by Emma Newman
He listened to her breath catch in her throat and saw how her eyes darkened in the mirror as her lips reddened. “I…Will, I have to dress.”
“I missed you, my love,” he said against her skin, tickling it with his breath, as his hand moved up from the lace, brushing the top of her breast again to skim the base of her throat.
“I’m sorry I had to go. Mother needed me, and I don’t know if I’ll see her again after today.”
He paused, looking at her reflection again. “Are your parents planning to travel once Elizabeth is married?”
She shook her head, biting her lip, twisting her head slightly to brush her cheek against his hair. “If I tell you, you mustn’t tell another soul, Will.”
“Of course, darling.” Another kiss, another swell of her chest. He was tempted to have her there, against the dressing table, and be late for the wedding.
“Mother is leaving my father. That’s why she wanted to marry Elizabeth off so quickly. She couldn’t wait any longer to be with her lover.”
Will pressed his lips against her shoulder, wondering who that could be. “You aren’t going to warn your father?”
She looked horrified. “No, Will! And you must swear to me that you won’t say a word to anyone at the wedding. I shouldn’t have told you.”
He smiled at her in the mirror, skimming over her skin with his lips, back to the nape of her neck. “I promise. You’re so soft.”
“Will,” she breathed, clasping her hands together after starting to reach back, as if she were trying to stop herself from touching him. “Stop it; I have to get ready, not…”
“I have a gift for you,” he said, sliding his hand away from her chest slowly, enjoying the way she responded to his touch.
“Can’t it wait until Elizabeth is married?”
“No,” he said, bringing the box round with his right hand, circling her with his left to open it in front of her from the centre of a loose embrace. “I hope you like it.”
He watched her eyes widen, her mouth open. “Oh! Will, it’s beautiful. Too fancy for me, surely.”
“Nonsense,” he said, easing it from the strips of velvet that held it in place. “I commissioned it especially for you. I thought you might like something more…modern than most.”
Cathy smiled at him. “It isn’t my birthday or anything.”
“I don’t need a reason or anything,” he mimicked her tone, tossing the box aside and holding it up in front of her so she could see it glitter beneath the sprite light. “You’re my wife. I love you. I wanted to give you something special to wear to your sister’s wedding. I’m just glad I commissioned it as soon as she came to stay!” He kissed the back of her neck again, ran his lips around to her other shoulder. “Will you let me put it on you? I confess I asked your maid to pick out a dress to go with it. I’d love to see you wear it today.”
“It isn’t more for a ball or dance or…?”
“No, it can be worn in the day.” He forced himself to be patient, running a line of kisses up to her neck again, peeping over her shoulder to lock eyes with hers in the reflection. “I’d much rather see you wearing this and nothing else. But if we must go to this wedding, I suppose I will have to live with you wearing the dress with it. Until we get back.”
She looked back at him, hungry, her hands pulled apart by her lust to reach back and hold his hips against her. “I’ll wear it—with the dress—but put it on before I make us late.”
With a smile that she reflected back to him in the glass, he pressed the sapphire against her throat, wrapped the band around her neck, and fastened it shut.
He felt her shudder, as if she were cold, and a slight frown replaced her smile. She looked distant for a moment, lost even, and he spun her around and kissed her deeply, coaxing her attention back to him. He held her close, feeling her respond more passionately. It seemed that breaking Poppy’s wish magic also meant that nothing else was acting against the Charm working on her now.
Will ran his hands down her back, his fingertips brushing the lacing of the corset until he felt the swell of her buttocks and the silk covering them. He had just got the slippery fabric pinched between finger and thumb to pull the chemise up when there was a knock at the door.
“Not now,” he growled.
“Your Grace,” came the voice of the lady’s maid. “You’ll be late if I don’t dress you now.”
Will loved the way Cathy was pushing him back towards one of the wardrobes in her passion. “Hang the wedding,” he said.
“The wedding!” she gasped. “No, Will, we can’t be late.” She moved away, putting her hands on his chest and holding him at arm’s length. “Wait downstairs, for God’s sake.”
“Do you like my gift?”
She reached up to trace it with her fingertips. “I love it. And I love you. And I want to tear those very fine clothes off you, so go downstairs before you end up being just as undressed as I am!”
He laughed. “Only if you promise to come home afterwards and spend the night with me.”
“Fine, fine, I promise, now shoo!”
He left her to dress and waited for her in the carriage, unable to stop smiling with relief. He would make sure he distracted her just enough through the day to keep her mind on him and nothing else, then they would come home and he would make love to her and…he sighed. It was all going to be fine. He’d tell her about his plans for the Agency afterwards, when it was all done and he could properly relax. Besides, he didn’t want to raise any topics that might remind her of anything other than him.
He smiled as she burst from the house, the sapphire of the choker matching the trim of her gown and her opera gloves perfectly. She paused at the bottom of the steps, spun around, and headed back up them, only to meet her maid rushing out of the house to press a reticule into her hand. Cathy dashed down the steps, allowed the footman to help into the carriage, and sat opposite him, panting.
“You nearly made us late,” she said.
“That was you,” he said, leaning across to take her hands. “How could I help but kiss you when you were standing there, all soft and sweet-scented in your underclothes.”
“Stop it,” she whispered, beaming at him.
“Carter’s on the back, he can’t hear us. Now,” he moved across the gap to sit next to her, “let’s see if I can find a way to keep us occupied until we reach the Oak…”
• • •
As weddings went, it was by far the most enjoyable Cathy had ever attended. Considering she’d only been to three in her entire life—one when she was a child and too young to really understand what was happening and the other her own—it wasn’t much of an achievement. She’d expected it to be far worse, especially when they arrived to a rather tearful Elizabeth, who was upset that Lord Poppy hadn’t turned up.
“He came for your wedding!” she pouted at Cathy as she went over. “Why not mine?”
Cathy shrugged. “He probably knows you’re willing. He doesn’t have to make sure it happens.”
She hadn’t meant it to be a comfort, but somehow it brightened her sister. “Yes, that must be it. I wish he was here to see me at my best, though.”
“Count yourself lucky,” Cathy said, and Elizabeth scowled at her.
“Oh stop that!”
“What?”
“That thing you do, that…dismissing everything I think is important and making me feel silly for wanting things.”
Cathy met Will’s eyes across the distance between them, her mind only partially on Elizabeth. He was waiting at a discreet distance with Tom, ready to accompany the party up the aisle at the appropriate time. “It’s not my fault you always want silly things.”
“You’re doing it again! On my wedding day, and I tried so hard to be nice to you on yours! You ended up being Duchess and you even ended up being our patron’s favourite, even after the despicable things you did! And you don’t even try! It’s so unfair!”
“What’s all this noise about?” their father sa
id, coming over from greeting other guests. “Catherine, are you upsetting your sister on today of all days?”
“I hardly have to try,” Cathy said with a shrug. “I think she’s allergic to me.” But her sister’s words had penetrated, no matter how much she tried to hide the fact. She’d always dismissed Elizabeth for being the very epitome of what Society wanted from their young ladies, without even considering any effort her sister might have put into it. Seeing her life through Elizabeth’s eyes was a revelation. And all this time she’d been raging against so much, when really, she was blessed.
She was drawn back to Will again. He was saying something to Tom that made her brother laugh. Elizabeth was right. With no effort at all she was married to one of the most handsome men in Albion, a man who beyond all expectations loved her too. How he could find something lovable in her, plain and difficult as she was, was a miracle.
Cathy felt tired, yet happy. It had been such a wildly emotional time of late. She’d lost two of her friends and closest allies, was soon to lose her mother—though that was for a happier reason—and she was still desperately worried about Charlotte. But the tension beneath it all, the constant sense of not doing enough, of not changing anything, had eased. She was simply withdrawing and reconsidering, as Natasha had said, taking a moment to breathe in all the madness. Eventually Margritte and Natasha would return and they would resume their efforts. There was no need to rush. She would work something out, some way forward that would keep Will smiling at her that way. It was so blissful when they didn’t fight.
Will glanced over at her, gave the smile he reserved just for her, and she simply melted. Cathy smiled back, planning to have one drink at the reception, just to be seen, before racing back home with him in the carriage. She had to have him. Even though there was the tiniest hint of worry at the back of her mind that she shouldn’t, Cathy couldn’t for the life of her remember why she had worried about being intimate with him. Something about…
“Catherine!” Elizabeth’s shrill voice cut through her. “Stop staring at William and arrange my train!”
As she fussed with Elizabeth’s dress under their mother’s watchful eye, a carriage arrived bearing the Iris crest. Cathy looked up, expecting to see Will’s parents emerge with Imogen, but only his mother stepped out, and she looked dreadfully pale.
“Where’s George Iris?” her father said, but her mother pretended not to hear, disinterested.
Will went over to his mother, who broke down as he got to her. Startled, he guided her away, out of sight round the corner of the building.
“Something’s wrong,” Cathy said, wondering if she should go and help.
“Is there a stain?” Elizabeth squeaked, thinking she was referring to the train of the dress.
Just as she was about to find Will, he came back into sight, looking grave. Cathy abandoned the hem of Elizabeth’s gown and went to him, tuning out her protestations.
“What’s happened?” she asked him.
“I have to go, my love; there’s a family emergency and I’m needed at home.”
Cathy saw her mother-in-law being guided back to her carriage by one of the footmen. “Is it Imogen?”
Will kissed her hands. “Please give my sincerest apologies to your family. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He started to go, then turned and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Go home after the wedding and wait for me, my love. I’m so sorry I can’t be with you.”
Wanting to go with him, but knowing she had to stay, Cathy watched Will climb into the carriage and give her a worried smile as it pulled away.
Elizabeth’s bottom lip was trembling when she returned. “Don’t tell me the Irises are going to snub my wedding too!”
“Something terrible has happened,” Cathy said, looking at her father. “I don’t know what, but Will’s mother was so upset. I’ve never seen her that way.”
“I can’t believe it!” Elizabeth moaned. “Surely this is a bad omen!”
“Hush now,” their father said. “Your groom is waiting inside, that’s the most important thing. The Irises wouldn’t miss this unless something extraordinary happened, which it evidently has and there’s nothing to be done about it. Now chin up, Elizabeth. Let’s see that beautiful smile. You’re about to become a Viola!”
Elizabeth smiled right on cue, no doubt thinking about how she was about to become a very wealthy young lady too.
Cathy started to head towards the wedding party but was held back by her mother, who judged it better to have Cathy drop out than there be an unbalanced group. Instead, they went inside to sit with the rest of the guests, Cathy feeling a guilty thankfulness that with Will absent, she didn’t have to walk up the aisle as part of the ceremony.
Being back in the huge building that surrounded the Oak brought back memories of her unhappiness on her wedding day, and her anger, but it seemed so distant now. She didn’t know then how happy she’d be with Will. If she had, would she have been less reluctant to marry? There were other reasons to strain against the bonds made that day, after all. Not that she could recall them easily now. Perhaps she had simply grown up, or rather grown into herself now.
Everyone else in the rows of seats nodded to her, though Cathy saw how many of them did it without any real warmth. All of them were respectful, at least. She saw her aunt, the Censor of Aquae Sulis, and gave her a polite nod, which earned the slightest one back. At least she had a beaming smile and merry wave from her Uncle Lavandula. He smiled at the scowl his sister gave him and winked at Cathy before turning to face front again.
The groom waited at the front, a fair-haired man who looked twice Elizabeth’s age and rather bemused by it all. Beside him stood Bertrand Viola and no matter how much she knew she must, Cathy couldn’t muster a smile for him. Charlotte sat in the front row, bolt upright, facing front. Oh, how she wanted to go over there and punch Bertrand in the face!
“That’s a beautiful choker, Catherine,” her mother whispered as the last guests took their places. “I’ve never seen a design quite like it.”
“Will gave it to me this morning,” she said, tracing the outline of the sapphire as she spoke.
Her mother reached across and squeezed her hand. “I do hope you find happiness with him, Catherine.”
The earnest words made tears prick in Cathy’s eyes. She leaned over. “I hope you find it too,” she whispered, and they shared a smile both sad and hopeful.
The wedding went smoothly without any drama, which was quite remarkable, considering Elizabeth was involved. Then again, Elizabeth was at the centre of attention, where she most liked to be, so she could be happy and even seem quite sweet without having to be shrill at any point.
Cathy tried to get to Charlotte during the reception, just to give her a smile or a whisper of reassurance that she hadn’t forgotten about her, but Bertrand kept steering her away. He wasn’t even trying to hide what he was doing. She resolved to go and visit her again soon.
After the tenth person enquired after Will’s health and the well-being of the Irises, Cathy had had enough. She made her goodbyes, kissed Elizabeth as she genuinely wished her well, and then climbed into the carriage with relief. She saw Bertrand escorting Charlotte out as the carriage pulled away and her heart ached to see how pale and thin she looked.
All the way home, Carter inside the carriage instead of on the back, Cathy chewed her thumbnail, trying to work out a way to free Charlotte from her odious husband. If only divorce were a possibility—but there was no way to make that permissible fast enough. With a sigh, she doubted any changes would happen to the law anytime soon. It all seemed so hopeless. She needed to talk to Will about the Ladies’ Court and about Gujarat and couldn’t believe they had slipped her mind. She was tired, that was all, and Will had been so affectionate that morning, it was hard to keep a thought in her head when he was like that. Keeping her mind on anything seemed—
“We’re home, your Grace,” Carter said, opening the carriage door for her.
She hadn’t even noticed. As she climbed down the step, Morgan opened the door, looking worried. “Is it Will? Is he back?” she asked, hurrying up the steps to him.
“No, your Grace. Is he not with you?”
“He was called away. What’s wrong?”
Morgan lowered his voice. “The Arbiter is here, your Grace, the one who visited before. He said he needs to speak with you on a matter of great importance and refused to leave until he saw you.”
Max? She realised she hadn’t checked her phone for a few days. “Is he in the drawing room?” At Morgan’s nod, she went straight to it and found Max waiting for her.
“Hi!” she said. “Long time no see. No tea for us, thanks,” she said to Morgan, who had trailed after her nervously. Carter took up his position outside the door, having had time to eye Max warily before Cathy shut it.
Max inserted something into the keyhole. “So we can’t be overheard,” he said.
“Is the gargoyle with you?”
“He’s nearby. I tried to reach you by using the mobile telephone but you never responded.”
“Sorry, I haven’t been able to get into Mundanus for a few days. What’s up?”
“You didn’t get my warning, then?”
Her first thought was of Will and how his mother had looked. “About what?”
“I had reason to believe you were going to be attacked.”
“Oh! I was. I mean, my carriage was. They ran away. How did you know that was going to happen?”
“It came up in an investigation,” Max said. “I take it you know a Mr Bertrand Persificola-Viola? He’s a resident of Londinium.”
“I do,” she said, not bothering to hide her feelings about him.
“I have intelligence that indicates he’s the head of a secret society called the Second Sons. They’re responsible for several breaches of the Split Worlds Treaty and the attack on your carriage. There’s evidence to suggest they’re targeting you specifically, and I have reason to believe they’re a threat to your person.”
