His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) (26 page)

He caught her hand and kissed it. The heat of it radiated into her body, raced like floodwater along her nerves to her very core. She lifted her face and he kissed her, his lips tender, soft, searching.

“Lucius,” she whispered. “I can’t, not tonight. Not while grandfather....”

“I know.” He leant his forehead against hers. “God knows it burns me to not have you here and now, but I will not press you, not while your grandfather has breath.”

His kindness, his concern and care for her brought her to tears again. He leaned in and with the tip of his tongue whisked them away.

She breathed in, savouring the scent of him, savouring the scent of the warm summer night, the strength of his arms around her. She rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder, just where she had known it would fit. He held her gently, cradling her, his lips against her curls.

At last she pulled away, replete and renewed by his quiet strength.

“We should go back,” she said. “But, for tonight at least, I do not want to share...”

“A bed with me.”

Emmaline stopped, a little frown puckering her brow. “How did you know?”

“Sweetheart
.” Lucius tucked her arm in his. “I am not such a profligate as to be insensitive as to how you might feel. Tonight you sleep in your own bed and I will sleep alone.”

“Can you do that?” Emmaline’s eyes grew wide with wonder, his understanding touched her soul and she loved him all the more
for it.

“With difficulty,” Lucius said gravely, “for I have long wanted to ravish you.”

A flush rose in Emmaline’s cheeks as she pictured them naked and in bed together. He had never said he loved her, had only said he wanted her, but for now that was enough. “I have heard that gentlemen are eager for their wedding night and I understand the mechanics of mating but ....”

Beside her Lucius h
alted in mid-stride and looked down at her. He started to chuckle. The chuckle grew to a roaring gale of laughter that coasted away on the night air and bent him double.

“Well,” Emmaline said stiffly. “I don’t see what was so funny.”

He turned her to him and kissed her thoroughly.

“One day I hope
you will.” He kissed her again, tasting her lips, her tongue, cradling her head, wanting all of her, wanting to feel the weight of her naked breasts in his hands, wanted to ease the ache of his body in the warmth of hers. “Come. You get some rest while I relieve Peggy and sit with your grandfather. This, I think, is going to be a long night.”

CHAPTER 20

The long night turned into three long days with the doctor calling every day, shaking his head in sad surprise that Sir Miles still clung to life.

Emmaline and Peggy took turns in the sick room. Lucius, thinking ahead to a time when he and Emmaline would leave Baymoor House, had Partridge open up the carriage house and inspected the brougham, phaeton and gig he found there.

“We’ll need the brougham to take us to Honiton,” Lucius said. “Can you and Reuben take care of refurbishing it?”

“Indeed, milord. And we’ll tidy up the old gelding that pulls it.”

“Thank you. Once in Honiton I can collect my own chaise from the Golden Lion.”

Lucius wrote to Caroline and Juliana and sent instructions to Edward and Mrs. Hammond, his housekeeper at Avondale Park. Emmaline wrote her own letter to Jul
iana and also to Mrs. Babbidge. Reuben took these to the mail office in Sidmouth and rode on into Exeter to summons Sir Miles’ lawyer, Francis Brook, who came as requested.

Impressed by the man’s considerate manner as he explained the terms of the trust to Emmaline, and appreciating Sir Miles’ reasoning, Lucius saw no need to involve his own lawyer to protect her assets.

As they walked through the fields that evening in the gathering dusk, Emmaline turned the events of the day over in her mind. At least her grandfather had not turned Baymoor into a home for old soldiers as she had feared he might. Had that happened, how would she have had the heart to evict them when her own family needs took precedence?

Family. She had never much thought about having her own family, had only ever thought in terms of the family she had lost and was now losing. Her brow creased as she considered having children of her own. Would she be a good mother? Without a mother of her own to learn from, would she instinctively know what to do?

“Your thoughts seem to concern you deeply,” Lucius said as he ambled beside her. “Is there anything with which I can assist you?”

Emmaline stopped and looked up at him. A spark of mischief bubbled beneath her gravity.

“Not at the moment, thank you.” She tried to keep her voice even. “But later I think I shall be delighted to accept your assistance.”

He caught the hint of laughter in her voice, the glint in her eyes and a smile curved his lips upward.

“Why, I do believe you are considering the full implications of becoming Lady Clifton,” he said appreciatively.

They strolled on through the hazy meadows, stopping only to pet the black horse Onyx who grazed steadily beside Emmaline’s grey mare, Sadie, and did not return to the house until the air began to chill. Lucius relieved Peggy at Sir Miles’ bedside and promised to wake Emmaline later.

She slid between the sheets in her own bed but could not sleep. Knowing that she was on the cusp of leaving one life and starting another, questions she could not yet answer tumbled through her mind.

How would the staff at Avondale Park receive her? Lucius had talked about all of them but they had no knowledge of her. What was the news in Town? Had Juliana and her great-aunt managed to avoid slights and disapproval since her departure? At the point of sleep claiming her, she heard footsteps on the landing and instantly threw back the covers.

Opening the door she came face to face with Lucius. The light from the candle he held illuminated his features and she saw with some dismay the circles under his eyes.

“He’s sleeping, but fitfully so. I believe his temperature is increased,” he said.

“Thank you.” Emmaline took the candle. “I
will sit with him till morning.”

She hesitantly lifted her face. With a slight smile Lucius leaned in, kissed her gently and wished her goodnight.

Once in her grandfather’s room, Emmaline held the back of her hand against his cheek. He was hot, fitful. His head twisted on the pillow and his hands twitched. Emmaline poured some water into the bowl on the night stand, soaked a towel and laid it across his forehead and continued to replace each warmed towel with a fresh, cool one until he slipped into a calmer sleep.

When she was sure he was comfortable, she settled herself in the easy chair by the window. Plumping up the cushions, she eased them under her elbows and tipped her head back.

They were all tired, she reflected. Peggy, she knew, would do anything for her grandfather but Lucius need not have stepped in as he had done.

How lucky she was to have him, she thought drowsily. She pictured his steady hands, heard his comforting voice. Sleep that eluded her while in bed now laid siege to her. She tried valiantly to keep her eyes open but it was a one sided battle to which she gradually acceded.

***

She awoke to complete and utter silence. It enveloped her as surely as the dense and impenetrable blankets of fog that sometimes rolled in off the bay. Struggling against it, she pushed her way up through the weight pressing in on her.

And then she knew.

She rushed to the bedside, saw that the strain etched lines around her grandfather’s mouth and eyes, the wrinkles on his brow that had been so pronounced a day earlier, were now all gone leaving his face relaxed and almost young looking.

Tenderly Emmaline straightened the sheets over him, brushed the hair back from his forehead and cheeks. Taking his limp hands she laid them on his chest then sank to her knees, rested her chin on her folded hands and whispered rapid prayers.

Lucius, looking in a few moments later, paused and then went to her. He helped her to her feet and put his arms around her, stroked her hair but said nothing, for what was there that one could say?

Together they went down to the kitchen. Peggy took one look at them, immediately covered her face with her apron and noisily sobbed into it. The doctor and Reverend Tucker were summoned and the day went by in a blur for them all. Amidst all the necessary arrangements being made for the funeral, Emmaline’s luggage arrived, prompting her to put pen to paper and immediately send the news to her aunt.

Au
gust was no month for a funeral Emmaline thought as, two days later, they set out from Baymoor for Sidmouth parish church.

The sun was already high in the sky, the heat beating down on them although it was not yet noon. The pair of black horses drawing the hearse, plumes decorating their bridles and black velvet tasselled cloths thrown over their backs, already had a fine sheen of sweat on their necks.

Advised by Mrs. Partridge that as a new bride she need not wear full mourning, Emmaline was thankful for her dove grey muslin gown worn with a black silk bonnet and gloves. She and Lucius walked in silence behind the hearse, Emmaline lost in her own thoughts and unaware of the growing procession. Villagers, waiting beside the road joined the mourners, their shuffling feet raising the dust around them.

The tolling of the church bell brought many more people to the service. Emmaline shook hands and said ‘thank you’ to those who offered their condolences without knowing who many of them were. That her grandfather had been well respected was obvious but she was still thankful when the day was over.

She and Lucius took their customary evening walk, neither feeling the need to talk, neither wanting to broach the subject of where Emmaline would sleep that night or when they should leave. The air cooled. A fitful gust of wind off the bay played through the tree tops and rippled the grass as it whispered past. Night clouds as heavy and purple as ripe plums, their edges burnished by the setting sun, formed on the horizon.

Emmaline sighed and looked up at Lucius.

“We should go back,” she said softly. “I have my boxes to unpack and repack and...”

“Leave it if you wish.” Lucius shifted her hand from the crook of his elbow and closed his long fingers around hers. “We will stop in Bath for a few days before going on to Avondale. I know of several modistes and milliners who will be delighted to furnish you with their wares at my expense.”

For a moment Emmaline digested this information. Then she peeped up at Lucius from under her lashes.

“Yes, but are they reputable?”

Lucius laughed. “Very saucy of you, my dear. But, as you know something of Bath, perhaps there are shops you would prefer to frequent?”

“None that I know of, for I was very young when I was at school and paid no attention to such things.”

“And now you are such an antidote.”

She appreciated the teasing gleam in his eyes and when they reached the stile gripped his hand a little more tightly as
Lucius assisted her over it. She turned to him and even in the gathering gloom he could see the question in her eyes.

“Not until you’re ready, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

Emmaline nodded her thanks, wished him a good night and went to her room. This must be a dream, she thought as she removed her clothes. She had married one of the richest men in the
ton
. Not only rich, but kind and understanding to a fault.

How could she be so lucky? And when would it all come crashing down around her ears?

CHAPTER 2
1

Lady Rosemary Darnley surveyed herself in the mirror. She tweaked a curl in to place and looked carefully for any signs of silver in her titian hair. One or two strands showed occasionally and were quickly taken care of with the lightest touch of henna to hide them.

Although above forty, her skin was still smooth and free of wrinkles other than the fine lines that fanned out from the corners of her emerald green eyes.

Green eyes that captivated the elderly Earl of Barkwith who swept her from the itinerant life she led with a troop of performers into the equally itinerant life of the
ton
.

They were, she remembered, always on the move and, although the coaches were better sprung and much more comfortable than the actors’ wagons, it was not the life she had envisioned.

An overwhelming concern for his health meant they journeyed from London to Tunbridge Wells for Lord Darnley to take the iron rich Chalybeate spring waters. This, it was reputed, cured infertility, hangovers and obesity. The first was undoubtedly a consideration, the second and third of no consequence as Lord Darnley never touched alcohol and ate sparingly as recommended by his doctor.

Rosemary cursed the infernal doctor who also recommended Brighton for the bathing and sea air. So bracing and healthful.

From Brighton Lord Darnley insisted on visiting Bath for its hot springs and pump room, followed by a stop at Cheltenham spa for the alkaline waters there. Next on the itinerary was York to visit an elderly aunt before retiring at last to his country seat in Lincolnshire for the winter.