And approximately ten minutes later, their clothes righted with precision, Mark escorted Amanda to the dining room, where the revelers had gathered for the celebratory meal. It was with no small measure of pride that he noted the flirty flush of her countenance had resurfaced with vigor and recalled what he had done to achieve such satisfactory results.
“At last.” The marquess signaled them to band together at the head of the center table. “And your timing is perfect.”
Mark could not agree more with his father-in-law’s assessment, though their perspectives differed drastically. With his lady at his side, he bent and whispered, “Leave your window unlocked.”
To wit Amanda cast him a coy smile and replied, “Stay on the center rungs of the trellis, as they have been reinforced.”
Mark burst into laughter and then cleared his throat, as Hiram stood at attention and arched a brow.
“My lords, ladies, gentlemen, and honored friends and family.” The marquess held high a crystal glass of champagne. “It is my distinct pleasure to share with you a bit of joy, the formal announcement of which shall appear in tomorrow’s Daily Universal Register. Lady Eleanor and I ask you to join us in toasting the impending nuptials of our daughter, Lady Amanda Catherine Gascoigne-Lake to Captain Mark Andrew Douglas, of the Royal Navy and the recently commissioned HMS Indomitable.”
#
The April showers subsided, and the sun shone bright in a clear azure sky on Amanda’s wedding day. Sitting at her vanity, because her escritoire had already been moved to Mark’s ship, in preparation for an early May departure to patrol the Baltic, she penned an entry in the leather-bound journal, which accompanied the ancient badge that had, at first, caused her insurmountable distress.
To the bearer of this curious piece of jewelry,
Despite my initial skepticism, as manifested in the small dent at the edge, which occurred in a rare and uncharacteristic loss of feminine deportment for which I am profoundly remorseful, for a sennight I napped with the pin affixed to my morning dress, and visions of a naval captain’s insignia haunted me without fail. Such dreams of my reported one true knight caused me great despair, because my beau carried the rank of lieutenant--or so I thought. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my sweetheart had made post. Let it be known that today, April 25, 1786, I shall marry my indomitable Mark Douglas, in keeping with the associated lore, captain of the vessel bearing the name reflecting the dominant trait of my future husband. Should nagging doubts plague your consciousness, in regard to the predictive nature as it pertains to the brooch, perhaps our affirmation, faithfully sworn and upheld, may allay your fears and gird your resolve.
Ego dilecto meo et dilectus meus mihi.
Respectfully Submitted,
Lady Amanda Gascoigne-Lake, soon-to-be-Mrs. Mark Douglas
“Excuse me, my lady.” Ellie curtseyed. “But the marquess requests your presence, as you must depart for the church, else you will be late.”
“Coming, Ellie. Do not forget to air the red velvet, along with my pelisse, as I shall wear them when we depart for our honeymoon.” Amanda stood and assessed her appearance in the long mirror. Flouting tradition, she had opted for another variation on the navy gown, á la militaire, complete with the requisite braiding on her long sleeves, because she wanted the world to know she was Mark’s, in every way. “And can you make sure my sister receives the journal and accompanying pouch?”
“Yes, my lady.” The maid sniffed and wiped a stray tear. “My, but you look lovely.”
“Thank you, dear friend.” At the door, she reminisced of the wonderful memories made in her chambers, most of which involved Mark’s nightly forays through her window, since his return to London, and every seemingly unexceptionable piece of furniture that had served as means to assert his resourcefulness and virility, but she had not complained. In short, the man possessed Herculean vigor and a vivid imagination. With a smile and the burn of a blush, she skipped down the hall and descended the stairs.
In the foyer, Papa drew his timepiece from his pocket, and when he glanced at her, his expression softened. “Amanda, you are a vision, and I am not so sure Douglas deserves you. Daresay I could have secured a marquess or a duke for such beauty.”
“Nonsense.” She scoffed. “Why should I settle for less than my captain?”
“Well said, well said, my girl.” Her father chuckled and extended his arm. “Shall we away, as your young man is a prompt sort, and we would not want him to think you have changed your mind? He has arrived at our doorstep precisely at nine for our daily jaunt through Hyde Park for the past fortnight.”
“Yes, as I am quite anxious.” Of course, she would never tell her father that Mark was so reliable because he had not far to travel. After riding her at dawn, he had only to climb down the trellis, exit the side gate, and stroll to the front door.
The journey by their town coach to Hanover Square and St. George’s took only a few minutes. As the six-columned entrance came into view, her pulse beat a salvo of excitement. The equipage slowed to a halt, and Papa handed her to the sidewalk, where a crowd had gathered. Amanda waved at the well-wishers and then entered the church. As the pipe organ played Bach’s “Prelude,” in E-flat, she navigated the aisle to join her beloved at the altar, before the Archbishop.
At last, Mark, magnificent in his dress uniform, took her hands in his and pledged, “From this day forward you shall not walk alone. My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home.”
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The Archbishop closed the Book of Common Prayer. “Captain Douglas, you may kiss your bride.”
Although she knew not what to expect from her incorrigible sailor, given that more than half the ton and numerous naval officers had witnessed their vows, she poised for what should have been a mere formality. Instead, her exceedingly unpredictable spouse favored her with a mischievous grin, swooped, caught her in a bear hug, lifted her from her feet, and covered her mouth with his in a searing corporeal affirmation of their union, to spirited applause, hoots, and hollers.
Together, Amanda and Mark ran the gauntlet, which included an improvised archway of drawn swords by the commissioned crewmen from the Indomitable. At the bottom of the steps, a curricle bedecked with white crepe and clusters of spring flowers waited, and Mark deposited her to the box seat and then grabbed the reins.
“Darling, while I hesitate to correct your sense of direction, you just made a wrong turn.” She clutched her bouquet of white roses. “And we do not want to be late for our reception.”
“Married five minutes and already issuing orders, my officious little thing?” He laughed, settled an arm about her shoulders, and drew her close. “I have a surprise for you, my lady wife, and we cannot be late for our party, as it will not commence without us, because we are the guests of honor, but your father knows where we venture.”
“He does?” Amanda’s curiosity piqued, especially as they neared the Thames. “Mark, where are you taking me?”
To her frustration, he arched a brow in response.
When they passed the gate of the London Port, her question was answered, yet she understood not his motives. At St. Katharine Docks, she spied the Indy, and the mystery was solved, as she noted the festoon of evergreens hoisted to the main topgallant stay.
“Oh, Mark.” Now she cried happy tears. “It is our wedding garland.”
The centuries old custom of the British Navy announced the nuptials of a crewmember, and Amanda had seen many, as the daughter of an admiral. But that simple expression was far more arresting, as it was her garland.
“Your father had the Indomitable berthed here, for today, so we might enjoy it prior to our luncheon, as Great Dock is quite a drive, and we have little time.” And then Mark produced a couple of leaves from his pocket. “For your keepsake, love.”
“How thoughtful you are, my new husband.” She giggled. “And I should endeavor to compose a suitable demonstration of gratitude
.”
“I am sure you will think of something, my Amanda.” He narrowed his stare. “You know my favorite boon, where you are concerned, and we must consummate our vows.”
“Fear not, Captain.” She batted her lashes and squeezed his thigh, which tensed at her touch. “As I have an idea.”
“Then let us make our celebration, so we might begin the honeymoon.” He turned the rig with expert horsemanship. “And I have another treat, which I hope my bride approves.”
“Ah, yes.” He had refused to apprise her of their destination. “And do we travel this evening?”
“You will not get me that easy, sweetheart.” He winked. “Although I am rather obliging, when it comes to you, but indulge me, as it is our wedding day.”
“Because it is our wedding day, and I love you, I shall acquiesce.” She clucked her tongue. “As it is, I have plans of my own.”
“And are you certain you wish to sail with me?” He merged onto Park Lane. “If you have reconsidered, I will not be angry with you.”
“Just try and cast off without me, Mark Douglas.” In an instant, the pain of their long separation cast a chill over her heart, and she shivered. Had he second thoughts? “Do you not want me aboard your ship?”
“Of course, I do, as I would expend valuable energy, of which I have none to spare, worrying about your welfare. You are still too thin, darling.” And then he frowned. “Yet it may kill me to depart London without you.”
“Then do not leave me behind.” And despite the fact they were in public, she snuggled to him and relaxed when he bent and kissed her temple. “As I will not survive another parting.”
“Then we shall stay the course, my girl.” He reined in at the entrance to her family residence. “Now, let us dine with your parents, as you will need all your strength for the night I have arranged.”
“Is that a promise?” Oh, she hoped so, as she had her own scheme.
“You may depend upon it.” After he descended, he turned and handed her to the gravel drive.
In the grand dining room, which spanned the length of the home from front to back, and opened to the ballroom, each table had been bedecked in crisp white linen trimmed in old gold and boasted a centerpiece of a huge cut-glass vase filled to overflow with white roses. The finest crystal, Sevres china, and silver had been placed with precision His Majesty would envy, and a quartet had been situated in the rear corner.
The meal passed in a blur, as Amanda was far too focused on her husband and his constant barrage of whispered seductions, all involving carnal pursuits of a questionable nature, his tongue, and her body--and she loved every minute of it. How difficult it had been to maintain a stoic expression the previous day, when her mother had attempted to explain the mechanics of intercourse. Given Mark’s tenacity and ingenuity, Amanda suspected she could teach Mama a thing or two.
“So, young Douglas, we are family, at last. Perhaps now you can give my big toe a rub.” When cousin Helen diverted Mark’s attention, as previously devised, Amanda winked at the eccentric spinster and slipped, unnoticed, from the party.
Once ensconced in her chambers, she doffed the navy gown and her chemise and then donned the red velvet, which her husband had specifically requested she wear on their honeymoon, just prior to her father’s painful postponement of their betrothal. Standing at the long mirror, she smoothed the skirts. “Hurry, Ellie.”
“I am tying as fast as I can, my lady.” Ellie tugged hard on the laces. “But either the dress has grown, or you have shrunk, so I must pull extra tight to achieve the fit you seek.”
With wicked intentions, Amanda eased down the bodice, just shy of indecent, until she attained the desired display of décolletage, because she wanted Mark to fall at her feet. And then her husband had better perform, to her expectations, every single erotic undertaking he had so carefully detailed during their wedding luncheon.
“There.” Ellie stepped back to assess her handiwork and flinched. “Oh, my lady. I can see your bosom.”
“That is the idea.” Pleased with the outcome, Amanda smiled. “Now help me with the pelisse, as I need it fastened to my throat.”
Approximately five minutes later, she descended the staircase, appropriately covered, where Mark waited in the foyer. “Are you ready to depart, Mrs. Douglas?”
“Oh, I love it when you call me that.” She bounced with giddy anticipation. “And will you tell me where we journey?”
“No.” He stole a quick kiss. “Because I look forward to your reaction.”
Outside, as the evening sun sank low on the horizon, they ran amid a sea of family and friends. Again perched on the box seat of Mark’s curricle, with the hood up, Amanda closed her eyes and tossed the bouquet. A cheer erupted, as some distant relation nabbed the bundle, and Mark flicked the reins.
From Park Lane, they turned north onto St. James’s and then made a left on Piccadilly. At Berkley Street, they steered right and continued onto David Street, and sudden nervousness plagued her senses. At Grosvenor Street, Mark veered west, navigated halfway around the square, and then drove the horses left at Upper Brook Street, slowed, and drew rein before a resplendent mansion emblazoned with the number 24 in the masonry that framed the double-door entrance.
“What is this place?” Confused, Amanda hesitated before Mark lifted her from the curricle. And then he swept her into his arms and ascended the stairs.
“Our London residence.” He claimed another kiss but lingered, ever so deliciously, until a stodgy character set wide the oak panels, and then Mark conveyed her across the threshold. “My gift to you, sweetheart, in commemoration of our new life, together. Furnish and decorate it, to your heart’s content. Make it a home of which you are proud.”
“Mark, it is wonderful.” As her husband set her on her feet, she glanced from side to side and noted nary a stick of furniture, aside from the hall tree. “But it is empty. Are we to sleep on the floor?”
“Good evening, Captain Douglas.” The butler bowed. “Everything has been arranged, per your specifications.”
“Thank you, Hamilton.” Mark ushered her forward. “And meet the mistress of the manor. This is Lady Amanda, my wife.”
“Felicitations, your ladyship, on this most joyous day.” Hamilton dipped his chin. “I am at your disposal. May I take your coat?”
“It is lovely to meet you, and I look forward to working with you, as we form our household and hire additional staff.” She clutched the folds of her pelisse, as it was time to launch her strategy. “But I would rather my husband help me, just this once.”
“Of course.” With that, he smiled. “Will there be anything else, Captain Douglas?”
“No.” Mark wrapped an arm about her waist. “You may take the remainder of the evening off, and return in the morning.”
“As you wish.” Again, Hamilton bowed and then disappeared down a side hall.
“To answer your question, I took the liberty of purchasing a few items to make our first night more relaxed.” Mark made to unfasten the hook at her throat, but she covered his hand with hers, and he frowned. “But if my selections displease you, feel free to secure replacements.”
“I assume you procured a bed?” She gave him her back, as she freed herself from the heavy outerwear.
“You are correct.” He reached over her shoulders to grasp the lapels, and she wiggled from the sleeves. “Along with a large, cushioned chair and a comfy bench of serviceable height, as I would not bruise your knees as we did last Thursday.”
“Ah, yes. The table in my sitting room was rather brutal, as it was not meant for such licentious purposes, but you compensated admirably for my discomfit.” Her husband chuckled at her reminder of a particularly glorious coupling, while she counted to three and then faced him.
All display of humor ceased.
A palpable stillness invested the whole of his frame, after he dropped her pelisse to the floor, and his gaze fixed, as telltale sparks flickered in his blue eyes. Mark swallowed hard and co
mpressed his lips. “You remembered.”
“My most cherished Captain, I forget nothing where you are concerned.” Boldness learned in the past few weeks under his voluptuous tutelage brought her to stand toe to toe with her husband, and she unbuttoned his coat and then splayed her fingers to his chest. “A promise was made, and a bargain struck, and I hold you to it, sir.”
“My lady wife, I will oblige you.” Through the velvet, he gently pinched a pert nipple, and then he cupped her breasts, as he rubbed his nose to hers in a sweet caress. Without warning, Mark scooped her into his arms and claimed her mouth in a searing response to her demand. And as he climbed the stairs, two at a time, he grinned and said, “Like fifty men, my Amanda.”
EPILOGUE
April 25, 1813
As Amanda gazed at the staircase of her home on Upper Brook Street, countless happy memories played a festive mosaic. She recalled the first time Mark carried her into the elegant mansion and that unforgettable night. An image of Sabrina, the youngest Douglas girl, sliding down the bannister, much to her father’s delight and her mother’s chagrin, elicited a giggle. And then Amanda glanced into the drawing room where, only last December, Cara, the eldest daughter, had revealed, in spectacular, if less than graceful, fashion, her love for Lance Prescott, an extended family member. Given the shock, poor Mark had gotten foxed that evening.
“My lady, that was the final box of Lady Cara’s belongings.” Hamilton appeared misty-eyed. “Shall I dispatch the wagon?”
“Yes.” Amanda wrapped her arms about herself. “It will be quiet without Cara and Sabrina in residence, yet I suppose we shall accustom ourselves to it, but not too soon, I hope. Is the Admiral at home?”
“Indeed, he is in his study, your ladyship.” Hamilton waved to the driver and then shut the doors. “Will that be all?”
“Is everything in place?” She retrieved the wrapped parcel from the entry table and assessed her reflection in the oval mirror. A tad thicker about the waist, the only other distinguishing characteristic of her advancing age manifested in the salt sprinkled about her raven hair.
A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology Page 11
