A Scoundrel by Moonlight (33 page)

Fentonwyck, Christmas Eve

As Sedgemoor’s haughty butler showed them to the drawing room, Nell’s grip on James’s fingers tightened to bruising. He cast her a faint smile. “You’ve been here before, my love,” he murmured. “You can’t be nervous.”

“Can’t I?” she muttered.

He had to admit their surroundings were daunting. The house was huge, and not even the Christmas greenery decorating the walls made it feel cozy. It was late, close to midnight.

“Buck up, darling,” he said softly, and to her embarrassment, kissed her.

For one blazing moment, she lost herself in pleasure. Then she started with dismay and wrenched away as far as his hold permitted.

Which wasn’t far.

“We’re in public,” she whispered, eyeing the butler who
waited at a closed door, ostentatiously not looking in their direction.

“I don’t care,” James replied, and this time he didn’t keep his voice down. He drew her back for another kiss, more thorough than the first.

She swam up from a sensual daze to a smattering of applause. At first, she thought it was her heart cavorting after James’s kiss or some new aftereffect of her head injury. Then she opened her eyes to realize that the butler had flung open the door and she and James stood in full view of a room jammed with people.

“Oh, you… absolute stinker,” she hissed, fighting to break free, but he caught her hand.

“Shall I announce your lordship?” the butler asked, staring above James’s head while Nell’s cheeks turned scarlet.

“I think we’ve made our entrance, thank you,” James said drily and stepped into the crowded room. “Good evening, everyone.”

Nell braced her shoulders, raised her chin and plastered a smile onto her face. Not before she shot James a killer look beneath her lashes. She’d get even for his antics later.

“Leath, Miss Trim.” With a delighted smile, Sir Richard Harmsworth strode toward them. “We feared you wouldn’t arrive tonight.”

“We broke an axle outside Chesterfield.” James shook the man’s hand.

Sir Richard turned to the other people. “Leath, you know Genevieve, Sidonie, and Jonas. Have you met Lady Marianne Seaton, the Marquess of Baildon’s daughter, and Lord Wilmott, the duchess’s brother?”

Nell curtsied to a lovely woman with the face of a madonna who stood beside a tall, dark-haired man resembling Penelope Rothermere. Sir Richard continued his
introductions. “That leaves Mr. and Mrs. Simon Metcalf. Lydia is Cam’s sister, Miss Trim. Leath knows her from London, but I’m not sure if he’s met Simon before.”

“Metcalf.” James nodded to the lean blond man with his arm around a striking redhead.

Another couple approached. The handsome young man bore an even closer likeness to the duchess and the pretty girl was familiar, thanks to a portrait in the marchioness’s apartments at Alloway Chase.

“James, I thought you’d never get here.” The girl pouted as she flung her arms around her brother. After an enthusiastic greeting, she withdrew and surveyed Nell with a hint of reserve. “May I call you Eleanor?”

“Of course, Lady Sophie,” Nell said, curtsying.

After hearing so much about James’s sister, she felt as if she already knew this girl. She wondered what Lady Sophie had heard about her. The marchioness remained frosty since her brilliant son had relinquished his political career in favor of country life. It was no secret that she blamed Nell.

“And this reprobate is Harry Thorne,” James said.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Trim.” With a genuine smile, Mr. Thorne bowed over her hand.

“There are such a lot of people here,” Eleanor said shakily.

Simon Metcalf smiled too. “You’ll work us out eventually. At least Lydia’s the only carrot top. That makes her easy to spot.”

“You’ll pay for that, darling,” his wife said, then looked at Eleanor. “Actually there’s even more. You must meet our daughter Rose who is safely in the nursery with Sidonie and Jonas’s daughter Consuela.”

James’s eyes searched the room. “Where are the Sedgemoors?”

Nell, overwhelmed with unfamiliar faces, hadn’t realized that the duke and duchess were absent. Now it struck her as ominous that Sir Richard played host in another man’s house.

“Is everything all right?” she asked quickly.

“Pen was delivered of a boy this evening. Cam’s upstairs with her.” Lady Hillbrook kissed Nell on the cheek with a warmth she appreciated. Now that the introductions were over, she relaxed a little. “By the way, I love your hair. Once the London ladies catch sight of it, the cropped style will be all the rage.”

“Thank you.” Self-consciously, she touched her cap of curls. “I hope everything went well for Her Grace and the baby.”

The duchess had been so kind when Nell had arrived at Fentonwyck in her misguided attempt to destroy James. Although it was only weeks, those days seemed so long ago.

“Like a dream, I gather, although I suspect Pen mightn’t completely agree,” Genevieve said, behind Lady Hillbrook. “There was some concern because the baby is a little earlier than anticipated.”

Her hug reminded Nell that not everyone here was a stranger. And James was by her side. She refused to turn tail and run at this, her first social engagement in her new role.

“Sedgemoor’s spent most of the day skulking in his library, jumpy as a flea.” Lord Hillbrook’s saturnine face broke into a welcoming smile. “Miss Trim, you’re here on a portentous night.”

James smiled down at Nell. He looked completely besotted, she was glad to see. His grip on her hand firmed as he faced the crowded room. “Actually we’ve had quite a portentous time ourselves.”

“Miss Trim, do tell,” Sir Richard said. “Your life seems to be continual adventure.”

“I think…” Nell swallowed to calm her nerves. “I think I’ve embarked upon my greatest adventure yet.”

The guests’ curiosity surged as she glanced toward James. She wanted him to make the announcement to these people she sincerely hoped would become her friends.

The pride in his eyes was unmistakable. “Miss Trim is Miss Trim no longer.” He paused, and she thought what a compelling parliamentary speaker he must be, with his flair for the dramatic. “Yesterday Eleanor made me the happiest of men when she became my wife.”

Leath smiled to observe Eleanor engulfed in heartfelt congratulations. Since accepting his proposal, she’d been reticent about her fears. But he knew her well enough to guess that insecurities still plagued her.

To ease her into life as his marchioness, he’d arranged a quiet wedding at the chapel at Alloway Chase. He hadn’t even invited Sophie, who was regarding him with shock from a few feet away. He shrugged a silent apology in her direction. Given how she’d thrown her hat over a windmill when she fell in love, she was in no position to point the finger.

To his relief, her pretty face relaxed into a smile. He hadn’t been sure of her reaction. His mother must have confided her bitter disappointment over his recent decisions. The dowager marchioness had relented enough to attend his wedding. James had high hopes that by the time their first child arrived, she’d forget Eleanor’s humble beginnings and recall only how she’d always liked her.

“Have you started the party without me?” Sedgemoor asked from behind Leath.

The buzz of happy chatter faded to silence. Harmsworth approached his friend with his hand extended. “I’m so happy for you, old man.”

“Thank you,” Sedgemoor said, ignoring the outstretched hand and embracing his friend.

“But the spotlight isn’t just on the new addition to your family, you know. Leath and Miss Trim were married yesterday.”

“Good God, that man steals my thunder at every opportunity,” Sedgemoor said.

Once that might have been a sneer. Now it made Leath clap him on the back. “Congratulations, Your Grace. I thought I’d save some money and have the wedding breakfast here.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Sedgemoor said with a laugh.

The room erupted into cacophony. Leath’s hand was wrung until it felt likely to drop off. People who hugged Sedgemoor moved on as a matter of course to congratulate him and kiss Eleanor. The ladies admired the delicate gold wedding ring and pestered Sedgemoor for details of the baby. The gentlemen called Leath a lucky dog and he had no reason to doubt their sincerity. After all, he was a lucky dog.

The butler appeared at the door and cast a cool eye over the crowd. He signaled behind him and footmen began to serve champagne.

When everyone had a glass, Hillbrook’s deep voice cut through the noise. “I’d like to propose a toast, firstly to the new generation of Rothermeres. May the son be worthy of his parents, two of the finest people it is my privilege to know.” He paused. “I’d also like to congratulate Lord Leath and his beautiful bride. May their days overflow with happiness and love.”

“Hear, hear,” Harmsworth said.

As everyone drank to the future, Leath’s throat closed on a lump of emotion. He reached for his wife’s hand. Eleanor glanced at him with perfect understanding and moved nearer to whisper, “I love you.”

Sedgemoor smiled with an open joy that devastated his public reputation as a coldhearted automaton. “Thank you, my friends. I couldn’t ask for a better way to celebrate my son’s birth than to have you all here for our first Christmas as a married couple.”

That boulder in his throat meant that Leath’s voice emerged without its usual resonance. “On behalf of my dearest Eleanor and myself, I’d like to thank you. Words fail me when I try and say how delighted I am that she consented to become my wife.”

He was a man famous for his eloquence, but that was as much as he could manage. When he looked around the room and met the warm gazes focused on him, he realized that these people knew the way love could transform a life, the way love had transformed him. The smiles said it all.

“Thank you, my darling,” Eleanor said beside him. Then, to his astonishment, she rose on her toes and kissed him. He hadn’t expected her to feel comfortable in this glittering milieu, but the welcome had smoothed her passage from maid to marchioness. He caught a quick taste of champagne from her lips, along with the delicious flavor of Eleanor.

Sedgemoor tapped Leath’s shoulder as he released his wife. “Before you get settled here, old man, bring your bride to see Pen.”

Eleanor was close enough to hear. “We don’t want to intrude.”

Sedgemoor smiled at her. “She’d love you to visit. She’s not up to a room full of people yet, but if she finds out you’ve
just been married and she didn’t have a chance to wish you well in person, she’ll curse my name.” Pride lit his face. “And I’d love to show off my son.”

Upstairs in the duchess’s luxurious apartments, everything was quiet order. The room was elegant, made exceptional by the magnificent paintings on the walls. Leath had barely a moment to note a Titian and a Rembrandt and a Claude—and dear Lord, was that a Goya of the duchess
en dishabille
?

Dressed in a pale blue peignoir, Her Grace sat in an elaborate bed. Her head bent over the velvet-wrapped bundle in her arms. When Leath and Eleanor followed Sedgemoor into the room, she glanced up. Her eyes rested on her husband with such love that Leath felt he and Eleanor interrupted a private moment.

Before he could make his excuses, her smile encompassed them. Her shining black hair was caught in a loose knot and she looked tired but triumphant. “Lord Leath, what a pleasure. And Miss Trim, how lovely to see you, and with a stylish new coiffure. I’m piqued to miss out on the party.”

Sedgemoor settled on the edge of the bed and unselfconsciously wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You’ve had quite enough partying today, my love.”

“Yes, Christmas came early this year.” She stared down at her sleeping, dark-haired son.

“We’re so happy for you, Your Grace,” Eleanor said. “Congratulations to both of you.”

The duchess smiled. “Thank you. And given you’re the first of our friends to see the Rothermere heir, you ought to call me Penelope, Miss Trim.”

“Miss Trim no longer,” the duke said with a soft laugh. “I know the doctor said no visitors until tomorrow, but when Leath told me that he and this lady married yesterday, I knew you’d want to wish them happy.”

The duchess’s smile widened. “How wonderful. We all hoped, of course.”

Leath held Eleanor’s hand and he felt her start. “You did?” she asked.

“Of course. We could see that you were head over heels in love and that once you’d sorted out your difficulties, you’d be perfect for each other.”

“Th-thank you,” Eleanor said, and Leath saw the moment when she accepted that these exceptional people had never considered her an unsuitable marchioness.

She stood with new confidence. He didn’t make the mistake of thinking that everyone in society would welcome his humbly born wife, but then, these days, he was perfectly happy to enjoy the approval of those who mattered and ignore the rest. Since renouncing his political ambitions, he felt ten years younger. Ten years younger and virile as a randy adolescent.

“Come and meet my son,” Sedgemoor said softly.

As Leath and Eleanor approached, the duchess held out the baby, who briefly opened his eyes on a soft complaint before closing them again. “Let me introduce Richard Peter Thorne Rothermere, Marquess of Pembridge.”