“Do you think you will survive having me as your wife?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Less than an hour later, Ross and Blaze walked into the Inverary ballroom. Beneath her stepmother’s supervision, the ballroom had been decorated for their wedding reception. Musicians played at the opposite side of the rectangular room. Round tables had been positioned around a small dance floor. Garlands of blue and white forget-me-nots adorned the hall while vases of white roses served as centerpieces for each table.
Wisely, the Duchess of Inverary had planned a reception menu with no meat or poultry served on bones. The main courses consisted of beef and chicken slices as well as poached salmon with caper sauce. Beluga caviar was kept out of the bride’s sight.
Blaze ate baked eggs without the ham, calf’s liver salad without the calf’s liver, and a spinach and nettle souffle prepared especially for her. Her husband ate what she ate. Not one morsel of beef, chicken, or salmon passed his lips.
“Eat whatever you want,” Blaze whispered against his ear.
Ross turned his head and planted a kiss on her lips. “I want to eat ye, darlin’, but we’ve created enough scandals.”
Blaze blushed. “I adore my butterfly ring and will always cherish your mother’s wedding band. When our son marries, he will give it to his bride.”
“That’s an outstandin’ idea.” Ross kissed her again. “My mother would have adored ye.”
Blaze smiled at that. She wished the son would adore her. He’d married her because of their baby, and now she needed to win his love.
Loving a man was dangerous, though. When a woman gave her heart to a man, she lost her peace of mind.
The Duke of Inverary approached them and looked at Ross. “Take good care of my daughter.”
“Yes, Yer Grace, I was plannin’ to do that.”
“Juno is breeding,” the duke told Blaze, “and I’m giving Rooney the nod to ride Thor in the Derby.”
“I hope Rooney continues abstaining from spirits.” After her father walked away, Blaze glanced at her husband. “You wanted to sell Juno to the knackers.”
Ross lifted her hand to his lips. “I admit ye were right aboot Juno.”
“Taking Beau with us to Scotland would be right,” Blaze said. “We’re taking Puddles.”
“Beau is a donkey,” Ross said, “and Puddles is a dog.”
“How incredibly observant.”
“If we were travelin’ by land,” Ross said, “takin’ Beau would be fine, but we’re takin’ the Kazanov ship to Oban. Beau wouldna feel comfortable on a ship. Juno and Beau will be safe at the Inverary stables.”
“Where else would they be?”
“The vows we spoke made ye a MacArthur,” Ross answered. “We’ll be livin’ at MacArthur House.”
“You will need to hire a food taster to protect me from Celeste,” Blaze said.
Ross laughed in her face. “Shall we dance?”
“Whirling around the dance floor will make me regurgitate my dinner.” Blaze lifted her bouquet of orange blossoms. “I want to visit my mother’s grave.”
Ross stood when she did. “Shall I walk with ye?”
Blaze did not want him to know her mother had been buried in unhallowed ground. “I like visiting her alone.”
“I understand.” Ross nodded, though he could not mask his momentary hurt.
Blaze circled the dance floor, heading for the door. She felt guilty not taking her husband with her, but he would have known her mother had taken her own life.
Leaving the ballroom, Blaze nearly bumped into her sister. Raven lifted her hand. The star ruby had darkened, warning of danger.
Blaze looked from the ring to her sister’s face. “The murderer is a wedding guest?”
Raven nodded. “I’m going to find Alex and insist we review the guest list, especially the men with blond hair.”
Leaving her sister, Blaze ducked into the withdrawing room and was relieved to find it deserted. When Celeste MacArthur walked in a moment later, she suffered the uncanny feeling the woman had followed her.
“Ross would have married Amanda,” Celeste said, “if you hadn’t spread your legs and trapped him with a pregnancy.”
Let the confrontations begin, Blaze thought, steeling herself for combat.
Blaze knew frustrated ambition incited Celeste to lash out at her. Refusing to rise to the bait would frustrate the woman even more.
Blaze gave her a serene smile. “Ross told me he wasn’t interested in Amanda.”
“My stepson did not want to hurt your feelings.” Celeste returned the serene smile with one of her own.
And Blaze realized the MacArthur duchess was experienced in the art of insult. How fortunate for her that her own stepmother, a master of the insult, had tutored her and her sisters.
“My husband”—Blaze placed special emphasis on the word—“moved to Rowley Lodge to prevent falling into your marriage trap.”
The older woman faltered for the briefest moment but recovered herself. “Remember, little girl, the marriage vows last only ‘till death us do part.’ Ross may be free sooner than you think.”
Blaze arched a copper brow at the woman. “Are you threatening me?”
“Life is uncertain.”
“Indeed, life is uncertain.” Blaze smiled, wanting her to think she was amused. “Women of your advanced age should beware.”
“You are a bastard and—”
“I am also a bitch,” Blaze interrupted, satisfied with the woman’s surprised expression. “Underestimating me could prove unfortunate for a vicar’s daughter. Strange, how rumors spread when one least expects it.”
“How true.” Celeste regained her composure again. “Like someone’s mother being a suicide.”
Blaze managed to keep her expression placid, a lesson learned from her stepmother. “Or a woman murdering her first two husbands.”
“Spread that rumor,” Celeste said, stepping toward her, “and you will regret it.”
Blaze stood her ground. “You don’t frighten me.”
“Oh, what a heartwarming sight. You are becoming better acquainted,” the Duchess of Inverary said, walking across the withdrawing room. “Blaze dear, I thought you might be ill.”
“I feel wonderful,” Blaze said, smiling at her stepmother, “but poor Celeste may need your help. She’s developed a chronic pain in her arse.” With those parting words, she swept out of the withdrawing room.
Leaving the mansion by the rear door, Blaze walked slowly through the formal gardens. The first skirmish in her war with her stepmother-in-law had left her emotionally drained. She knew one thing for certain. The woman was dangerous and highly sensitive about being thought a murderer. Which meant she had probably murdered her husbands, but Blaze doubted anyone would believe her without proof. Her own husband would not thank her for upsetting his father.
Blaze crossed the wide expanse of lawns and circled the gazebo. Then she took the less-traveled path to a small clearing. The tiny area contained two gravestones and a bench.
“Papa?” She had never seen her father here.
The Duke of Inverary glanced over his shoulder and beckoned her forward. “I’m visiting your mother.”
Blaze placed her orange blossom bouquet between the gravestones. One read: GABRIELLE FLAMBEAU, BELOVED OF MAGNUS CAMPBELL, DUKE OF INVERARY. The second gravestone read: JANE SMUDGE, DEVOTED FRIEND.
“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you,” Blaze said, sitting beside him.
“Calling you daughter makes me proud,” the duke told her, putting an arm around her shoulder. “You believed in Pegasus when no one else did, you proved bold and brave by jockeying the filly, and you demonstrated true love running down the Rowley Mile trying to stop the race.”
Blaze blushed. “The gossipmongers will feed on that for a long time.”
“Do not forget your husband believed in you and stood beside you every step of the way,” the duke said. “I gave you Pegasus to teach you a le
sson about the horse-racing business, but I was the one who learned a lesson.”
“I don’t understand, Papa.”
“You shamed me into remembering what I had forgotten,” her father told her. “Horse racing takes heart and means more than making a profit.”
Blaze nodded in understanding and then asked the question she’d harbored inside for a long time. “Why did you bury Nanny Smudge here?”
“Smudge requested I bury her beside Gabrielle,” he answered. “She’d taken care of your mother all those years and didn’t want her to rest alone.”
Blaze raised a hand to cover her mouth and struggled against the aching emotion. Two teardrops rolled down her cheeks, but her father brushed them aside.
“Smudge described you perfectly,” her father told her. “Your tough exterior hides a tender heart, more sensitive than any of your sisters.” He paused a moment and then added, “Do not worry about your mother and Smudge. The clergy could not refuse blessing Smudge, and the promise of a generous donation persuaded him to bless Gabrielle.”
A noise behind them drew their attention. Ross stood there. “I apologize for interruptin’ but I was worried aboot Blaze.”
The Duke of Inverary rose from the bench and gestured to it. “Sit here, son, and enjoy a few quiet moments with your bride. Roxie will be wondering where I’m hiding.”
“I don’t think so,” Blaze said, her lips turning up in a smile. “I left her calming Celeste in the withdrawing room.”
“Is Celeste ill?” her father asked.
“Celeste discovered a chronic pain in the arse had married into the MacArthur family,” Blaze answered, making them laugh. “She was expecting meekness but got me.”
When the duke started down the path toward the mansion, Ross sat beside her on the bench and put his arm around her. “Like all bullies, Celeste will leave ye alone if ye stand yer ground.”
“I bullied Celeste.” Blaze gave him a sidelong glance, adding, “I threatened her in the withdrawing room.”
He was smiling at her. “That’s my girl.”
“I threatened to spread a rumor that she was a vicar’s daughter and a murderess.”
His smile became a chuckle.
“She did bury two husbands and improve her finances each time she married.”
His chuckle grew into a laugh.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Celeste murdered Charlie and drugged me,” Blaze said. “She is the bone sucker’s mother, after all.”
“Yer the most amazin’ woman I’ve ever met,” Ross told her. “What would Celeste gain?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure that out,” Blaze said, noting his gaze on the gravestones. “Shall we return inside?”
“I’m yer husband now,” Ross said, and gestured to the gravestones. “I want to know everythin’. Ye can start with Jane Smudge if ye want.”
Blaze felt a sinking sensation in her belly. Nothing but the whole sorry tale would satisfy her husband, and then she would see either pity or disgust in his eyes.
Ross cupped her chin and waited for her to meet his gaze. “Trust me.”
“Nanny Smudge lived with my mother before I was born,” Blaze began. “My father had sent her to care for my mother during her first pregnancy, and Nanny Smudge stayed with us until she died.”
“So Nanny Smudge helped yer mother care for her daughters,” Ross said.
Blaze gave him a rueful smile. “Gabrielle helped Nanny Smudge care for us.”
“Tell me aboot yer mother.”
She had no escape. Her husband needed to know the truth.
Blaze looked at him through eyes blurring with tears. “I killed my mother.”
Ross stared at her, his expression registering disbelief. “A woman who holds funerals for furs would never harm anyone.”
“I wish I could reverse time and correct my mistakes,” Blaze said.
“Livin’ with regrets means yer human,” Ross said.
“My mother suffered from the drinking sickness,” Blaze told him, “but now I know she drank to dull her pain. One day I grabbed the glass out of her hand, smashed it on the floor, and wished her dead.”
And Ross knew what she was going to tell him. His heart wrenched at the guilt she’d carried for years.
“Later, I returned to apologize,” she said, “but my wish had come true. My words had driven my mother to cut her wrists with the shards of glass.”
“Her death wasna yer fault,” Ross said, holding her close. “Yer mother wanted to escape her pain and wouldna want ye to feel guilty.”
“My wishing her dead killed her,” Blaze said.
“If yer guilty of killin’ yer mother,” Ross said, “then I’m guilty, too.”
“What do you mean?’
“I rode early every mornin’,” Ross told her, “and the groom always had my horse saddled and waitin’. One mornin’ I slept late, and my mother got to the stables first. She took my horse instead of her own.
“When the horse came home without her, we went searchin’ and found her near the stone wall she always jumped. She’d fallen off my horse goin’ over the wall and broken her neck.”
“You did not wish her dead,” Blaze said. “Perhaps she would have fallen if she rode her own horse.”
“That doesna make me feel less guilty. I’ve always thought—” He shrugged, sorry he’d mentioned this on his wedding day. “What I always thought doesna change the outcome.”
Blaze recognized remembered pain in his black eyes. “What did you think?”
“I thought her death was no accident,” Ross answered. “I found a wire nearby and couldna shake the feelin’ someone had strung it across her usual route. All of Newmarket knew my mother was a daredevil on horses and loved jumpin’ fences and walls.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“The authorities called it an accident,” Ross said, “and hunches dinna matter in a court of law. If there is a murderer, God will reveal him in His own good time.”
“The bone sucker’s mother did it,” Blaze said.
Ross smiled at her. “How do ye figure that, wife?”
“Celeste Chadwick Simmons Stanley MacArthur buries a spouse when she finds a wealthier candidate,” Blaze answered. “What would prevent her from eliminating a rival?”
“I canna believe that.”
“I called her a murderess in the withdrawing room,” Blaze said, “and she threatened me. Why is she so sensitive about that word?”
“Let’s set that aside for today,” Ross said, no longer amused. “We’ll keep an eye on her when we return from the Highlands?”
“I’ve missed our evenings at the Rowley Lodge.” Blaze reached up to trace his lips with a finger. “Will you kiss me now?”
“I thought ye’d never ask.”
Raven searched the ballroom for Alexander but couldn’t locate him. The card room, the billiard room, and her father’s office were deserted.
Returning to the ballroom, Raven spied three Kazanov princes standing together and approached them. “I apologize for interrupting,” she said, “but I misplaced my fiancé—Alexander Blake—and wondered if you’d seen him.”
“We have not seen Blake,” Prince Lykos said, “but I will walk with you to find him.”
Raven smiled. “That is unnecessary.”
Prince Lykos returned her smile. “I would much prefer walking with a beautiful woman to speaking with my brothers.”
Arm in arm, the two circled the perimeter of the dance floor. Leaving the ballroom, they walked downstairs.
“Have you seen the Marquis of Basildon?” Prince Lykos asked a passing footman.
“I did see him, Your Highness,” the footman answered. “I believe he was walking in the direction of the garden door. Shall I fetch him for you?”
“No, thank you. The lady and I will walk outside.”
Prince Lykos and Raven walked toward the rear of the mansion and down one flight. They exited the garden door and strolled through the formal
gardens.
Both stopped short when they spied Alexander standing near the maze. He was kissing Amanda Stanley.
Raven backed away without saying a word. She and the prince returned to the mansion.
“If you will excuse me, Your Highness,” Raven said when they reached the foyer, “I will retire now.”
“You will not retire now,” Lykos said. “You will return with me to the ballroom.”
Raven acquiesced with a nod but wished she could escape to her chamber. The humiliation and betrayal of her fiancé kissing another woman seemed too much to endure.
“Appearances can be deceptive,” Lykos said, climbing the stairs beside her.
“I am not delusional, Your Highness.”
Lykos smiled at that. “The marquis may have a plausible explanation for what we saw.”
“I may be young, Your Highness, but I am no fool.”
“Call me Lykos,” he said, “and dance with me.”
Something in his voice made her step onto the dance floor without argument. Swirling in his arms, Raven saw that Alexander and Amanda had returned to the ballroom.
“Do not look in his direction,” Lykos ordered. “I will do for you what I did for your sister.”
“What is that?”
“Your stepmother enlisted my aid in matching MacArthur and Blaze,” Lykos told her. “Her Grace knows the challenge of competition whets a man’s desire. Need I say more?”
“I accept your offer of assistance,” Raven said. “I do hope the Marquis of Basildon enjoys groveling.”
Prince Lykos laughed, drawing curious glances from other dancing couples and several sideline onlookers. “When we waltz past Blake,” the prince said, “pretend you are enjoying yourself.”
“I am enjoying myself.” Raven gave the prince a flirtatious smile. When they swirled by her frowning fiancé, she wiggled her fingers at him.
“Look at that hill.”
Sitting beside her, Ross chuckled. “That’s a mountain, not a hill.”
“What’s the difference?” Blaze asked, dragging her gaze from the passing scenery to look at him.
“The difference is size,” Ross answered. “Like a ship and a boat.”
Marrying the Marquis Page 20
