by Matilda Hart
Lavinia was the second of six children, and only one of two girls. Her older sister Jane had been happily married these three years to a farmer from the north, and they rarely saw her anymore. One brother had all left to work on farms elsewhere, and one had been killed when he went to war. Simon worked with his father in the mill, and John seemed set to follow in his footsteps. Her parents had been agreeable to whatever their children wanted to do, as long as it made them happy. She had always known that she was surrounded by love, and she could only wonder at her rashness in agreeing to marry a man without their knowledge. They would not have objected, and she might have been able to avoid the terrible events that had stolen so much of her life from her.
“Do I need to fetch your father home?” her mother inquired, her sharp eyes studying her daughter.
“No, Mama, it will wait until he comes home,” Lavinia said. “William will stay the night, but he must away tomorrow back to Tillygrove.”
“And what has brought you home so unexpectedly, and without notice?”
Lavinia had known the question would come, but it did not prepare her any better for answering it.
“It is difficult to explain, Mama,” she said in a strangled voice. “And I would rather not tell it twice,” she added. “It will be hard enough to do it once.”
Her mother pulled her into the kitchen. “Is all well with William? I know he is older than you, and I know he is not the man you thought you would marry, but he was willing to take you, and you did not say no,” she reminded her. “Have you found someone else? Has he? Does he wish to put you away from him for another?”
Lavinia fought valiantly to keep the tears from overflowing, but she failed, and found herself wrapped in her mother’s arms again. She fought for breath, swallowing the tears, and finally said,
“It is nothing of William’s doing, Mama. He is not to blame in any of this.”
She looked her mother in the eyes and saw quiet understanding, and acceptance.
“Go and set up the room for William, and I’ll finish up here. Your father will be home soon with Simon. We will talk after dinner.”
By the time dinner was over, and Simon and John set to clearing the table and seeing to the dishes, Lavinia felt able at last to talk to her parents, but she was still glad of William’s quiet support as she retold the story, which she believed completely even though she could still not remember anything before the accident. Her father asked the expected questions -- where did she meet the Duke, was she a maiden when she married him, why had he wanted to marry in such haste before anyone knew, did she want to be with him now?
That last question was the hardest to answer, with William there to hear her say she wanted the man she didn’t know above the man she had lived with for four months. She could not imagine how humiliating it would be for him to hear her make such an admission. Instead of answering the question as it was asked, she said,
“I do not think I have much of a choice, do you, Papa? Unless you believe he is lying about it all.” She fought to keep the distress she was feeling from her voice. Had she ever in her life thought she could be as miserable as she was now?
Her mother’s quiet voice broke the silence after her father’s still unanswered question.
“What do you think, William? Do you think the Duke is lying?”
“No, ma’am, I do not,” he said at once. “And I am sure he will have the papers to prove it, even with all the evidence that what he has claimed is true.”
Lavinia found her voice. “He knows the date of my birth. How would he have known that if I had not told him, Mama?”
Another long silence, heavy with questions, hung about them as they tried to come to terms with what was happening. the boys were finished, and Simon came in to ask if anyone wanted anything before he and John went up to their rooms. It was clear that he knew something was amiss, but he did not ask any questions, and left quietly when his offer was declined. William broke the silence this time.
“I must be up early to journey back,” he said, “so I will say goodnight. Lavinia, will you see me off in the morning?”
“Of course, William,” she said at once. “I shall pack you lunch for your journey as well.”
He smiled sadly at her, and went up to the room she had prepared for him. She watched him as he walked away, and found herself wishing he could find someone to truly love, the way the Duke loved her, the way she hoped she would remember loving him. Turning her attention back to her parents, she hung her head for a moment, and then looked them in the eyes.
“I am sorry, Mama and Papa, for disappointing you. I did not think of the consequences of my actions. I suppose I must have loved him too much to think sensibly about our plan. I wish I could remember.”
Tears welled up again, and her mother clucked and pulled her into a tender embrace.
“We all make mistakes,” she said. “As long as you have learned a lesson from this, then all will be well.”
Her father’s words echoed in her heart long after she was in bed, staring up at the shadows cast by the candlelight on the ceiling.
“I am only disappointed that you did not trust us with your love, Lavinia. I hope this man is worth the love you gave him. I know you well. You would not lightly give your heart. So we will have to wait and see if he is the man you thought he was.”
She hoped and prayed that the Duke would not also disappoint her parents.
Chapter 5 — The In-Laws
Robert climbed down from his carriage and approached the small group of people who waited for him in front of the modest cottage. He would never admit it, but he was nervous. It had been a week since he had seen Lavinia, a week in which he had made some inquiries, had received word from the vicar that her marriage to the innkeeper was annulled, a week since he had held her in his arms and kissed her soundly. And now, he was seeing her again surrounded by her family, and he felt like a naughty schoolboy caught with the chambermaid in the stables. He could feel the censure in the gaze of the older man and woman who stood with her, and the curiosity of the two younger men who stood to the side.
Motioning to Watts, his valet, to wait, he approached and extended his hand.
“Robert St. Clair, Mr. and Mrs. Aston. I am pleased to meet you at last. Thank you for your kind invitation.”
He was relieved when his father-in-law took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, though he didn’t speak.
“We are happy to have you, Your Grace,” his mother-in-law said. “Please come in. Your valet may bring your things in. Lavinia has set up rooms for you both above stairs.”
He tried not to show his surprise that she was willing to go out of her way to be so hospitable as to offer his valet his own quarters. And he wondered if he had been put into the same room as his wife. He could only hope he had been, but he would not complain if that were not the case. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do, and much for which to make amends.
He followed them into a clean and comfortable front parlor, and sat where he was bid. The seat was big enough for two, and when Lavinia joined him on it, after bringing a tea tray, leaving a respectable gap between them, he smiled inside. He might be in the doghouse with these fine folk, but he was assured of a way out. He could very well understand their anger, and he admitted that it was no more than he deserved. Here, in this house, his title meant nothing. He was just the man who had encouraged their daughter to run away with him, and caused them all a lot of unnecessary grief. He would take whatever punishment they chose to mete out to him with equanimity. It was nothing more than he deserved.
“How was your trip, Your Grace?”
Lavinia’s father had a deep voice that resonated in the room. It was the voice of an intelligent man with strong opinions, and the will and ability to protect his own.
“It was uneventful, sir,” he replied. “We made good time.”
“A far better outcome than that other rather more fateful journey which was so abruptly ended, wouldn’t you
say?”
The silence in the room was electric. No one spoke, clearly waiting for him to reply. Having the events of that night brought so forcibly to memory was as painful to him as it had ever been, and he struggled to remain cool. They deserved to hear the story, and maybe, when he told it yet again, the pain would ease.
“Indeed, sir,” he said, clearing his throat. “Had I known how the night would have ended, I would have made different choices.”
“What made you think my sister was dead?”
The younger boy, whom Robert put at about eleven or twelve, asked the question he was sure everyone else wanted to know the answer to. His throat closed up again, and he had to take a sip of the tea he had been offered to open it before he answered.
“I was shown a body,” he said. “It was dressed as Lavinia had been, and the face so mangled as to be unrecognizable. The hair was blonde, like Lavinia’s, and her finger wore the ring I had given to Lavinia only that morning.”
He looked up at the sound of a quiet sob, and saw to his distress that her mother was crying.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Aston. I do not mean to cause you any pain.”
She dabbed at her eyes and smiled at him. “I can only imagine how you must have felt, you poor young man, to see what you thought was the remains of your beloved.”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t...the pain was still too real. Until he had had his Lavinia back in his arms for a good long while, he didn’t think it would ease much. Deciding that he needed to change the subject before he collapsed into unmanly weeping, he said,
“I would like your help, if you don’t mind, in finding the people who found her and took care of her. Perhaps they will know something that will help me find out who did this.”
“I will direct you to their farm in the morning,” Mr. Aston said. “However, there is still the question of proof.”
He let the word hang in the room, and Robert held himself stiffly, striving not to resent the implication that he was lying. He had no reason to pursue a woman below his station in life unless she were a whore, or he loved her. And his Lavinia was no whore. She was his beloved wife, whom he could not wait to hold in his arms again, whose body he could not wait to rediscover.
“I have here the papers you need to see, sir,” he said, swallowing his irritation.
He handed over the marriage certificate, with her signature, the death certificate, and a copy of his will, in which a considerable endowment had been made out in her maiden and married names. It had been another of the gifts he had planned to give her on her birthday. He watched as her parents pored over them.
“What is to happen to the man who declared that the poor dead woman was our daughter?” her father asked again. “No one came to confirm her identity with us, or they would have seen that she was very much alive.”
“If he was complicit in the fraud, I will see him punished to the fullest extent of the law, sir,” the Duke said.
Mrs. Aston took the papers and handed them back to Robert, declaring that it was high time they finished their tea.
“I’ll have to see about dinner,” she said. “Lavinia can show you around our little plot, as I am sure you have much to say to each other.”
She looked at her husband as she spoke, ignoring the high spots of color in her daughter’s cheeks, and his almost imperceptible nod seemed to satisfy her. She handed round dainty little sandwiches, scones and clotted cream, and replenished his teacup more than once.
“Would you permit me to take Lavinia for a drive before dinner, sir?” Robert asked, addressing the question to her father.
The older man laughed suddenly, unexpectedly, and said, “Young man, you do not need my permission to take your wife for a drive.”
Robert was speechless, his shock almost comical. Lavinia’s mother smiled and said,
“We shall see you back here in a couple of hours.” Then she bustled out with the tea tray.
“Let me get my shawl,” Lavinia said, and he nodded, thrilled at the prospect of a couple of hours alone in her company.
When she returned, he escorted her out to the carriage, helped her in, and directed the driver to go where his lady sent them. She gave a few directions, and then sat back.
“How have you been, my love?” he asked as they went along. “I have been desolate without you.”
Her smile lightened his heart. “You are probably exaggerating, Your...Robert,” she replied demurely.
“I have never been more serious,” he declared, knowing how true his words were. “Have you not also missed me?”
Now the smile was mischievous, and he wondered what new tease she would perpetrate against him.
“Perhaps I have, my Lord,” she replied, “though I would hesitate to describe it as desolate.”
He chuckled, feeling suddenly lighthearted. “And how would you describe it?”
She lowered her eyes, and he saw the color ride up her cheekbones.
“Tell me, beloved. How much did you miss me?”
He held her hand as he implored her to tell him how she was feeling, and held his breath for her answer.
Chapter 6 — Husband and Wife
“I would say I have missed you desperately,” Lavinia said in a low voice. “And I cannot account for it, since I have no recollection of having any feelings for you before our meeting a week ago.”
She was genuinely confused by her feelings for the man who sat next to her, his arm now around her shoulders, pulling her into his body.
“I am happy to hear it, my love,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.
“How long will you be staying here?” she asked, changing the subject because she didn’t know what to expect, and she had no experience with his to deal with the rising heat in her loins.
“As long as it will take to find out what happened,” he answered. “And I shall happily spend every moment that I can with you. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
He reached down and pulled her chin up so she was looking into his eyes, and she watched as his own darkened. Then he lowered his head, and she held her breath until he settled his mouth over hers, demanding entrance into its warm recesses. He kissed her as though he were starving for her, as though she were his last meal. Although she did not remember her feelings before the accident, she understood the ones now crowding in on her from every angle. She wanted his kisses. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted his love.
The thought startled her, and he pulled away to search her face.
“What is it, my love?” he asked, and she wondered at how attuned he was to her emotions.
“I...I can’t explain it,” she answered weakly.
Instead of trying to sort it out, she sought his lips again, and he obliged her, deepening the kisses that he showered her with until her body was crying out for more. She didn’t know what more she wanted from him, although she could imagine that it might involve his hard rod inside her, the way her erstwhile husband’s had been a time or two. Somehow, she knew it would be different with the man who was sliding his big hand over her breast, making her moan with desire.
“Will we be sharing a room later, my love?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” she said simply. “Despite Papa’s attitude when you first arrived, Mama had already made it clear that we were to be treated as a married couple.”
Robert chuckled, and she loved the rich mellowness of the sound. She could feel it reverberating in his chest where she had laid her hand.
“Your father is a formidable man,” he admitted. “I would not want to get on his bad side.”
“He is a fair man,” she said, “but I was rather concerned about how he would treat you.”
“I am happy that I passed his test,” he said, a wide smile on his face.
“So am I,” she confessed. “I don’t know what I would have done if he had disapproved of you.”
When Robert reached down to kiss her again, she squirmed closer, and he pulled her ove
r his lap. She gasped at the feeling of his heavy cock beneath her, and he took the opportunity to invade her mouth for more wet kisses.
“I cannot wait for tonight,” he whispered, sliding his hand down her front. “I have dreamed about you often since you disappeared from my life, and of all the things I would do to you. And now I am impatient.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, her cheeks, the hollow of her neck, and nipped her earlobes and her lips before plunging in again to savor her. She responded helplessly to his seductions, raising her arms to wrap them around his neck, enjoying every bump in the road as it settled her more firmly against his hardness. The deeper he took the kisses, the more she rolled her hips against him, and when he groaned, she felt a piercing joy fill her. She knew she was giving him pleasure, and she wanted to do nothing more for the rest of her life.
