Deverall Leigh shook hands with both young men. “I thank you, my lords,” he said. “Will you stay the night with us?” He offered India his arm, and began to escort her through the archway into the courtyard.
“Thank you, my lord,” Henry spoke for them both, “but we must return to Queen’s Malvern so I may go home to Cadby tomorrow.”
“You will take a cup of wine with us, though, gentlemen,” the earl said. “Oxton Court is known for its hospitality, and I would not want it said I sent my bride’s brothers on their way without refreshment.”
“Thank you, my lord, we will,” Henry replied.
“Ohhh, how lovely!” India exclaimed, her eyes sweeping about the quadrangle, which was lavishly planted with roses, and other flowers of all kinds. There was also a large fountain with a spray of water cooling the courtyard.
“You enjoy gardens, madame?” the earl asked her.
“Oh, yes!” India said, and she forced herself to smile up into that harsh face.
“I am glad then, for the house, and its gardens are yours to do with as you will,” the earl responded politely.
They entered the house, and he brought them into the Great Hall, a room of soaring arches from which hung multicolored silk banners that had obviously once been carried into battle. The tall curvilinear windows that lined the hall allowed the golden afternoon light to pour into the room. At one end was a great stone fireplace flanked by lions. The highboard was set to one side of the fireplace, and at the other end of the room was a minstrel’s gallery. Servants hurried forth with goblets of wine for all. They smiled shyly at India, who smiled back. The talk revolved about the earl’s fine orchards, and he promised to send his two brothers-in-law baskets of both apples and pears after the harvest. India remained silent until the time came for her two brothers to depart.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she murmured softly, her eyes filling with tears.
“Make your peace quickly with the man,” Henry said softly as he hugged her. “The scar is a bit frightening, but he doesn’t seem a bad fellow.” He kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m at Cadby if you need me,” he concluded.
Charlie hugged her, too. “Behave yourself, my lady,” he teased her with a grin, brushing a tear from her cheek that had, despite her best efforts, slipped from her eye.
“The pot calling the kettle black,” she half laughed, kissing him and then swatting at him fondly.
“We’re both near,” Charlie responded softly, “if you need us, big sister.”
And they were gone with her husband, who escorted her brothers from the hall and the house. India stood alone, not knowing what to do, or where to go. The earl had virtually ignored her since her arrival, and she could feel her temper rising. His greeting was hardly a warm one, and he had not spoken more than a dozen words to her. Then she caught herself. Perhaps he, too, was feeling the strain of this situation; meeting his wife for the very first time, wondering if they would like each other. Women were the softer sex, and it was up to her to put him at ease with her so she might be at ease with him.
When Deverall Leigh entered the hall again, India smiled at him. “I am happy to be here at last, my lord,” she said pleasantly.
“You are very beautiful,” he responded, “but I suppose you have been told that by many men.”
“Not really so many if you count my brothers, my uncles, and all the rest of my male kin,” India replied with another smile.
“When the king pardoned me, he advised me to seek a younger wife. How old are you, madame?” the earl said.
“I was twenty on the twenty-third of June,” India told him. “Why did you not follow the king’s advice?”
“Because I wanted you,” he told her. “Why is it you were not wed before this, madame? It is said that you are flighty, and yet you chose a man you have never seen to marry. Why is that?”
India felt her temper rising again, but she swallowed it back. He was certainly being candid with her, and so she would be as honest with him.
At least to a point.
“I did not choose you, my lord. My
stepfather,
the duke of Glenkirk, chose you. I had refused all other offers that had come to me because they did not suit me. And for your information, I have been married before. A liaison I contracted in Europe when I was with my grandmother. He died, and I will not discuss it further. My stepfather chose you because it was the only offer he had received since my return. He was quite insistent that I be married again before there were no offers at all. Your family is suitable, and since your reputation is somewhat tarnished, the duke thought us an ideal match.”
“Indeed,” he said softly. God’s blood, she was forthright with him, the little bitch; but then, she had always been. His eyes could not get enough of her, for he had always thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Frankly, I am relieved you are not a virgin, madame,” he told her. “Virgins are always most difficult to deal with, and I have not the patience. Would you like to see your apartments now? Your servants are awaiting you. We shall have to find something to do for Diarmid, however. What is his position?”
“He is my bodyguard,” India replied sweetly.
He almost laughed, but refrained from his open amusement. “You will have no need for a bodyguard at Oxton Court, madame,” the earl told her, “but as he is your maidservant’s husband, you will find him a suitable place in the household. Come!” And, taking her gloved hand in his, he led her from the Great Hall, up the wide staircase, to her new apartments in the south wing of the house.
Meggie curtsied as they entered the room, and then ran forward to take her mistress’s gloves, and cap. “Welcome home, my lady!” she said with a smile. “ ’Tis so very lovely here, and his lordship has given us our own room for me and Diarmid!”
“I am glad you are content with the arrangement, Meggie,” India said to her beaming servant. “Diarmid,” she said to Meggie’s husband, who was standing respectfully waiting to greet her, “can you write and do your numbers?”
“Aye, my lady, I can,” he responded.
“Then you shall be steward of my personal household as the earl assures me I do not need a bodyguard at Oxton,” India replied. She turned to her husband. “Does that not solve the problem, my lord?”
“Indeed, madame, quite neatly. You are quick-witted, I am pleased to note. I hope you will pass the trait on to our children.” He saw the shadow pass quickly over her face. So quickly that had he not been looking directly at her he would have missed it. “Is everything all right, madame?” he queried her.
“Of course, my lord,” she said swiftly.
So the mention of children disturbed her. False bitch! What had she done with their child? And that quick admission of a marriage to a husband dead that she would not discuss. Was he supposed to believe her so distraught with grief that she could not speak of it? Oh, she would pay for her perfidy, he promised himself silently. Then he said to her, “Will you dine with me tonight, madame? A wedding supper of sorts, one might say, after the minister blesses our union.”
“Of course,” she answered him, but she had longed to refuse. When he had spoken of children, she had wanted to weep with her pain over her son, but how could she have explained such behavior.
“I will leave you then to rest from your ride,” he said, bowing politely and withdrawing from her apartments.
She noted that he went through a small door in the wall, and not out into the hallway. She looked about the salon in which they were standing. It was a lovely room with light wood paneling decorated with gold trim. The large fireplace was flanked with standing angels. The draperies on the window were of a light-blue velvet trimmed with gold braid. The furniture was well polished, the upholstery and floral tapestry fresh, and bright. The floors were covered with Turkey carpets. There were silver candlesticks, and bowls of rose potpourri.
“Ain’t it grand?” Meggie declared.
“It is as nice as my own family’s houses,” India agreed.
“Come see the bedchamber!” Meggie enthused, hurrying to open the door. Diarmid remained discreetly in the salon.
India had to admit she liked her new bedchamber very much. The draperies were her favorite shade of rose velvet, as were the matching bed hangings. The bed itself had an eight-foot headboard of linenfold paneling, and the carved canopy extended on all four sides of the bed. The pillars holding up the canopy were carved with leaves and vines. The bed was made with her own scented linens, featherbed, and pillows. On each side of the bed was a table, and upon each table a silver nightstick and tiny snuffer. The fireplace opposite the bed was flanked on either side with delicate stone deer, a doe and a buck. The andirons were well-polished brass. By the fireplace a comfortable chair had been set, and next to it, a candlestand. A cushioned window seat was built into the large box window to the right of the bed. On the opposite wall was a small refectory table and two straight chairs. The rest of the furniture was the usual carved chests. On the table was a bowl of roses.
“It’s lovely,” India finally spoke, “and you have put everything away, bless you, Meggie.”
“Everything? Nay, not by any means, my lady. Diarmid and me will be busy unpacking those baggage carts for days,” the maidservant said. “Let me take your gown now. You’ll want a bit of a liedown before supper, I’m thinking.”
“I want a bath,” India asked. “I cannot change from my riding clothes into another dress smelling of horses.”
“There’s many that does,” Meggie observed. “I’ve never known such a one for washing as yerself, my lady.”
“I’d rather smell of flowers than stink of my own sweat,” India replied. “Water is good for the skin. It keeps it soft, and you want to keep that wild highlander of yours by your side, don’t you, Meggie. I saw some pretty little faces in the hall below.”
“And let one of them try to make free with my husband,” Meggie said, glowering, “and I’ll snatch the trollop bald!”
India laughed, and then she sobered, realizing that she had felt the very same way about Caynan Reis. She very much doubted if she would feel that strongly about Deverall Leigh. Still, she was married to him, and would have to make the best of it, especially if she was to regain her son, Rowan. She had already begun by telling him she had been previously married. He had not, thank God, asked if she had had any children. She was not ready to share that with him. He might very well be glad she had not brought her child, not wanting another man’s son in his house to raise.
No. I must gain his favor
and
trust before I mention my child to this
man,
she thought with surety.
He does not look sympathetic, or easily led.
She had a leisurely bath, and then napped for a short time. Awakening, she allowed Meggie to dress her in cream-colored silk brocade trimmed in lace, the gown prepared for the church ceremony here at Oxton. It was to take place this evening in the estate church. The earl had said that he wanted the official formalities celebrated immediately. Meggie affixed the Stars of Kashmir about her neck, and slipped the ear bobs into her ears. India touched them wonderingly. What history they held!
She descended the staircase to find him awaiting her. “The church is but a short walk,” he said, handing her a nosegay of sweet white flowers and offering her his arm.
Outside, the sun was setting to the west over the Malvern Hills. To the east, the moon was rising. It was very still, and only the faintest breeze ruffled her curls.
The little stone church was filled with the servants, including Meggie and Diarmid. It was softly lit with beeswax candles. The minister greeted them, and announced to the assembled that, as the earl of Oxton and his bride had accepted the proxy marriage celebrated at Glenkirk on the thirtieth day of May, in the year of our Lord sixteen hundred and twenty-eight, they were legally and lawfully wed. Now, tonight, on this eighteenth day of July, he would give the blessing in God’s name, on behalf of His Majesty, the king. The couple knelt, and the minister intoned, “ ’Those whom God hath joined together, let no man rent asunder. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’ ”
“Amen!” the congregation replied.
“Now, my lord,” the minister said, his eyes twinkling, “you are quite free to kiss your bride.”
India’s eyes widened as his lips brushed her coolly.
Kiss?
She hadn’t thought of kissing. And
lovemaking!
Oh, my God! In her anger and her eagerness to escape Glenkirk, she had put from her head these more intimate matters. About her, the assembled cheered, and the earl led her from the church.
“You are surprised I kissed you,” he said as they walked back to the house.
“It was hardly a kiss, my lord,” she replied. “More like a butterfly brushing my lips.”
“Passion should be a private matter between a man and his wife, madame,” he said reprovingly. “I could hardly avoid the formality when the Reverend Master Barton was encouraging me to it so publicly, and in such a loud voice. We would have disappointed the servants.”
“If I asked for a respite from your company tonight so I might recover from my journey, would we disappoint the servants?” she asked him boldly.