The following afternoon the sheriff came out to the house to inform Beau that Frank Lester had confessed that he had helped Wilson in an attempt on Cerynise’s life and that Germaine Hollingsworth had talked him into doing it, claiming that Beau had offended her. Upon her arrest, the woman had screamed denials like a cornered shrew. Her father had been outraged that such slander could be cast against his precious daughter and had threatened to see the sheriff thrown out of office. But Sheriff Gates had stood his ground and had taken Germaine into custody.
“What a relief,” Beau sighed after witnessing the sheriff’s departure. “Now I can stop fretting for your safety.”
Cerynise slipped her arms around his lean waist and rested a cheek against his broad chest. “Now I won’t have to feel like a prisoner in my own home.”
Beau leaned back to peruse her face. “What would you like to do outside our home to celebrate your new freedom, madam? Go to the theater? Have dinner somewhere? Perhaps a visit to the couturier would suit your mood. Or would a carriage ride suffice?”
Cerynise tilted her head at a reflective angle. “Philippe is a much better chef than anyone in the city. I’m not particularly bent on going to Madame Feroux’s and listening to her gibberish. There’s not a performance at the theater that we haven’t already seen. And I’m not interested right now in a carriage ride.”
“So tell me, madam, what is your pleasure?”
The comers of her lips turned upward enticingly as she rose on tiptoes to whisper near his cheek, “Playing in the study would suit my pleasure just fine, sir. Would you be interested?”
Beau’s eyes sparkled above a wide grin. “Absolutely, madam. It was just the very thing I was hoping you’d say.”
With a debonair grin, he offered his arm and escorted her into the front room, where he locked the door securely behind them.
Epilogue
CHARLESTON BASKED IN the glory of a brilliantly clear autumn day. The leaves on the trees were turning, and there was a scent of the changing season in the air that was positively intoxicating. Fall flowers were in bloom in the garden around the Beau Birmingham house, and the distant neighing of horses could be heard from their paddocks down the street. Sitting in the backyard gazebo with her husband, Cerynise held her son in her arms and reflected on the fact that everything looked so wonderfully normal. There was no sign of damage from the storm of a fortnight ago.
A happy sigh escaped her, earning a smile from her husband, who sat in a chair beside her. “You sound content, madam.”
“I am content. Wonderfully so.”
Beau glanced around as the butler approached. “What is it, Jasper?”
“A gentleman from England is here, sir, wishing to speak with your wife…except that he called her by her maiden name.”
Cerynise was reluctant to go inside and break the revelry of this moment that she was enjoying with her family. “Why don’t you show the man back here, Jasper,” she suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be able to appreciate this fine weather we’re having.”
Jasper smiled and inclined his head. “As you wish, madam.”
The visitor was promptly escorted to the backyard gazebo. He was a man of middling years with neatly trimmed gray hair. His dark trousers, unadorned waistcoat, and somber frock coat proclaimed him a serious sort. The questioning gaze he bent upon Cerynise was certainly most intent. “Miss Kendall? Miss Cerynise Edlyn Kendall?”
“Actually, it’s Cerynise Birmingham now, sir,” she replied and swept a hand to indicate Beau. “This is my husband, Captain Birmingham. And you are…?”
“Mr. Thomas Ely, Miss Kendall…” Hastily he corrected himself. “I mean, Mrs. Birmingham.” He smiled. “It may take me a while to get used to your married name, after thinking of you for so long as Miss Kendall. Even after learning you had gotten married in England, I’ve still continued thinking of you as Miss Kendall, for which I must beg your pardon, madam. I shall endeavor henceforth to use your rightful name.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ely.”
He looked at her curiously. “May I ask if my name means anything to you, madam?”
Perplexed, Cerynise shook her head. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.”
Thomas Ely nodded as if her answer confirmed something that he had been mindful of for some time. “Before her death, Mrs. Winthrop had indicated that you didn’t know anything about her intentions. She was afraid you would be burdened by them, and she loved you far too much to cause you any concern whatsoever.”
“Her intentions?”
“To make you sole heir of her estate, apart from a few bequests to the servants, of course.”
“But how would you know that?” Cerynise queried in bewilderment.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Birmingham. I should explain that I served as Mrs. Winthrop’s solicitor.”
“Mr. Rudd was her solicitor for a time,” Beau interjected. “Are you aware of that?”
Mr. Ely frowned at the mention of the name. “Oh, indeed, sir. Mrs. Winthrop dismissed him several years ago after deciding that he wasn’t to be trusted. She believed he was in league with her nephew, Mr. Alistair Winthrop.” A momentary scowl passed across the lawyer’s face, but banishing it, he hastened to explain, “Mrs. Winthrop engaged me soon after arriving at that decision. One of my first duties as her solicitor was to draw up a new will.” Facing Cerynise again, he added, “The woman was very clearly dedicated in her intent to leave you virtually everything she owned. As it stands now, Mrs. Birmingham, you’re a very wealthy woman.”
Cerynise peered up at him with some perplexity still showing on her face. “May I ask how you found me after all this time, Mr. Ely?”
At Beau’s invitation, the lawyer took a seat across from them as Bridget came out to serve them tea. When the maid left, the man took a sip from his brimming cup and sighed in pleasure at the flavor. It was more like the good English tea to which he had become accustomed. Thus far he had failed to find a favorable comparison in the Carolinas. Of course, the cream and sugar helped.
“I fear that my tardiness in finding you will take a bit of explaining, madam,” the lawyer apologized at last. “My belated arrival must seem very strange to you, but unfortunately, I suffered an…incident…many months ago. I nearly died and was quite ill as a result, to the extent that for a time I was bereft of my memory. Even when it began to return, the events closest to the time of my…ah…disability…remained rather muddled. It has only been in recent months that I’ve been able to recall enough to resume my business and my search for you.”
Thomas Ely sighed with genuine regret. “After recovering, I made the assumption that you were still in England and that your name was Kendall. When that availed me nothing, I despaired of ever finding you. But shortly thereafter, I realized that you might have married. I began searching through church registries and finally came across a record of your marriage to Captain Birmingham. From there, I spoke with the parson who married you and discovered that you might well be a resident of the Carolinas.”
“I applaud your persistence,” Beau responded politely. “But I must confess that I’m rather surprised that you came all this distance when you could have easily sent a missive to us.”
“Ah, well, as to that…” A deep frown again gathered the man’s brows. “I regret to inform you that Mrs. Birmingham may be in some danger. You see, the incident that resulted in my loss of memory was actually an attempt on my life. I was extremely fortunate to survive it. If not for the fact that someone caught sight of me and rescued me soon after I was thrown into the Thames, I wouldn’t be here today. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to come posthaste to warn you.”
“We appreciate your concern,” Beau assured him. “I would presume the man who tried to kill you was Alistair Winthrop?”
The lawyer could not conceal his surprise. “Why, yes! But may I ask how you came by that knowledge?”
Briefly Beau told the lawyer what had happened, and at the conclusion of his story, he added, ??
?It may sound callous to one who has never experienced the trauma of being in constant jeopardy, but I feel enormously relieved that Alistair Winthrop is now dead, and that my wife and I no longer have to live in dread.”
A look of immense relief had also settled over Thomas Ely’s face. “I cannot tell you what a worrisome weight this news lifts from my own mind, sir. The thought of that man still roaming free and able to strike me down again has dogged my every step since he tried to kill me. I informed the authorities, of course, as soon as my memory returned, but by then he had already disappeared from England, and there was little they could do.”
Beau had some questions about the legal arrangements needed to secure Cerynise’s property and invited Mr. Ely to spend the night so they could discuss the details further. The lawyer cheerfully accepted, for the first time in many months feeling as if he didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was there.
Much later, when the couple were at last free to retire for the night, Beau drew his wife from her side of the bed and enfolded her within his arms. “Have you given any thought what you want to do with Lydia’s estate?”
Cerynise nodded eagerly against his chest. “Actually, I’ve been giving careful consideration to that very matter and have come to some definite conclusions, of which I hope you’ll approve. Since my paintings have begun to sell for sizable amounts and you’re wealthy enough to support your family in a luxurious style…if that were at all our wont…I see no need in selfishly hoarding the bulk of Lydia’s estate. So, I’d like to have a large fund set aside to help that nice Parson Carmichael administer to all those children he has taken under his wing and perhaps have an orphanage built for them where they could have beds aplenty. I think Mr. Ely would be willing to oversee the distribution of the necessary funds, don’t you?”
“Oh, indeed, madam. If he put himself to so much trouble for the sake of Lydia Winthrop, I have no doubt that he’d be equally dedicated about bringing your desired wishes into fruition. Anything else?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking of endowing a school for artists where both women and men would be welcomed.”
“To paint nudes?” her husband teased.
Cerynise giggled and playfully nipped his chest. “Now don’t let your bawdy thoughts get out of hand, sir. There are many things artists can paint besides nudes.”
Beau tried to appear saintly, but he failed by a wide margin. Leering at her, he asked, “Would you like to paint me in the nude?”
Cerynise sat back on her heels and, sweeping down the covers, looked his long muscular body over with a positively critical eye. He was certainly a beautiful subject, but his reaction was just as she had expected it would be. She shook her head, feigning exasperation. “How would I ever be able to keep my mind on painting you in the nude when you’d flaunt yourself like that every time I looked at you?”
“Flaunt myself?” Beau pretended a manly outrage, and then threatened, “I’ll flaunt myself, madam. Just watch me.”
Trying to curb a grin that proved unquenchable, Cerynise closely ogled his manly beauty. “I’m watching, sir. What do you want to show me?”
“This,” he murmured huskily, sweeping her down beside him and kissing her with unrelenting passion.
When Beau finally lifted his head, his wife begged breathlessly, “Oh, don’t stop. Do it again…over and over and over again.…”
About the Author
KATHLEEN E. WOODIWISS wrote the very first historical romance novel in 1972—The Flame and the Flower created a genre and made Ms. Woodiwiss one of the world’s most popular writers, with 36 million books in print. In celebration of Ms. Woodiwiss’s new novel, The Reluctant Suitor (2003), HarperCollins is publishing Ms. Woodiwiss’s classic backlist, including the complete Birmingham Family Saga: The Flame and the Flower; The Elusive Flame; A Season Beyond a Kiss. Also available are Ms. Woodiwiss’s Ashes in the Wind; Come Love a Stranger; Forever in Your Embrace; Petals on the River; A Rose in Winter; Shanna; So Worthy My Love; The Wolf and the Dove.
New York Times Bestselling Author Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
“A LEGEND…THE QUEEN OF HISTORICAL ROMANCE.”
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“A PHENOMENON”
The New York Times
“WOODIWISS REIGNS!”
Life
“THE FIRST LADY OF THE GENRE.”
Publishers Weekly
“LIVE AND BREATHE THE WORLD KATHLEEN E. WOODIWISS CREATES.”
Houston Chronicle
Books by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
Ashes in the Wind
Come Love a Stranger
The Flame and the Flower
The Elusive Flame
Forever in Your Embrace
Petals on the River
A Rose in Winter
Shanna
So Worthy My Love
The Wolf and the Dove
A Season Beyond a Kiss
The Reluctant Suitor
Credits
Front Cover art by Wendy Popp
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE ELUSIVE FLAME. Copyright © 1999 by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition April 2003 eISBN 9780061741548
First Avon Books mass market printing: May 1999
First Avon Books trade printing: 1998
10 9 8 7 6
About the Publisher
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Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, Elusive Flame
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