In a daze, Monsieur André rose. He would finally have his revenge. Ah, how sweet that would be. And for the first time in months he made plans to leave Paris.
“Ashley! Do stop that,” Cecelia scolded as she plucked the kitten down from the dimity bed curtains. "If you tear my curtains and Eugene finds out, you’ll have to stay outside.” She paused. “I suppose, it doesn’t really matter. Next week we’ll have a new home. I hope Rand doesn’t object to having you in my chambers, though you can always stay with Mattie if he balks at first.” She sat down on her bed and pulled the kitten into her lap and began scratching her behind the ears. “I’ll be the Marchioness of Clarendon in a few days. Who would have thought that riding past the orchard could create such a turn of events? It boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”
The past ten days had passed so quickly, it made her head spin. There were so many things that had needed to be attended to. The banns were read and a notice was sent to all the papers, invitations were mailed, letters written, lists made, menus planned, she had endured endless fittings for her wedding gown and trousseau and preparations were made for out of town guests. Her brother had managed to acquire a wheelchair for their aunt, thus making it easier for her to join the whirlwind of activity that had taken hold of the household. Though there were many occasions when everyone concerned wished Mirabella would return to her sitting room and stay there. Rand had come to visit almost daily.
To her relief, her courses had begun. The ton would be denied the joy of coming up a finger short when counting the number of months between the wedding and the birth of their first child. A letter from her parents had arrived that morning. It had been full of congratulations and good cheer but she knew that her mother was dispirited. She will have missed the wedding of both son and daughter due to their lengthy stay in France. Yet her reluctance to leave the pregnant, emotionally and physically fragile Arabella was understandable. Cecelia and Stratton had dashed off missives reassuring the countess not to worry over it. As much as Cecelia missed her parents, her mother and Aunt Mirabella were very much alike and the idea of having both of them at her wedding was more than she could bear.
She looked around her bed chamber taking note of the white dimity and lace, the powder blue carpeting, the dolls and childhood books lining the bookshelves. It had changed little in the past ten years. It was the room of a young girl and other than her writing desk and a few personal possessions, she would leave most of it behind. What would her new chambers be like? Would they even sleep together? Priscilla and Eugene slept together every night. But that was very rare. Almost unheard of.
She sighed. So many unknowns in her future. It was daunting. She wasn’t even certain how she felt about Rand. No. That was a lie. She liked him tremendously. She enjoyed his company. Time flew by when they were together. They could talk about anything and everything. And making love with him had been a truly wondrous experience. Truth be told, she probably loved him, but it had started off as a familial type of love and changed into something altogether different. She rubbed Ashley’s fur against her face and was rewarded with a contented purr.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called out.
The door creaked open and Priscilla poked her head around it. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No. Please come in. I’m escaping the mayhem downstairs, but I’m glad for your company. I’ve been conversing with Ashley, but all she does is purr. It isn’t a particularly stimulating conversation.”
Priscilla closed the door behind her and sat down on a pale blue upholstered ottoman across from the bed. “I don’t blame you for retreating. Just as I left to come up here, Aunt Mirabella and Mrs. Simpson were having a heated discussion over where to place the buffet tables in the courtyard. Do they ever agree on anything?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“Well, I haven’t a notion as to who will win the argument. They’re both completely set in their own ways. And the dogs are loose and underfoot and there are servants scurrying about everywhere! I don’t know if the term mayhem does the situation proper justice.” She paused. “I thought you might want to go over the menus with cook to make certain Aunt Mirabella didn’t slip in something too exotic.” She smiled ruefully. “Thinking about food isn’t setting too well with me at the moment.”
“I’ll go downstairs in a bit,” Cecelia said as she detached Ashley’s claws from her muslin skirt. “If Aunt Mirabella has a hand in the menu, it’s apt to be full of curried goat and peculiar spices that could cause the bellies of even the most robust guests to burst into flames.” She frowned. “I’m sorry that you still aren’t feeling well. I don’t understand why God has deemed that women should have to endure the discomfort of pregnancy and childbirth while men have little more to do than stay out of the way, slap each other on the back and pass out cigars. It doesn’t seem quite fair.”
Priscilla laughed. “I can tell you why. The population would fall into a decline if men bore the brunt of continuing the human race. There would soon be no one left to carry on.” She laid her hand on her belly. “And other than some queasiness and Stratton’s persistent worrying over me, it’s been quite wonderful. There’s something extraordinary about knowing there’s a human life growing inside me. I don’t know how to describe it but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She stopped to smooth an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. “That brings me to another subject. I actually came for another reason. Aunt Mirabella suggested that I speak with you about your wedding night. And marriage.” She hesitated. “I’m still somewhat of a novice myself. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
“I don’t know.” Cecelia set Ashley on the floor and watched as the kitten darted after a ball of red yarn. “There are so many feelings running through me right now. It’s very confusing. How did you know that Eugene was the right one for you? I always thought one just knew. But now I’m not so certain.”
Priscilla chewed on her lip as she thought. “I don’t think it’s the same for everyone. I was attracted to him from the moment we met but I certainly didn’t love him. I thought he was terribly arrogant.”
“He is,” Cecelia mumbled.
“True,” Priscilla agreed, smiling. “But he also loves his family very much and that makes up for it. I suppose I lost my heart to him when I saw how caring he was toward you and Aunt Mirabella. He grumbles about her but he loves her dearly. He’s a good man. Even so, it took me a while to learn to trust him.”
That surprised Cecelia. “You didn’t trust Eugene at first? Why ever not?”
She shrugged. “I think I was afraid of being hurt. Afraid that if I loved him he wouldn’t love me back. Or that something would happen and he would be gone. And of course there was that ridiculous duel that Bertie challenged him to and I was terrified he would be killed. I wasn’t certain what he wanted from me. Sometimes men don’t communicate very well. They say one thing and mean another. Or they don’t say anything at all and assume that you understand. Men can be very odd.”
“There’s no misunderstanding where Rand is concerned. Oh, he likes me well enough, and we have a grand time together but I know he doesn’t love me. Or maybe he does, but not the way Eugene loves you. He told me he’d never expected to marry; never wanted to marry. And once he realized the need to marry he told me he didn’t expect to marry for love. He said he was too jaded for that type of romantic drivel. How can I be happy married to someone who doesn’t want to be married? I always thought I would marry for love or not at all.” She stared down at her lap a moment then lifted her head and gazed solemnly at Priscilla. “Do you think the marriage bed can be wonderful if you’re with someone you don’t love? Forgive my bluntness, but I don’t know how else to ask. What I mean to say is if it’s absolutely glorious does that mean you love the person?”
Priscilla’s color deepened. “As I said, I’m rather new at this but I think it does. Your relationship with Rand is going through a vast transformation. It will take some adjus
tment, but I believe you will be happy together.”
Cecelia sighed, “I suppose. He’s very handsome and he makes me laugh. He dances beautifully and loves riding as much as I do. He’s dreadfully rich, so I needn’t worry about that. I’m very fond of his mother and sister, so I shouldn’t expect any problems there. And,” her lips kicked up at the ends, “did I mention he was very handsome?”
Priscilla laughed. “You did. And having a handsome husband is enjoyable.”
“Eugene is rather dashing, isn’t he? Most of the girls I went to school with were desperately in love with him.” She grinned. “But you know that,” she said referring to the love letters Priscilla’s cousin, Mary, had written to the viscount a few years earlier.
“I still haven’t completely forgiven Mary for all the problems she caused.” Priscilla sighed heavily. “I suppose I’d best go before Stratton finds me and tries to put me in bed for a nap. He’s impossible. The next time around, I believe I’ll tell him my added girth is a result of eating too many of cook’s lovely French pastries.” She rose and came over to kiss Cecelia’s cheek. “Take heart, Cecelia. Whether either one of you realizes it or not, I believe that Rand loves you. And I’m fairly certain that you love him back.” Cecelia watched the door close behind her sister-in-law fervently hoping that she spoke the truth.
Chapter Six
Cecelia thought it was amazing what miracles had been accomplished in a few weeks time. The wedding wasn’t quite the grand society affair it would have been had it been held in London during the season, but it had required the full attention every warm body living in Reston Manor, plus quite a bit of additional hired help.
Her wedding gown had been sewn by a local seamstress who, Cecelia decided, would see a well deserved increase in business after today. Miss Haley had worked day and night to produce an elegant creation of ivory Belgian lace that skimmed her curves before swirling to the floor. The long sleeves puffed at the shoulders then tapered, buttoning tightly at the wrists. Her lace gloves were sheer enough to see through and the large square emerald ring had slipped easily onto her finger. Mattie had braided her hair, wrapping it neatly around her head in a stylish coronet, though it hadn’t taken long before the red gold tendrils were escaping their braids and brushing against her forehead and temples. Even so, she felt beautiful as she’d walked up the isle on her brother’s arm before he’d handed her over to Rand with a conspiratorial wink.
She thought Eugene had looked splendid in black silk breeches and jacket, though not as splendid as the bridegroom who wore dove gray breeches and waistcoat with a slightly darker jacket. A diamond horseshoe shaped pin was tucked into his cravat. The bruising around his eye was gone and every strand of his sandy blond hair was in place. She’d tried her best to mess it up during their carriage ride from the chapel to the reception at Reston Manor but he’d caught her wrists and kissed her. By the time they’d reached their destination her coiffure had needed far more repair than his.
“I do believe Lady Fitzberry has managed to stop sobbing,” Rand murmured after the last group of guests had offered their congratulations to the couple and left the receiving line in search of champagne punch and sweet meats. “She was boohooing so loudly throughout the service that I could scarcely hear a word the good reverend said. I was surprised someone didn’t roll her out of the chapel and leave her outside. Do you suppose we agreed to anything unseemly when we said our I do’s?”
She laughed and murmured back, “I can’t imagine Reverend Brown ever saying anything unseemly, much less asking us to repeat it.”
He pulled a long face. “Pity. I did have my hopes up.”
Still laughing, she said, “Someone should go rescue your mama. She’s in an untenable situation. Aunt Mirabella is talking her ear off and she can’t very well just excuse herself and leave Aunt sitting alone in her wheelchair. She still hasn’t the knack of rolling herself around without banging into something or someone and Eugene has requested in a very no nonsense manner that she not attempt to do so in a room full of guests.”
“It would mean certain disaster,” Rand agreed. “The guests would most likely fall over one another like a row of dominos." His eyes widened slightly as he nudged his bride. "Ah, it appears that your brother has valiantly come forward to liberate my mother.” Then he scowled. “Blast! Hasn’t my mother given us her heartfelt best wishes, kissed you on the cheek countless times and told us how deliriously happy she is that we’ve married?”
“Yes.” Cecelia grinned. “She and your sister both.”
“Then why in the devil is she coming this way?”
“Do stop scowling, Thomas,” his mother chided as she arrived at his side. She had never been willing to call him anything other than his given name. “Your face may freeze with that horrible expression and then where would you be?” Mrs. Danfield was an attractive woman, tall and slender without a hint of gray in her sandy blond hair. The family resemblance between mother, son and daughter was strong.
“Yes, Mother dear,” Rand said cheekily.
She waved him off. “Run along and mingle with your guests. I have important things to discuss with your bride.” She waited until he had turned to walk off and then added, “And Thomas?”
He turned back. “Yes, Mother?”
“This is a wedding. Your wedding. No card games. No gambling.”
He grinned. “How unfair of you to suggest I would do such a thing.”
“I know you too well. Now go away and allow me to chat with Cecelia.” She took Cecelia by the arm and led her to an alcove at the far corner of the ballroom before whispering in her ear, “Has anyone spoken to you about your wedding night, dear? What you should expect? I realize this isn’t quite the time for an involved discussion, but truth be told, I haven’t had the nerve to ask before now. But if you need to talk, I suppose we could disappear for a brief spell.”
Cecelia blinked. The question had caught her by surprise. “Um, yes. Priscilla did.” “Oh, splendid,” Mrs. Danfield said with obvious relief. “That’s simply splendid. It can be a most uncomfortable conversation. I was a nervous wreck when Julia married. I hadn’t the faintest idea how to manage it. One simply doesn’t know how much to say. If one explains too much then the poor bride could be terrified beforehand. Not,” she added as she patted Cecelia on the shoulder. “That there’s anything to be terrified of. But of course if one doesn’t say enough the bride won’t be prepared and I suppose that would be even worse. What I mean to say is that it can be quite a shock. Oh dear, I am rambling aren’t I? I suppose I didn’t do too badly with Julia as she has three children and her husband seems quite devoted. And from what I understand Thomas has quite a lot of experience and you shouldn’t worry about anything.” She stopped abruptly and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my. Did I really just say that? I do apologize.”
Cecelia grinned at her. “I should be fine. I was raised in the country, you know. My sensibilities are not as delicate as some.”
The relief on her face was visible. She smiled broadly. “Of course. I hadn’t considered that. And you do have quite a few sheep and other farm creatures, don’t you? I suppose that would be quite an education in such matters.”
“Yes. And Papa bred horses up until a few years ago.”
“Horses?” A frown creased Mrs. Danfield’s brow. “Oh dear, I’m not certain that’s really a fair comparison. I mean stallions are enormously… You can’t expect... Oh blast!” She flushed to the roots of her hairline. “I’m certain that you and Thomas will deal famously in such matters. And now that I’ve made utter cake of myself, I believe I’ll go and hide amongst the potted plants.”
Cecelia put her arm around her and said, ‘You were wonderful. Thank you.”
“Did I tell you how happy I am to have you as a daughter-in-law? Now I must go find Julia and inform her that you aren’t in need of our little discussion. We actually drew straws for this. Come along dear. I must get you back to your guests.”
As Cece
lia allowed herself to be pulled across the floor she couldn’t help but wonder whether her mother-in-law had drawn the short or long straw.
The next few hours were like a dream. The musicians were superb and Cecelia had waltzed, first with Rand and then with her brother. She shared a country dance with her new brother-in-law, Julia’s husband, Gene Hamilton. She danced until she was breathless and then danced some more. She and Rand cut their cake, a seven layer affair studded with fruit and nuts, frosted with a thick white icing and decorated with candied roses. It was delicious and she ignored the headmistress, Miss Thornton’s dictate that she only take a few bites and leave the rest on her plate. Stratton toasted the couple. Mirabella blubbered off and on and the time flew by. She didn’t realize how much until her husband came up beside her and whispered in her ear. “It’s past four. If we don’t leave soon, I’m apt to throw you onto the buffet table right next to the punch bowl, toss up your skirts and have my way with you.”
A sudden heat filled her and her eyes glowed as she whispered back, “I should like to try that. Not here of course. Do I sit or lay down on the table?”
He put his hand at the small of her back. “Both.”
She looked at him boldly. “And what else shall we do?”
He almost groaned. “There are many ways, my sweet. I promise you we shall try them all.”
It took no additional prodding. They soon said their good-byes and headed for Bryony Hall leaving their guests at Reston Manor to their merry making.
Mattie was waiting for her in her new chambers when she reached Bryony Hall. “Isn’t this ever so exciting?” she breathed. “Bernice, the chamber maid, said this whole wing’s been closed up for years. She said they spent days and days, cleaning an’ polishing, an’ beatin’ the dust out o’ the rugs. He had furniture brought out o’ storage. She said ‘e wanted it perfect for you. Such a grand room, milady. Fit for a queen.”
The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) Page 10
