despite the air snapped and then she settled to remove her skates.
‘She will assume it’s the cold.’ He leaned in to whisper against her lips, his kiss a lethal tool of persuasion.
Her eyes fell closed and, for a brief moment, she melted into his embrace. ‘I’m so very glad you found me, Randolph Caulfied, Earl of Penwick.’
His eyebrows raised high at her sudden confession. ‘Indeed, you found me, Lavinia Caulfield, Lady Penwick.’ His voice dropped low. ‘Now let’s leave and return home so I can show you how very well you are loved.’
Despite their sense of urgency, it was an hour before they disentangled themselves from the jovial group at Hyde Park and climbed the stairs to their new home on High Street. As one of many wedding gifts, Randolph purchased property with vast bucolic acreage on the outskirts of London, within a morning’s travel to the endless amusement of city life and still connected to country living, the essence of their childhoods and favoured respite. The horse stable housed cattle of superior quality and stood within walking distance from their home, a grand brick estate, free of ornamental pilasters and other decorative features, adorned with bowed flowerboxes below the middle row of windows, where Livie anticipated blooms of every variety would accent their home come milder weather.
Now, she stepped onto the marble balcony off their bedroom, the frosty quintessence of the evening sinking into her bones as much as the winter temperature. All was silent save a slight wind soughing through the trees. Moonlight bathed everything in silver, the outline as far as her eye could see as prettily detailed as the charms on her cherished bracelet. She touched the bejewelled crown, her mind flitting through the rapid succession of events which encompassed her life of late.
What a beloved coincidence she bid farewell to Randolph, author of her many cherished letters, and allowed her heart the freedom to fall in love with the Earl of Penwick, the incredible man one in the same. She’d regained her strength and balance, her legs stronger than ever, and walked down the aisle to begin a new life of love and happiness.
Together, they’d survived horrible circumstances, and thankfully, Randolph’s recovery left nothing behind except a few heroic scars. In turn, the Allington jewellery shop had fallen out of favour, their diamond business abandoned by most everyone once word leaked concerning the dangerous collusion Jonathan had perpetrated against his father and Penwick, all in the name of greed.
‘Lavinia.’ Randolph’s voice reached her before he did. He folded her into his arms, encompassed from behind in warmth like a great coat, a reminder to live in the present not the past. ‘Come in before you catch a chill.’
‘How did I become so lucky?’ She nuzzled her face against the sleeve of his banyan, breathing in the rich scent of cashmere and bergamot, comfort and happiness, as he led her into their bedroom. The glass terrace doors closed and locked before she exhaled. He swept her up and deposited her on their massive bed with succinct grace.
‘Luck had nothing to do with it.’
He loosened the tie and slid the sash of her wrapper free, the brisk trace of silk across her spine sending a cascade of sensation to her toes. His banya
n dropped to the floorboards next. He wore only trousers and looked absolutely wicked, all smooth muscle and potent virility, his chest marked by memories, proof his heart beat stronger than ever, and the image of her husband, his dark gaze smouldering in wait of her, evoked awe as well as passion, an extraordinary combination.
Her eyes went to the cheval glass across the room, enamoured by her husband’s reflection, broad shoulders, lean waist and firm buttocks, a prime specimen of masculine wonder, but he didn’t allow her time for prolonged study and joined her on the bed.
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Her words were nothing more than soft appreciative murmurs as he drew her down to the mattress and kissed a path from her neck to shoulder. The heat of his body caged her in as much as his muscular arms, allowing just enough space between them so she could feel every breath. ‘I love you, Randolph.’ Her whisper brushed his lips.
His lashes lowered, accepting her words as he breathed deep and then laughed, low and sexy. His mouth found hers as he answered. ‘Our fate could only have been written by Destiny’s pen.’
The comment forced her eyes to the satinwood box atop the wardrobe, the chest unlatched and lid ajar, filled to the brim with their numerous letters, but not nearly as full as her heart.
CARINA™
ISBN: 978 1 474 03594 1
His Forbidden Debutante
Copyright © 2016 Anabelle Bryant
Published in Great Britain (2016)
by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
His Forbidden Debutante Page 24
