Wedding Matilda (Redcakes Book 6) (23 page)

Then there was love. She hoped for it. And she hoped he would love Jacob, too. He would be the only father her son ever knew.

On Saturday morning, she felt elated when Pounds, returned from London, came to her sitting room door to tell her she had a telephone call from London.

The crackling noise made him hard to hear, but she almost recognized Ewan’s voice.

“Darling, hello?” he called.

“Yes, I’m here, Ewan.” She smiled, feeling truly happy.

“How is Jacob?”

“He seems fine. He clings to me a fair amount, but he goes to my mother and father, too.”

“Poor mite. Is he eating well?”

“Oh, yes. He’ll have the weight put back on in no time.” She hugged herself with her free arm.

“I spoke to Mrs. Miller briefly, when I called to speak to Gawain. She expressed her joy and hopes to see you soon.”

“I can’t go back to Bristol. Not now.”

“I understand.”

The line crackled badly, and she was afraid she’d lost him. “Hello?”

“I’m here. Do you want me to come to Polegate?”

“Aren’t you busy with your work and the police?”

“I’m not working for the earl now, though he has given me an allowance. I’m walking the streets every day and stopping in with the police superintendent at teatime to spur them on. Wyld and Hulk have vanished, though.”

“I am never going to feel safe until we’ve figured this out,” she said.

“I know, and I’d like to offer you my protection. Can you marry me now, or do you want to plan a big wedding?”

His words made her smile with relief. “Heavens no; quietly, please. I’d like to see you. Shall I come up to London for the day, on Monday?”

“Yes, please do, if you can tear yourself away.”

“It’s important. I mean, you are. I owe you so very much; everything, really. What you did, going into the house. You could have been killed.”

There was a long pause before he said, “I have no regrets. Listen, the line is getting worse. Come to Redcake’s? I’ll meet you in the tearoom, whenever you can arrive on Monday.”

“I’ll visit your room,” Matilda said. She wanted to see him in private. “Wait for me there.”

“Very well.”

She thought she detected a note of humor in his voice.

“I shall have to do some tidying.”

“You have two days in which to accomplish that.”

“I shall spend them thinking of you. I’ve missed you.”

She felt her eyes prick with tears. She had thought herself done with them, after all she’d shed over her son. “I’ve missed you, too.” Thankfully, she knew it to be true. “I can’t wait to see you, and make our plans for the future.”

“Yes, I want that, too. Until Monday, then.”

“I
had to confess to my mother that I’d been here before,” Matilda said as Ewan drew her into his room. It fairly sparkled with cleanliness, and she was touched that he’d gone to such an effort for her. She also noticed that he hadn’t done any packing. She could see no sign of a man about to take up a post in Bristol, or even with a thought of moving to the Redcake family home on St. James’s Square. He’d even placed a small bouquet of violets in a chipped tea mug on his table.

“Your mother seems the sensible sort.” He half-smiled and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets under his coat.

She realized he must have meant to embrace her and she’d missed a cue. How embarrassing. “It looks very nice here,” she commented, craning her neck to make it clear that she really had missed his gesture.

“I thought we might spend our wedding night here,” he admitted. “You must want to remain in hiding.”

The muscles around her rib cage tightened painfully. “Are we marrying today?”

“We don’t have to. I didn’t make an appointment or anything like that.”

“I’m not prepared.” The words left her mouth before she’d thought them through. She put her hand to her lips. “Oh, Ewan, I’m doing this all wrong.”

“I can completely understand you being unprepared.” He put his arm around her shoulders, his expression softening. “It is such an important matter. Perhaps upon reflection, you don’t even want to marry me.”

“Why would you think that?” She let him take her to one of his two chairs and sat in front of the violets.

He took the other chair and leaned forward earnestly. She’d seen that look before, on the rare occasion when she’d been at Redcake’s and he’d been expressing some important point to her father. His hair wasn’t mussed today. She missed the curls that hid beneath his pomade.

“You haven’t been yourself through our courtship. Extreme emotional distress. I know I wasn’t good enough for Matilda Redcake in the past. You may continue to feel that way. I have little to offer financially right now.”

“I don’t care about money.”

“Ha,” he said. “Of course you do. You’ve always had it. You’ve no notion of how to live like most people.”

“Should I be offended?” She stared at the violets.

“No, I’m just being honest.” He sat back. “Regardless, you will never be poor, no matter who you marry. Your parents are very liberal. It’s part of why I respect them so much.”

“You must think I am not good enough for you,” she said slowly. Was this his way of breaking the engagement?

“You know I don’t feel that way at all,” he countered.

“Do I?”

He touched her face. His elbow brushed the violets, but she closed her eyes to feel his touch more acutely instead of trying to rescue his teacup.

“I have missed your touch,” she whispered. “In the south, it felt a little like nothing had ever changed, like it was two years ago, when I was still living there. But I was dissatisfied. I’d learned to want more than I deserved. I’ve learned to want you, Ewan.”

“You have?”

“Yes.” She opened her eyes. “I only had to hear your voice again to know that.”

“What else?”

“You sound like the old Ewan, getting your business reports.”

“I don’t mean to.” His fingers tucked around her jaw.

“It’s who you are. You’re a good businessman. I told my father to offer you Bristol, but he said you would not want to be apart from me.”

“He is correct.”

“I have so much respect for you.” She swallowed. “Your work, of course, speaks for itself, but your kindness to me, the risks you took for Jacob, both physically and within your family. I can never repay you.”

“You aren’t meant to.”

“I love everything about you,” she said, feeling like crying. “I really, really do.”

“Then why are you so sad?”

“I’m not worthy of you. I’m shallow and flawed, headstrong, not beautiful, not especially kind.”

He ran his index finger along her chin, then cupped it. “You do not see yourself as others do. You are more than worthy of my love. So brave, my darling, so intelligent, so loyal.”

Tears dripped from her eyes down her cheek. “Ewan.”

“It is perfectly fine, my darling. Everything is. We’ll go abroad after we marry, if we must.”

“I can’t take Jacob away from my family, not right now.”

“Then I will figure out what happened, once and for all. We’ll ask Dougal Alexander to return to the case if necessary. I hate to be apart from you for so much as a day, but whatever it takes. I will scour London; I will walk the streets of Bristol.”

“Make love to me first, then find a vicar to marry us,” she said. “Let us move forward together, as we’re meant to.”

He nodded. “You will not hear me disagreeing. Should we switch the order of those two events?”

She shook her head. “Definitely not. I need your hands on me.”

“One of my more sterling qualities is my constant desire to please you,” he said, pushing back his chair and standing.

She giggled and wiped away tears. They disrobed, watching each other. She drank in the sight of his strong body, slowly revealed. He could undress himself far better than she could. Soon, she needed his help. Every time his fingers brushed her flesh, she bit back a gasp. Every nerve ending was sensitized to his touch.

Finally, she was nude, her back to him. He cupped her breasts as his erection nudged her back. She leaned against his body, feeling herself soften, moisten, become ready. He played with her nipples and she ran her fingers lightly over his arms, making the hair there lift.

“We’ll make love in far more luxurious surroundings than these over the years, my countess,” he said into her ear.

“But it will never be so special. Equal, perhaps, but never better.”

She felt his smile as he nipped her ear, and one of his hands dipped down her torso, then between her legs. Her head fell back on his chest as he stroked through her wet heat and began to circle her pearl with astonishing delicacy. How he treasured her body. How he loved her mind. She’d never thought she would have such grace in her life.

With a wrench, she pulled herself from him and turned around, grabbing his hand, pulling him to his narrow bed.

“How I love you, Ewan.” With an animal cry of satisfaction, she pushed him down and mounted his thighs, fitting his erection to her. She plunged herself down, filling herself. He gripped her hips, moaning, his eyes open in pleasured shock.

She tossed her head back, laughed, and began to ride him in earnest.

 

Two hours later, Ewan slid from the bed. Matilda murmured and turned on her stomach, not waking. She’d worn herself out, his darling, both above and beneath him. He wanted her to rest, but he had his marching orders. A vicar to marry them tomorrow, and answers.

An hour later, he’d shown his special license and made arrangements at his parish church to be wed the next day. With resolve, he made his way back to Lord Murchie’s home, hoping to find some clue to Richard Wyld’s whereabouts.

Lord Murchie received him in his drawing room, though his face had lost the sunny air of their previous meeting.

“What has happened?” Ewan asked.

“Mr. Wyld is no longer in my employ,” the lord said. “Dashed nuisance, having to find a governess for my sister.”

“Perhaps it is worth the bother, given Wyld is a blackguard,” Ewan commented.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Lord Murchie lifted a hand and waved it about.

“Have you seen Wyld since we last met?” Ewan inquired after a moment’s silence.

“No.”

“Are his possessions still here? May I look through them for clues?”

“No, sir, you may not. They have been collected.”

“By whom?” Ewan asked, his senses prickling.

“A solicitor.” Lord Murchie sniffed.

Ewan smelled brandy on the man’s breath. He’d been drinking away his irritation. “Can you give me his direction?”

“No, but I remember his name. Shadrach Norwich. What a mouthful.”

Ewan swore.

“Sir?” Lord Murchie said, his mouth screwing up in distaste.

Ewan shook his head. “My apologies, my lord, but I know Mr. Norwich. I am afraid this whole mess has something to do with Lord Fitzwalter.”

“You don’t say?” Lord Murchie raised an eyebrow. “Well, I am sure you have some notion of the streak of madness running through that family. Mind you, I’d been told only the men named Walter were ever truly mad, so I saw nothing wrong with hiring a Richard.”

“Are you saying Richard Wyld is related to the Douglas family?”

“Of course. He’s an offshoot of the current earl’s grandfather, I believe. Or was it father? He’s so much older than I am, you understand. But certainly related somehow. Richard Wyld Douglas.”

“His name is Douglas?” Ewan found himself standing without knowing how it had happened. “He doesn’t use the name?”

“Hiding from creditors, I expect.” Lord Murchie raised an indolent hand again. “Would try it myself, if I wasn’t so well known.”

Ewan bowed slightly. “Thank you for your time, my lord. I’d like to depart for Norwich’s office before he leaves for the day.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Do your worst.” Lord Murchie forced a smile and rang for a servant to escort Ewan to his front door.

 

Ewan drew in a deep breath as he entered Norwich’s office. The solicitor, who’d been warned of his arrival by a clerk, had his fingers steepled in front of his chin and his brown bottle at the ready.

“Asking for an increase in your allowance so soon?” he asked, an unusually acidic tone to his voice.

“I think you know why I’m here,” Ewan said, keeping his own voice level with effort. “Richard Wyld.”

“He is Richard Walter Wyld Douglas, in point of fact. I was hoping we could keep him out of it.”

“Lord Fitzwalter was behind this mess all along, wasn’t he?” Ewan said. “You’ve told me one lie after another. I can scarcely understand the timing, given that I had only just formed a connection with Miss Redcake when her son was taken. Which means these evil deeds must be about business.”

“His intention was to weaken the family in order to draw you away,” Norwich said. He lifted his bottle and drank deeply, his Adam’s apple moving up and down his fleshy throat as he swallowed. “The adulterated flour was meant to destroy Redcake’s high-end business. Kidnapping the boy was done to distract the family while the bad goods were whispered about among fashionable Society. Jacob Bliven was the easiest Redcake child to access. The earl didn’t want you to risk continued ties. Business partners had told him you were doing well, but he wanted you dependent on him.”

Poor Matilda. If he’d been a weaker man, he’d have wanted a soothing drink from the brown bottle himself. “So my relationship with her had nothing to do with this.”

“It didn’t help matters any,” Norwich said, draining his bottle. He set it on the desk and glanced mournfully at it.

“What a foul man he must be,” Ewan muttered. “What did he promise Wyld?”

“I imagine he wanted the earldom,” Norwich said. “But he’d never have inherited. Money, though, well . . . A kidnapper can become a blackmailer easily enough once he’s a taste for it, and he knew all about Lord Fitzwalter.”

“I am marrying Miss Redcake tomorrow,” Ewan said. “I expect Lord Fitzwalter to be in attendance, with a smile on his face no less. She and the boy are under my protection. I don’t need his employment or his money.”

“Understandably,” interjected Norwich. “But the earl is confined to bed, Mr. Hales. Some sort of attack.”

Ewan wondered if he’d suffered a true medical crisis or had merely gone into hiding. “Very well, but I will, in any case, expect him to protect my wife’s name and welcome her into the family. By letter, if necessary.”

“Yes,” the solicitor said.

“I suggest Wyld be sent to manage that farm in Vermont,” Ewan continued. “I don’t imagine you will be able to make him confess his crimes to the police without implicating the earl.”

“I would never do so,” Norwich said stoutly.

Family.
His urge was for vengeance, for trials and judges and prison, but he did not have the power to demand it. “I do not want Wyld in, or adjacent to, any country in which a Redcake resides. I assume he was Izabela Pickett’s lover?”

Norwich nodded.

“Did he kill her?”

“No. He planned both kidnappings, but that poor girl took her own life. I don’t imagine she knew what Mr. Wyld had been asked to do. He told me she became quite inconsolable when the boy was removed from her care.”

“It can’t have helped when she realized she was carrying the child of such a blackguard. Where is Hulk now?”

“I can ensure he goes to Vermont with Wyld.”

“No, that isn’t good enough. Australia for him, far away from his partner in crime, or prison here.”

Norwich sighed.

“What about those miscreants at the house where Jacob was kept?”

“The Bristol police shut down the house,” Norwich said. “They’ve lost their livelihoods.”

“I want everyone from the Douglas warehouse who was involved in the scheme to lose their positions immediately. I will do what I can to make this family honorable again.” He paused, then added, “If there is ever one unfavorable whisper about my wife in Society, I will come to Fitzwalter for reparation. He had best guard her as one of his own.”

“Understood.” The word was slurred. “But you will be earl soon enough.”

Ewan knew he was done here. He stood, then bent and put his hands on the desk. “After you see the earl, I suggest you take a long voyage yourself, Norwich. You aren’t looking well.”

The solicitor nodded vigorously. “Haven’t left London since my wife died seven years ago.”

He wanted to tell the man he was out of a job but couldn’t risk his files disappearing. Dismantling this mess would take time. “Anything else?”