Caversham's Bride (The Caversham Chronicles - Book One) (42 page)

It was to be a small family ceremony as she’d requested, christening the newest member of the family, Ren’s son and heir Marcus. Lia pulled the fur-trimmed hood of her cloak lower over her forehead to block some of the wind.

“Cold?” Ren asked.

“Not all of me,” she answered. “Just my ears.”

“Would you like to go in?”

“No. Then I’d have to remove my cloak and my head is almost as bare as Angus’s”

Ren laughed softly. “Not quite, darling,” he said as he held her close sharing his warmth with her. “Bridget did an excellent job cleaning up the mess I made of your hair. It’s grown a great deal since I butchered it, and is really quite chic and feminine.”

Just then, rounding the south side of the cathedral, came the last of their party. Ren’s grandmother, his uncle Angus, and Lia’s two sisters-in-law descended from the shiny black-lacquered coach bearing the Caversham crest.

They greeted one another in front of the massive doors of the church, and Ren ushered them in out of the bitter winter winds. Once inside, Lady Sewell, on the arm of her son, Angus, beamed with pride as she immediately made for her great-grandson, and lovingly lifted him out of the arms of his nurse. Sarah dropped her cloak on the ground, and Elise picked it up. The little girl ran after Luchino, who was quickly becoming her idol because he’d been on a sea voyage and she had not.

Ren helped his wife off with her cloak, and noticed her uneasiness with her close-cropped hair when her hands came up to cover her head. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, whispering, “You’re beautiful darling, and I love you.”

Turning to his sister, Ren asked, “What took you so long? We expected you here twenty minutes ago.”

Elise turned her gold-flecked brown eyes to her big brother and directly held his gaze. “Well, you see, I was having difficulty deciding what to do with my hair.”

Ren winced at his sister’s words, and glanced at his wife, whose eyes were instantly swimming with tears. He turned back to his sister, intent on scolding her for being so insensitive to his wife’s feelings, but his eyes widened in shock as Elise drew back her hood and smiled broad as she removed her cloak.

“So I decided to just cut it all off.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she looked at Lia, adding, “It was so straight and I never could do a thing with it anyway. Also, you should know I’ve asked Bridget to be my maid because she has such a keen eye for style. Goodness knows I’ll need all the help I can get next year.”

Ren roared with laughter, the sound echoing throughout the cavernous cathedral, drawing the gazes of everyone in attendance.

Looking back at him, Elise grinned. “Now, let’s find that cleric,” she said confidently as she strode into the cathedral. “And where is my cousin and Lord Brightman? I’m eager to become a Godmother.”

T
HE
E
ND

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A
UTHOR’S
N
OTE

≈≈≈

P
utting our work “out there” makes most artists feel vulnerable in some way. But, for a few of us, there is nothing in the world we would rather be doing than creating stories that touch the heart, no matter the fear of scrutiny. I hope you enjoyed reading about Ren and Lia as much as I enjoyed writing their story. If you did, please leave a rating or review at the vendor where you purchased this book. Because I truly believe all constructive criticism helps writers better themselves at this craft we love so much.

≈≈≈

Enjoy an excerpt from the next book in the series.

The Caversham Chronicles—Book Two

A
LREADY
H
IS

Sandy Raven

The Caversham Chronicles
continue in Book Two,
Already His
, with the story of Ren’s sister, Elise, and his best friend, Michael.

Available Now

P
ROLOGUE

Woodhenge (near Goring), Summer 1808

M
ichael Brightman, heir to the pile of crumbling stone in which he currently found himself, hurried through the narrow corridors, eager to reach the rooms he kept in this, his uncle’s home. He thought about his odds of finding a willing wench among the kitchen or laundry staff at that moment, but decided against it. And the village was certainly too far to travel in the middle of his older sister Sabrina’s wedding feast, take care of business, and return. Damn his balls, but the past two hours of staring at Miss Stansbury’s delectable decolletage—and envisioning his face planted between those luscious breasts—caused an uncomfortable tightness is his breeches that would need relief soon, whether by his own hand, or a willing woman.

He’d prefer the latter, but in a bind his hand would do.

He hurried through the chilly hallway of the family wing and slowed his pace when he heard the muted sobbing and delicate sniffling of a young lady as he passed the priest hole. The medieval tapestry that hung on the wall to his left had been the handiwork of several of his early female ancestors and their ladies, and had been in that same spot for over three hundred years. Only a few knew the true purpose of the tapestry was not in displaying the battle scene which won the first Earl of Camden his title, but rather it served to hide the entry of a secret passageway. The tiny room hid a stairwell leading to an escape route from the castle that not many knew about, so Michael wondered who it was hiding during his sister’s wedding feast. The room had been a favorite of his and his sisters when they were children. He and Christina used to play in the secret room, and hide from their nurses when they were young. Thinking on it, he hadn’t seen her below in some time, and he just passed Sabrina and his mother, so likely this was Christina. He wondered what had her so upset?

Glancing up and down the corridor and seeing no one, he moved the tapestry and slid behind it. Running his hand along the wall, he reached the open entry to the priest hole which began the escape route his relatives used on more than one occasion when the castle had been attacked.

As expected, he found Christina, in the tiny antechamber to the stairwell, with a solitary taper lit on the table. The room was unchanged since the last time he’d been there, with only one small table and two chairs filling the space.

He stood in the doorway, feeling as though the entire room had grown smaller over the past few years. Michael watched as Christina blew her nose delicately into a linen. His heart wrenched for her, his little sister. “If you had shut the door,” he said, “I never would have heard you weeping.” He put his hand on her back, wanting to give her his sympathy for whatever was breaking her heart. “Why aren’t you below, enjoying the festivities?”

“No reason,” she sniveled and wiped her nose. “I’m simply feeling sorry for myself.”

“I know you better than to believe that nonsense. You’re the least likely girl to feel sorry for herself that I know.” He stroked her back gently. “Come now, dry your eyes.” Michael tried to sound cheerful, thinking to get his sister back out into the great hall where the party was ongoing. “Tell me who it is that has you in tears and I will make sure the bounder pays for your upset.”

“I cannot.”

“Absolutely you can. You know I’m not averse to pummeling the face of the Prince himself if he were the one, though I doubt you’d find him to your liking.”

Christina dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief and shook her artfully arranged golden curls. “No. It would drive a wedge into your friendship. Even though he was not the only young man standing near me, when I turned I saw no one but Glencairn. I just hope Lord Vance did not witness his actions, because
he
is the man I am most interested in. Glencairn, though of noble birth, will certainly wind up a drunken, debauched rake. If he were to ever marry, he will not make the unfortunate young lady a good husband.”

“What did he do?” Michael had to ask, though he was not certain he really wanted to know because he hated the thought of having to call out his friend.

Christina started a convoluted explanation, and in between wiping her tears and blowing her nose, Michael thought he heard her misspeak. “He did
what?
” Michael’s ire rose, especially when he realized of whom she spoke. “Glencairn touched you inappropriately? In front of others? Where?”

She nodded.

“Christina, tell me exactly what did Glencairn do?” Before he pounded his friend’s face into a bloody pulp, he wanted to be certain of his actions.

“We were leaving the dance floor after a long, exhausting country dance, where Mr. Hampton was my partner, and Glencairn partnered Miss Prudence Chichester. There was such a crowd on the way to the refreshment table as it was the end of a set. Lord Vance was nearby, on my left, and Glencairn was directly behind me. I felt a large warm hand, masculine to be sure, touch me...” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “on my...” she seemed to struggle with saying where Ren touched her.

“Where did he touch you Christina?”

She pushed the heavy wooden door closed, and whispered, “He more than touched my bottom, Michael, he... he
squeezed
it! I have never been so shocked in all my life. That’s when I turned around to see your friend standing directly behind me acting nonchalantly, as though what he’d done was of no consequence.”

His sister went into another bout of tears, repeating her fear that Vance might have seen what Ren did, and that her chances with him were now forever ruined. Michael wanted to slam his fist into Ren’s ugly mug for what he did to cause his sister such distress. He knew better than anyone what a profligate rake his friend was. Michael had to warn him away from ever touching his sister again. At sixteen, Christina was too young and innocent for the likes of him.

Michael had heard enough. He wanted nothing more than to pummel his friend into the ground for taking liberties with his sister, but held his anger in check for her sake. He strode from the room, and went in search of Lord Glencairn, his best friend for ten years, since their very first day at Eton when they were both eight years old. The bounder had touched his sister inappropriately and by damn he would apologize to her.

Michael found Ren in the old castle’s receiving room which was the official card room for the evening. He sat with one of his new brother-in-law’s relations, Michael forgot the fop’s name, and several other young rakes, most of whom were older than they, Lord Vance among them. As Michael drew nearer, his friend met his gaze and gave him a lazy smile, likely influenced by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed.

Ren stood. “Would you like my seat Michael? I’m thinking about asking Miss Chichester for another dance. Hopefully a country dance where she has to skip a time or two.” His friend leaned in closer and whispered, “I keep hoping those glorious breasts of hers will come bouncing out of that low cut gown.”

Michael had heard enough. He swung first and clipped Ren on the jaw.

“What in hell was that for?”

“I think you know,” Michael hissed as he swung again, only this time Ren was able to deflect the blow.

The other guests in the room leaped from their chairs and cleared the floor for the two young bucks to fight.

“Is this about Prudence Chichester?” Ren said as he kept out of Michael’s reach. “I didn’t know you were interested in her.”

He shook his head, swung at Ren again who deflected his strike.

“Are you drunk, Michael? I’ll admit to having a few myself, but not....” Ren swung, Michael ducked and came around, only to feel the force behind his friend’s punch to his rib cage.

Michael grabbed Ren and wrestled him to the ground. “Did you touch my sister inappropriately?” He hissed only loud enough for Ren to hear his words. Heaven forbid that action were made public. It could ruin Christina.