Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Gabriel laughed, then sobered again. “You do make an excellent point. The house looks splendid, and all because of you. I actually look forward to coming back here when I’ve been over to the village or out riding the fields with Hay. I used to hate this house, but not anymore, not when I know you’re inside waiting for me when I return.”

  “It’s our home. You and me and the baby. And the animals, of course.”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  She saw him flick a glance toward Burr lying in a patch of cool shade on one side of his desk and a pair of the cats stretched out in a pool of sunlight beneath a nearby window.

  “Oh, and the servants,” she added.

  “Yes, let us not forget them.”

  “Did I tell you that I heard from Mrs. Grumblethorpe?” Esme offered eagerly. “She has agreed to come out of retirement and take up the position of nurse for the baby. She’ll be here as soon as we return from our holiday at Braebourne.”

  She and Gabriel planned to depart for Braebourne in two more weeks, where they intended to remain until the end of September.

  His frown returned. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just stay at Braebourne until after the birth? Your whole family will be there to see you through your labor. We’ve discussed this before, and I still don’t like the idea of you traveling when you’ll be so far along.”

  Esme’s jaw firmed in what Gabriel had taken to calling her “stubborn face.”

  “Yes, we have discussed this before and your child and heir will be born here at Ten Elms.”

  “Esme—”

  “No, my mind is made up and I will not be swayed on this point. As for the trip to Braebourne, Mallory has traveled all over creation before her babies were born and no harm ever came to any of them. We shall leave Braebourne weeks before the baby is due. It will all turn out splendidly.”

  Esme knew she had won the argument again when Gabriel gave a resigned sigh. “At least your mother will be returning with us,” he said. “If you go into labor early, she’ll know what to do.”

  “She will indeed.” Leaning forward, she kissed him. “Besides, I suspect you could help me through the birth on your own, if necessary. You’re very resourceful.”

  “Resourceful, am I?” He laughed. “Well, no matter how resourceful you may think me, I’d rather leave your labor and delivery in far more capable hands than my own.”

  “So you don’t want to be with me during the birth?”

  He arched a brow, a faint hint of alarm in his eyes. “Do you want me to be?”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. “You were there when we made our child. You should be there for his birth. But only to hold my hand. You can let my mother and the doctor take care of the rest.”

  “Hand-holding, hmm? I think I could manage that, presuming your mother and the doctor don’t kick me out first.”

  “I won’t let them.”

  He chuckled. “Of that I have no doubt. Very well, my love, I will be there with you when our baby is born.” He kissed her gently. “I will always be with you, Esme Landsdowne. I love you. You’re my whole life now.”

  “As you are mine.” Laying a hand against his cheek, she pressed her mouth to his, love and happiness flooding through her as it did on a daily basis now.

  She was about to suggest they retreat upstairs for an afternoon “nap” when she heard a crinkling sound coming from the pocket in her gown.

  “Oh,” she said, easing back. “I nearly forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” he murmured, his eyes lambent with barely banked desire.

  “The reason I came to find you.”

  He blinked, then laid his lips against her neck. “It wasn’t to tell me about your old nurse returning?” he asked absently.

  “No, it’s something else entirely. Something I found when I was going through the attics.”

  He head came up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What do you mean, going through the attics? When were you doing that?”

  Guilty color stained her cheeks. “This morning when you were out surveying the lake dredging. All I did was stand around while the footmen moved furniture and opened a few trunks for me. Since we’re refurbishing the third-floor nursery, I wanted to see if there might be some old toys or other useful things for the baby. I actually discovered a wonderful old chest that would be perfect for extra blankets and such.”

  “You can order new toys and new chests from London. There’s no need for you to tire yourself with such needless enterprises.”

  “I wasn’t tired in the least, and honestly, the servants did all the work for me. While I was up there, I happened across a couple of other interesting finds. One, curiously enough, is a portrait of your uncle. Did you put that up there?”

  He scowled. “No. Foy or Starr must have done, since I ordered the damned thing burned. I’ll tell Bell to toss it on the rubbish heap at his earliest convenience.”

  “Yes, well, much as I agree with the sentiments, and believe me I do, I suppose we ought to retain the painting in the interest of family history. I could scribble a note and paste it on the reverse saying what a vile man he is, just so future generations know.”

  He smirked. “Sidney would hate that. Yes, let’s do it.”

  She smiled back, then grew serious again. “There was something else.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  She climbed off his lap, then reached into her pocket to withdraw a letter, the paper fragile and yellowed with age. “This was inside the drawer of a writing desk, stuffed away in the back. I very nearly missed it.”

  Gabriel looked at the letter but made no move to take it from her.

  “There was a second letter for your brother,” she continued, “but this one is for you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, it’s . . . I believe it is from your mother.”

  Surprise moved across his features.

  “I didn’t read it,” Esme hastened to explain, “at least not much of it, once I realized who it was from. I wasn’t sure . . . but have you ever seen it before?”

  After a brief hesitation, he took the delicate missive from her hand, then slowly folded open the page. His eyes widened ever so slightly and he swallowed. “No.”

  “My dearest Gabriel, please forgive me for what I am about to do . . . ,” Esme knew it began.

  He bent his head over the letter and began to read.

  She watched, feeling like a bit of an intruder all of a sudden. But just when she wondered if she ought to give him some time alone, he reached out and took hold of her wrist and drew her nearer, so her legs pressed against his own.

  “She was going to send for us, Matthew and me,” he said in a low voice. “Once she got settled, she wanted us to live with her, even if my father objected. She said she loved me, loved Matthew, and that she was sorry for not being a better mother.” He paused, his fingers tight against the paper. “All these years, I didn’t think she cared about me at all.”

  “Of course she cared. You were her son. Of course she loved you. I’m sure your father loved you too, whatever he may have ended up doing in a moment of thoughtless rage.”

  “I suppose they were very unhappy together there at the end,” he mused. “I guess I’ve never really seen them as ordinary people, who were both good as well as bad.”

  He laid the letter on his desk, then slid his arms around her so she stood with their baby between them.

  She stroked his hair. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown the letter to you, but I thought you had a right to know that she was thinking of you before she left. That she loved you.”

  He pressed his cheek to her rounded stomach for a moment before looking up. “No, you were right to show it to me. I presume Sidney made sure neither Matthew nor I ever saw the letters. Or perhaps it was my father. Maybe that’s how he discover
ed she had left him.”

  “Oh, Gabriel.” Tears filled her eyes.

  He reached up and brushed the dampness from her lashes with a thumb. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

  “But I’ve made you sad. I didn’t mean to.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “You haven’t. You couldn’t. You make me happy every day. You’re the light of my life and I cannot do without you.”

  “Nor I you. I love you, Gabriel. Now and always.”

  With a gentle tug, he drew her down onto his knee again, pausing to kiss her. “Thank you.”

  She met his eyes with surprise. “For what?”

  “For seeing past my hardened, sinful exterior to the man underneath. For loving me despite my many faults.”

  “You have no faults, not in my eyes.”

  “I do, but it is kind of you to overlook them.”

  “As you overlook mine.”

  “Now, there we disagree, since you are perfection itself,” he said. “You are everything that is good and generous and kind, and I thank my lucky stars each and every day that you came into my life. Thank you for saving me, Esme. Without you, I would never have known real happiness.” He laid his palm on her belly again. “Without you, I would never have had a home again, or a family.”

  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she kissed him with unfettered devotion. “Without you, I would never have been truly happy either. I was adrift until we met. As for family, you have a huge one now. There are so many of us, you may come to regret joining the clan, especially when they all descend on us for the birth.”

  His earlier look of unease returned. “You think all seven of your siblings and their broods will be here? At Ten Elms?”

  “Yes, I suspect so. Good thing we have a home with so many rooms. But what is it they say? The more, the merrier?”

  He considered that for a moment, as a smile creased his face.

  He laughed. “Right you are, my dear. Let us have more of everything—more love and more happiness and more babies! And we shall be merry for all the rest of our days.”

  Then he kissed her again, and made her very merry indeed.

  Don’t miss Tracy Anne Warren’s

  The Bedding Proposal

  Available now. Continue reading for a preview.

  London, England

  October 1817

  “This party is duller than a Sunday sermon,” Lord Leopold Byron complained with a sigh.

  From where he stood with his elbow crooked idly atop the fireplace mantelpiece, he surveyed the other guests. Not for the first time, he wondered why he’d bothered to accept this evening’s invitation; the only amusing activity was drinking, and he could have done that anywhere. At least the champagne was a palatable vintage. Taking consolation from the thought, he drank from the crystal flute balanced in his other hand.

  At the opposite end of their host’s mantelpiece stood his twin brother, Lord Lawrence Byron. Given that they were identical, Leo supposed they must make a picture, particularly dressed as they both were in black silk evening breeches and black cutaway coats with crisp white shirts, waistcoats and cravats.

  Lawrence looked at him and raised an eyebrow, its color two shades darker than his golden brown hair, which fell past his jaw; Leo also tended to wear his hair slightly long. “Just be glad you aren’t actually in church,” he said.

  “If I were, at least I’d be able to catch up on my sleep. Rather handy, being able to doze off with my eyes open; fools the vicar every time. Tough to do standing up, though.”

  “I can manage in a pinch, so long as there’s a convenient wall to lean against. Last time I tried it, though, I started snoring. Great-aunt Augusta caught me and boxed my ears.”

  Leo chuckled in sympathy. “She may be pushing eighty, but the old gal can still pack a wallop.”

  Lawrence nodded. “I’ll wager she could make even the great Tom Cribb shake in his boots.”

  Both men grinned for a moment at the image of their formidable aunt taking on one of England’s fiercest boxers.

  “You can’t expect London to be terribly exciting this time of year,” Lawrence said, “what with most of the Ton off at their country estates. I don’t know why you didn’t stay at Braebourne with everyone else for another few weeks.”

  “What? And leave you rattling around Town all by yourself? I know you’ve taken it into your head to actually do something with your legal studies, but coming back to London early in order to set up your own practice? It’s beyond the pale, even for you.”

  Lawrence gave him a wry half smile. “At least one of us values his education. I happen to like the law; I find it fascinating. And might I remind you that you also studied the law, same as me?”

  “Just because I earned a degree in jurisprudence doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life pitching my oars into legal waters. You know I studied the law only because I couldn’t stomach anything else. Now that the war’s over, the military holds little appeal. As for taking ecclesiastical orders—” He broke off on a dramatic shudder. “Not even Mama can see me in a vicar’s collar with a Bible tucked under my arm.”

  Lawrence laughed. “No one could see you in a vicar’s collar with a Bible under your arm. The very idea is sacrilegious.”

  “You’re right,” Leo said. “I prefer to live a gentleman’s life, as befits the son of a duke. And thanks to some sound financial advice, courtesy of our inestimable brother-in-law, Adam, and our brother Jack’s friend Pendragon, I can afford to do so, even if I am the fifth youngest of six sons.”

  “Only by two minutes,” his twin reminded. “You know, I’ve always wondered if the nursemaid didn’t switch us in our cribs and I’m actually the elder.”

  “Not likely, considering I’m the brains behind the majority of our greatest schemes.”

  “The brains, are you? I’ll admit you’ve got a God-given flair for making mischief that few others can match, but I’ll thank you to remember who it is who always manages to talk our way out of the thicket when we land ass-first in trouble.”

  “You do have a knack for turning a story on its head.” Leo drank more champagne. “Which leads me back to this career nonsense of yours. You invested successfully with Pendragon, same as me, so I know you don’t need the blunt. Why, then, do you want a job? You know as well as I do that gentlemen don’t engage in trade.”

  “It’s not trade. The law is a perfectly honorable profession,” Lawrence said as he fiddled with his watch fob; it was a gesture Leo knew always indicated defensiveness on his twin’s part. “As for my reasons, it keeps me from being bored—unlike you.”

  Leo rolled his eyes. “God, save me. Next you’ll be telling me I should join you in chambers and hang my shingle up next to yours. Or worse, take up a cause and run for Parliament. I can see it now: the Right Honourable Lord Leopold, standing on behalf of Gloucester.” He shook his head, smiling at the absurdity of the idea.

  But his twin didn’t return his grin. “Might be good for you. You’re five-and-twenty now. You could do with some purposeful direction.”

  “The only direction I need is to be pointed toward a fresh glass of wine,” Leo said, tossing back the last of his champagne. “That and a proper bit of entertainment.”

  “A woman, you mean? Maybe you shouldn’t have broken things off so soon with that pretty little opera dancer you were seeing over the summer. She was a prime bit o’ muslin.”

  Leo scowled. “Oh, she was pretty enough and most definitely limber, but after a couple of weeks, the attraction began to wear thin. Outside the bedroom, we had absolutely nothing in common. Her favorite topics were clothes and jewels and the latest amorous intrigues going on backstage at Covent Garden. It got so that I had begun making excuses not to visit her.”

  He paused and briefly drummed his fingers against the mantelpiece. “I knew enough was enough when she
started hinting that she wanted to quit dancing so I could take her on a tour of the Continent. As if I’d consign myself to spending weeks alone in her company. I’d rather be clapped in irons and paraded naked through the streets than endure such tedium.”

  Lawrence chuckled. “I hadn’t realized the situation was quite so dire.”

  “That’s because you were too busy with your own flirtations.” Slowly, Leo turned his empty glass between his fingers. “No, if I wanted to set up another mistress, she’d have to be someone unique, someone incomparable, who other men would go to great lengths to possess. Someone like—”

  And suddenly, from across the room, a woman caught his eye.

  Her hair was as dark as a winter night, upswept in a simple yet refined twist that showcased the delicate creamy white column of her throat. Around her neck hung a plain gold chain with a cameo that nestled between her breasts like a cherished lover. Despite the surprisingly modest décolletage of her silk evening gown, the cut served only to enhance the lush curves of her shapely figure, while the brilliant emerald hue of the material cast no illusions regarding her sensuality and allure.

  He knew who she must be, of course. He’d heard talk that she might make an appearance tonight—none other than the infamous Lady Thalia Lennox.

  Ever since the firestorm of scandal that had erupted around her nearly six years earlier, she’d become both disgraced and notorious. Even he, who had been no more than a green youth reveling in one of his first years about Town, had been aware of the uproar at the time.

  The gossip had ignited first over her much-publicized affair, then exploded during the divorce proceedings that followed. Divorces were virtually unheard of among the Ton, and extremely difficult to obtain due to the necessity of three separate trials and an Act of Parliament. Nevertheless, her cuckolded husband, Lord Kemp, had sued against her and been granted a termination of their marriage.

  And while a taint of scandal continued to trail Lord Kemp even to this day, the proceedings had turned Lady Thalia into a social outcast. Once a darling of the Ton, she now dwelled along the fringes of genteel respectability, invited out only by those who either were dishonored themselves or simply didn’t care what anyone thought of them—or so said the gossips who continued to relay stories of her alleged exploits.