Corey McFadden (25 page)

“Look how soft it is, Aunt Joanna!” said Emma, her carefully washed hands gentle on the silk and lace.

“I have never, ever seen anything so beautiful, Emma. I’m almost afraid to wear it. Suppose I spill something?”

“Big people never spill anything,” giggled Emma. “But we’d better be careful around Tom.”

There was a light tap at the door and Lily walked in, carrying another box.

“Another one? What on earth can this be? I’ve more gowns now than I can wear in a lifetime, Lily!” laughed Joanna. For all she thought it was a dreadful extravagance, there was something in her that did enjoy opening the tissue paper and finding something lovely, just for her, underneath.

Opening the package, she picked up a folded bit of nothing, mere wispiness as far as she could see, with feather-like stitches. The lace trim seemed the most substantial part. Shaking it out, Joanna blushed to see that it was a nightgown. Why, if she wore a cobweb, it would cover more!

“Oh, how beautiful, Miss Carpenter!” squealed Lily, touching the fine stuff with reverence. “It’s for tonight!”

“Oh, Lily!” laughed Joanna, blushing, darting a look at Emma by way of warning to Lily to mind the innuendo.

“You’ll be awfully cold in that nightgown, Aunt Joanna,” said Emma dubiously. “Why would you want to sleep with almost nothing on?”

Lily snorted and pulled out her hanky, covering her face and blowing her nose with noisy gusto. Joanna schooled her expression to one of bland unconcern and said, “Yes, darling, I’m sure my flannel nightgown would be warmer, wouldn’t it? Let’s try some of my new slippers again, shall we? There are so many pairs I feel like a princess!”

Thus diverted, the child skipped happily to the armoire where several boxes of tissue-wrapped slippers in fairy-tale colors awaited her inspection.

“Where’s Tom?” asked Lily, looking around. “I rarely see one without the other.”

“Sir Giles has taken him horseback riding. The boy doesn’t seem afraid of horses, and Sir Giles thought perhaps he could be taught to ride.”

“I think it is amazing that men have nothing better to do on their wedding days than ride horses. Why, we will spend the whole day, the whole staff, getting things in order for this afternoon,” said Lily, picking imaginary specks off the fine wedding gown. “And the paintings look much better in their new places.”

“Oh, thanks heavens,” Joanna said with a smile. One of the first things she and Giles had agreed upon was that the old landscapes be moved to the rooms where the reception would be held, and the more shocking nudes banished to the attic.

“Are you ready for your bath? Mrs. Davies is getting anxious about the hot water.”

“Yes, I suppose I’d better bathe now. Sir Giles will want a bath, and I’m sure Lady Eleanor will bathe too.” Joanna tried to keep her voice neutral. Living in this house with Eleanor these last three weeks had been difficult, to say the least. Thank heaven, the woman had tired quickly of baiting Giles and snubbing Joanna and had taken herself off to visit one of her friends. Eleanor had returned several days ago, and while she still acted the mistress of the house, she would raise not a finger to help with the wedding preparation. Indeed, she seemed to be a deliberate hindrance, demanding attention from this or that servant who had been set by Joanna or Mrs. Davies to a wedding-related task. By tacit agreement, neither Mrs. Davies nor Joanna had mentioned the situation to Giles, knowing it would goad him into a battle with his stepsister and turn the household into a battleground. Instead, they allowed Eleanor her pettiness and calmly went about the business of putting together the wedding in spite of her, with the staff in silent agreement as to which side had the right of it.

“I’ll go down and order the hot water to be sent up. Then, when you finish, I’ll do your hair. Mrs. Davies is in the kitchen with Cook. Everything is ready and looks perfect, but they are both flying around in a stew about all the possible things that could go wrong. I swear if we have an earthquake this afternoon, we are ready with alternative plans.” Lily giggled as she left the room.

Joanna glanced over at Emma, who had surrounded herself with new slippers and was carefully trying each one on her little feet. The children had been wonderful about welcoming her into the family, Emma calling her “Aunt Joanna” at every opportunity. Even Tom had taken to calling her “Auntie,” though he still said little.

And now in a few hours she would be Giles’s wife. It still seemed amazing, even three weeks later, that her life could be so happy, so full of love and light. Papa had been right after all, but then, hadn’t Papa always been right?

* * * *

Giles whistled to himself as he tied his neckcloth, sorry for the first time in his life that he did not have a fastidious valet to see to it that he looked absolutely perfect. He hadn’t paid any attention to his appearance in years, not since Violet and Eleanor had taught him to scorn the upper-class worship of all things sartorial.

A bloodcurdling shriek split his reverie and sent him hurtling from his room. He stopped for a moment in the hallway, trying to determine where the scream had come from, then heard his stepsister’s shrieks coming from above. He took the stairs three at a time and had time to note that Joanna’s door stood open, before Mrs. Davies came rushing from the room.

“Oh, sir, thank heavens you’ve come!” panted the woman. “I was just coming to fetch you. Lady Eleanor is...” she broke off as Giles ran past her and disappeared into Joanna’s room.

Inside, he stopped and took in the scene. Joanna stood, gowned in her beautiful wedding gown, her face as pale as death, clutching at her throat. Lily stood to one side but in front of Joanna, her face set as mutinous and belligerent as Giles had ever seen it.

And Eleanor stood screeching like a madwoman, her arm extended, pointing at Joanna.

“Giles, she’s stolen my jewelry! Look at her neck and her ears. She’s stolen my jewels!” Eleanor wailed, turning to Giles and grabbing him by both arms. “It’s bad enough you have to marry a slut, but a thief as well?”

“Shut up, Eleanor,” growled Giles, shaking her off and walking over to Joanna. He put up his arms and tried to gather her to him, but she pulled back.

“No, thank you, Giles,” Joanna said, her voice like shards of ice. “I can handle this myself. Madame,” she said, turning to face Eleanor. “These are my mother’s garnets. I’ve had them since she died and my father gave them to me.”

“Mother, hah!” spat Eleanor. “Since when did the likes of you have a mother with jewelry like that? And as for a father, if your mother did come by such gems, then she wouldn’t be the sort to be sure who your father was, now would she?”

There was a moment of shocked silence, then Giles was the first to recover himself. “Eleanor, it is only mid-afternoon and you are already drunk,” he said in a quiet, cool voice. “The garnets are not yours and you know it. You’ve never owned garnets as long as I’ve known you, and Joanna wouldn’t steal a crust of bread thrown into the garbage if she were starving. You have ruined the past ten years and more of my life. You will not ruin one more minute and you will not spoil our wedding. You are not welcome at the ceremony and you are not welcome at the party afterward. I am more than willing to bind and gag you and throw you in the stable muck until everyone has left. Or you can stay in your room and drink yourself to death, as you please. Which is it to be?”

For one furious moment, Joanna thought the woman would go mad and launch herself at Giles. Then Eleanor drew herself up and with a sneer on her face said, “I wouldn’t be caught dead at this pitiful little excuse for a wedding, Giles. I don’t believe anyone here will have a title but you, if one can count being a knight as anything much. And as for staying in my room, I shall do so, and be among the best of the company, all by myself. By the way, dear,” she threw at Joanna over her shoulder on her way out, “I thought those were my rubies. A trick of the light, you understand. I certainly wouldn’t bother myself about garnets. They’re such common little stones.”

“Joanna, I’m so sorry,” Giles said gently, taking her hand in his. “I wouldn’t have let her spoil your wedding day for the world.”

“Nothing is spoiled, Giles,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Except you weren’t supposed to see my gown. But since you picked it out, I suppose there’s no harm done.”

Unnoticed by either of them, Lily slipped from the room, shutting the door quietly behind her with a smile on her face.

“I imagine your gown is quite lovely, Joanna,” Giles said, tracing his finger along her cheek. “I do not seem to see anything but your beautiful face when I’m around you, so I can’t be sure.” He bent down and kissed her, gathering her in his arms. His lips were warm and hungry and the kiss deepened even as he pulled her more tightly to him.

Joanna could feel the length of him molding against her, and her heart raced as his tongue found hers.

Then he pulled away gently, drawing in a great, shuddering breath. “I’ve spent these last three weeks holding myself at bay. I suppose it would be self-indulgent, to say the least, to ravish you on the brink of the altar,” he said, his voice husky with desire, his hands working their errant way down the length of her body.

Joanna giggled and buried her face in his neck. He smelled so good, like soap and clean cotton. And the struggle for honor had not been one-sided!

“Eleanor will be gone next week, my darling,” he murmured, inhaling the scent of her clean hair. “I’m sorry I let her stay this long, but I wanted to make sure I could rent a decent establishment for her to solve the problem once and for all. I did not expect her to be this vicious to you.”

“It doesn’t matter, Giles, really it doesn’t. I can see how sick she is. You can see it, too, can’t you? It’s not just the brandy and the way she lives. There’s really something wrong with her mind. I know I haven’t been here that long, but she honestly seems to have grown madder by the day. There is nothing to do but feel sorry for her and not let her have an opportunity to hurt any of us further.”

“You are a good soul, my darling. I don’t know where you find your wellspring of charity. I confess mine is bone dry where Eleanor is concerned.” He planted one more kiss on her forehead. “I’ll go and finish dressing. And in case you are worrying, I’m quite sure I haven’t so much as glanced at your gown.”

Then he was gone, and Joanna turned a smiling face back to her mirror. Lily would have to come back up and fiddle with her hair again. The man was impossible on hairpins!

* * * *

“The ceremony was beautiful, Lady Chapman, and it was so kind of you to invite us. You know, neighbors are few and far between here. It would give us great pleasure, Bertram and myself, if we could have you and Sir Giles over for a little supper party one evening, nothing like the London Season, you understand. I am afraid we are all rather happily provincial, but you are such a lovely bride, and it is a pleasure to see this house alive again. That is, I mean....”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Desmond, we would love to join you,” Joanna picked up the thread as smoothly as she could. She had had any number of such conversations this evening, greeting her guests and her neighbors. It would seem that Lady Eleanor had not endeared herself in the neighborhood, and from the occasional odd remark, it seemed the neighbors had long viewed Queen’s Hall with confusion and distaste. It had been hard enough in the first half hour, hearing herself referred to as Lady Chapman. In the last three weeks, with all the lists and the details to see to, it had not actually occurred to her that she would be a ‘Lady’ anything. She was a bit uncomfortable about it, feeling that any moment now someone would appear and unmask her as a mere vicar’s daughter.

“How much longer?” Giles hissed in her ear. His hand had been straying along her back all evening, occasionally venturing a squeeze just a bit too far down for social decency. Joanna had started and blushed at first, but she had not complained. Indeed, if the truth were known, she was eager to go upstairs, to be alone with Giles, to touch him, to kiss him, this man she had come to love above all things.

“Just a few moments, Giles. They are setting up the card tables now, and I don’t suppose anyone will expect us to play.”

“I don’t care what they expect. I’m taking you upstairs in five minutes if I have to throw you over my shoulder,” he growled in her ear, giving her rump another hard squeeze.

“You have a lovely bride, Sir Giles,” came a pleasant voice. “Where is your stepsister?” The question, a little tentative, had been asked a good many times tonight.

“Eleanor was unable to join us this evening. She had a prior engagement,” Giles said smoothly. “Do you play whist, Mrs. Davis? I see the tables are forming.”

“Oh, indeed I do,” the lady replied with enthusiasm, turning and heading toward the tables.

“Giles, you are dreadful,” Joanna giggled, only to be patted on the derriere again. “I do believe we could slip away now, if you wish to,” she purred in his ear. “They do all seem to be stampeding for the cards.”

He said not a word, taking her arm firmly and shepherding her through the room, nodding and smiling pleasantly at whoever glanced their way. Joanna’s face was flaming by the time they reached the door and disappeared through it.

Once the door was closed behind them, there was a sweet silence in the hallway, bright with candles in the heavy sconces. Giles swept Joanna into his arms and made for the stairs.

“Put me down, Giles,” she remonstrated, laughing. “What if someone sees us?”

“They will think I have been patient long enough,” he muttered gruffly, nibbling at her neck. “And if I carry you, you cannot run away from me.”

In answer, she put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. In no time at all they stood before the door of his room. Kicking it open, he carried her in and set her down gently, his eyes roving over her face as if he would memorize it. He turned back to shut the door, and Joanna looked about her with interest.

“You know, I’ve never even seen your room, Giles,” she said. “Very... masculine...” she trailed off, trying not to laugh. The room was as spartan as an army barracks. Oh, the bed looked soft enough and there was a large dark red comforter spread over it, but nowhere was there a sign that this room was well loved or even much lived in.