Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square (15 page)

“Esme.” He stretched a hand toward her.

She moved farther away, shaking her head. “I was going to let you come to me tonight despite my qualms, but now I have changed my mind.”

“Esme,” he said, her name a growl this time.

“From now on, you are to stay away. Tonight and every night. If you do not, I shall scream for all of my brothers to come and toss you out.”

“You forget. You are my wife. I have every right to you and your body.”

“I am not your wife yet, as you keep reminding me. I have changed my mind. I am going to Edward and tell him I want an annulment.”

He covered the distance between them so quickly, she gasped in surprise. And again when he caught hold of her wrist. “You will do no such thing, madam. Rescind your threat or I shall take you into the woods right now and see to it that you are as married as you can possibly be. I presume you take my meaning?”

The color drained from her face and she nodded.

“Say the words. Take it back.”

Her jaw tightened as if she still wanted to refuse. Abruptly, she gave a jerky nod. “I will not ask for an annulment.”

“Good. Now, as for tonight, I shall give you another reprieve since I don’t want you screaming for your brothers, as you put it. Instead, I’m going to make sure we are thoroughly alone, where there will be no interruptions, before we consummate our union.”

He released her wrist, watching as his words sank in.

“Then, you mean—,” she began.

“That we shall be departing Braebourne shortly, yes.”

“To stay at Clay House?”

“No, my dear, nothing within an easy distance of this
estate. I have sent word to have my house in Cornwall made ready for our arrival. We will depart tomorrow morning.”

Her mouth opened. “Tomorrow! But that’s impossible. I cannot just pick up and leave.”

“Of course you can.”

“No, I cannot. For one, it will not allow me time to make arrangements for my animals.”

“You must have left them here at Braebourne in the past when you went to London for the Season. A smart girl like you, I’m certain you will figure something out. Besides, your family is in residence, not to mention the veritable army of servants who see to the estate. I feel certain none of them will let your beloved pets starve.”

“No, of course they won’t, but—”

“Good, that dilemma is solved. The rest should be easy.”

“Easy? What will everyone think when we announce that we are leaving in such haste?”

“That we are a newly wedded couple who are desirous of privacy.”

She shook her head. “My siblings will never believe I want to depart so quickly.”

“Of course they will, because you are going to make them. Or do you want everyone to know that our marriage is a disaster before it has even begun? Do you seek yet another dreadful scandal to add to the already extensive list you’re collecting of late?”

She stilled, then looked away, her lashes sweeping down. “No.”

“Exactly. So put a smile on your face and let us go into the house for breakfast, where we can start convincing everyone of our perfect marital accord.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat.”

“You can and you will. Believe me, my dear—I’ve been playacting at all manner of things for years. It’s a talent one develops rather quickly in times of necessity. You will too.”

He offered his arm and waited.

She stared at it, an expression of undisguised dislike on her face.

Without another word, she laid her hand on his sleeve and together they walked the rest of the way to the house.

“A
re you certain you cannot remain at Braebourne for a few days more?” Mallory asked Esme the next morning as they stood together in the entry hall. “Everyone will only be here for another week or two; then we’ll all be off to our own estates. It will be Christmastide before we are together again.”

Footmen moved past, hands and arms laden with Esme and Northcote’s luggage, which was being secured inside the heavy traveling coach.

Other family members were gathered as well; Leo and Lawrence stood in conversation with Northcote, grinning at something he’d said, while Mama and Claire were busy overseeing the packing to make certain nothing essential would be forgotten.

If only I could feel so carefree and confident.

But rather than bolt for her room as Esme longed to do, she pinned a bright smile on her face and tried to sound enthusiastic about the upcoming trip. “I wish we could remain, but Gabriel is most eager to show me his house in Cornwall. He’s calling it our honeymoon house. I hear the view is splendid, right on the sea. I have spent so little time near the ocean; I am quite excited by the prospect of listening to the waves and smelling the salt air.”

She had no idea if his house—Highhaven, he’d called it—had a sea view or not, but she had to come up with some convincing reason for her supposed eagerness to leave. As for Northcote, he could scarcely wait. At his behest, Mrs. Grumblethorpe had appeared in her bedchamber at six o’clock that morning with instructions to make haste so they could be on the road.

To her consternation, Northcote’s prediction about
her family’s reaction to their news had proven disgustingly accurate. Even Edward and Mallory had appeared convinced that she and Northcote were getting along splendidly and were hurrying off so they could enjoy a bit of time alone as a newly married couple.

All that had been required were a few smiles and some laughs, and everyone had bought their story like a school of fish caught in a net.

Of course, it hadn’t hurt that Northcote had openly taken care to touch her. Holding her hand. Idly stroking her hair or the curve of her shoulder. Resting his palm along her hip or waist while in conversation with one of her relations.

And kissing her.

He’d taken delight in that most of all.

The devil had a real knack for catching her unawares too, timing their little “moments of affection” so that they appeared spontaneous and genuine—and were always done within view of witnesses. How he managed to arrange things, she would never know, but somehow he always succeeded, selecting just the right place and time so it seemed as if they’d snuck off for a stolen moment together only to be found out.

The whole charade infuriated her. She could have called him out on it in front of her family but found herself playing along instead, smiling and acting as if she were thrilled with her new husband and their marriage. According to their story, luck had shone a radiant light upon them and granted them a grand love match, much to their mutual surprise. And for those who’d heard via the servants’ grapevine that she and Northcote had yet to share a bed, it was being attributed to his restraint and consideration of her tender feelings while they got to know each other better.

Mallory and Thalia in particular had looked skeptical at first—probably because they’d been firsthand witnesses to her premarital cold feet. But soon even they had seemed convinced, happy looks in the two women’s eyes as they fell for the lie.

After that, she’d had even more reason to keep up the charade, loath to wipe the looks of pleasure and relief from her family’s faces. They wanted to believe the faerie tale. Who was she to ruin it with the truth?

Mallory smiled at her now, reaching out to give her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so pleased that you and Northcote seem to be getting along so well. If I am not mistaken, the two of you are well on your way to being in love. He can scarcely keep his eyes off you and he never seems to let you out of his sight.”

Yes, to make sure I don’t decide to annul the marriage, after all—promise or no promise.

But it was already too late. She’d tied her fate to his the moment she’d spoken those two simple words in the chapel.

And then he was at her side, sliding an arm around her waist to pry her gently but firmly away from her sister. All her relations followed the two of them outside onto the wide gravel drive, where they began to exchange good-byes. She found herself passed from one loved one to another, sharing tearful hugs and kisses with her mother, then Ned, Claire, Cade, Meg, Grace and Jack, who bussed her noisily on the cheek. Next came Drake, Sebastianne, Adam, Mallory and Thalia.

Last were Leo and Lawrence, who each gave her extra-long, extra-strong bear hugs that lifted her briefly off her feet.

“If he steps out of line,” Lawrence whispered in her ear, “remember that you’ve only to send word and we’ll be on your doorstep in a trice. You may be his wife, but we’ll always be your family.”

She nearly broke then, the truth on her tongue, wanting to get out. But suddenly she glanced sideways and caught sight of Northcote. He waited near the coach, apart from the others.

And yet again, for reasons that continued to elude her, she couldn’t bring herself to speak against him, to humiliate him, no matter the difficulties that lay between them.

So rather than take advantage of her last chance to escape, she went to the coach and allowed Northcote to hand her inside.

He’d just taken the seat across from her when Burr leapt inside. His tail waved like a silken flag as he let out a happy bark and settled against her skirts.

Northcote frowned. “I thought you were leaving your menagerie behind.”

“I am, but not Burr.” She stroked her hand over the dog’s head. “He pines if I’m away. I wanted to bring Henry as well, but the poor dear is just too old to make the trip.”

He studied the animal, his eyes narrowing suddenly. “I remember you,” he said, addressing the dog. “Burr, is it?”

Burr barked and wagged in agreement.

“I suppose, in an odd way,” Northcote mused aloud, “that it only makes sense for him to accompany us, considering he was there at Cray’s lake that fateful day. Your silent accomplice, as it were.”

She flushed slightly but made no reply.

Before he had a chance to offer another sarcastic comment, the coach set off, gravel crunching beneath the wheels and the horses’ hooves.

Turning her head, she looked through the window for one final glimpse of her family, still gathered on the drive. They waved and she waved back, one last time. Her throat tightened as she sat back, her eyes squeezed closed against a sudden rush of tears.

She’d been away from Braebourne before, but never on her own and never with the knowledge that from this day forward, the estate would no longer be her home. She would have a new home now, one that was strange and unfamiliar. Like the furry and feathered creatures she rescued, she liked the comfort of familiar surroundings, and of soothing, established routines. Now everything and everyone around her would be new, particularly the man who lounged in the seat opposite.

She opened her eyes and received a tiny shock of surprise.

Northcote was watching her.

His hawklike eyes were speculative and enigmatic, every bit as mysterious as Aeolus’s had ever been.

She hoped the bird was thriving in his newly rediscovered freedom, soaring happily once more through the wide-open skies.

Odd how the two of them seemed to have switched places. Before he’d been the one in a cage. Now it was her.

After settling himself more comfortably into one corner, Northcote crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

Is he going to sleep?

When she heard the faintest of snores coming from him barely a minute later, she knew that was exactly what he’d done.

Beast.

No matter how tired she might be, sleep always eluded her when she was sitting up, whether she was seated in a cozy chair next to the fire or inside a moving coach.

She scowled at him with frustrated envy for another few moments, then turned her attention to Burr. Patting the seat beside her, she invited him to hop up next to her, which he did with alacrity. She reached into the traveling satchel near her feet and pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil.

She drew Burr, who was always a favorite subject, capturing him in state of doggy dreams. Next, she tried to sketch the passing scenery, but it went by too quickly and soon proved an exercise that was more frustrating than enjoyable.

Slowly, her sights turned to Northcote.

He was still asleep, his features bold and arresting, beautiful in their way. In sleep, he seemed more approachable, his usual mask of cynicism temporarily cast free of its mooring.

Something in her softened to see him so, together
with a wish that he might look like this when he was awake.

But she supposed that was impossible.

He was who he was.

Just as she was who she was.

The hardened rake and the tenderhearted innocent shackled together for life because of a single imprudent act.

She stared down at the blank page, remembering.

Slowly, she began to draw.

•   •   •

It was well after sunset three days later when they reached Highhaven. The countryside was swathed in a darkness so dense it was a wonder the coachman and horses were able to find their way.

Inside the coach, Esme drew in a breath of humid, brine-scented air and listened to the sound of the sea crashing against the rocky shoreline somewhere closeby.

Northcote had set a grueling pace, stopping only to change horses and again at night to dine and let them both rest for a few hours. To her surprise and relief, they had slept in separate rooms. Yet in spite of the long journey and their present late arrival, Esme hadn’t complained. Truthfully, she wasn’t eager to spend yet another day inside the coach with him, where he sat mostly silent and brooding.

Or else asleep.

When he wasn’t asleep, he read, while she did the same. Over the entire journey, they’d exchanged barely a handful of words, and most of those polite inquiries that one might have used with the most ordinary of acquaintances.

She peered through the coach window, anxious to see her new home, albeit a temporary one since she knew from a remark Edward had made that this was not Northcote’s ancestral estate. That great house lay somewhere to the north, though precisely where she
wasn’t certain, and given Northcote’s present taciturn humor, she wasn’t about to ask.

Travel weary, Esme gazed into the night, one arm wrapped around Burr for comfort. She frowned when she caught sight of the house with its dark, unwelcoming facade.

Clearly, they were not expected.

The coachman leapt down and went to bang on the front door. Northcote followed, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of light or servants.

He tried the door but found it barred. Raising his fist, he was the one to pound this time—and keep on pounding.

“Keep yer everlastin’ drawers on, will ya,” grumbled a man’s voice from inside nearly a minute later. “I’m comin’. I’m comin’. And I’ll thank ye ta’ cease tha’ racket, whoever tha’ devil ye might be.”

From inside the house came the unmistakable sounds of locks being drawn back. Still grumbling, the man opened the door. “If ye weren’t tha’ devil, ye’d have a care fer tha’ time. Decent folk shouldn’t be disturbin’ other folk at such an hour.”

“I’m sure not,” Northcote drawled. “Then again, I ceased being decent long ago.”

“M-my lord,” the older man stammered, his eyes popping wide with recognition. “Wot ye doin’ here? The missus and me weren’t ’spectin’ ye, well, not tonight anyhow.”

Northcote eyed the darkened house. “Yes, that much is evident. You did receive my letter, I trust?”

“Aye, but only jes’ this mornin’. We didn’t think, well, Mrs. Canby ’n’ me . . . Ye said next week,” he finished accusingly.

“Yes, and so I did. Lady Northcote and I had a change of plans, however, and decided to come early.”

Lady Northcote and I . . .

Esme sniffed under her breath. If there was blame to go around, it lay squarely on Northcote’s own head.

“Jim, who’s there? What do they want?” called a female voice from somewhere deep inside the house.

Mrs. Canby,
Esme presumed.

Light from another candle added its illumination to the one in the servant’s hand as the woman stepped forward to join Jim Canby where he stood in the doorway.

“It’s his lordship and his new lady, Jemima,” the male servant explained.

“What!” The woman nearly dropped her candle, the flame flickering as she somehow managed to wring her pudgy hands and keep hold of the candle all at the same time. “But we weren’t expectin’ ye and the house ain’t ready. Oh, I’m ever so sorry, milord. What must ye be thinkin’?” She shot a worried glance toward the coach. “What must yer lady be thinkin’?”

“The omission is mine,” Northcote said. “Pray light a few candles and find us something edible for dinner. I presume there is food in the larder?”

Jemima bobbed her head of white hair with its last few lingering strands of what must once have been a glorious red. “Aye, but nothin’ fancy. Jest some bread and cheese, maybe a shoulder of ham. Might have the fixin’s fer a soup of some sort.”

“Any of that should do nicely so long as it’s hot and filling.”

“Well, let me air out a bedroom first fer yer lady wife so she can refresh herself afore supper; then I’ll get to bangin’ some pots ’round in the kitchen.”

Before Northcote had time to offer so much as “yea” or “nay,” the older woman spun on her heels and disappeared back into the darkened house. Illumination burst quickly to life in the foyer and front room as candles were set ablaze.

Meanwhile, Jim hurried forward and went to help the coachman unload the luggage.

Burr leapt down from the coach, barking twice as his paws landed on the crushed shell drive. He raced in
an excited circle and barked again, clearly happy to be free of the vehicle.

Esme stood to exit the coach, expecting to receive assistance from the footman.