"We will visit often, Your Grace," smiled the Marchioness. "Especially if you wish it."
"Oh, we do wish it," said the Duchess, squeezing her hand. "Make no mistake about that."
Northmere and Jemima had finished their circuit of the flower beds and had made their way back to the table. "You have left the Countess of Streatham off your list of invitations," remarked Jemima, reading through the list Cecily had set down.
"Oh, Isabella does not need an invitation – she is on her way to Loxwell Park as we speak! The visit has been arranged for weeks now. In fact, I have not even told her that I am engaged." Cecily beamed with anticipation. "I mean to tell her when she arrives, so that I can receive her congratulations in person. How surprised she will be!"
"You have invited the Countess of Streatham?" asked Hart, sitting up so abruptly that he knocked over his tea cup.
"She is one of my dearest friends," said Cecily. "Why, are you acquainted?"
"You could say that." Hart leapt up to his feet and stalked off to the other end of the garden without another word. Cecily glanced at Robert, perplexed.
"Have I said something wrong?"
"Not at all," said Robert, thoughtfully watching his brother kick at a flowering bush. "It's only one of Hart's queer moods. Now, show me that list. I hope you have left enough room for my own additions."
He had barely had time to peruse the first set of names when Peters, the butler, came hurrying out of the house.
"An urgent message, Lady Lilistone!" he said, leaning his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
"Gracious, Peters, have a seat," said the Marchioness. "Running does not suit you!"
"Thank you, my lady, but I am well enough standing." Peters took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "A boy has just arrived from Loxton. The Duke of Beaumont has had an accident while out riding."
"I was wondering where he had got to!" exclaimed Robert. "Is it serious?"
"I fear it must be, my lord. They have taken him straight to Doctor Hawkins."
"But why take him to the Doctor's house?" asked the Duchess of Loxwell. "Surely it would have been better to bring him here – or to Loxwell Park, if he was on our land?"
"The boy said he asked to be taken to the Doctor," said Peters. A strange look crossed his face, and he leaned towards Robert to murmur, "In point of fact, my lord, His Grace apparently asked to be taken to Miss Anna Hawkins."
"Anna?" asked Cecily. "But the Duke barely knows her! Why should he ask to be taken there?"
"I don't wish to speculate, my lady," said Peters primly.
Robert got to his feet. "I will go to him at once," he said. "I doubt that I can lend the Doctor any assistance, but I cannot simply sit here and do nothing."
"Yes, yes, you must go immediately!" said the Duke of Loxwell. "The poor man – I hope he is not badly hurt."
"Hart!" Robert called. His brother was still engrossed in a deep sulk at the end of the garden. "Hart! Come here and see to our guests."
"Don't worry about him," said Cecily, putting a hand on his arm. "I will see if I can coax him out of his…mood."
"Go, Robert!" the Marchioness commanded. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of our guests without you. Go and see what you can do for Beaumont."
Robert pressed her hand to his lips and hastened into the house to change into his riding gear. He did not know Miss Anna Hawkins well, but he had seen her often enough to wonder whether he ought to be more concerned for the Duke of Beaumont or the young and pretty redhead he had apparently taken a shine to.
As Robert rode out from Scarcliffe Hall, he could not help but reflect on the ironic upturning of all the plans he, Hart, Northmere and Beaumont had made for that summer. Sport, fishing, billiards, gaming – and strictly no women! Now Beaumont seemed to be chasing after a gentleman's daughter, Hart was facing the grim prospect of meeting the Countess of Streatham once more, and Robert himself…
Robert slowed his horse to a walk. Action suited him better than contemplation. He had not yet taken in the full depth of the material changes Cecily had wrought upon him.
He was soon to be a married man. His bachelor antics were all behind him. The most beautiful, stubborn, vivacious and impossible girl in England would be on his arm forever.
He had never been happier in his life.
Epilogue
Late autumn, 1820
Leaning against the ancient oak in the heart of Scarcliffe Forest, Cecily closed her eyes and listened to the sound of approaching hoofbeats. She pictured herself bent low over her horse's back, the wind whipping through her hair. Her bonnet would have been left behind on an unexpected tree branch, which was, in Cecily's opinion, the best place for a bonnet to be.
But she was not riding. In fact, she was sitting quietly with a book in hand. The air had a distinct chill in it, making her glad of her fur-lined pelisse. Before long, she would be watching snow fall over the gardens of Scarcliffe Hall. That was usually no great tragedy, but this year, it would almost certainly confine her to the house.
"Cecily!" Robert's voice rang through the trees. She stifled a smile of satisfaction. She always took care to see that their games of hide and seek had only one conclusion. "Cecily!"
Relenting, she pushed herself to her feet and called back to him. How pleased Robert would be to discover that she was in their familiar forest glade, beneath the old oak tree!
Robert burst into the glade on his horse a moment later. Cecily tilted up her chin imperiously. "You're late."
His horse pranced and kicked as his heavy breath crystallised in great white gusts in the air. "You have no regard for my nerves at all. You ought not to walk so far into the woods! If you must walk at all, I want you where I can keep an eye on you."
"There is no need to be alarmed, my love, unless it is at the great length of time you took to find me. You must not be afraid of Thunder's galloping, you know."
"Afraid?" Robert swung down from his horse and held out his hands to Cecily. "Come here, my little minx. Come here and let me kiss you."
"I am a better horsewoman than you, and you are a better shot than me." Cecily placed a hand on the round span of her belly as Robert kissed her cheek. "Our son will be the perfect sportsman."
"I am praying for a daughter," said Robert. "A son, with your spirit? He will be too much for me to handle."
"Nonsense," said Cecily. "You handle me very nicely."
She let him help her sit back down, with some regret at her own awkwardness. Pregnancy was a more ungainly undertaking than Cecily had imagined.
"Have you noticed where we are?" she asked, nodding up at the branches of the oak tree. Robert drew her to him and smiled.
"I had, as a matter of fact. The very place where I nearly ruined your honour by persuading you to write to me."
"That's not the only assault you made upon my chaste reputation, as I recall," said Cecily, arching an eyebrow. Robert did not need much convincing to take the bait.
"Yes – if I remember correctly, it went something like this…"
The sounds of the forest quieted around them as he kissed her.
If Cecily was ever to grow bored of kissing her husband, it had not happened yet. The passion which had preceded their wedding day had only grown with time. Each time their lips met, she was convinced anew of what she had known from the first: they were made for each other. The perfect fit.
"Do you ever miss it?" she asked, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Robert ran his fingers through her hair, easing out the tangles the wind had formed on her walk.
"The excitement? All that sneaking around?"
"I miss it a little," Cecily confessed. Robert laughed and pressed her closer.
"You mean there has not been enough excitement for you this year, my love? After all that has happened – to our friends, as well as us?"
"It's the danger, Robert!" Cecily cried. "The danger and the secrecy! Where is the adventure in a quiet married life?"
"You do not mean that," said Rob
ert. He lifted her hand to his mouth, pulled up her sleeve to reveal an inch of pale wrist, and kissed it. "You do not mean it." He stroked her hair back from her neck and kissed the soft skin beneath her ear. Cecily could not hold back a sigh of pleasure. "There is adventure enough in married life," he continued, kissing the tip of her nose, "and I intend to show it to you."
His lips met hers. Cecily forgot her complaints.
"But for today, my Cecily," said Robert, after an embrace which lasted several delicious moments, "you have had enough adventuring. No! I won't hear a complaint out of you. I will take good care of you until our child is born, whether you wish to let me or not."
Cecily shrieked with surprise as he swung her into his arms and got to his feet. "You great brute! Let me go!"
"You know as well as I do that struggling will get you nowhere," said Robert cheerfully. Cecily stopped her play at kicking.
"On the contrary," she said, "the last time I struggled as you swept me up like this, I wound up married. I had better not struggle again. Goodness only knows what will happen!"
Robert set her down on her feet and took his horse's reins.
"How I wish I had my own horse, and that we could race back to the Hall?" Cecily sighed. She patted her stomach with undisguised frustration. "Every day, it seems, there is less and less that I can do."
"But it is not forever, sweetheart." He clicked his tongue, coaxing Thunder to a gentle walk, and they began to amble back in the direction of their home. "In the meantime, you must let our family be your adventure."
"I like the sound of that," said Cecily, regaining her cheer. "I like it very much indeed."
The Earl of Scarcliffe and his Countess walked together through the woodland which connected Scarcliffe Hall to her childhood home. The crunch of late autumn leaves under Thunder's hooves was the only sound to mar the peace in the air. Even the chill of approaching winter was not enough to dispel the warmth of love which surrounded them.
Also by Gemma Blackwood
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Lady Celia Hartley has a problem. She must find a husband soon or risk being ruined forever. Just as she is beginning to give up hope, William Marsden asks her to dance. Young, handsome, and kind, he seems to be the perfect answer to her prayers. But before he can claim her as his own, they must deal with the consequences when the Earl of Scarcliffe discovers the true nature of his sister's situation...
This is a short novella intended as a companion read to my two series, Redeeming the Rakes and Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall.
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Click here to buy Redeeming the Rakes Book 1: The Duke Suggests a Scandal
Or read on to enjoy a preview…
PROLOGUE
A gentle murmur of conversation resumed behind Harry, Duke of Westbourne, as he slipped outside and left his dinner party behind. He did not go to the library, as he had told his guests, but to the garden, where he made straight for the circle of rosebushes outside the drawing room windows. Cracks of light spilled out through the closed curtains, illuminating Catherine Sharp's frightened face.
"Have you passed a pleasant evening?" asked Harry lightly. A small shiver passed over her – whether from cold or from fear he could not tell.
"Please, let's not waste time in idle conversation. I have made my choice and I am ready." She held her hands behind her back and closed her eyes. She looked as pretty as any of the roses – and just as prickly.
"Cathy, Cathy," said Harry. "Calm yourself. I am not going to force myself upon you."
She opened her eyes, perplexed. "But I am ready and willing. I have agreed to your plan."
He stroked a single curl of golden hair back from her face. Catherine almost flinched away at his touch. She was like a little deer in the wood: curious and terrified at the same time. At any moment she might startle and run away.
"A kiss is not a kiss unless it is wanted," said Harry. He had seduced women before, but never with this degree of tenderness. Truth be told he was almost as frightened as she. "You must want it, Cathy. I'll settle for nothing less."
In fact he might well have to. At the stroke of midnight, his plan would come to fruition. If her lips were not on his by then, it might all yet come to nothing…
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The complete Redeeming the Rakes series:
The Duke Suggests a Scandal
Taming the Wild Captain
Let the Lady Decide
Make Me a Marchioness
The Earl's Secret Passion (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 1) Page 18
