Redeeming a Rake (29 page)

Tolerance walked over to the door and gave
the children a stern silent look that sent them running back down
the hall. Closing the door she turned the key in the lock before
returning to smile at him. Geoffrey stood there with his arms
folded feeling like a trompe l’oeil dummy-board painted to look
like himself and propped up against his desk to scare away
intruding guests. “I’ve missed you Geoffrey. I was very
disappointed when I didn’t hear back from you or see you riding
like the devil up my drive.”

“Thomas stole my letter. I was waiting to
sign the paperwork to save your sister from being married off to
that old lecher. Every morning I’d wake up and have to overcome an
agonising urge to order my coach and set off for your blue
skies.”

“How much did you pay my parents?”

“A fraction of what I should have paid for
you.”

“When Charles died I tried to buy her
guardianship, but they wanted five times what I could pay. Thank
you for saving her.”

“After what Spencer did to you I couldn’t
love you and let your sister risk the same fate. That evil bastard.
If Spencer wasn’t dead I’d kill him…slowly.”

“How do you know what Spencer did to
me?”

“You told me.”

“I’ve never told anyone, though his servants
probably told the world after I sacked the lot of them the day
after he died.”

“I remember you telling me…Oh wait, it was
in the garden. As I was trying to tell you before your sister
interrupted, I have these dreams where I meet you in a garden.
You’re always in a white short sleeved gown with your hair undone.
We never wear shoes because the sky is always blue and I often find
you lying in the grass watching the clouds, but my favourite part
of the garden is the fishpond. It has these large red and gold fish
that have an uncanny stare as if they’re wondering… What’s wrong
Angel? I assure you nothing unseemly ever happens. Well, in the
first dream you stomped on my foot, but that was only a sort of
misunderstanding.”

“Geoffrey, that’s my dream!”

“What do you mean your dream?”

“In my dream garden I always wear a white
short sleeved dress and you always wear white trousers and a shirt
open at the neck…”

“Well I wouldn’t be wearing a gown.”

“There’s a wooden bench built around a large
willow. The bench has strange carvings that look like some sort of
writing and in the far corner of the garden there’s an ancient yew
tree with a trunk so large you could carve it into a house.”

“And when we play hide and seek you often
hide under its branches because you like kissing me in the cool
shadows…”

“…
because they make your
warm kisses feel…”

“…
divine.” The study fell
silent accentuating the distant hum of laughing people and cheerful
the music in the ballroom.

Tolerance felt a lump in her throat as
painful words insisted on being expelled from her heart. “I wish
you had bought me as a child bride. I’d have grown up knowing I
could trust you. I would have looked forward to the day I could
lock a door and find myself in a half lit room at the tender mercy
of my beloved friend.” Large tears like liquid diamonds glinting in
the candlelight, rolled down her cheeks. “I would have been the
most excited bride to wear orange blossoms. I would have stepped
into your arms without fear.” He held out his arms and she blindly
stepped into his embrace and relaxed against him as she’d done
countless times in the garden. “The reason I refused you was
because I was afraid you’d hurt me, that you’d turn into Charles
Spencer.” Silent arms held her tight as she sobbed ugly words into
his waistcoat. When she finally looked up her eyes shimmered with
tears. “If you marry me will you be kind and hold me until I’m not
afraid?”

“Sunshine, are you asking me to marry
you?”

“Is that very impertinent?”

“Tolerantly impertinent; if I marry you,
will I get to hold you in my arms like this at least once a
day?”

“I’m afraid you’d have to hold me at least
once an hour.”

“Would I get to kiss you at least once an
hour?”

“I’d think you unkind if you didn’t.”

“Then I accept. What sort of ceremony did
you have in mind?”

“Something private…something soon.”

“I still have that special license. We could
marry tomorrow…or…”

Clutching his coat she stood on her tip
toes. “Tonight?”

“Tonight?” He pressed a joyous wet kiss to
her cheek. “I’ll make you my duchess if I have to kidnap a priest
and persuade him at pistol point to perform the ceremony. Wait
here…I’ll be right back.” He was half way to the door when he
stopped and rushed back. Picking her up he swung her in circles and
kissed her on the lips before letting her go and running back to
unlock the door. “You there…” The maid froze in terror. “…order my
carriage, I’m getting married. Where’s my mother? In the dining
room? Good…” He took several steps down the passage before turning
and rushing back into his study. “What am I thinking? I can’t leave
you here alone. You might fall over and hit your head and forget
you love me. I couldn’t bear it!”

Blushing with pleasure, Tolerance laughed as
she was pulled out of the study and through the house at a run. She
insisted on catching her breath outside the doorway to the packed
dining room and watched the tall slender man joyfully weave his way
through servants and guests to his mother’s chair. There was a warm
comforting peace in her heart. It was the right choice. Her friend
suddenly turned around to look for her, the adoring boyish grin
filling her heart with love. She returned his smile and laughed as
the Duke of Lyndhurst waved his hand and eloquently paid her homage
with an old fashioned bow and then blew her a kiss over the heads
of staring people. Happiness bubbled through her veins, but in a
secret corner of her heart she felt a strange urgency, as if each
minute delayed was a minute lost. She brushed aside any thought of
future sadness. There was too much to be happy about. She bit her
lip as she wondered how the coming evening would unfold. She
ignored the anxious butterflies in her stomach and reminded herself
that there was nothing to be afraid of. She was going to wed her
dearest friend; she’d be safe.

***

It took longer than she’d hoped to settle
her son in the noisy overcrowded nursery. On trembling legs, she
rushed back downstairs past inquisitive new relatives and bobbing
servants. Stepping quietly into Geoffrey’s bedchamber she turned
the key and left it in the lock. The bed was empty, but she could
see the edge of a tea cup on the arm of the chair in front of the
fire. Feeling nervous, her hands were shaking as she changed in her
husband’s adjoining closet. Each fumbled attempt to untie a
stubborn ribbon made her stop and listen for soft padding
footsteps, but there was only peaceful quiet. At last freed from
dusty black and dressed in a white short-sleeved nightgown she
unpinned her hair and combed it through till it fell free to her
waist. Taking a deep breath she picked up the silver box containing
the ruby necklace and tiptoed past the bed still smooth and empty
over to the fire. Peering around the edge of the Queen Anne wing
armchair she found her manuscript lying open in a sea of pale blue
velvet that washed up at naked feet resting on a footstool. His
eyes were closed, his lips slack. Her husband was fast asleep. She
gently removed the cup from his fingers and the manuscript from his
lap and set them safely on the mantel. Her beloved friend looked
more dead than alive with lavender rings around his eyes and pain
etched into his pale forehead. A strange sharp pain punctured her
heart. How much time would she have with him? She felt an urgent
need to cherish every minute of her new life.

“Geoffrey! You’re falling asleep in the
chair. Come to bed…”

His eyes slowly opened. “Angel? I was
waiting for you in the garden, but I’d much rather be here with my
duchess. You look…” He sighed with pleasure as if she were some
great beauty. “…lovely!”

Tolerance laughed as her cheeks burned from
the well known heated gaze. “I love it when you look at me like
that.”

“I’d be heartbroken Madam if you didn’t. My
empty knee awaits an angel.” He smiled as his bride shyly perched
on the transient seat. “This feels better than I imagined. Ah, she
shivers at my touch. I must be in heaven.” The new Duchess giggled
as a warm hand slid around her middle and pulled her closer.

“Geoffrey?”

“Yes Wife?”

She pulled the jewellery case out of the
folds of her gown and opened it. “I want to wear it for you. Would
you help me put it on?”

Geoffrey stared in disgust at the blood red
stones sparkling in the firelight between aquamarine accents. “I
don’t want you to wear my sins. I’ll buy you some innocent diamonds
or sapphires.”

“No!” She clutched them tightly to her
chest. “I love them. They’re little pieces of your heart.”

“Keep the cursed stones if they make you
happy. I could hardly deny you my heart.”

The new Duchess of Lyndhurst forgot her
necklace and caressed the long masculine fingers resting on her
leg, “I love your hands.”

“And the rest of my person?”

She reached out and affectionately tweaked
his earlobe. “I hope all our children look like you.”

“Have you a cruel streak Wife? Look at me.
How could you curse innocent infants with this face?”

“Because it’s my favourite.”

He pursed his lips in disbelief. “You’ve let
your harp gather dust for this face? You must be an angel.”

“Hardly, I make mistakes like everyone
else.”

“True, like not marrying me months ago. A
wicked sin punishable by at least a thousand kisses.”

He pulled her closer against pale blue
velvet and smiled as she leaned over and thwarted his puckered lips
by kissing his cheek and laughing in his ear. “Am I really your
wife? Tell me you’re not a lovely dream.”

“Turn around Mrs Grayson and let your
husband fondle your throat.” The clasp finally mastered, Tolerance
turned back to face her Lord with tears in her eyes and a fortune
in rubies around her neck. Pale blue eyes filled with fear as
velvet arms encircled her waist and pulled her close. “What’s wrong
Angel? You’re not missing the other Geoffrey?”

“I love you.”

He smiled in relief. “I love you more.”

“In your dreams!”

Geoffrey’s come hither smile lured his
wife’s arms around his neck and brought her lips close enough to
kiss. “May my hands have permission to admire your person my Lady?”
Her eyes went wide with worry. “I’m your knight in pale blue
velvet, not some other idiot rake-hell. You’re perfectly safe. If
you find my admiration uncomfortable I’ll stop. Tell me which part
of you my hands may admire and I’ll be satisfied if only out of
fear you might annul my happiness.”

“You may admire my hip.”

“That should do for now…ah, you’re blushing.
That brings back pleasant memories. Remember the time I was chasing
you around the garden for a kiss and I caught hold of your dress
and we both fell head first into the flower bed? You had dirt on
your face and on your bosom.”

“And you tried to be a kind helpful
rake-hell by brushing it away.”

“Hmmm…your face turned as red as the flowers
we crushed. You looked like an earth goddess with dirt up your
nose.”

“If you don’t put your hand on my hip and
kiss me I’ll make you chase me though the house. What will your
relations think after you slip on a rug and land face first into
one of the many used chamber pots lining your halls like fly
traps?”

“They’ll think I’m an ugly smelly
devil.”

“Then you’d better kiss me.”

***

Geoffrey sighed with contentment as he
admired the sight of small feminine feet resting against his leg on
the footstool. He couldn’t remember any debauchery that compared to
the ecstasy of holding the woman who loved him. After tucking her
hands deep inside his robe, one minute she was laughing and the
next she’d fallen asleep with her face pressed against his neck. He
lightly kissed her forehead and closed his eyes just for a moment
as he imagined waking to find his naked wife lying in his arms.

The dying fire cast deep shadows over the
empty bed as the lovers laughed in between eternal kisses far away
in a dream garden.