Love With an Improper Stranger (30 page)

“But I find their display, however incongruous, rather charming.”  Lenore pondered a declaration, and the three words traipsed the tip of her tongue, but her duke made her vow to avoid an emotional farewell, so she quashed the urge.  Great men bothered not with sentiment, and she refused to embarrass Blake, so she remained quiet.  When a footman dropped an end of Blake’s trunk, her wifely instincts charged the fore.  “Careful with His Grace’s belongings, as I packed them beautifully.”

“Sorry, Your Grace.”  The servant nodded once.

“How I admire your spirit, so reminiscent of that day in Brussels, when we met.”  Blake offered his escort, and they strolled the boards to the
Tristan
, which sported a festoon of evergreens in the rigging.  “Yet I still miss the effervescence with which you used to welcome me.  So what do you think of our wedding garland, love?”

“What do you expect, as Lucilla remains lost, you are leaving me, and I shall be all alone?”  And the resulting pain threatened to crush her.  “As for the garland, I have heard much of the tradition, and I thank you for the display.”

“My dear wife, you are never alone, as you are part of a large family, and we guard each other.”  He paused at the end of the gangplank.  “And I am glad you approve.  Now give me a kiss to sustain me, until I return and we are reunited.”  Blake suckled her bottom lip.  “We shall commence our rounds of the east wing, and then there is Pemberton, which has more than one hundred rooms, not to mention my two other residences.”

“So many venues, so little time.”  She clutched the folds of his many-caped greatcoat.  “Can I not come aboard, just for a few minutes?  I just want to be close to you.”

“No.”  To her dismay, he set her apart from him and huffed a breath.  “Darling, if you do, I will never cast off, as I ache for you, already, but I must do my duty.”  He gave her a gentle nudge.  “Join Caroline, Rebecca, Sabrina, and Alex, as they know the routine, and you would do well to follow their example.”

“You will be careful.”  At the prospect of their looming separation, Lenore lost the battle with her tears.  “You will come back to me, impossible man.”

“Sweetheart, I have provided ample proof of just how possible I can be, where you are concerned.”  With a wink, he ascended to his vessel.  “I will be home before you know it, so rest up, as that coach ride shall be twice as intense.”

“Is that a promise?”  Now she wept openly.

“My sweet duchess, you may depend upon it.”  Blake sketched a salute.  “And, please, do not cry, as I cannot bear it.”

Just then, Caroline signaled with a flick of her fingers, and Lenore gathered with the other wives, save Daphne, who remained on Portsea Island, as Dalton embarked from Portsmouth.  Lenore hugged her sister-in-law and asked, “Does it ever get easy?”

“I have done this for five years.”  Caroline sniffed.  “If it ever hurts any less, I will tell you.”

“Oh, Everett.”  Sabrina buried her face in her hands and sobbed.  “What will I do without him?”

“There, there, Brie.”  Rebecca drew Sabrina into a comforting embrace.  “Our men are skilled mariners, with years of experience, and they always return to our shores, safe and sound, hale and hearty.”

In a slow glide, the
Tristan
set sail, as sailors climbed the ratlines, leading the Brethren into action.  On the quarterdeck, Blake stood and waved.  All of a sudden, something inside Lenore fractured, and she bolted.

“Blake.”  Running the length of the walkway, she flailed her hands.  “
Blake
.”  At the end of the wharf, she halted, and her husband blew her a kiss, as the
Tristan
navigated into the Thames.  A whisper of a breeze sifted through her hair, and she said in a low voice, “I love you.”

It was a disappointing and lonely stroll that brought her back to the Rylan coach, and after bidding farewell to her new sisters, and arranging a luncheon, Lenore reclined in the plush squabs and struggled with regret.  Regardless of Blake’s stated preferences, she should have told him she loved him, because there were no guaranteed tomorrows, and he ventured into war.  Should something happen to him; she would never forgive herself for adhering to feminine deportment and honoring his wishes.

The singular thought haunted her return trip to London, and by the time the equipage halted before Elliott House, she had whipped herself into a fit of high dudgeon.  But the sight of Dr. Handley’s curricle drew her up short, and she skipped up the entrance stairs.

“Jennings, what is the physician doing here?”  Lenore’s first inclination was that something terrible befell the dowager.  “Is it serious?”

“Your Grace, Sir Ross arrived a half hour ago, with Miss Lucilla.”  The butler wiped the corner of his eye.  “I took the liberty of summoning Dr. Handley, and he examines her, as we speak.”

The world shifted beneath Lenore’s feet, overwhelming relief mixed with elation and charged her nerves, and she almost tripped on the stairs as she broke into a sprint.  Though she knew not what to expect, what mattered was Lucilla was home.  Out of breath and panting, Lenore flew into Lucy’s sitting room.

“Oh, my dear Lenore, I am so glad you are here.”  Uncle Samuel daubed his nose and cleared his throat.  “Lucy is very thin and dirty, but she looks good, and Dr. Handley is with her.”

“How is her health?”  She glanced at Sir Ross, and before he could answer, Lenore flung herself at him.  “You wonderful man.”  Beside herself with joy, she kissed his cheek.  “Thank you.  Thank you, so much.  Never can I repay your kindness.”

“That is not necessary, Your Grace.”  The veteran agent flushed red and shuffled his feet.  “But your sister is very resourceful, she outsmarted her assailant, and she is in far better condition than how I found you.”

“Did he hurt her?  Did she provide any information?”  At the prospect of what might have happened to Lucy after Lenore’s rescue, the painfully familiar weight returned to her chest, and she clutched her throat.  “May I speak with her?”

“Be my guest.”  Sir Ross flipped through his notes.  “She gave me a detailed interview, and I would like to return to the Ministry, with your permission, as I have solid leads on our suspect, which I need to pursue with haste.”

“Of course, Sir Ross.  If there is anything I can do to assist you, do not hesitate to ask.”  Lenore peered at her relation.  “Uncle, I am going to check on Lucy, and then I will usher you inside so you can visit with her.”

“Take your time, as I can wait.”  He sat on the
chaise
and bowed his head.

Mustering courage, and dreading what she might find on the other side of the door, Lenore knocked twice, twisted the knob, and swallowed her anxiety.  “It is Lenore, Dr. Handley.  May I enter?”

“Come,” the physician responded.

Lenore stepped into the inner chamber, and sitting on the edge of the bed perched Lucy.  In a flash, Lucilla squealed, leaped from the mattress, and swamped Lenore.

“I thought you dead.”  With a death grip, Lucy clung to Lenore and cried.  “When I woke, and you were gone, I feared he killed you while I slept.”

“Oh, dearest, I would never leave you.”  Cradling her younger sister, Lenore wept.  “He sold me as chattel.”

“Sir Ross told me.”  As was her habit, Lucy toyed with Lenore’s hair.  “I am so sorry, Lenny.”

“Let us not talk about the unpleasantness.”  As usual, Lucilla tried to put on a brave face, but Lenore guessed her little sister nursed invisible but potent wounds.  To the doctor, Lenore asked, “What is her condition?”

“Miss Lucy has lost a great deal of weight during her captivity, but her feigned sleep spared her the difficulties you suffered from excess laudanum consumption.”  As Dr. Handley collected his instruments, he chuckled.  “From what I gather, that is what enabled her the opportunity to escape.”  After closing his leather bag, he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Feed her all she can eat and let her rest, and Miss Lucilla will be none the worse for wear, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Dr. Handley.”  She assessed Lucy’s dirty and torn dress, but what stunned Lenore was her sibling’s gaunt appearance.  “Shall I ring for a bath?”

“The doctor did that, Your Grace.”  Lucy chuckled.  “Congratulations.  Sir Ross told me your wonderful news, and I am thrilled for you.”

“Oh, Lucy, I am so sorry I could not wait for you, but Blake insisted we wed prior to his departure.”  Lenore retrieved a fresh nightgown from the armoire.  “But let me help you get comfortable, and we can talk tonight.”

“That is not necessary, as I can take care of myself.”  After kicking off her slippers, Lucy stripped her tattered hose and garters.  “And Uncle Samuel gave me an account of your ceremony.  He is awfully nice, Lenny, and he invited me to journey to America with him.  Is that not wonderful?  What an adventure.”

“You wish to live apart from me?”  Lucy’s proclamation rang in Lenore’s ears, and she knew not how to react, given her sister had just imparted earth-shattering news but behaved as though she commented on a sewing technique.  “But you just returned.”

“Yet you are a newlywed duchess, and I cannot stay a child forever.”  Sitting at her vanity, Lucy gazed at her reflection in the oval mirror, picked up a brush, and frowned.  “Do not be vexed with me, but during my ordeal, I realized I have spent the better portion of my life with my nose in a book, reading about so many magnificent escapades, instead of participating in my own feats, and I am past due for a change.  It is time for me to grow up, and I want to travel, Lenny.  I want to experience the world beyond London.”

“Dearest, you quite take my breath away.”  Lenore had more to say, but Dorothea’s entrance cut short the exchange.

“Your Grace, the staff has prepared the hot water.”  The lady’s maid curtseyed.  “May we fill the tub?”

“Please, do so.”  As was their routine, Lenore removed the pins from Lucy’s tangled hair.

“Stop it, Lenny.”  With a huff, Lucy pulled away.  “I can do it, myself.”

“Shall I wash your back?” Lenore inquired, even as she marveled at her sister’s altered attitude.

“No, as that is not necessary.”  Lucy shook her head.  “I wish to be alone and soak.  And I would visit with Uncle Samuel and make plans for my future.”

“Then I will grant your request.”  More than a little injured by Lucy’s detachment, Lenore turned on a heel, because the moment was not about her.  “You will send for me, if you have need of me.”

“Lenore?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”  Lucy peered over her shoulder and smiled.  “Never was I more relieved than when Sir Ross told me of your liberation, as my prayers were answered.”

It was sad to witness the death of innocence.  The charming bloom of naïveté that glistened in a sleeping baby’s expression, a child’s peal of laughter, a puppy’s playful bark, a kitten’s purr, or the sigh of an artless virgin was second in brilliance only to the sun’s light, in a place where the brutality of war scarred the landscape.  Like so many youthful dreams, the bloom of purity was forever tarnished, diminishing in equal proportion to the beholder’s acquired knowledge and experience, until all that remained was the memory of a simpler reality, never to be recaptured.

It was that inner glow, which Lucy once sported, that Lenore mourned as she studied her sister.  Although Dr. Handley pronounced Lucy in fine fettle, the truth was she had been damaged beyond repair, and no physician’s potion could restore the ingénue to her original state.

So Lenore returned to her suite, after bidding a pleasant evening to her uncle, only to discover she still wore her cloak.  Numb from the emotional upheaval of the day, she doffed her outer garb and slippers and sat at her escritoire.  For untold minutes she stared at nothing.  Then she snapped alert.

On a piece of Blake’s expensive stationary, she penned a letter, detailing Lucilla’s recovery.  Mulling Lucy’s words, Lenore thought her sister was right about one thing.  It was time to live.

#

The War of the Seventh Coalition reached a fevered pitch, after Napoleon returned to Paris, overthrew Louis XVIII, recalled tens of thousands of veterans, drafted millions of new men, and launched a preemptive strike against the Allied forces in Belgium, which almost drove the Prussians from the conflict.  While Wellington organized an attack, the British Navy transported troops to the Continent and enforced a blockade to isolate France.

As April showers yielded to warm May afternoons, the Brethren of the Coast were deployed in the Channel, as a last line of defense of England.  For Blake, the ten miserable weeks since he held Lenore in his arms threatened to undermine his sanity, as he burned for her.  The usual distractions afforded naught but frustration, despite his partiality for sailing, so he resorted to spending part of his evenings in the tiny cabin his wife once occupied, reminiscing of fonder times.

Penning another in a series of fervor-filled missives to his bride, Blake paused when a knock at the door intruded on his latest bawdy composition.  “Enter.”

“Sir, the mail is just arrived, along with a visitor.”  Mr. Portman stepped aside to reveal a familiar face.  “Shall I hold dinner?”

“Not at all, but set another place, as I anticipate my guest will join me.”  Blake stood, sidestepped his desk, and extended a hand in brotherly affection.   “Trevor, it is good to see you.  I thought I spied the
Hera
in the line, this morning.”