by Sandy Raven
He watched her glorious eyes fill with tears and before she took her hands from his, he reached up and wiped the first ones to spill. “Don’t cry just yet. I’m stuck here on the floor and need you to give me a hand up.”
Then she laughed, and it was the most glorious sound he’d heard in years. At least until she gave him his answer.
“Yes, Your Grace. Nothing would make me more happy or proud than to spend the rest of my days as your wife.”
Two days later, Amelia stood on a stool in her sitting room, in the duchess’s suite at Caversham House, feeling much like a child’s doll—all dressed up, arms akimbo and unable to move. The muscles in her arms burned and her shoulders ached while her ribs itched from the fabric she’d selected for the gown she was to marry in. The cream-colored heavy silk brocade was shot through with gold thread, adding an untold amount of weight to the garment, and making it incredibly scratchy against her skin. But the color, according to the modiste most-in-demand among the ton, was a perfect match for her complexion, hair, and eye color. And the style, said the woman, with no beading at all on the bodice or skirts, would hide her ample bosom and hips.
“Madame, I must step down and have a cool drink before I faint from exhaustion.” Amelia waited for her to place the pin in the hem before she moved. She checked the stool she stood on for any scissors or needles, when she saw none she lifted the skirts high and sat upon it, relieving her of carrying the weight of the gown on her frame.
“Mademoiselle, you cannot stay seated for long or the fabric will take a crease which will be difficult to remove. Please, I will have a girl hold your drink if you will stand and let me finish these last few pins.”
Amelia wanted to remind the woman that she’d said she was almost done an hour ago, but she didn’t want to appear rude or unappreciative of her efforts. Footsteps entering her dressing room prompted her to turn carefully to see who was coming. Her maid brought her a note. “Thank you.” Amelia unfolded it to read a message from her husband-to-be. She hadn’t seen him since dinner the night before, as he’d been staying with his son at the marquess’s bachelor apartments until time to leave for Haldenwood.
“Dinner tonight with friends,” he wrote. “I will pick you up at seven.”
She would have to teach the man about asking for a lady’s company. He had this habit of dictating and assuming all would go as he desired. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to do it, but the man was going to learn how to ask. She’d seen with her own father and brother that the son often reflected the habits of the father, be they good or bad. It wouldn’t do for Cav’s son, whom she’d met the previous night, to become overbearing and demanding of a woman.
She stood, accepting the glass from the seamstress’ assistant, and drank from the cool lemonade. “Madame,” she said, stepping back onto the cushioned stool again, “I am ready to continue.”
Several hours later, Amelia checked her appearance once more before leaving her room. The pale mint color of the dinner gown she’d accepted this afternoon from the modiste hired by her husband-to-be gave her cheeks a healthy pink tint, and the dark green piping accentuated her eyes—all this according to the woman who dressed everyone of importance in London. Amelia just wanted everything to be perfect tonight and she hoped Cav liked the gown. It would be the first time he would see her in something other than black or gray, and she wanted him to see her as a lady equal to the task of being his wife in both the bedroom and in the social arena.
The bedroom. They’d not shared a bed since arriving in town two days earlier. If she had her way, that would end tonight. Yesterday she’d told him it didn’t matter if he stayed here because they were soon to marry. But her future husband wanted all proprieties taken to preserve her reputation. To him, it didn’t matter that she was an almost twenty-nine-year-old spinster, he thought only to protect her from the gossips.
Meanwhile she craved more of his touch. From their first kiss in the library at the Merivale’s, Amelia knew lying with him would be special. He’d made her desire his lovemaking, and untried virgin that she was, that frightened her. Until she gave in to his promise of pleasure. Each time he touched her, she wanted more of him, of his touch, and the way she felt with him. And she couldn’t tell if he felt the same.
She knew he wanted her, he’d told her this many times in the throes of passion. But did he get the same quivering feeling she did when they were about to make love?
The night before they came to London and during the trip, he’d explored her body in ways only a husband should. She smiled as she remembered telling him, then showing him, how she touched herself. Then he’d showed her how to touch his rigid shaft and he enjoyed her stroking as much as she did his. She wanted more of that. Tonight. To that end she went back into her dressing room and removed an item of clothing.
Tonight she would make Cav forget going back to his son’s bachelor apartment. If this didn’t work, she didn’t know what would.
Twenty minutes later and all of ten minutes late, Amelia entered the saloon and Cav grinned at her. He couldn’t possibly know what was on her mind. And how deliciously sinful she felt leaving her drawers in her dressing room.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” she purred as she drew nearer him. He was incredibly handsome and distinguished-looking, standing there in his full ducal attire. His black trousers clung to him and his burgundy and gold waistcoat showed his broad chest to perfection. The black dress coat with the tiny, embroidered ducal arms over his left breast made her heart race, not because it showed off the fact that he was a duke, but because it looked so good on him. She truly could not believe this man wanted to marry her. The bookbinder’s daughter from Elmbridge.
She approached him on wobbly legs, though he likely could not see them beneath her dress. He kissed her cheek and gave her an appreciative smile as she turned before him to show him the gown. “You are stunning, my dear. You will of course be the most beautiful woman at dinner this evening.”
“And likely the youngest as well,” she quipped through her smile. She had to remember to keep a serious face and smile as infrequently as possible throughout their dinner. Amelia didn’t want Cav’s friends to think her too young or inexperienced for her husband-to-be.
“Aye, that too.” Cav silver eyes devoured her, as his smiled turned serious. “I asked Madame Robillard which dress you selected for tonight.” His hand reached behind her.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet more family, my sweet.”
“Oh.” She watched as he lifted a case she’d not noticed on the sideboard. “What is that?”
“Something that pales to your beauty, for certain.” He removed a diamond choker from the bed of black velvet. “But it’s something that will complete your outfit.”
“Cav.” Her voice was a whisper. “They’re splendid.” She turned to allow him to place the diamonds around her neck.
“While there are many more Caversham jewels,” he said, “this is new. For you. I picked it up today, along with these earrings.” He retrieved another, smaller black case. With her light brown curls piled high on her head, she easily removed the earrings she’d selected earlier and placed the new ones in her lobes, then turned to face the mirror over the sideboard.
Amelia couldn’t believe the image of the sophisticated woman staring back at her. She appeared far too elevated from that which she’d come, and a little part of her was saddened. Perhaps it was knowing her parents and brother were not present to share in her happiness. She’d given Cav every detail of the investigator’s report regarding her brother’s disappearance. Though her belongings had yet to arrive from her aunt’s home, she knew every word of it, having read it a thousand times. She prayed daily he might be successful in returning Harry to England’s shores.
They entered the foyer and the footmen helped them with their cloaks. Cav fastened hers for her and the butler did the same for him. Soon they were in the Caversham-crested carriage en route to wherever this din
ner was. The dinner where she was to meet more of his family, which she was beginning to believe was quite large.
During the ride to their destination, Cav amused her with tales of sharing the apartment with his son. She quickly reminded him of the massive unused bed next door to her.
“We shall have plenty of time for that in the future, my dear. I would not want to tire you of the marital bed.”
“Why do you say that, Cav? I assumed you enjoyed our lovemaking as much as I.” She didn’t think he was faking his eagerness to be alone with her, making love with her. But there was something in the words he’d used that told her he wasn’t expecting her to remain content and satisfied.
“I did… I mean, I do. But…” He sounded unsure. As though he thought it inappropriate to share this information with his future wife.
“But what? If we enjoy being together, do you think one month will matter? Are you afraid I will get with child? Because I pray I do.”
“The gossips can destroy a reputation before it even begins. I worry that they would taint you in a way that is unrecoverable, in light of the way we met and the speed at which we decided to marry.”
“What do you mean, ‘in light of the way we met?’”
“I’d rather not get into it right now. As we are about to have lovely dinner with your new family.”
Amelia wasn’t going to let that subject drop altogether. She would have to remember to ask him about this gossip later. Perhaps after they made love again. The carriage came to a stop in front of their destination, and she smiled to herself. If he feared her desire for him would wane after their marriage, she had to assure him this was not the case. She wanted him to know how much she wanted him.
“Why the smile?” Cav looked at her with unmistakable admiration. She hoped she could live up to his expectations of her.
“Because I wish to make quick work of this dinner, Your Grace. You see, I have plans for this evening myself.”
He smiled as the carriage steps were lowered. “I’m well-known for my steely resolve, my bride-to-be.”
“As am I, Your Grace.”
The carriage door opened and Amelia leaned forward to whisper into Cav’s ear. “I am not wearing my drawers. And when you look at me this evening, remember how much I want to feel you inside of me.”
Before her future husband exited the coach, she saw him make a slight move to adjust a growing erection. The expression on his face told her he was a little shocked by her words, and she began to blush fearing she might have been out of line. But his actions just then told her she was wrong. Very wrong.
Taking her arm to escort her into the home of their hosts for the evening, Cav gave her a seductive grin and leaned in toward her. When he spoke, his warm breath caressed her neck, sending a shiver of desire through her. “You have no idea how much I want to be there, my darling.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cav led his grinning betrothed up the steps to the London home of his friends, the Baron Manners, Thomas Manners-Sutton, and his wife Anne. Cav was lucky to catch them still in England as they had planned to return to Ireland when he’d stopped them with a note two days ago. Now, if all was as he’d planned, Thomas’ elderly mother and his sister Charlotte would be inside. Both widows, they would be excellent chaperonage for his bride-to-be for the duration of their betrothal.
When he’d left Thomas’ office the day before, his friend had wanted to rush over to meet this daughter of his youngest brother, Harold. He’d not seen her since she was a girl according to both Amelia and Thomas. Cav had warned Thomas that Amelia might not be as open to a reunion as his friend had hoped because she felt abandoned by them when she’d heard nothing from them after her letter informing them of her father’s death.
“As God is my witness, Cav, none of us ever received a letter from my niece or her aunt.” Because Cav had known Thomas since they were both in short pants, if his friend said the family never heard from her, Cav believed him.
Cav stared at his friend over the tea cart the servant rolled into the office.
When the man left, Thomas leaned back in his deep leather chair and explained further. “We had no idea that Harold had died until a month after his passing. We learned of it when a vicar from Surrey had come to Charles’ office on a church matter. Imagine Charles’ reaction—receiving condolences on the sudden demise of his very own youngest brother! When the man left, Charles sent an investigator out and sure enough, Harold was gone and buried. Our niece was living with her maternal aunt, in a supposedly comfortable situation as the woman’s companion. At least that is what the lady told the investigator when he visited Greenwood.”
“The Lady? As in your niece or Lady Rawdon? Because, I assure you if it was the latter, that woman is not to be trusted. In fact, I wouldn’t have put it past her to have withheld those letters to keep her niece under her thumb.”
“For what reason?” Thomas asked.
Cav really wanted to believe Katherine Rawdon was merely manipulative and not vicious or cruel. “As hard as it is to imagine having met her, I honestly believe it was genuine companionship. The woman does live alone and has no children of her own despite two marriages.”
Cav had stirred the sugar in his cup as he thought on his luck in escaping that woman’s clutches. “She is a self-absorbed, vituperative, conniving witch.”
“Perhaps it is best she had no children,” his friend replied.
Now, as he handed Thomas’s butler his cloak, his thoughts were on Amelia, and those words she’d whispered as they exited the carriage. He’d had to forcefully will his erection away before entering his friend’s home.
If this wasn’t an important dinner party, he’d take his bride-to-be and leave. How he’d love to show her the consequences of teasing him in this way—in the privacy of his bedroom.
Their hosts stood in the grand saloon, their eyes focused on him and Amelia. Behind them, Cav could see the two women seated on the sofa inside.
Cav covered Amelia’s gloved hand with his own, his warm one covering her cold one, and led her into the room. Lady George and her daughter Charlotte stood as they entered, smiling at them both. Amelia grinned and looked at him curiously with those expressive eyes of hers. He gave her a reassuring grin in return, and stopped in front of Thomas and Anne.
“Thomas, Anne,” he said, then turning to Thomas’s mother and sister he added, “Lady George, Charlotte, may I present my betrothed, Miss Amelia Caroline Elizabeth Manners-Sutton.”
“My dear,” Cav said with a wave of his hand, “meet your paternal family.”
Immediately, Lady George collapsed onto the red damask sofa behind her in a fit of vapors, and while Charlotte fanned her mother, Thomas’s wife quietly asked the footman for her smelling salts. The two older women worked to revive Lady George, as his bride-to-be clung to his arm, eyes wide and fearful.
“Oh my,” Amelia said as she clung to his arm. “Have I worn the wrong gown for this particular dinner party? The modiste said this was considered respectable.”
Cav was so proud of her, trying to lighten the mood after springing this surprise on her. He’d almost expected a little anger directed at him, but he got none.
A grinning Thomas stepped forward, took Amelia’s hand and kissed it. “My dear we are so very pleased to make your acquaintance after all these many years. I’m sorry my other siblings could not be here, they’ve left the city by now, and…”
They all turned at the sounds coming from the sofa where the elderly woman struggled to stand against her overly-cautious daughter’s wishes. The daughter reached out to stop her mother but the woman escaped her grasp, moving with a spry step to where her son, Amelia, and Cav stood. Both her daughter and daughter-in-law followed close behind, their arms outstretched to catch her if she fell.
“Mother, careful,” Charlotte said.
“I’m fine,” the older woman growled, swatting off her daughter and daughter-in-law’s hands. “Quit treating me as though I am half-dead. I
have more life left in me than the two of you combined.”
The purple-turbaned Lady George stopped next to her son and, raising her monocle, stared at Amelia. Cav could tell it made his future wife more than a little nervous though she hid it well.
“What game do you play, gel? Has that over-reaching, deceitful relation of yours convinced you to mine deeper pockets than the local yokels in Surrey? Because if that is the case…”
“Mother,” Thomas said in a tone Cav had heard his friend use only in Parliament, “mind your tongue.”
Amelia began to laugh. A deep laugh Cav had only heard a few times in their short engagement.
“Oh, ma’am. If that isn’t indeed an appropriate description of my aunt, I don’t know what is. My father used to call her a praying mantis after he read about that particular insect in one of the books he’d restored. He was incredibly well-read.”
Cav watched the emotion play across Amelia’s face and was moved when she realized with whom she was speaking.
“Of course he was well-read,” Lady George said, “he was also very intelligent. Why, if he had gone…”
Thomas cut his mother off yet again. “But he didn’t mother. Harold married a young lady he loved, and had two wonderful children that our father refused to acknowledge because he hadn’t made the match for Harold.”
“Your father only wanted what was best for you all. But yes, you are right,” the elderly woman said. Turning to Amelia, she said, “You look like my eldest daughter, Louisa, God rest her. Doesn’t she look like Louisa, Thomas?”
