Passion Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  “Nor I to Beckley,” chimed in Martha. “You may have allowed Papa to have all the glory, but we know that it was you who made certain we had dowries of sufficient size to follow our hearts.” She kissed his other cheek. “Thank you.”

  Embarrassed and deeply touched, for once Asher’s ready tongue deserted him. With two pairs of twinkling eyes locked on his face, he knew he had to say something and, clearing his throat, he muttered, “Ah, I may have helped the colonel a trifle.”

  His sisters gave him knowing looks and Martha said as they joined the others, “Of course you did. Just as you helped a trifle with securing Apple Hill for John and added a trifle to the purchase price of Robert’s commission.” She smiled a smile so reminiscent of his mother that his breath caught. “You think you are so sly…but be warned—we are all onto you.”

  Nonplussed, Asher had never been so glad for a conversation to end as this one did when they finally caught up with the others.

  Juliana and Asher’s wedding in the gardens at Rosevale on Sunday afternoon went as smoothly and serenely as any affair planned for months instead of mere days. The July afternoon was warm, the air perfumed with the scent of roses, lilies and heliotrope and the lazy drone of bees provided a soft concert in the background. The wedding was small; except for Mrs. Rivers, the vicar and Mrs. Birrel and their two daughters, only family was there to see Asher take Juliana as his bride.

  Standing under the hastily erected arch festooned with greenery and hothouse white lilies, Asher looked tall and impressive as he waited for his bride to approach. In his formfitting coat of dark blue with brass buttons and buff pantaloons, he was the epitome of manly grace, the whiteness of his cravat and shirt intensifying his dark, handsome features. Juliana wore a periwinkle gown, a small cornet of yellow roses crowned her dusky curls and a veil of delicate Mechlin lace cascaded down her back; she carried a bouquet of yellow roses.

  Catching sight of her as she slowly walked toward him on her father’s arm, Asher knew that if he hadn’t already loved her, that he would have fallen heedlessly in love with her at that very moment.

  The look in Asher’s eye when Mr. Kirkwood placed her hand in Asher’s made Juliana’s very toes curl with anticipation of their life together. There was such heat, such passion—and dare she believe it?—love in the depths of those cobalt blue eyes that her heart turned over in her breast and she was suddenly very glad that she had allowed him to rush her to the altar.

  The ceremony was simple and in a matter of minutes, Juliana and Asher were married. Listening to Asher’s firm voice as he repeated his vows, she knew unequivocally that she had made the right decision. She loved him. More importantly, she trusted him.

  The remainder of the afternoon passed in a blur. She knew that they had been engulfed in a warm wave of good wishes; she had been kissed and hugged more times than she could ever remember and had smiled so much, the muscles in her face ached. It didn’t matter—she couldn’t stop smiling. The combined staffs of Fox Hollow and Rosevale had moved about the small group, offering all manner of delectable fare concocted by Mrs. Lawrence and the others.

  Eventually, followed by the laughter and joyous shouts of the others, she and Asher departed for a charming cottage overlooking a small lake on the far edge of the Burnham estate to begin their married life together.

  “I insist,” said Mrs. Manley when she had first broached the idea to Asher. “It will be perfect for the two of you to spend your first night together.” She looked away, a dreamy expression in her eyes. “Your grandfather and I spent our first night together there. I like to think that he would approve.” She seemed to shake herself and then said calmly, “It is private—Hannum and his wife can see to your needs and on Monday or Tuesday you can return to either Fox Hollow or Rosevale and determine where you will live.”

  Asher saw no fault with her reasoning and Juliana was agreeable. Dusk was falling when Asher pulled his horses to a stop in front of the one storied, half-timbered house. Hannum and his wife had gone on ahead to prepare for their arrival, and through the falling darkness, the candlelight spilling out from the mullioned windows beckoned and charmed. The cottage was nestled next to the lake, which was edged with willows and water lilies, the water glinting under the silver glow of the rising moon.

  “Oh, Asher,” exclaimed Juliana as he swung her out of the curricle and carried her toward the front door, “it is perfect.”

  He stopped and, allowing her feet to touch the ground, swept her into a crushing embrace. “No,” he said huskily against her lips, “you are perfect. For me.”

  Chapter 16

  Beyond the passionate nights spent in her husband’s arms, Juliana remembered little of the first days of her marriage to Asher. After the night spent at the lake cottage at Burnham, they returned to Rosevale late Monday afternoon and immediately began combining the two households.

  Even with all the joy that was now hers, Juliana thought that leaving Rosevale behind would be painful, but she found it not to be so. Bustling about, selecting the items to be packed, she discovered the task to be exhilarating. She smiled, aware that much of her exhilaration had a great deal to do with her very new, very exciting husband and less to do with the actual removal from her former home.

  What to do with Rosevale presented a problem, but Tuesday morning while she and Asher were overseeing the last of the packing of her favorite items from the house, the colonel strolled in with an astonishing offer. He wanted to buy Rosevale!

  Asher stared at him narrowed eyed. “Why?”

  Denning smiled benignly. “I was thinking of adding some acreage to Apple Hill, but then I thought of Robert. Right now he’s Cavalry mad, but eventually he’ll have a wife, a family and need a place of his own.” He glanced around the elegant wainscoted room in which they stood. “I think Rosevale would be an excellent place for him, don’t you? It’s a charming house and has some land to go with it—and it is not far from Apple Hill and Fox Hollow.”

  Asher shrugged and glanced at Juliana. “It is your choice to make.”

  Juliana hesitated a moment, her thoughts jostling together. Sell Rosevale? Her first reaction was a resounding no! But when she thought of Asher’s youngest half brother living here one day with a family of his own, she realized that it would be the perfect solution. Smiling at the colonel, she said, “I will drive a hard bargain, sir, but if you really want to buy Rosevale, I am willing to sell it to you.”

  The colonel named a price and Juliana agreed. That same afternoon at a solicitor’s office in the nearby village, she signed the papers that would transfer Rosevale into Denning’s name. Again, she thought it would be a wrench, but she was ruefully aware that these days she viewed the sale of her home as just one more obstacle to be cleared from her path.

  While Juliana chatted with the solicitor inside the office for a few moments longer, Asher, standing outside waiting for her, regarded his stepfather. “Not to be rude, but where did you get the money?” he asked bluntly. “You were able to pay Juliana’s price in full.”

  “Ah, I’ve been very, very lucky of late with the cards. Rosevale will make a nice investment and a home for Robert.”

  “So, you’re taking your winnings and buying the house for Robert?”

  “Why not? He’s my son and I’m able to provide for him.” Denning sighed and muttered, “I know you think I don’t give a damn about my children but I do. The opportunity presented itself and I took advantage of it.”

  “And the house is just for Robert?” Asher pushed.

  Denning smiled. “Well, yes, but I intend to live there in the meantime. John needs his privacy, he doesn’t need his old father hanging around his neck.”

  “John needs his privacy?” Asher asked incredulously, wondering precisely what game his stepfather was playing. He’d grant that Denning loved his children, but he’d never worried about their welfare before now. And there was no denying that for Juliana events had fallen almost miraculously in place—Denning conveniently hav
ing money and eager to buy Rosevale, but Asher was suspicious.

  Denning waved a hand. “Well, of course, I need some privacy, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “There’s an attractive little widow I’ve had my eye on and perhaps I’d like to entertain her…without your brother hovering.” When Asher remained unmoved, he said somewhat testily, “If you must know, John disapproves of my gaming nearly as much as you do and having my own place will take me away from his scowls and lectures.”

  Since that sounded a bit more like the truth, Asher thought maybe that was the real reason behind his stepfather’s sudden yearning for privacy.

  Smiling once more, Denning said, “And since your wife generously allowed me to buy many of the things she won’t need at Fox Hollow, most likely I shall be able to move in to the place within a day or two. I know that John will lend me a few servants until I hire my own and Woodall can have my things packed in no time. Why, this time tomorrow I could be living in Rosevale.”

  “Some urgency to your move?” Asher asked.

  “No. No. You should know, I’m not one to let the grass grow under my feet.”

  Juliana, escorted by the solicitor, came up just then and after a moment of polite conversation, bidding them all good-bye, Denning mounted his horse. Frowning, Asher watched him disappear in the distance, but Juliana touched him on the arm and he forgot about his stepfather, and what he might be up to. After helping Juliana into the curricle, he jumped in on the other side and, picking up the reins, set the horses into motion.

  Once the village was left behind and the horses moved smoothly into a high-stepping trot, Asher asked, “Are you sorry?”

  She grinned at him. “I thought I would be, but your stepfather paid me a good price for everything and I like the idea of Robert living there one day. It’s as if it is still owned by the family.” Thoughtfully, she added, “It is a little strange, though, isn’t it, that your stepfather intends to start living there himself. I thought he was perfectly happy at Apple Hill. You don’t think that he and John have had a falling out, do you?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’ll wager there’s more to his sudden desire for privacy than he’s telling us.”

  Juliana puzzled over that for a while, but soon gave it up. It was a glorious day and she had more compelling things to consider…such as seducing her handsome husband the first moment they were alone at Fox Hollow.

  Fox Hollow proved to be charming and she and Mrs. Rivers and the staff from Rosevale with a minimum of upheaval settled comfortably into the sprawling, onetime farmhouse. Presently, Juliana shared Asher’s big bedroom and sitting room, but the prospect of adding on an entirely new wing to the house, which would give them much needed additional space, was already being discussed.

  Longing for the time when the house party at Kirkwood and the announcement of Thalia’s engagement was no longer lurking at the back of her thoughts, Juliana was grateful that her father had hired Mrs. Starling to lessen her involvement in her father’s household. Mrs. Starling was a widowed lady of some fifty years, who had acted as a governess-cum-companion from time to time for both Juliana and Thalia and was now living at Kirkwood. Mrs. Starling’s nature was calm and kind and she was not a lady easily ruffled. With Juliana embarking on marriage, Mrs. Starling was exactly what Thalia needed at this time and she would also prove to be a much-needed female chaperone once the house party was underway—which didn’t mean that Thalia didn’t still rely heavily on Juliana’s advice.

  Receiving an appeal from her sister that Wednesday morning, Juliana sighed and prepared to ride to Kirkwood. Putting aside Thalia’s missive, she went in search of Asher. She found him standing in the entry hall, frowning. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  Asher shook his head. “No, nothing is wrong. My grandmother’s friend, Mrs. Barbara Sherbrook, and her nephew, Lord Thorne, have arrived at Burnham ahead of schedule. Grandmother would like me to ride over and meet them.” He grinned lopsidedly. “She apologizes very sweetly for the intrusion, but hopes that I can tear myself from my bride to spare her a few minutes.”

  “Oh, that’ll be fine. I have to go to Kirkwood this morning anyway.” Juliana smiled. “I remember her speaking of Mrs. Sherbrook often when I was younger and I always hoped to meet her one day.”

  “Well, you’ll get your chance,” he said dryly. “Grandmother has invited us to dine tomorrow night at Burnham.” He looked ruefully at her. “This wasn’t how I envisioned the first week of our marriage,” he muttered, his eyes caressing her and making her heart pound. “I want to spend time alone with my bride, not dance to the tune of everyone else’s piping. Dinner at Burnham tomorrow night. Then Kirkwood…”

  They’d known that their sudden wedding would put paid to any hope of them stealing away for a few weeks of privacy, but neither had realized how very little time they would have to themselves. Even the sale of Rosevale, while fortunate, had eaten into their time, and no less than Asher did Juliana long for the day that they please only themselves.

  Regretfully, she bid him good-bye and rode to Kirkwood. Her father in his usual absentminded way, beyond smiling vaguely at his youngest daughter, had more or less left the arrangements for the house party in Thalia’s inexperienced hands and disappeared into his library. Ably assisted by Hudson and Mrs. Starling, Thalia seemed to be handling the pressure—except for the note to her sister for some last minute advice.

  Her visit didn’t take long and the crisis wasn’t any crisis; Thalia just needed reassurance. Preparing to return home shortly, she gave Thalia a hug and said, “You are doing just fine and my help is really unnecessary. Stop fretting, my dear, over the smallest detail. You will look lovely in your new gown. Don’t worry about the lack of lobster for Saturday evening’s meal—no one will notice it missing with all the other delicacies Cook is preparing. And having an informal dinner in the gardens Friday evening is a splendid idea.”

  Thalia blushed prettily. “Oh, thank you! I know I am being a ninny with all my constant worries, but I so want everything to be just perfect.”

  “And it will be,” Juliana said firmly, eager to return to Asher. With only a small pang of guilt and a great deal of relief, Juliana mounted her horse, waved good-bye to Thalia and departed for Fox Hollow.

  Being introduced to Mrs. Sherbrook and Lord Thorne the next night at Burnham, Juliana decided that Mrs. Sherbrook was just the sort of friend one would expect Mrs. Manley to have. Mrs. Sherbrook’s nephew, Lord Thorne, a commanding, dark-complexioned gentleman with a military bearing and an easy manner, was equally charming and amusing.

  They had finished dinner and the three ladies were seated in the rose and cream sitting room partaking of tea, while Asher and Lord Thorne presumably entertained themselves in the dining room with a glass or two of brandy or wine before joining them. Apollo, having accompanied Dudley into the room with the tea tray, was now happily snuggled next to Mrs. Manley on the rose satin sofa. A pair of French doors thrown wide to allow a cooling night breeze to drift inside, also allowed the exotic scent from the peonies, jasmine and roses that edged the small terrace at the side of the house to perfume the air.

  “Our fathers had long been friends,” Mrs. Sherbrook was saying, her striking green eyes bright and friendly. “But I didn’t really get to know Anne until she came with her parents to attend a house party at Wyndham Hall.” She looked over at Mrs. Manley. “I was fifteen at the time and felt very grown up being allowed to a few of the less formal events planned by my parents. It was my first venture into society and I was nervous mingling with all the titled people that had been invited, but Anne was kind to me and took me under her wing.”

  Mrs. Manley smiled across at her friend, her fingers absently caressing one of Apollo’s silky ears. “Which was very easy to do—you were a taking young thing. All big eyes and glossy locks.” Mrs. Manley chuckled. “Oh, but do you remember that simpering, awful girl, Patricia, Pricilla…?”

  Juliana listened with only half an ear as the two ladies reminis
ced, her thoughts drifting to Asher. She had loved him for a long time, even if she hadn’t acknowledged it, and to be his wife was the culmination of every secret dream, every secret wish she’d ever had. But as her life with him progressed, she’d begun to have, not second thoughts or regrets, never that, but she wondered if she hadn’t allowed herself to be rushed into marriage. By giving in to Asher’s demands that they marry now, she’d foregone the pleasures of courtship, the delightful never-to-come-again moments leading up to his declaration of love and their marriage. And just you never mind, she thought ruefully, that she’d have ruthlessly quashed any idea of postponing her marriage to Asher.

  She’d be the first to admit that everything had happened with unseemly haste, but she’d been hurled willy-nilly into circumstances she’d never thought to encounter and she admitted, had probably not always acted as wisely as she should have. There had never been time for her to question the decisions she’d made…or to consider the state of her husband’s feelings for her. She knew the state of her own heart, but what of his?

  Juliana was certain that he had affection for her, but had it been affection or a sense of honor that had really prompted his desire to marry her? It had not escaped her notice—in fact, she was beginning to become more and more aware of it with each passing hour—that he had never said that he loved her. Not once. Not even in the throes of the wildest passion. So did he? Even though she brushed it aside, the lowering notion would not go away, that after that frantic coupling in her father’s library, he had felt obligated to offer for her. Or equally depressing, it occurred to her, that he had simply reached an age to marry and she was conveniently at hand and suited his needs. Some marriages were based on less. Was hers?