Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (25 page)

Ren shook his head, moved the dresses, and sat in the chair. “Don’t worry, we won’t be in London but a day. Two at most. I detest this time of year in the city. My sisters, Elise and Sarah, are with my grandmother in the country.”

Lia exhaled, and visibly relaxed, but it was only momentary.

“I’m also afraid of the questions everyone will have. How will we explain our meeting? And marriage? If they knew that I was purchased by you, I will surely be shunned by society. So will you. Even a peer of the realm must adhere to certain societal mores.”

Ren was touched that she would think of him. His mistresses, and later Margaret, certainly never thought beyond what he could give them, or do for them. He felt a stab of guilt as he remembered comparing her to them.

“I’ve given this a great deal of thought, Lia. I’ve concluded that we should stick as close to the truth as possible, to prevent any questions that might arise later should our stories differ by any degree.”

“How do I explain meeting you in the palace of Prince Hakim?”

“You were there visiting your friend Maysun, a native of your country, who is one of the Prince’s wives.” When he saw her questioning gaze, he added, “They do not need to know she is a concubine.”

Lia smiled. “You are right.”

“You’ll say that we met, fell instantly in love, and wanted to wed as soon as possible.” He smiled. “The men will know why I married you the moment they see you.”

Ren moved the pillows aside and sat on the bed, resting against the wall. “We then went directly to Genoa, where you had been living with a relative, and were wed by your priest, with the blessings of your aunt. No need to give her name at all. It may be a difficult stretch for us to imagine, but I don’t think anyone from my set is familiar with any obscure Italian nobility, so I do not foresee a problem there.

“As your parents are deceased and you are responsible for your younger brother, we naturally brought him to England with us, to live together in harmony for the rest of our days.”

She obviously understood the sarcasm tinging his voice. Lia nearly choked on his much-polished version of the truth, and sat on the edge of the bed, holding the rose muslin gown to her chest. “That’s quite a tale. I hope it will work.”

“It
will
work,” Ren said confidently. “Your brother knows no more than that your aunt was cruel to you both, and that when we returned for him you argued. What head of a family doesn’t argue when their charge suddenly claims she wishes to marry a man they do not know?”

“But, what if she begins to talk? And spreads tales and half-truths that would surely be fodder for the gossips? Even though she is still in Genoa, she knows many well-connected people, and I am afraid it is only a matter of time before her lies reach England. What would we do then?”

“First, she doesn’t know who I am. And, anyone who knows me will believe what I say, or face my wrath should they spread such malicious lies. We counter her tales, with tales of our own. Such as her bouts with insanity, especially since the death of her husband, who squandered what was left of the family’s fortune, leaving them nearly destitute with only a title for her adolescent son, and hopes of a good match for her daughter.”

Ren watched as his wife considered his words. “Do you understand, Lia?”

She smiled. “Yes, and I will do my part to make this work.” She held another dress up for his approval. A pale blue-green with a daringly low-cut, rounded bodice. She looked at him curiously. “What about this one?”

“Do you have a scarf, or fichu, to put into the neckline?” She shook her head. “Well then, I rather like the first. You are right, it looks like it will cover more than those others,” Ren motioned to the stack tossed over the trunk. “I will have a seamstress come to the house and take measurements for the rest of your wardrobe. You will need more than just these few dresses.”

“But what do I wear tomorrow?”

“Sweetheart, it really doesn’t matter what you wear. You’re my duchess now.”

He had hoped his words would reassure her. Instead they brought on a fresh bout of nervous pacing.

She stopped suddenly, her eyes wide with fear. “Oh my God!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’d forgotten! I’m the wife of a duke! I do not play the silly games polite society is so fond of. What will everyone think of me?”

“Not to worry, my dear,” he reassured. “We can spend a quiet season this year. Being newly married, everyone will understand.” He placed a hand over her lower belly. “Especially if you get with child.” She huffed and shoved his hand away and turned back to contemplate the outfits before her. “Although we will have to do the season next year for my sister’s come out,” he continued. “By then, you will have had plenty of time to acclimate to your station and my lifestyle. In a few months you will have a feel for the political undercurrent through the country. You’ll learn who is married to whom, and who holds power and influence over society. And I will never be far from your side, or someone might think to steal you away. Of course, then I’d have to kill him.”

Lia huffed, then tossed the dress she held at him. A fluffy cloud of white cambric landed on his face, as she began to ramble on in Italian about how men never understand anything.

Ren draped the dress over the back of the chair and smiled as he left the cabin to fetch a bottle of wine. Wine always calmed her. It had also proved to be a potent aphrodisiac with his little wife.

Yes, this situation called for a bottle of his best. And several hours with no interruptions.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

T
he next morning Ren’s ships sailed up the Thames, winding their way to the Port of London. Lia stood next to her husband on the wheel deck of
Warlock
, which followed
Sea Witch
and
Sorceress
into port. She watched in amazement as they crept past hundreds of other ships and barges of all sizes, loaded with every manner of cargo. Canals, large and small, branched off from the river on both sides. Buildings stacked in rows lined the river, some as tall as five stories. The three ships in their group continued slowly upriver, finally furling their sails and dropping anchor near the London Bridge, behind a magnificent four-story, stone-faced structure which Ren identified as The New Custom House.

Throngs of people moved about the dock. Longshoremen loaded and unloaded crates, customs officials inspected cargo, businessmen supervised their investments, children scurried about, and women of a dubious profession sought clients.

Lia shivered in her cloak, and Ren wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his warmth. For most of the past four days, it had either rained or misted lightly, leaving everything damp. It seemed even her very bones were wet, which only magnified the chill in the air.

“Spring in London is dreary for the most part,” Ren said, as they stood near the rail facing the customs office. “But it’s not like this at Haldenwood. Right now, the pastures are green and filled with lambs and calves cavorting near their mothers. The sun seems to shine more outside of London, too. Flowers are beginning to bloom and, more importantly, the air is fresher.”

“I have noticed the smell.” Lia turned into his embrace, burying herself in his warmth. “I just assumed it was the odor of the docks.”

“It does get better the further from the river you get, but not much. Everyone says you get used to it, eventually. I never did. That’s why I reside at Haldenwood, only coming to Town when necessary for business.”

“I can see why. How far away is your home, this—” Lia struggled for the correct pronunciation. “—Hal-den-wood?”

“On horseback it takes me four to four and a half hours. Although I did do it in about three once, and nearly ruined a good horse in the process. It’s about six to six and a half hours by coach, depending on how many times we have to stop.”

Lia turned a curious gaze to him.

He grinned down at her and explained, “It never fails that one or the other of my sisters needs to stop every two hours. It wouldn’t be so bad if they could coordinate their need to relieve themselves.”

Realization of what he meant caused Lia to smile. “I shall restrict my needs to only the direst of emergencies, Your Grace,” she said, turning away from him.

“Just don’t make yourself uncomfortable doing so,
Your Grace
,” he whispered into her ear.

She noticed the tinge of humor in his voice when he used her new title. It was another subtle reminder that she was now his wife. Not that she needed reminding. Her nerves had been doing that for the past twenty-four hours, making her queasy at the thought of facing life as a member of the nobility now, as it was not something she’d expected.

Ren led her down to the main deck. Angus waited for them, holding a small johnboat steady and even with the deck.

“I’ll lower ye after ye all get in,” the old Scot said to Ren.

“Has someone sent for my carriage?”

“Aye, Flynn’s sent a lad up to the house a’ready to notify ’em of yer arrival.”

Ren lifted Lia by the waist. The heat from his large hands holding her warmed her insides, reminding her of his tender loving that very morning. Over the past three weeks, Lia had come to realize that it didn’t matter how the two of them met, she was happy now that he was in her life. She was starting to think there might be an agreeable future in store for them. It was what she’d been praying for since they’d married. He set her carefully down on one of the seats in the small boat, and climbed in after her, taking the seat opposite, facing her. Two crewmen also climbed in, and once all were settled, Angus ordered the boat lowered to the water.

The sailor behind Lia used an oar to push them away from
Warlock
then began to row them toward the crowded dock. Ren pointed out some of the major landmarks to her. “This first bridge is London Bridge. Just past that, if you can see it, is the Southwark Bridge. It’s still under construction, but should be completed soon.”

She tried to get a glimpse of the new bridge through the forest of masts and sails in front of them, but could not. When they pulled up alongside the pier at Billingsgate, one crewmen climbed onto it, and tied them off, while the other held them in place. Shivering from the cold, damp winds, Lia remained as still as she could, afraid to fall into the murky waters of the river should the boat tip over. Ren was next out. When he reached the dock, he extended his hand to her and lifted her up.

His hand warmed hers as she took it. “Even through your gloves I can tell your hands are like ice.” He wrapped his arms about her, warming her. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, “We need to get you into a hot bath. Perhaps I’ll even join you.”

She pretended to ignore him as she led the way up the narrow wooden steps from the landing to street level, but his words did melt her insides. The crewmen rowed back out to the ship, leaving them alone among the crowd on the dock.

They waited only a few minutes until a closed carriage came around the corner through the dockside traffic to stop behind the Custom House. The driver stood in his perch and scanned the heads of the people below him. Ren caught the man’s attention with a virtually unnoticeable lift of his hand. As the carriage neared, Lia sucked in her breath when she saw the glossy black finish with its ducal crest and the impeccably liveried driver. A footman in matching attire held the door open for them and Ren handed her up into the carriage. She sank into the deep squabs of dark gray velvet, taking the seat facing forward. Ren sat opposite her. When the vehicle lurched forward, she cried out, “No, stop!”

“What is it?,” Ren asked, leaning toward her.

“My brother? Aren’t we going to wait for him?”

“Don’t worry about Lucky. Cully will bring your brother with him when he comes to the house this afternoon.” She sat back, relaxing only slightly. “This way,” Ren continued, “you’ll get to rest and freshen up before he arrives.”

She crossed her arms and exhaled a deep, aggravated breath. “I don’t know why men think women need so much rest,” she muttered in Italian. “I have done nothing but rest for the entire time I was on your ship.”

He moved to sit next to her, then wrapped his arms about her, he whispered in her ear, “We did get some exercise during our voyage, wife.” His hot breath sent shivers through her, arousing her again, causing her to feel no more than an animal because of how easily he did so. “If you’ve forgotten, and are not tired, we can refresh your memory.” His finger lightly traced a path along her jaw, down her neck, stopping at the top button of her cloak. “Beginning with our bath.”

Lia sighed and melted into his embrace, smiling to herself as she rested her head on his chest. She cuddled nearer his warmth, comforted by his arms around her. It would be so easy to fall in love with him. So easy. But she had to keep in mind theirs was an arrangement, not a love match. And even though they shared passion, it wasn’t love.

She stared in wide-eyed wonder at all the passing sites. It was so unlike her home outside Naples. So different. Occasionally she would ask Ren what a building or landmark was, and he’d tell her. The docks were crowded, but the streets were positively overflowing with people. Traffic was heavy as they moved through the city at a crawl. She’d never seen such a multitude of inhabitants in one city. Seeing all the people moving about caused her to wonder what their jobs were, what purpose motivated their being where they were at that moment.