A Most Unsuitable Groom by Kasey Michaels (25 page)

Jacko grinned now. "But not as rich as he'd planned, Cap'n, not even by half. That must still stick in his craw, that we have our fair share of our takings—and the other—and not him,"

"That
other
you speak of, Jacko, cost me my wife, cost too many innocent lives. And, sadly, men like Edmund always find another way to gather wealth to them."

They both turned toward the door at the sound of a knock to see Spencer already walking into the study. "Excuse me, but I found several mentions of the Grand Jubilee in the newspaper someone left in the main drawing room. The celebration will include Hyde Park, Saint James's and Green Park. Half the world will be there. And we'll be looking for one man in the middle of all of this. How many men will you allow me to take with us?"

Ainsley considered the question. "Nobody who sailed with us, of course, or they could be recognized. After all, we have no idea how many of the men who sailed with Beales are still with him. We already know George Fox's son is with him. Twenty, thirty at the most? Chance will find out where the dignitaries will be situated to view the celebrations and you can then concentrate everyone close by, alert for anything."

"But alert for what? An armed attack? That doesn't seem feasible."

"Think like your enemy, Spencer. Decisions must be made as to how you will proceed, Spencer, and as I considered the thing, how I would manage the affair, I have already decided on an explosive discharge when most of the dignitaries are together in one place, remembering Guy Fawkes and his legendary attempt to blow up Parliament."

"I'm not taking Mariah with me," Spencer said, thinking of the destruction, and death that would be caused by a large explosion of black powder. "I doubt Chance will allow Julia to accompany him, either. It's too dangerous."

"Miss Rutledge says she can recognize the woman traveling with Fox," Ainsley reminded him with a smile. "She also, as I'm sure I don't have to remind you, found her way aboard the
Respite.
It may be safer to keep her where you can see her, as we can't chain her to a wall, you know."

Jacko's stomach rose and fell as he chuckled. "Well, Cap'n, we
could."

"I'll ignore that, Jacko. And I'll enjoy speaking with her at length once this is over. I'm convinced our Miss Mariah Rutledge has lived a rather unorthodox life."

"Our Lady of the Swamp," Spencer said, garnering up the newspapers. "I should be grateful, I know, but it's rather unnerving to see a woman so.. .so.

"Independent? Resourceful? Adventurous? Fairly fearless? So much like yourself?" Ainsley suggested, not all that helpfully in Spencer's opinion.

"I was thinking hotheaded and impulsive, actually—which, I suppose, is also a lot like me, thank you," Spencer grumbled, subsiding into a chair, his long legs flung out in front of him. "I, um, I told her about Virginia."

"And?" Ainsley asked him, his expression carefully guarded.

"And she said yes, she'd accompany me." Spencer raised his head to look at Ainsley. If there was one man he could always speak the truth to, bare his soul to, it was this man. "The idea of beginning a new life seems to appeal to her. But whether it's me or Virginia and a home other own that made her say yes—that I don't know. She may just want what she believes will be a safe place for William and herself, away from Romney Marsh, and I'm merely a means to an end."

Jacko slapped his hands on his thighs and got to his feet. "I don't know what that means, bucko, but I think my bed's calling me—and that you may think too much."

Spencer watched the older man leave the room, then turned back to Ainsley. "She's a strange woman. Willful, I guess. But I can't deny her bravery or her good heart."

"You're not discussing a loyal hound, Spencer" Ainsley said, smiling at his son. "Isabella was what you call willful. She called it knowing what—and whom—she wanted. Thankfully, she wanted me. I never understood why. Could that be your problem?"

Spencer rubbed at his forehead, smiling behind his hand. "No, I think Mariah's my problem, and I understand why. I can't seem to keep my hands off her, even when I know I should. We'd better both live
a long, long time, because I think it's going to take a lot of years before either of us knows why we act the way we do when we're together. Running hot...running hotter." He lowered his hand, looked earnestly at Ainsley. "But we won't leave here, Papa, not until this is settled, not until Edmund Beales is dead and none of you are locked up here, worrying about the bastard."

Ainsley's voice was a soft purr. "This may surprise you, Spencer, but not all of us consider Becket Hall a prison."

"I know, Papa, I
know," Spencer said, getting to his feet once more. "I sound ungrateful and I apologize."

"Don't. We each have to find our own place, our own happiness. But I think, son, your happiness might not be a place. Your happiness might actually be that hotheaded and fairly fearless young woman who is currently so unnerving you. Now go to
bed. You'll be marrying that young woman in the morning, remember?"

This was all perfectly silly. Here she was, already a mother, yet dressing for her wedding to her son's father. She wasn't facing a joyous ceremony. She and Spencer were only making
proper
what they'd obviously already done without the blessings of church or state.

What did any church or state have to do with a man and a woman and what happened between them, anyway, what they did in private? Honestly, it was all just too silly.

And she was so damnably nervous.

And fussing.

Fussing with her gown, the second of the pair she had brought back from Calais; a simple thing the color of newly churned butter; cunningly simple, but fashioned of the finest silk and in what she had been told was the first stare of fashion.

Fussing with her unruly hair, tying it up on top of her head, then pulling out the pins to let it hang loose, then tying it up again, but only half of it this time, so that some of it waved down over her shoulders. Then tearing out the ribbon and tossing it to the floor in disgust while trying to convince herself that she was
not
going to dissolve into tears like some petulant child over something so silly as how she wore her hair.

Callie retrieved the ribbon now and tied Mariah's hair back one more time, then put her hands on Mariah's shoulders, holding her in the dressing table chair with considerable force. 'Touch it again and I'll use the ribbon to tie your hands behind your back, I swear 1 will, Mariah. And wouldn't that look just fine as I push you into the drawing room to meet your bridegroom?"

"I don't know if it would look just fine, Callie," Mariah told her, grimacing. "But it most certainly would convey my feelings quite well. This marriage is being forced on Spencer. And on me."

"Oh, pooh," Callie said, half pushing Mariah out of the chair so that she could sit down and check her own reflection in the mirror. "You have William. Of course you have to be married. It only makes sense. Even Fanny says so. You're only nervous about everyone watching you as you say your vows, but you'll soon forget all of that. I so envy you, traveling to London for your wedding trip. I never go anywhere. Do you want me to put a flower in your hair? I think brides wear flowers in their hair."

"No, no flowers, Callie. The ribbon is fine. And I'm fine, truly I am. Let's take William downstairs with us now, all right? It isn't every child who can say he was a witness to his parents' nuptials."

She opened the door to the dressing room to see Eleanor Eastwood bending over the cradle, her hand resting lightly on William's stomach. She straightened quickly, blinking back what Mariah was sure were tears.

"I...I thought I'd come take William down to the drawing room, if that's all right?" she said, smiling at Mariah.

Mariah nodded, returning the smile. Eleanor Eastwood was a beautiful woman, a beautiful
lady.
Petite, her bone structure that of a princess, Mariah had thought more than once. Made a bit fragile by some unnamed old injury that caused her to limp when she walked, yet strong in her own quiet way. A woman wed only a year, very much in love with her husband... and yet there had been more than a trace of sadness in her lovely eyes when she'd been looking at William.

"Callie?" Mariah said, turning to the younger woman. "If you'd please, go downstairs and tell everyone that Eleanor and I will be joining them directly."

Callie looked past Mariah to her sister, and suddenly the girl who was part silly child, part young woman, had a soft, sad look in her own eyes that had banished the silly child completely. "Yes, of course. But don't tarry, or Odette will come up here after you and I know neither of you wants that"

Mariah waited until Callie had gone and then approached Eleanor. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Eleanor said, quickly brushing at her cheeks as she smiled at Mariah. "It's just...it's just that William is so wonderful, isn't he? So small, so marvelously perfect."

Just like any other proud mother, Mariah was quick to agree and thanked Eleanor for her kind words, only to hear the woman's involuntary sob as she pressed a hand over her mouth. "Elly? Something's obviously wrong. Please, let me help."

"No, there's nothing you can do, thank you, Mariah. I'm just being maudlin. Selfish. Entirely unreasonable. I...I began my monthly flux this morning, that's all. It sometimes makes me weepy."

Mariah felt she understood. "You and Jack...you want a baby?"

Eleanor fought to bring her emotions back under her control, where she'd always worked hard to keep them, except with Jack. "It's more than a year...and nothing. You.. .you don't even love Spencer and you have a baby. Without even trying, you have this beautiful baby. I love Jack with all my heart and soul, and yet we...we...oh, I didn't mean that. I truly didn't mean that. I'm so sorry, Mariah. So sorry."

"No, don't be," Mariah said, wondering if she should put her arms around the smaller woman and then holding back, fairly certain that a physical expression of sympathy might dissolve Eleanor in tears. "What happened with Spencer, with William, was an accident, or so I believed at the time. But now it's as if William was destined to be born. Your time will come, Eleanor, I'm sure of it. What.. .what does Odette say?"

Eleanor wiped at her eyes one last time and then took a deep breath, squared her slim shoulders. "Odette? She's very vague, actually. She says she sees children for us, but when I ask her when, when does she see them, she only smiles and says I'll know. It's silly. I'm silly, wanting assurances from Odette, who is the first to say that she's not always right, she doesn't always.. .see. But I vow, Mariah, if she told me to walk around Becket Hall backward five times at sunrise and then spit in the Channel, I'd do it—anything to have a child."