by Tessa Candle
“That was a pretty poem,” she whispered back. “And as repayment for it, I will tell you of another good thing I shall bring you.” Her eyes were alight with mischief. “But you shall have to wait many months for the arrival of your wedding gift.”
Chapter 37
The grand salon at Blackwood was looking its best and seemed to have completely forgotten the indignities of Red Martha’s assault. Myriad tapers lit up the cascades of luminous crystal in the chandeliers, bathing the space in fairy light.
Eleanor was glad she chose this place for the wedding fête. Her father’s estate, or the manor at Pallensley were competing considerations, but in the end, this neighbourhood was the place she and Delville had fallen in love. They both wanted to celebrate their marriage there.
Choosing between Fenimore and Blackwood would have been a diplomatic nightmare, had Colette not helpfully suggested that Tilly and Rosamond settle the dispute over a civil game of cards. Tilly won, so Blackwood it was.
But it had not occurred to Eleanor until this very moment, beholding the room full of warmth and magical radiance, how perfect it was to bring their happiness into the great room, to heal over the memory of shock, fear and affront and replace it with a festivity of love, family and abiding friendship. It was the ideal place to hold the wedding feast.
Eleanor found Colette looking solitary among the crowd of guests and, linking an arm with hers, led her to receive a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Well, my beautiful sister, now that the ordeal of greeting everyone is over, I may finally relish a few moments in your company. Are you enjoying yourself?”
Her sister’s eyes crinkled at the edges as she grinned into her champagne. “Oh indeed! At the château, Madame Dulac was very strict. We were only ever permitted one glass of wine at special dinners—and never champagne. And then there is this beautiful gown that you had made for me. I feel like such a sophisticate.”
Colette’s voice was so charming. Her training, if oppressively strict, had also been relentlessly correct. She had not a hint of a French accent when she spoke. However there was a highly practiced and polished tone to her speech—not one vowel altered, and not a consonant dropped or slurred. It made her sound very earnest and serious, which contrasted amusingly with Colette’s true, playful nature. It also made her appear rather young. Although Colette was older than Eleanor, the sheltered life she had led left her with a child-like enthusiasm for all the things that Eleanor took for granted.
Eleanor beamed back. “Do not get too foxed and make a cake of yourself, or Papa might change his mind.”
“He would never send me back. You would hide me at your estate, and tuck me and Grenouille away in the attics when he came hunting for me.”
Eleanor laughed at this representation of her father. “I certainly would! However, Papa is not the tyrant you make him out to be.”
“He has never been so with you, at least. But no, I will not even jest about it, lest you take me seriously. Your papa is no tyrant at all.” Colette leaned a head on Eleanor’s shoulder. “I am so grateful to you for bringing me here—to you and to your husband. Where is he?”
“He was distracted by some caller or other who has horrifically bad timing. But it is apparently someone Delville knows.”
“Perhaps that is him.” A look of cat-like curiosity played across her sister’s features, and she gestured to the large and athletic looking man who was approaching with Delville.
“My love, I am sorry to interrupt your sisterly tête-à-tête, but I want to introduce you to Lord Erskine. We were at school together—in different years.”
As introductions were made all around, Eleanor noted how carefully Colette watched the man.
“I beg your grace’s pardon at this intrusion.” Erskine’s handsome face looked truly contrite. “I should never have come to Blackwood during your reception, were it not a serious matter.”
Before Eleanor could reply, Delville spoke up, “Do not trouble yourself, Erskine. It was I that invited you in to join us, and I am sure my wife will forgive you, when she understands the situation.”
“I am all curiosity.” Eleanor noted how her sister leaned in. If her interest was piqued, Colette’s was inflamed. “Please do not hold us in suspense.”
“I am come to enquire if your grace has seen or heard anything of my cousin, Mr. Auchdun, hereabouts. I discovered he was a guest at Blackwood, and your husband informs me that he has made himself a nuisance to your graces. Please accept my profoundest apologies on behalf of my family.” The regretful look on Erskine’s face mingled with apparent irritation. “The man has a penchant for making himself odious wherever he goes.”
Eleanor decided that she liked Erskine. “Please call me Lady Eleanor.” These were words she had never before spoken, and she paused at the surreal feeling of the moment, before continuing, “I am not yet accustomed to being a duchess. But, did I hear you correctly? You called him Mr. Auchdun.”
“Indeed.” Erskine sighed and shook his head in disgust. “I suppose he tried to pass himself off as a lord, did he?”
Delville’s mouth formed a hard line. “Yes, he most certainly did. Are you saying that he is not a peer?”
Erskine actually blushed. “No, but it has always been a bit of a sore spot with him. He feels he is noble and should have a title.” The man looked down and he sounded like he wished the earth could swallow him up. “He has been putting on airs since he was a young lad. We try not to draw attention to it, because it is an embarrassment to the family, but that means his false claims sometimes go un-contradicted. Last year I had to intervene when I found he was passing himself off as the Earl of Erskine, which of course is my own title.”
Delville seemed to take pity on Erskine. “What a bounder. But we cannot choose our relatives, eh? So, Eleanor, I told him we had not seen Auchdun for some time, but then I thought I should check with you. Have you had any word of him?”
Eleanor shook her head, and a sense of foreboding gripped her. “I have not. Is your cousin missing, then?”
“I am afraid so.” Erskine gave an embarrassed chuckle. I suppose I should not say this, but it is a blessing not to constantly hear of his humiliating social campaigns. However, his mother is concerned.”
“Oh yes,” Colette spoke up, “even the most annoying child will be missed by his mother.”
It was a banal enough comment, but Eleanor thought she saw a little spark pass between the two as Erskine smiled at Colette and replied, “Mothers are special kinds of saints.”
There was nothing so much in what either of them said, but Eleanor began to feel uncomfortable. It would not do for Erskine to think of Colette.
Eleanor prevented any further banter between them by returning to the point. “You might pay Lord and Lady Benton a visit. He is known to them.” She hoped it was nothing more than that. Telling Erskine of his cousin’s involvement with Red Martha would open a kettle of fish best left closed. “Auchdun apparently applied his Scottish charm to the suit of Miss Fitzpatrick, as she was before she became Lady Benton. It is possible that they may have seen him.”
Erskine coughed. “Of all the mortifications my cousin affords his family, his effected Scottish burr might be the most jarring to the nerves. I am a Scotsman, though I was raised and educated in England. I suppose his obsession with me may have influenced his choice of pretence. He spent one summer visiting in Aberdeenshire, and came back sporting an accent, which only became more egregious with practice.”
“It is a marvel that the rest of the family did not ridicule him out of it.” Delville gave a look of bemused wonder.
“Oh we mocked him, but he is the sort who is spurred on by any resistance or contradiction to his idiocy.” Erskine suddenly moved as though resolving to leave. “In any case, I have intruded long enough upon your festivities and I must continue my search. Thank you both for your generosity and patience, and for the hint. Perhaps Lord and Lady Benton might have some word of Auchdun.” He shook his head
glumly. “In the very least, I suppose Lady Benton is also owed an apology.”
Eleanor and Delville exchanged a private look of amusement, and they all said their goodbyes. Colette went to speak with Lady Goodram, whom she had recently met and liked a great deal.
When she was out of hearing range, Eleanor murmured to Delville. “I do not like the way that Colette looked at Erskine.”
Delville chuckled. “He has always looked too well for his own good. But I do not see the harm in it—they are unlikely to meet again. We can keep her safely tucked away with us, and never permit her a chance to socialize with any handsome young men, so she will be forced to remain an old maid and take care of our children. Or, if she grows her hair much longer, you may amuse yourself by keeping her locked in one of the towers at Pallensley.”
“How droll you are. I have no intention of being despotic. In fact I plan to spoil her, but she has lived a very sheltered life and her heart needs protecting. Still, it will be lovely for our children to have an aunt. She will be an excellent one, and despite your pert remarks, you will be a wonderful papa.”
Delville tossed his head. “I will certainly try. However I might need a few of them to practice on before I can really excel.” He gave her a roguish look. “So be prepared to be ravished regularly. But speaking of fathers, do my eyes fail me, or is yours very happily chatting with Lady Goodram and Colette?”
Eleanor looked on as her father laughed fondly at whatever wit Colette had just delivered. Her heart warmed to see them together. All was as it should be. Eleanor was surrounded by all the people she loved, everyone who mattered, and not a single one of the nasty gossiping women of the ton.
“At least she is safe in this assembly. But I worry that she be shunned from society outside our inner circle.”
“She will not be shunned by anyone who wants to remain in our good graces.” Delville was instantly protective of Colette, and Eleanor loved him for it. “And our invitations shall be the most sought after in England.”
“You are confident.”
“It is a well-known fact that everything the bon ton does is either to further their fortune or to evade boredom. Our wealth and rank alone recommend us, but you and I both have such a delectably mysterious and tantalizingly scandalous past, that none of the idle rich will be able to resist our company.”
“Good. You bring the mystery, I will bring the scandal. We can invite them to play cards and ruin them all.”
“Just as you wish. Now, in the interest of increasing our disrespectable appeal, how about sneaking off to the wine cellar with me? You know, just for old time’s sake.” Delville gave her a dark look and leaned in to nip her earlobe. “But be warned, I am a very dangerous man…”
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Excerpt from Two Lady Scoundrels and a Duke
Foxleigh hastened to the spot. “All right, Dog? Where is your mistress?”
“Where is yours?” came a slightly muffled but unmistakably acerbic reply.
Foxleigh peered up into the branches and spied a great entanglement of skirts and locks of raven black hair. “She is not my mistress. But she is back there, somewhere, still throwing a fit, I assume. Or perhaps she has stopped, now that she has no audience.”
He admired the view of Kat’s beautifully shaped legs and the perfect orbs of her buttocks, the contours of which were plainly visible through the threadbare sheaf of her underskirt, which clung heroically to its charge, defending the last shreds of her modesty. He chuckled.
“Stop snickering, you idiot. This is not humorous in the least, and it is your ruddy fault!”
“My fault? How so?” He was now openly laughing.
“If you had not come here to persecute me with that dreadful woman in tow, I would not be forced to flee, and…” Her voice trailed off weakly.
“And? You thought taking to the trees was the best mode of escape? And here I am the one with a bump on the head!”
“Your entire head is a bump, if you think you are amusing in the slightest. If you must know, I was thinking of my hens.”
“Your hens?”
“I was going to take them with me when I quitted the cottage, but I needed something to feed them on the way, and I spied a few winter pears left up here.”
“You are quite mad. Do you know that?”
A muffled snort came from the knot of fabric, and her voice quavered. “Just get me out of this damned tree before I freeze, will you? My skirt is caught on something.”
Foxleigh’s heart soared. She was asking for his help! Might she not care about him still a little bit, despite everything? He made his way with renewed vigor to the base of the tree and looked up. This angle was even more revealing. His loins stirred. Steady now, Foxleigh.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Tsk. So impatient. Recall that I am an invalid, after all.”
“You are a bacon-brain!”
“Perhaps. But that only means it takes a tad longer for my slow wit to savour the moment, for I wish always to remember you like this.”
“Cad!” She tried to sound stern, but he could hear the laughter in her voice. “When I get down from this tree I will give you another bump on the head.”
“With such an inducement as that, how can I further delay?” He found a low branch and began to ascend.
The problem was, when he neared the spot where her clothing was tangled, he could not see which branch it was caught upon. “Apologies, Katherine, but you have things all twisted up in a ball. I shall have to feel around in your skirts to find the branch that is the culprit.”
“I suppose you say that to all the ladies.”
Laughter overtook him, and he almost fell off his perch. “Do not make me laugh, now. Be serious!” But he loved her so. And if they could laugh together, even in such a fix as this, there was hope. Their future bliss blazed bright before his eyes, as he found the branch at the center of the tangle and began to pull the fabric away from it.
He almost had it. One more heave and it must come free. But his efforts unbalanced him, and he suddenly fell from his branch several feet before his own coat hung up upon something and mercifully brought him to a lurching halt.
“Fox!” Her voice was a screech.
She had called him Fox. A stupid smile split his face. “I am well, Kat! Do not be alarmed.” He wanted to add my darling, but restrained himself. Better not to test his luck. Yet his heart was full of her and called her by every endearment, even as he dangled precariously from the tree.
“Thank God in heaven! Can you get free?”
“I, um, do not believe that would be advisable, as my entanglement is the only thread by which I hang, at the moment. Remind me to give my tailor a bonus.”
“Is there another branch you can hold on to?”
He looked about him. “There is one beneath me and to the right. I think I can reach it with my toe.” It would involve some twisting.
“Can you get a leg over?”
He smirked. “That remains to be seen.”
“Loathsome scoundrel! You deserve to fall. Now try to focus!”
“I sha
ll try, but I am still feeling dizzy, you know.” When he shifted his weight to stretch toward the branch, an ominous cracking noise sounded above him. “Ah, well. Perhaps it is better if I do not move so much. I believe we require assistance.”
“What a brilliant surmise. Perhaps we could get Marie stuck up here as well. That would be terribly cozy.”
“Perish the thought. But what of Dog? Can he not go fetch someone to come to our aid?”
“Who should come, you daft man? Did you not notice that I live alone in the middle of nowhere?”
Get Two Lady Scoundrels and a Duke in the Once Upon a Christmas Wedding box set Check availability.
Books By Tessa Candle/T.S. Candle
Three Abductions and an Earl, Book 1 in the Parvenues & Paramours series. Check availability.
Mistress of Two Fortunes and a Duke, Book 2 in the Parvenues & Paramours series. Check availability.
Three Masks and a Marquess, Book 3 in the Parvenues & Paramours series. Check availability.
Parvenues & Paramours Books 1-3 Box Set. Check availability.
Two Brides and a Duke, Book 4 in the Parvenues & Paramours series. Check availability.
Two Lady Scoundrels and a Duke (in a Pear Tree): A Christmas Novella, Book 5 in the Parvenues & Paramours series—currently available exclusively as part of the Once Upon a Christmas Wedding box set, but releasing wide as a single work in mid-January 2020. Check availability.
One Bourbon, One Scott, One Peer, Book 6 in the Parvenues & Paramours. Coming soon as a pre-order. Check availability.
* * *
Writing as T.S. Candle:
Accursed Abbey, a Regency Gothic Romance, Book 1 in the Nobles & Necromancy series. Check availability.
