by Laura Martin
‘That’s when they would need their parents the most.’
She stood and waited for him to rise, and Oliver felt a wave of disappointment washing over him. He might have got to the bottom of why Lucy was so mistrustful when it came to the subject of children, but if he couldn’t convince her he wouldn’t ever send a child away, no matter what their physical or mental problems, then he was unlikely to persuade her they were ready to start a family together again. He himself wasn’t sure he was in the right place to consider a child just yet; first he had to convince himself Lucy wouldn’t disappear again at the first hint of conflict, but one day he did want a family.
‘I know you’re a better man than my father,’ Lucy said softly as they started their descent back to the long stretch of the esplanade.
It wasn’t much of a compliment—one could be a poor specimen of a man and still be better than Lucy’s father. For now it would have to be enough, but Oliver was determined one day she would see he would make a splendid father, no matter what challenges parenthood threw up along the way.
Chapter Fifteen
Turning over slowly, Lucy tried not to make any sudden movements. They’d spent their first night sharing a bed together since Oliver had returned to the army a short time after their wedding. All night she’d been aware of his large, masculine presence, and she’d found herself gripping on to the edge of the mattress to restrain her body from burrowing in against his.
Noiselessly she turned again, this time so she was facing Oliver. His eyelashes rested on his cheeks and sleep had smoothed some of the faint lines that were visible on his forehead during waking hours.
She’d been dreading this visit to see her father, dreading returning to all the places that held painful memories of the past, but she had to admit it had been cathartic in some ways. There was no doubt in her mind she’d seen her father for the last time and it had felt good to say a final farewell. He would never have to trouble her thoughts again.
Now Oliver knew about her brother, William, and all he had suffered and at first Lucy had been furious with herself for letting the information slip out, but the more she thought about it, the more she could see the advantages of Oliver knowing the tragic events. He would understand her reluctance to have any more children and where her mistrust came from. She truly didn’t know how Oliver would react if she gave birth to another baby like David, or her brother, William. He was a far better man than her father and perhaps he would stand by his child and give him or her the best upbringing available, but Lucy couldn’t take the chance that he wouldn’t. She’d seen how devastating a father’s abandonment could be and would never put a child of hers through the same pain.
He was a good man, Lucy conceded. Everything he’d done from the moment of their reunion had been considered and thoughtful. There was no denying he’d pushed her, but he’d been there to support her all the way through the difficult things he’d encouraged her to do. And he had kept all his promises. She still felt a deep, gnawing guilt for taking David away from him and knew only time could rebuild the trust they’d lost. It was revealing to Lucy that she wanted to stay, wanted to spend the time rebuilding that trust, rather than wanting to pull away any more.
Reaching out, she stopped herself before her fingers met his face. Perhaps there was a future for them and not just a future of play-acting the lives of a married couple while doing all the important things apart. She was beginning to be able to imagine allowing herself to enjoy his company fully, to spend afternoons strolling through the park together, to discuss important developments at the Foundation and even on occasion take his advice.
He took a deep breath in, one arm catching her gently on the hip. Lucy froze, but there was still no sign of him wakening. His palm was warm on her skin, even through the double layers of cotton of the sheet and her nightdress, and she found herself inching towards him again. Perhaps she could even see a future where she gave in to her suppressed desires and indulged in a full and physical relationship with her husband again.
‘Good morning,’ Oliver murmured as he opened his eyes.
Lucy made a show of rubbing her eyes as if she hadn’t been lying there staring at him for the last ten minutes.
‘Good morning.’
Now he was awake she felt self-conscious and hyperaware of the narrow space between them.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she lied. After all, it wouldn’t do for her to admit she’d spent half the night wondering how close she could move in to her husband without him noticing and the other half reprimanding herself for the unchaste thoughts that were running through her mind.
‘Best sleep I’ve had in years,’ Oliver said.
‘It’ll be the sea air.’
‘It’ll be having my wife in bed next to me,’ he corrected, his voice low.
She was sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind and finally give in to the urge to move in closer, to allow herself to become lost in his kisses and start the renewal of a much more intimate part of their relationship. Still, something stopped her, and after a few moments Oliver sighed, swung his legs out of bed and padded to where he’d hung his clothes. Despite the surge of disappointment Lucy still had to suppress a smile. Her husband had never been one to lie in bed on a morning, conditioned by army life to get up and on with the day just moments after he was awake. Of course in those first few weeks of their marriage he’d found an excuse to tumble back between the sheets multiple times a day, but today she hadn’t provided him with any incentive to stay horizontal.
‘I’ll see what can be done about breakfast,’ Oliver said, dressing quickly before leaving the room.
For a moment Lucy flopped back on to her pillows, then, not wanting to be caught halfway through dressing, she rose and chose one of the dresses Oliver had hung in the wardrobe the night before. Again she smiled. Most men wouldn’t lower themselves to hang their wives dresses in the wardrobe and Lucy herself had been content to leave them in her trunk, but years in the army had meant Oliver did tasks like these without thinking before retiring to bed in the evening.
Once she had fixed her hair and straightened her clothes, Lucy made her way down to the large room on the lower level that served as both a comfortable sitting room and a dining room with a small table at one end.
‘How would you like to do a little sightseeing today?’ Oliver asked as he slipped back through the door, followed closely by the wife of the man renting the rooms out. She was carrying one tray and Oliver a second, both piled high with almost every breakfast food you could imagine.
‘Sightseeing?’ Lucy asked, baffled by the suggestion.
‘We could go directly back to London, but I don’t fancy being cooped up in the carriage for another day. Why not enjoy some of the delights Brighton has to offer?’
He seemed to be in a buoyant mood, despite his obvious disappointment yesterday when she hadn’t been able to tell him she believed he would act honourably if a theoretical other child of theirs was born with a physical or mental complication.
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘A surprise.’
She thought back to the last surprise trip he’d taken her on—the excursion to the Ranelagh Gardens—and how it had all nearly ended in seduction. With a shiver of anticipation she inclined her head.
‘Excellent. Eat up—there will be some walking involved.’
* * *
Oliver felt peculiarly content walking through the streets of Brighton with Lucy on his arm. It almost felt as though they were on the honeymoon they’d never had and he was determined to utilise the holiday spirit to ensure they ended this little trip closer than they had started it.
‘The Royal Pavilion has changed a little since I last lived here,’ Lucy observed as they approached the grand building from the promenade, walking a few hundred feet away from the sea b
efore the new façade came properly into view.
‘What do you think of it?’ Oliver asked.
‘I’m not sure...’ Lucy hesitated. ‘It is rather ostentatious, but I suppose that is the point really.’
‘Would you like to see inside?’ Oliver asked casually.
She laughed. ‘Of course, but without an invitation from the Prince Regent that’s hardly likely to happen.’
The Royal Pavilion, previously known as the Marine Pavilion, was the palatial seaside escape favoured by the Prince Regent. He’d commissioned the architect John Nash to turn the modest palace into an impressive monument two years ago and the progress was noticeable. The façade was being transformed from neo-Classical to a fancy, elaborate design in an Indian style. When finished, it would probably look more at home next to the grand palaces of India than in among the more reserved style of the Brighton residences. According to rumour, there would be many alterations and additions to the inside of the palace, as well, making it a seaside bolthole fit for the future King.
‘But if we could...’ Oliver said, letting the sentence trail off into a suggestion.
‘Are you suggesting we break in?’
‘I never realised I had married such a criminally minded woman.’
‘How else do you propose we see inside?’ Lucy asked.
‘I have a friend, from my days in the army. He’s an architect working on the construction of the great kitchen and he’s agreed to show us around.’
He didn’t add that the man had been only too pleased to do Oliver this small favour after Oliver had dragged him out of a particularly nasty skirmish with a sword buried halfway through his shoulder five years ago.
‘Won’t he get into trouble?’
‘Not if we’re discreet. The Prince isn’t in residence, so the only people around are men working on the construction and Wade’s fellow architects.’
Seeing the gleam of excitement in Lucy’s eyes, he knew he’d made the right decision when he’d contacted his old friend and asked if there was any way they could be admitted for a short tour.
They proceeded up to the grand entrance and Oliver was pleased to see Wade waiting for them.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted them, shaking Oliver’s hand before clasping him in an embrace, then waiting for his introduction to Lucy.
‘My wife, Lady Sedgewick.’
‘A pleasure to meet you.’
‘Are you sure we won’t get you into trouble if you show us around?’ Lucy asked.
‘Not at all. The Prince is rather proud of the changes he’s making to the palace, even when they are only half-finished. Nash, the head architect, is always showing people around and there is never any problem.’
‘What are you working on?’ Lucy asked as Wade led them around the side of the palace to the back entrance.
‘The Great Kitchen. It is going to be a masterpiece when finished, even though it won’t be a room used to entertain in, of course.’
This was where they started their tour and Lucy couldn’t believe the high ceilings, the towering walls peppered with windows letting in wonderful natural light. There was easily space for dozens of kitchen staff and the room was already well stocked with hundreds of pots and pans.
‘See the ventilation system?’ Wade said, pointing up to the high ceiling. ‘Twelve windows set high up, designed to let out the rising hot air from the kitchens.’ He paused, allowing their eyes to wander for a few moments before he pointed out the next feature. ‘And these columns, made of cast iron and ornamented with copper palm leaves. They actually have a structural purpose, but I’ve never come across something so decorative in a grand house’s kitchen.’
Oliver watched as Lucy marvelled at the things Wade pointed out, feeling strangely content to be doing this with his wife.
‘As you can see, the kitchen is more or less finished, just the final touches being put in. Work on the Music Room and Banqueting Room has just begun.’
They wandered through the newly built Banqueting Room, much more of a shell awaiting further design input, and into the older rooms of the palace. Here and there men bustled, carrying ladders and construction materials, but otherwise the palace was quiet.
‘The Music Room will be impressive when finished,’ Wade said, leading them into the room at the opposite end of the palace to the Great Kitchen.
Lucy gasped in delight as they entered the room. Four men were up a sturdy scaffold working on a huge domed ceiling. It was plain plaster at the moment, but even without any of the final decoration that would surely be added it was impressive.
‘I’m told the room will have good acoustics,’ Wade said.
For a moment Lucy imagined the finished room, all gilded gold with a fancy chandelier suspended from the centre. In her mind it was filled with people from the royal court and they were all entranced by the musical talents of a string quartet. It was an enthralling picture.
Lucy had just stepped away, bending her neck backwards to look up, when a shout came from above. The scaffolding, which had looked so sturdy, creaked ominously and one of the men working on the ceiling tottered precariously. Oliver leapt forward, ready to pull Lucy to safety if any danger presented itself. Just as he reached her side, the men above them laughed and it seemed as though the moment of instability had passed.
‘Ready to pull me from plunging scaffolding?’ Lucy murmured.
‘I prefer you upright and unharmed to crushed.’
‘I think I prefer me that way, too.’
She swayed towards him, affection in her eyes, and momentarily the world around them seemed to fade away. So much so that he didn’t at first hear the renewed shout from above, didn’t react quite as quickly as he should.
‘Look out,’ someone shouted.
Oliver looked up to see two planks of wood plummeting towards them. He grasped Lucy by the hand and tugged as hard as he could, swinging her round as he did so, trying to get her as far from the pieces of wood as he could.
Everything seemed to slow as he realised there was no way to prevent her from being hit. The first plank grazed her shoulder, the force of it knocking her off balance and sending her sprawling on to the floor. The second plank followed close behind, thudding down across her lower leg with a resounding thump.
Lucy whimpered in pain and immediately Oliver was by her side, kneeling close to her and gripping her hand as he began to lift the plank from her legs.
‘Hush, my darling,’ he whispered. ‘You are going to be all right.’
He wasn’t sure if it was an outright lie and he found he was holding his breath as he lifted the piece of wood clear from her body. Allowing himself a small sigh of relief that there were no obvious bone fragments sticking from her legs and no blood as yet, he carefully took one dainty ankle in his hands and began to probe for injuries. As he reached the shin Lucy winced, but did not cry out in pain. He saw her bite her lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh, to stop any sound from escaping her mouth.
‘Just bruises, my love,’ he said, moving on to the next leg.
Again Lucy grimaced as his hands pressed over her lower leg, but the ankle and knee seemed to be intact and there were no signs of any broken bones. Bruises and sprains would heal well with time.
Only when he had satisfied himself that there was no serious damage did he notice the crowd of people around them. Mainly made up of the men working on the construction, all had worried faces.
‘I’m fine,’ Lucy assured them, smiling through gritted teeth.
‘I think perhaps I should take my wife home,’ Oliver said, motioning for Wade to step closer. ‘Would you be able to organise a carriage?’
‘Of course.’
Not hearing her murmur of protest, Oliver scooped Lucy up into his arms, carrying her easily back the way they’d come. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body a
gainst his and burying her face in his shoulder. For once he felt like she truly needed him, but he wished the circumstances weren’t so dramatic.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Thank you, Dr Fisher,’ Oliver said as he showed the elderly man out of the bedroom and back down the stairs.
Lucy lay back on the pillows, luxuriating in the softness as it engulfed her body.
‘There really was no need to call the doctor,’ she said as Oliver re-entered the room. ‘I told you I was perfectly fine.’
‘I don’t trust your medical training,’ Oliver said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. ‘Or lack of it.’
‘I was right, though. Nothing broken, just some beautiful purple bruises.’
Her legs did hurt, although not enough to even consider taking any of the laudanum Dr Fisher had left by her bed. Only once before had she injured herself severely enough to take laudanum—a tumble from her window when she was trying to sneak out to visit her brother. On that occasion she had twisted an ankle and bumped her head, but the laudanum her mother had insisted she swallow was the worst punishment—she had suffered days of numbness and nausea and on fully recovering had vowed never to touch the poisonous liquid ever again.
‘You should rest,’ Oliver said, adjusting the corner of the blanket where it had become tucked under.
‘I’m not tired.’
It was only two o’clock in the afternoon and the sun was shining through the window as if taunting her about her inability to go outside and enjoy the clear autumn day.
She patted the space on the bed beside her. ‘Come join me. You can keep me company.’
Not sure if she imagined the slight deepening of his breathing and darkening of his eyes, Lucy felt a surge of anticipation. Now wasn’t the most romantic moment to be thinking of kisses and more, but it seemed that was the direction her thoughts were heading.
Oliver had been a perfect gentleman, she had to concede, carrying her all the way through the Royal Pavilion to the waiting coach, holding her on his lap the short journey back to their lodgings so she would not be unnecessarily jolted and racing up the stairs to deposit her gently in this comfortable bed.
