“You’ve been busy this afternoon.”
“I also sent word of this…mess to my brother.”
“Your brother,” Rafe winced.
“Yes, he should have whatever information my uncle has on Lady FitzHenry.” She looked at Rafael and whispered, “I’m sorry, but she’s an obvious…”
His hand sliced across his body. “Not a problem. Any family feelings on either side died a long time ago.”
“I know, but …”
“No ‘buts.’ The only family I have is right here in this carriage.” His eyes held hers, calm and serious despite the slight smile that played around his lips. He leaned towards her. “And I have very close…” A finger slowly traced down from the base of her throat. Chiara swallowed, and his smile grew to a grin. “…loving…” His finger stopped at the top of her gown. She couldn’t breath. “…feelings for my…” He kissed the base of her throat. Her lips opened to draw air in on a long “ahh.”
In a heartbeat, his mouth captured that small sound. At first, he sipped at her lips, small sips that teased and delighted her. With one hand pinned between him and the seat, she lifted the other and curved it around his head. Like tinder flaring under a spark, he wrapped her in his arms and deepened the kiss.
Over the long months alone, the months she thought herself widowed or simply abandoned, that bonfire kindled inside her in Italy felt like a funeral pyre. In self-preservation, she’d beaten it into ashes, leaving only the smallest scintilla to remind her of the love that created her child. That tiny ember now flared incandescent when he added his heat.
She struggled to pull him closer, to touch and be touched.
The drone of the wheels on the dirt road changed abruptly to the crunch of gravel. With a groan, he pulled away. With a wry smile, he reached up to tweak a curl back into place. She likewise smoothed back the disorder in his hair. As the carriage drove under the porte cochere, they looked almost presentable, except for a sparkle in their eyes that only the discerning might see.
The dinner guests gathered in the drawing room. Not a large party, it consisted mainly of the houseguests and Chiara. Two couples stood talking to Lady FitzHenry. Chiara knew them slightly and bowed to them when she and Rafe entered. Lady FitzHenry ignored them. Lord DuBois sat talking to the Underwood’s.
“Mistress Pollinger promised me some ‘plain but serviceable’ dresses tomorrow,” Chiara told Lady Meriwether as they awaited the summons to dinner.
“She’s a good soul. I have her make all my staff uniforms, but I can’t say she sews much for me.” Lady Meriwether excused herself to speak to a waiting servant.
Felicity Lowell came up to offer her condolences to Chiara on the loss of her house. Her mother looked on from a short distance, obviously pleased with the new, elevated connections her daughter made.
The young man from the musicale approached the three of them. Miss Lowell smiled and blushed.
Rafael looked at her. “Would you do the honors, Miss Felicity?”
“Of course.”
“He’s a nobody who hardly needs to be introduced, let alone be in the company of his betters.”
“Mrs. Lowell!” burst from Chiara.
“On the contrary,” Rafael’s eyebrow went up and his voice took on a chill that Chiara remembered all too well. “Mr.….” He looked at Felicity who answered “Day.” “Mr. Day seems like an unexceptional young man. Plus, if he is a connection to the Meriwethers,” he nodded at young Mr. Day, “I suspect that he is not simply unexceptional, but is, in fact, an excellent catch for the parents of any young lady who wish to see to her future happiness as opposed to using her marriage to fatten their own pockets.”
Mrs. Lowell sputtered as Lady Meriwether, on the arm of her husband, rejoined the group. “There you are Quentin. I was hoping you’d make it. You all know my nephew? He’s recently been ordained, and we are most proud of him.”
“Yes,” Lord Meriwether looked pointedly at the Lowell’s, “a few years of seasoning, and we’ll be looking into several avenues of advancement in the Church for our young man.”
The butler announced dinner, and the group moved into the dining room. The new Reverend Mr. Day stopped Rafe as he offered his arm to Chiara. “May I speak with you, sir, alone if you please, my lady?”
“Anything you wish to say to me can be said to her.”
Mr. Day swallowed. “As you wish, my lord.” He swallowed again. “I want to thank you for your defense of me to Mr. and Mrs. Lowell. Felicity, ah, Miss Felicity and I, that is, we would like, I mean, I would like…”
“I understand. Your chances may have just improved.”
“Yes, thank you. But that isn’t all I wanted to say to you. I…I’m the one who scored the axle of your curricle.”
Rafe didn’t look terribly surprised, Chiara thought. She was, however. “Why did you do it, Mr. Day?”
“I was…I was…”
“Jealous?” Rafe asked quietly. When Day nodded, Rafe turned to Chiara. “The Lowells have been rather relentlessly pushing their daughter at me.”
“Yes,” Day said. “I had the impression that you were beginning to take them seriously.”
“I understand,” Rafe said. “However, do you realize that Lady Chiara was in the vehicle with me?”
Mr. Day paled. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry, my lady.”
She nodded and looked at Rafael. His expression, however, gave her a moment’s pity for the young midshipmen and lieutenants on his long-ago ship. “And the groom?” he asked.
Day studied his shoes. “He rushed at me with a…a thing in his hand. I thought he was going to brain me. I pushed him, and he fell against the wall.” He scuffed his toe around. “He was just doing his job. It was wrong of me from start to finish.”
“Yes, it was.” He studied the young man. “You will apologize to the groom. You will also present him with very generous reparation for his injury. I will feel myself compensated with that.”
Hope and gratitude shown in Day’s eyes. “Than you, my lord. I won’t disappoint you.”
“See that you don’t. One more thing. Why?”
Day didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The Lowells said you were going to marry Felicity, one way or another. I just wanted to embarrass you, to get you out of the way, even for a while, so I could convince Felicity to accept my offer. She’s afraid of her parents and a little fascinated by you. I just wanted a chance.”
Rafael nodded.
Lord Meriwether poked his head around the door frame, a quizzical expression on his face.
“My apologies,” Rafael said. “We’re coming.”
“I can understand his concern,” Chiara whispered. She laid her hand on Rafe’s proffered arm.
Chiara sometimes thought Barbara Meriwether concealed an evil genius beneath her grey curls and cherubic face. Felicity sat across from Chiara, with Mr. Day between her and Lady Meriwether at the end of the table. Lord DuBois sat on one side of her and Mr. Pansy, no Parsley, sat on the other. It was a smaller group than might have been expected because Lady FitzHenry dined with friends and Mr. Pomfrey kept to his sick bed. Mr. Pan…Parsley had about as much conversation as his namesake, unless the subject was horses. She wondered briefly if Lady Meriwether had lost her touch in selecting guests for a house party. She looked down the table at Rafe. He seemed to know her thoughts because he smothered a smile and turned to speak to Mrs. Pan…Parsley.
Mercifully, Chiara thought, hunger replaced conversation through the soup, which was just as well. Barbara’s chef always did have a delightfully light hand with soups. During the red mullet with Cardinal sauce and well into the roast saddle of mutton, horses dominated the conversation.
Although she knew it was rude, Chiara turned most of Lord DuBois’s conversation gambits aside with single word answers. She even made a great to-do over the beets rather than talk to him. She detested beets. For the rest of the dinner, she incited Mr. Pa…rsley to declaim on his favorite subject. The fruit and the
meringues à la crème might as well have been hay-flavored.
From across the table, Felicity caught her eyes. “Did you ever find out how the fire in your house started?”
“Yes.” Conversation around the table ceased. “My butler found that a kitchen maid, prostrate with tears now, took her candle and went to the kitchen for a drink. She set her taper on the table while she got a glass, and the candle fell into the grease bucket under the table. In her panic, she kicked the bucket across the stone floor where it splashed the wood for the stove. That and the grease flashed, sending flames through the kitchen. Cook and some others have rooms there.” She took a deep breath. “They were lucky to get out.”
“Your household is extremely lucky,” said Lord Meriwether from the end of the table. Chiara just nodded and conversation around the table turned to fires they had known.
Just as the ladies headed for the drawing room, leaving the men to their port and cigars, a footman went to answer the door. Lindsey and James, trailed by Lindsey’s maid, made their apologies to Lady Meriwether for the hour. Barbara told them not to be nodcocks.
Lindsey gravitated to Chiara. “I didn’t want you to come down to this mess.”
“I had to come. We had to come.” She grasped Chiara’s hands. “Jamesaskedmetomarryhim andIsaidyes.”
Chiara blinked a couple of times. “That’s wonderful, I guess. However, my first thought is that you are the victim of some mesmerist.”
James laughed. “I can assure you that the only one under a spell is me, and Miss Alder cast it.” He picked up his fiancée’s hand and kissed her fingers. “I am absolutely delighted to be thus enchanted.”
FitzHenry joined them. “Caught at last, my lad?” James nodded happily.
“Well,” Chiara began thoughtfully, “if you know what’s good for you, you will ensure that Lindsey never has a moment of grief because of you. FitzHenry can tell you that I’m quite capable of making your life miserable or simply very short.”
James laughed a bit nervously and looked at his friend. Rafael nodded rather sagely, and James quickly developed a sickly expression. Chiara continued, “Do your level best to make Lindsey happy, and I can be a very good friend.”
Lady Meriwether sent James and Rafael with the gentlemen and sheparded Lindsey to the drawing room with the promise of trays to come.
“What is happening here? A fire, a real fire, not just a story?” Lindsey demanded. Chiara nodded. “And what’s this about you and Lord…”
“Shush!” She checked for nearby ears. “I’ll tell you everything later, not here. Everyone’s all right but the house is half gone. Kitchen fire.”
“Oh, Chiara!”
Mrs. Pa…rsley joined them, and the conversation turned to the weather.
Shortly after the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, another guest arrived, David Brownlee. Between hugs and kisses, he explained to his sister that her maid and some clothes followed tomorrow. “What the devil happened to your house?”
Chiara’s eyelids began to drop, but she placated her brother.
Turning to her hostess, Chiara whispered, “Barbara, I’m exhausted.”
“I know, my dear, I won’t keep you.” Rafe escorted them downstairs when the sky opened with a mighty crash.
In the empty foyer, Barbara Meriwether, mother and grandmother, looked at the one dinner guest who had to travel to her bed. “You’re not leaving.”
“You know I can’t stay here.” Rafael, standing a few feet away, wisely kept his mouth shut.
“And why not?”
Chiara just looked at her. “For one thing, you don’t have any more rooms.”
Her hostess glanced at the dark man nearby. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“But, Barbara…”
“You’re very kind, Lady Meriwether.” Chiara could almost see his wisdom evaporate. “Let me assure you,” his voice dropped, “that it is all perfectly legal, although for reasons I can’t explain, we’re not announcing it.”
Barbara looked at Chiara’s stomach, “And a good thing it is. Don’t wait too long, or you’ll be sending out birth announcements and wedding announcements at the same time.” She hugged her friend. “I’ll send up a night rail for you.” She took a step, then turned with a twinkle in here eyes, “On second thought, you probably don’t need one.”
Rafael took a quick look around and stepped close to his wife. “I never asked if you wanted to. I can still get you back to Mrs. Abernathy’s if you wish.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“You might as well ask if I want my right arm cut off!”
“Do you think we can get up there discretely?”
“Where is the servants’ stairs?”
“Only you would think of that.” She led the way, checking for other traffic. They made it to his chamber undetected, and he closed with door with a quiet, but decisive, snick.
The fire flickered merrily. Chiara had once stayed in one of the Meriwethers’ guestrooms. They were large enough to be comfortable but small enough to heat efficiently. In the dim light, she couldn’t quite make out the décor, but she knew it would be tasteful. A painting of the local landscape always graced one wall. The curtained bed along the inside wall would be comfortable.
With the door closed behind him, he stood there watching her as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Remember the wedding dinner at Luciano and Catarina’s?”
She nodded. “Quite a different menu from this evening. How many different bottles of wine did they pour?” She laughed. “I love Barbara, but she has a generous hand with the wine.”
“I still remember that simple Chianti with great fondness.”
“I think we just had our real wedding dinner, only none of the other guests knew it.”
He walked to her, put his arms gently around her waist, and laid his forehead on hers. “I think you’re right. What are the chances I can get through this night without making a complete arse of myself?”
“You didn’t make an arse of yourself; you just…didn’t have all the facts.”
“What did I do to deserve you?”
She caressed his cheek. “You bought gloves for my workmen.”
He shrugged. “Small thing.”
“Not from where I stand, it isn’t.” Her arms looped around his neck.
“Well, let’s see if I can continue my high standing with you and exchange dark, old memories for bright, new ones.” Pulling the pins from her hair, he let them fall on the carpet. There weren’t many pins, but then there was only the faintest tinge of brown dye left at the tips of the short, honey-blonde strands. “Are you going to let it grow long?” He threaded his fingers through the hand’s breath length. “I’ve recently developed a fondness for blonde hair.”
“Well, that’s wonderful, since I know a blonde who has this fairly new-found passion for black hair.” She pulled his forelock down. His head followed the gentle pull. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips.
Her mouth blossomed open under his tender urgings. His tongue caressed hers, then teased the tip and pulled back. Wanting more of that velvety caress, she used her lips to urge his mouth open. She could feel his arousal pressing into her belly. He groaned. With his mouth never leaving hers, he whirled her waltz-like, swaying and turning toward the bed. “There are times when I truly envy your maid’s job.” Long, capable fingers started work on the buttons at the top and worked their way down. He brushed the gown from her shoulders and stepped away just enough to let it fall.
Her fine lawn chemise acquiesced to the demands of Ann Abernathy’s dress. As a result, it skimmed the tips of Chiara’s breasts. She smiled and lifted her hand to untie the lacing. His hand stopped her and drew hers to her side. He tilted his head to study her. Cupping her breasts through the material, he teased the already taut nipples. “While I didn’t have any complaints before, they seem bigger than I remember.”
“Babies do that to a woman.”
/> A splash of icy water couldn’t have thrown him back any faster. He stepped back and flexed his hands, his face gaunt and a little white under his usual color. “The baby! I forgot! I don’t want to hurt it.” His mouth opened and closed, rather like a fish, and his eyes looked a bit frantic.
Chiara stepped close, so close that their bodies touched from the shoulders down. She had a pretty good idea of what he felt through his shirt. Smiling as she reached up to loosen his cravat, she said, “I’m pregnant, not ill. You’re not going to hurt the baby. It has its own cozy cocoon.” He gulped and grinned and wrapped his arms around her. “That’s not to say you don’t get to enjoy the virtues of celibacy the months before and after the baby’s born.”
He slowly knocked his forehead against hers. “There’s a price to pay for everything. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, though, we have more interesting things to do.” He bent his head and licked the hard berries through the thin material. Chiara gasped as the sensation skittered down to her belly. “I rather like this. I may just have to work hard to keep you pregnant.”
She snorted. “Why don’t you try being pregnant next time?”
“No, you look cute with a tummy. I’d just be fat.”
“Hum, let’s see.” She reached up and undid the first button. He stood stock still under her fingers as they crept their busy way down his shirt. With the job finished, she put her hands on his chest and spread the open shirt. He took a deep breath. The crisp hair and the flat male nipples fascinated her. She worked her hands down to his belly. Strange, she’d never thought of a stomach as being muscled until now. It felt wonderful.
“I think I’ve created a monster.”
“Do you object?”
“Absolutely not. However, why don’t we move over here to discuss the situation further?” He moved her back towards the bed. “And I think for maximum communication, we need to…”
A soft knock on the door stopped him. “Bloody Hell! Who’s that? You wait here, out of sight. I’ll get rid of them quick enough.”
He strode to the door and wrenched it open. “Whatever it is…”
“Good evening, my lord. I…I though you might like some company this evening.”