“Darling, what could I do? I had to get Lady Gilham out of her house that night to let Réal in to rifle it.”
“You didn’t have to take her dress off!”
“She took it off herself.”
“You didn’t have to take her to a private room at an inn.”
“Where else could I take her in the middle of the night in the winter? You knew when you agreed to marry me that I sometimes have to do unusual things in my work,” he pointed out as his fingers crept up her arms, pulling her closer to him by small degrees.
“Not so unusual for you, in this particular case,” she countered.
“To embrace any woman but you is unusual for me,” he said ardently, “and highly distasteful. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.”
“You were doing it pretty well for someone who didn’t want to do it,’’ she said, her anger dwindling to pique.
“I can do it much better if you’ll let me show you,” he said in an insinuating voice as sweet and smooth as honey.
Her breath caught in her lungs, causing a strangling sensation as his arms enfolded her. He pulled her onto his lap, where he was soon doing it much more enthusiastically, till her head spun in dizzying circles.
“Dick, don’t. We shouldn’t,’’ she said, reluctantly lifting her head to smile down at him. His face was shadowed, but the streak of light from the window cast its prominent features into relief. She gazed, unable to believe that wonderful Belami wanted her.
“Yes, we should. Often,” he disagreed softly and put one warm hand on her throat to lower her lips to his. They were soft, yielding, infinitely sweet. He felt proud and exhilarated to claim her for his own.
‘‘We’re going to get married tomorrow, darling,” he said when he released her. “I’m not taking any more chances of losing you.”
“First you’ll have to sweet-talk Auntie back into agreement.” She laughed, knowing this had been done at the Pavilion.
“I’d kiss her, too, if I could find her lips,’’ he said.
“We’d better stop. We’re nearly home, and she’ll be peeking out the window,” she said, sliding from his knee.
“No, she isn’t,’’ he said, looking to the illuminated saloon windows.
“Silly, she peeks out the dark windows of the study. She’s not a tyro at spying, you know. There, see the white curtain is jiggling.”
Knowing they were under surveillance, they got out of the carriage the minute it stopped and walked sedately to the front door.
The duchess greeted them with her gargoylish smile.
“You’d better get right home and start packing, Belami,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
“Am I going somewhere?” he asked, startled.
“To Fernvale.”
“With all due respect, your grace, Deirdre agrees with me that we want to get married here in Brighton. Tomorrow,” he added, and felt a little quake inside. There was no saying how Charney would take this news.
She hardly heard him. “Excellent. I’m so happy for you both, but it can’t be tomorrow.”
“With a special license...” he began, and was summarily interrupted.
“We’ll get one at Fernvale. That is where the marriage will take place as soon as you have handled a little business for me, Belami.”
“Our minds are made up,” he insisted. ‘‘If you insist on returning to Fernvale, there is only one thing for us to do.” He gave Deirdre a peremptory glance to ensure her cooperation.
“I would prefer to be married at home, Dick.” On her face was a dreamy smile. “In a white gown, in the chapel at Fernvale. I don’t want a scrambling do.”
“Yes, as I said before, there’s only one thing to do. We’ll have to change our minds about getting married tomorrow,” he said with what the duchess considered a most mawkish smile. And Deirdre was suspiciously pink around the lips, too, she noticed.
“Then it’s settled. Deirdre and I will lead the way to Fernvale, and you may come along behind in your rig.”
“That’s not...” Belami began in a belligerent voice and was again interrupted.
“Did you tell him about my brother?” the duchess asked her niece.
“No.”
“I see. It seems to me ten minutes was plenty of time for it. It took you ten minutes to execute the few steps from the Royal Pavilion. I cannot think how you got jam on your face, Deirdre, but you are very red around the lips. Belami as well,” she added, scrutinizing him.
Dick felt the old urge to either strangle the harpy or to stalk from the premises at once. But even while he glared, she continued with her intriguing tale.
An aging gentleman at death’s door, with a batch of relatives scrambling for his fortune, an affair with an actress, some suggestion that Sir Nevil Ryder might be using undue influence to gain the purse, and other temptations, kept him listening, even considering the possibility of delaying the wedding a few days. It would allow Bertie to attend, which inclined him to agreement. Mama loved a wedding above anything.
“Since Deirdre wants to be married at her home, I suppose we can put the wedding off till we reach Fernvale,” he decided before he left.
“I knew you would see reason,”he duchess congratulated him.
“I trust the same may be said for you, madame,’’ he answered smoothly. “I have just given you a few days’ grace. Might you not give me five minutes alone with my fiancée?” His charming smile beguiled her into folly.
“Till midnight,’’ she decreed. The clock on the shelf read one minute to twelve.
Her gait as she hobbled out the door hadn’t been so lively since the day she interred the late duke and came into her own realm.
It seemed a sad thing to marry Deirdre off and set her up for a life of subjugation, but as she bent her rachitic spine to look into the keyhole, she saw that the future marchioness was much too far gone to regret it.
Copyright © 1985 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest in July, 1985
Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.