Love With an Improper Stranger
Page 11
“Oh, I could not agree more.” In fact, Lenore was an unashamed creature of habit, and she found solace in her reliable schedule. How remarkable it was that she shared something in common with Blake. “And that sounds lovely.”
“Also, once the weather improves, I often take long walks in the park.” He scrutinized the toe of his boot. “Perhaps you might accompany me, from time to time.”
“Strange, I would have guessed you preferred to ride the beast that trampled my favorite hat.” She lamented the loss of the simple accessory, as it was a gift from her father. “But I should be too delighted to partner you, as I am rather fond of long walks.”
“Then I look forward to our ventures.” Blake sipped his amber liquor and averted his stare. “And we depart for Portsea Island in the morning.”
“What?” Lenore’s mind raced. “Suppose Uncle Samuel arrives while we are gone?”
“I shall leave instructions with the staff to extend my hospitality to your relation.” In that instant, he reached for her hand. “And he shall remain here, as my guest, given we must negotiate the marriage contract and supervise the distribution of your father’s estate.”
And so they came full circle.
“Blake, what will you do, should I decide to remain unwed?” Somehow, she had to make him acknowledge her right to decline his offer. “I will not expose you to society’s ridicule.”
“Do not worry about me, as I benefit from rank.” Blake raised his crystal balloon in toast and cast her a devilish smile. “No matter what they think of me, the snobs must bow whenever I enter the room, and they will do the same for you.” To her surprise, he drew her from her seat and patted his lap. For a second, she dawdled, as his expression dared her to accept his silent challenge. Then she sidled past his legs and eased into position. “There, now. Is this so bad?”
“Actually, it is nice.” Without urging, she rested her head to his chest, and he rubbed her shoulders. “You make everything seem so simple, but we must consider the reality of my upbringing. I am unprepared to assume the duties of your duchess.”
“But you base your conclusion on the presumption that I will let you fail.” He shifted his weight. “I know you have reservations, but they are baseless.” When she opened her mouth in protest, he forestalled her dissent with a finger to her lips. “Pray, have patience. While my offer of marriage remains on the table, I would secure one more indulgence, if you will humor me.”
She nodded her assent, yet deep down inside, where ruthless honesty persisted, she struggled with doubt—not in Blake, but in herself. And never would she risk shaming him.
“All I ask is that you invest the smallest measure of faith in me, as I will not disappoint you.” In that very second, her usually arrogant captain appeared almost vulnerable, as he brushed his knuckles along the curve of her jaw. “But for now, I would like to hold you. My married brothers swear nothing compares with the experience, and I would know for myself, if you would cooperate.”
“And you will do nothing more?” The minute she asked the question, she regretted it.
“Darling, I have told you I will not claim you until we have taken the vows, as I am nothing if not honorable.” He snatched a blanket from the ottoman and draped the wool swath over her. “But now that you mention it, I would have your promise to tell me the very second you make your decision.”
“You require so little, in exchange for everything you have done for Lucilla and I.” For some reason she could not explain, she slackened, and her eyelids grew weighty with a sudden desire for sleep. With a vociferous yawn, she snuggled close, safely ensconced in his arms, and yielded to the ever-encroaching yearning for a nap. “All right, Blake. As soon as I decide what to do, you will be the first to know.”
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Amid heavy snowfall and a howling gale, the sumptuous traveling coach bobbled up the graveled drive to Courtenay Hall, and Blake checked his timepiece and then smiled at Lenore. Given they took the long route via the town of Portsmouth, instead of crossing the harbor by boat, to avoid Lenore’s seasickness, they arrived a full eight hours later than planned. As the equipage slowed to a halt, he drew the blanket from his mother, as she stretched at his side, folded the plush fur, and disembarked after the footman opened the door.
As expected, Lucy almost tumbled to the ground, in her characteristic zeal, but Mama required assistance. And as he anticipated, Lenore, ever the lady, emerged last, and he would not miss an opportunity to hold her in his arms. Pulling her close, he let her slide down the front of him, and he counted her blush a tender prize.
“Your Grace, you should not linger, as someone might see you.” She frowned as he adjusted her black silk poke bonnet. “And you should not treat me with such familiarity. We would not want anyone to form the wrong conclusion.”
“My dear, this is a family gathering.” And there he had her, much to his pleasure. “Familiarity is a given.”
“Blake, stop tormenting Lenore and bring her inside, before she catches her death.” Tapping her foot, Caroline cast an expression of reproach. “And you must share her with the others, as everyone is excited to meet her.”
“Will you mind your own business?” Not for a minute would he willingly surrender even a second with his lady, and he anchored Lenore to his right and led her up the entrance stairs. “Do you not have another babe to birth? I should speak with Trevor, as you are a bit too full of yourself, and I suspect you are past due for a sound beating.”
“A lot you know.” His not so little sister snickered and hugged her now not-so-round belly. “Trevor would never hurt me, especially when I have just delivered our fourth Lockwood. And as for spankings, I quite favor them, when my husband is in the mood to play a tad rough.” Caroline shrugged and strolled into the foyer. “How else do you suppose he gets me with child so easily?”
“No, no, no.” An image of such illicit games popped into his brain, and Blake winced. “I know precisely how he gets you with child, and I am desperately trying not to think of it.” He turned to the butler. “Good evening, Hicks.”
“Your Grace.” The manservant bowed. “And this must be Miss Teversham.”
“Hello.” Lenore doffed her outerwear, and Blake noted her pale cheeks. “I am happy to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh, so this is the famous Miss Lenore.” Mrs. Jones tottered into the hall. “It is lovely to meet you, my dear. If there is anything we can do to improve your stay, please, do not hesitate to ask.”
“Ah, there she is, my true love.” With a grin, Blake gave the housekeeper a hearty hug. “If you were ten years younger, I should marry you for your delicious jugged hare.”
“Your Grace, you are shameful.” Mrs. Jones giggled. “And Miss Lenore, you will have your hands full this one, but if I was your age, that is trouble I might enjoy.”
Although Lenore laughed, her tight grip on his arm belied her elegant façade, which fractured just then, and he escorted her to the drawing room, in search of diversion. The scene that confronted them could have been derived from a comedy on Drury Lane, as the Brethren of the Coast, in full attendance, chatted, played with their children, swapped war stories, and Trevor and Everett argued about whose new daughter was the fairest. That was his family, and he loved them beyond comprehension.
As Blake and his bride-to-be loomed in the doorway, a hush fell on the chamber, and a swell of pride surged in his chest. But when he took a step forward, Lenore remained at anchor. He gave her a gentle nudge, but she refused to budge. When he met her stare, what he spied shook him to his core.
The sheer terror invested in her gaze rattled him to his toes, and he paused.
“We are so glad that you decided to attend our impromptu Christmas celebration.” Daphne, the newest member of the group, took Lenore from his side. “But I am Daphne Randolph, and this is my husband, Dalton. Welcome, Miss Teversham, and may I address you informally?”
“Of course.” Lenore peered over her shoulder at him, and he winked.
“The lanes were a muddy mess, thus we took accommodations at a coach inn at dusk, every evening.” Without question, Blake followed Daphne and Lenore into the study of the grand home, which the newlyweds had just restored to its former glory. “Did you receive my missive?”
“I did.” In the man’s domain, which featured an odd arrangement of two desks facing each other, one masculine and the other decidedly feminine, Dalton strolled to a side table and poured a brandy. Then he retrieved another bottle and nodded. “For the lady, we have coconut rum.”
“Dinner will be served in an hour.” Daphne patted Lenore’s hand. “It is warm by the hearth, which is perfect after a lengthy journey. Take your ease, and join us when you are ready.”
“There is no rush.” Dalton wrapped his arm about Daphne’s waist. “If necessary, we can delay.”
“Or I could send a tray to your room, Lenore.” Ever the hospitable hostess, Daphne inclined her head, and in silence Blake thanked her. “You need only let me know what you prefer, and I shall make your excuses, which everyone will understand.”
“I do so appreciate your kindness.” As soon as the door closed, Lenore ran into his arms.
“Darling, you are shivering.” Without a word, he collected their glasses, led her to the large overstuffed chair near the fireplace, sat, and then pulled her into his lap. “Take a drink, sweetheart.”
“I am sorry, but I am nervous.” Her fingers shook as she sipped her favorite liquor. “What will happen if I fail you? What if I embarrass your family? How can I meet their standards, given their prestigious standing?”
“Calm yourself, my dear.” It dawned on him then that hers was no device to garner attention or sympathy, not that he considered it such. Rather, he had discredited her protestations as much ado about nothing, but he was wrong. Indeed, her despair represented genuine apprehension regarding their possible union, and he could not discount it, so he rubbed the small of her back until she relaxed. “Better?”
“Yes.” As had become her habit when they shared a seat, she snuggled close to his chest. “I know not what came over me, but I panicked.”
“I believe I owe you an apology.” It was a strange sensation, not altogether pleasant, putting her needs before his. Never had Blake thought himself a selfish sort, but where Lenore was concerned, he was downright greedy. Yet he had to ask himself how much he desired her. To his chagrin, her anguish rendered him helpless, as he manifested the source of her torment. “While you have repeatedly voiced trepidation, I have ignored your pleas, and I regret it, as those are not the actions of an honorable man.”
“Are you teasing me?” Lenore perched upright. “Would you taunt me so?”
“No.” It hurt him to realize she doubted his sincerity. Cupping her cheek, he sighed. “As much as it pains me, I must admit I have not done right by you, and that ends here and now.” A foreign ache settled deep in his bones, as he formulated his response. “Although I remain certain of our compatibility, and my conclusions are unimpeachable, in regard to our mutual fate, I will not force you to the altar. The decision is yours.” In that instant, he transported to the past, to another time and place, when he made the same vow to Caroline, after discovering her in a compromising position with Trevor, and everything changed. “Have I ever shared the details preceding my sister’s marriage?
“I do not recall it.” She consumed an impressive gulp of rum.
“Permit me to relate the details.” Over the next half hour, Blake explained the dreadful situation involving Lord Darwith’s pretend courtship, Caroline’s resulting humiliation and heartbreak, and her desperate run from London, aboard Dalton’s ship, whereupon Trevor mistook her for a courtesan and kidnapped her. “Given the circumstances when I found them, Trevor and Caroline left me little choice in the matter, and I threatened violence if he did not restore her honor.”
“Which necessitated hasty nuptials, I presume?” She slipped her arms about his waist. “You must have been furious.”
“Aye.” Then he chuckled. “But on the day of the ceremony, I offered to steal away with my sister, if she opted not to marry Trevor, as I wanted nothing more than her happiness.”
“You would have done that for her?” Lenore shifted and met his stare. “Despite her ruin?”
“Caroline means more to me than anyone’s good opinion.” He kissed Lenore’s forehead. “As do you. So if you would prefer not to share my life, when your uncle arrives from America, I will let you go.”
“Really?” Her expression of relief cut him like a knife.
“Truly.” It damn near killed him to proclaim it. “But until that time, I encourage you to make the most of the opportunity to acquaint yourself with my family. Yes, I know they can be overwhelming to the newcomer, but they are also supportive, accepting, and loving to a fault.”
“Which is why I would rather die than disappoint them.” With her brow a mass of furrows, she inched close and claimed a whisper of a kiss. “Or you.”
“That is inconceivable.” A pall of sadness blanketed him, as he fathomed his world without Lenore in it. “But if it is your wish to part from me, I will not stop you.”
CHAPTER NINE
Blake’s beneficent offer of freedom should have put Lenore at ease. After all, it was what she wanted, was it not? To her dismay, his sacrifice served only to increase her discomfit, as she could not imagine her world without him in it. So she followed his suggestion and participated in the holiday festivities. Just as he predicted, she fell in love with the Brethren.
Along with Caroline and Trevor, the house party included the hosts, Dalton and Daphne, Admiral Mark and Lady Amanda Douglas, as well as their daughter Cara, and her husband Lance, and their youngest Sabrina, and her husband Everett. The grand dames, Her Grace and Elizabeth, the dowager viscountess of Wainsbrough, spent much of their time with their heads together or playing cards. Jason Collingwood, a somewhat dangerous looking sea captain, and his wife, Lady Alexandra excelled at impromptu comedy, as they teased each other in shameless but harmless play. And Dirk and Rebecca had to be the most precious couple known to humanity, as their polite but intense devotion manifested the stuff of every girl’s dream.
And then there were the unattached members of the family. Lady Elaine Prescott defined poise and elegance, whereas Lucien Wentworth, sixth Earl of Calvert, and George de Vere, Viscount Huntingdon, were rakes in every sense of the word. The lone person who Lenore found quite engaging and mysterious was Damian, His Grace, the Duke of Weston, as he took unusual interest in Lucilla, but Blake assured Lenore that Damian’s attentions were innocuous.
On Stir-Up Day, the last Sunday before Advent, everyone gathered in the kitchen. Amid ribald jokes and humorous stories, the close-knit relations passed the traditional wooden spoon, which signified Christ’s manger, assisting the household staff in making the plum pudding and a selection of fruitcakes. When it was her turn, Lenore adhered to tradition, closed her eyes, stirred in a clockwise rotation, and made her secret wish.
“I will share my silent plea, if you share yours.” Blake clucked his tongue and winked. “Tell me it had something to do with me, as mine had everything to do with you.”
“I will do no such thing, as I hope it comes true.” How she enjoyed his flirtations, as she realized he would never hurt her.
The following sennight, the rather odd extended family trod through the countryside, in search of holly and mistletoe sprigs, which was another of Lenore’s cherished Christmas customs. That evening, they affixed festoons of evergreens about the elegant manor house. And as she anticipated, her sea captain caught her below the singular vibrant decoration, which had been fashioned into a ball, beneath which the husbands had already trapped their wives.
“I have you now, lovely Lenore.” Blake clutched her about the w
aist and chuckled. “Do you know what they say of the lady who refuses to yield a prize under the kissing bough?”
Indeed.” With a dip of her chin, she rocked on her heels and laughed. “According to lore, she will not wed in the next year.”
“Then what say you?” He arched a brow.
“This.” Perched on tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his, in an ardent affirmation of her emotions. And as she expected, he took control of their engagement, darting his tongue at hers, until someone cleared their throat.
“I beg your pardon, brother mine.” Caroline folded her arms. “As I recall, when Trevor courted me, you policed our behavior with an iron fist. What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Thus I should offer the same vigilance, so until you put a ring on Lenore’s finger, you will observe the proprieties.”
“Do you not have some service to provide for your husband?” Blake frowned, as he claimed a berry from the swag. “Where is Trevor? No doubt you are past due for a good spanking.”
“He is tucking the children into their beds, and I like to give him time alone with our babes.” Then Caroline leaned near and whispered, “Tell no one, but my dear man reads fairy stories, in character, and it is unutterably charming.”
“Someone monopolizes Miss Teversham.” Lucien, Rebecca’s brother, strolled into the hall.
“Oh, I say.” Damian elbowed George, Lady Amanda’s nephew. “The very same someone refuses to share his boon.”
“The rudeness.” George snickered.
“You are bloody well right, I do.” Blake pulled Lenore to his side, in a thrilling display of possessiveness, and she stifled a snort of protest. “There are other, unguarded candidates available for your delectation, as this boon is spoken for, so go find your own.”