The Devilish Mr. Danvers: The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
he sound of the wind woke Hedley from a contented sleep. Lying in Rafe’s arms was far better than any feather pillow or mattress. She could stay here, like this, forever. Closing her eyes to do just that, she sighed in utter bliss. His deep, rhythmic breaths stirred the hair on top of her head. And the hair on his chest tickled her nose.

It wasn’t until she heard the growl of thunder that a sense of alarm grew within her. During the last storm, she hadn’t heard it while inside Fallow Hall. This manor was quite sound and sturdy. Only within her beloved but ramshackle Greyson Park had she heard every breeze blowing through the windows and walls.

The windows
. Instantly, she thought of Rafe’s legacy.

No
. Hedley had removed the boards from the windows. For all she knew, it was their only protection. Now, they were at risk of being destroyed by the wind—or worse.

“I will rebuild it brick by brick . . . ”

But he wouldn’t be able to replace his legacy. She had to do something.

She nudged Rafe. He didn’t stir. Her second, third, and fourth attempts didn’t wake him either. In fact, he was sleeping quite soundly.

Slipping out of bed, she found her night rail on the floor. However, seeing the parcel on a chair nearby, she decided it would be better to wear actual clothes, in case she encountered one of the servants.

Untying the strings, she dressed and then crossed the room once more to press a kiss to his mouth. Rafe slept on without a care. A flash of lightning revealed a devilish grin on his lips. She hoped he was dreaming of her.

R
afe was in the middle of a rather erotic dream of Hedley’s berry-stained lips when a loud crash of thunder woke him. However, when he reached out to pull her to him, he found the bed empty.

Sitting up, the blankets fell to his lap, revealing the state the dream had put him in. Even so, the dream was nothing compared to the full sensual reality of Hedley. She loved him with a fierceness that rivaled his own. She held nothing back.

Looking around the room, he found it empty as well. There was no reason for alarm, he told himself. Likely she’d returned to her chamber in order to keep their secret from being discovered. But it wouldn’t be a secret for long. He grinned. Peeling away the bedclothes, he decided that now was the perfect time to ask her—

Lightning flashed, illuminating a puddle of white on the floor.
Her night rail
. . . His pulse quickened. His gaze drifted to the chair to see the open parcel of clothes.

A rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Suddenly, he knew she wasn’t in her chamber either.

Rafe tore out of bed, yanking on a shirt and breeches as he headed out. Down the hall and around the corner, he charged into her room.

She wasn’t here. To be certain, he searched behind the dressing screen and the window alcove and—

Lightning flashed again, drawing his gaze out the window. Through the slashes of horizontal rain on the glass, he saw a shape moving across the lawn toward Greyson Park.

H
edley broke through the path between the trees. Wind and rain plastered her hair to her face. She was soaked, drenched to the soles of the red shoes. She’d donned them before leaving Fallow Hall. And now, they were in tatters, hanging off her feet, tripping her. She would have to leave them behind.

Lifting one foot and then the other was all it took to slip out of them. Her red shoes had been through so much with her. However, now they were beyond mending. Not only that, but she no longer needed them to feel visible. She knew who she was.

Looking straight ahead, she saw Greyson Park. The wind howled around her. Lightning illuminated the façade, revealing a broken parlor window with the brick casing crumbling around it. The house had shifted in the storm. A terrible groaning of timber roared from within it.

If she didn’t hurry, she would be too late. Yet even now, she didn’t know if she could save the windows in the attic. If Rafe hadn’t been able to remove them without damaging them, then how could she?

Yet her inner drive and determination would not allow her to give up. If she had to, she would return to Fallow Hall for help.

“Hedley!”

She whipped around to see Rafe rushing up behind her. His shirt was transparent and molded to his body. He raked a hand through his hair, revealing the furrows on his brow. “What are you doing? You can’t possibly go inside. Look at it.”

“I have to, Rafe.” She had to shout over the wind. When he started to shake his head, she lifted her hand to his face, brushing her fingertips over his cheek. “You don’t understand. I removed the boards from the windows. Your treasure—
your legacy
—it isn’t safe.”

There wasn’t time to argue. She turned to go, only to have him block her path again.

Taking her by the shoulders, Rafe hauled her to him. He pressed his lips against her temple. “Don’t you know by now that you are my treasure, Hedley? Our children will be my legacy.” Then he took her face in his hands, the rain peppering down on her cheeks. “I love you.”

He didn’t smile at all when he said it. Instead, his expression was fierce and raw. Hedley forgot about the rain, the wind, the treasure, and Greyson Park.

“You love me.” Had she heard him correctly? But she knew she had. Still, she had to make sure. “What about the wager?”

“Devil take the wager.”

She smiled. “But I’m supposed to marry Montwood.”

“No.” That fierceness of his grew even more intense. “You’re supposed to marry me.”

“Am I?”

Instead of answering, Rafe claimed her mouth in a kiss.

EPILOGUE

One month later

H
edley pressed her cheek against the cool windowpane in her bedchamber at Fallow Hall. She felt hot and shivery at the same time, and her stomach churned most unpleasantly. “I do wish this travel sickness would end.”

It wasn’t fair that she was still feeling ill. They’d returned from London a few days ago.

“For your sake, I do too,” Calliope said, rubbing small, comforting circles between her shoulders. “No bride wants to be ill during her own wedding breakfast. Of course, I was rather late arriving at mine. Everhart had the driver take us on a detour through the park.”

At the wistful sound in her friend’s voice, Hedley turned to catch Calliope blushing. “It must have been a lovely detour.”

“It was, indeed.” Her friend beamed and settled her hand over her middle, where a nearly imperceptible bulge resided. “Though we did marry in haste, and for good reason, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“I wish Rafe and I had married in haste. Waiting for the bans to be read for three Sundays felt like an
eternity
.” Hedley said the words with such exasperation that she felt her stomach roll over. She turned her face back to the windowpane.
“Ugh.”

They’d spent more than two weeks in town, staying with Rafe’s parents. And during that time, it had been impossible to find any time alone
together
.

At last, their separation was at an end. They were married in the village this morning. And if not for her queasiness, she would have sprinted down the aisle to him. He’d seemed just as eager when he’d taken her hand.

“I’m glad you’re here,”
he’d whispered.

She never would have let him stand at that altar alone.
“Did you doubt it?”

“Not for a single instant.”

Hedley smiled at the lovely memory.

Right now, Rafe was below stairs with their guests—a small party that included his parents, Calliope’s family, and Mr. Tims. Unfortunately, Montwood had had urgent business to attend, which kept him in London, but he sent his “
many felicitations
” in a missive, in addition to a gift for Hedley. Inside a slender box, a single white taper lay with a note that read:

So that you will never endure the dark again
.

Your friend forever and always
,

M

It was a tender gesture, from a man she thought of as more brother than a mere friend, even in the short time of their acquaintance. While Rafe might feign jealousy and tease about being eager to have Montwood marry, Hedley knew her husband wanted Montwood’s happiness just as much as she.

Calliope returned to rubbing her back in small circles. “You know, I’ve been thinking. When we first went to London, I don’t recall you suffering from travel sickness. In fact, it started while we were already there.”

At first, Hedley had imagined that it came from the lingering effects of her fears. But in truth, she no longer thought about that day in a way that seized her with panic. It was a memory now. A heartbreaking memory but nothing more.

“Likely because I was not used to the odors of London.” Even thinking about the sewage and horse manure in the streets made her feel a bit green. She was certain her coloring in this moment did not complement her lovely pink satin gown. “If it wasn’t for the many shops and shoes, I don’t believe I’d want to return.”

Hedley now possessed a great deal of shoes, and they all fit her perfectly. They came in an assortment of styles, from slippers to half boots, in a myriad of colors.

While they were away, they’d accomplished far more than shopping. Now that Greyson Park was in ruins, Mother no longer desired to have it as part of the Sinclair estate and had had the solicitor amend the stipulations of Hedley’s inheritance. It was the most generous thing Mother had ever done for her.

Of course, with Hedley’s name recognized in society, doubtless Mother wanted to save face. Nonetheless, now Hedley had her own property—one that would never revert to the Sinclairs.

As for Ursa, she was on a ship with Mr. Cole and likely wouldn’t return for another six years or more. And for that, Hedley was grateful.

“But what if it isn’t travel sickness at all,” Calliope said in a whisper, even though they were the only two in the room. “What if it’s another sickness altogether—”

The door of the bedchamber opened, and Calliope stopped speaking.

Celestine Danvers, Rafe’s mother, bustled in with a tea tray. Her vivid cerulean blue gown stood out in sharp contrast against the red, brown, and silver tones of her hair but matched the vibrancy of her character. She was a whirlwind of brightness.

Without a word, she settled the tray on the foot of the bed, poured a splash of tea into a cup, added a generous amount of sugar, and then walked straight over to Hedley. “Drink this, my dear, and you’ll feel more like yourself again.”

Hedley hated to refuse her, but the thought of putting anything in her mouth seemed like a dire mistake. “I’m not certain I should. At the moment, I’m rather . . . ” She dare not finish.

“We Danverses have a bit of a sweet tooth.” Celestine smiled and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Hedley’s ear. “And I suspect that you are, now, even more of a Danvers than you are aware.”

“I’m not sure I know what you—” Hedley’s words cut off when her mother-in-law’s gaze drifted down as her brows went up.
Oh
. Then, over Celestine’s shoulder, Hedley saw Calliope press her lips together and nod eagerly.

The soaring of her heart made her lightheaded. Hedley sank down onto the window seat and gulped her tea. The brew was shockingly sweet and yet . . . comforting. She took another sip, and before she knew it, she felt remarkably better.

“Very much a Danvers.” Celestine smiled, her eyes misting over as she brushed her fingers against Hedley’s cheek. “I can’t wait to put this face in clay.”

Then, with those parting words, she whisked out of the bedchamber, leaving the door ajar.

“If I didn’t know that your mother-in-law was a sculptor, that statement might have given rise to my overactive imagination.” Calliope laughed.

“Do you think it’s true?” Hedley asked dreamily, her hand straying to her middle.

“If it is, then Fallow Hall will require a new name, don’t you think?”

Hedley grinned. “Fruitful Hall?”

“Abundant Hall,” Calliope added with plenty of cheek. And by the time they arrived at
Virile Hall
, they were both breathless with laughter.

“Feeling better, sweeting?” Rafe stood outside the door, his expression at once fierce and worried. Hedley’s heart went slushy. He looked quite handsome in his fine gray coat, and the pristine white of his cravat made his features darker. She grew warmer just looking at him, imagining that
soon
they would be together. As if he sensed her thoughts, his gaze heated.

Her stomach bobbled but not unpleasantly this time. “Much better now.”

Calliope reached over and took the forgotten cup out of Hedley’s hand. “As much as the two of you would like to be alone . . . I’m afraid you still have a wedding breakfast to attend.”

After picking up a hatbox from the hall, Rafe stepped into the room. “Surely, one moment more won’t be too long. A man has the right to give a present to his bride, doesn’t he?”

Bride
. Hedley felt the word wash through, warming her. So much had changed since he’d first called her
armless girl
. So much was about to change, if they truly were going to have a baby. Yet after seeing him hold his nephew when they’d visited his sister in London, she knew he would be the perfect father. And she would be the mother she wished she’d had.

“I’ll take the tray out into the hall, but I’m leaving the door open,” Calliope warned with a grin.

Rafe placed the box on the bed where the tray had been and then lifted the peach silk gown she’d laid out. He let it glide through his fingers as he looked at her hungrily, as if he were imagining the way it would feel
and taste
against her flesh. “Mmm . . . this is nice.”

Hedley blushed. Then, unable to resist the urge, she drew closer to him. Her hands drifted naturally to his shoulders, and his to her waist. She inhaled his scent, feeling perfectly at home. Not to mention, eager to close the door—no matter how many people waited for them downstairs. “It’s uncanny how the gown and organdy sheath make it appear as if I’m wearing nothing at all. I was planning to wear it to dinner this evening.”

Pulling her flush against him, he released a low growl. “Then we’ll be dining in our rooms.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” she whispered, rising up on her toes for a kiss.

“Don’t forget about your guests,”
Calliope singsonged from the hallway.

On an exhale, Rafe pressed his forehead to hers. “Our guests. Do you suppose they’ll notice our absence?”

“Perhaps after the first hour,” Hedley teased. “Shall I open my gift, then?”

“Yes. I think you’d better, or else I will find an excuse to lock the door.”

Turning slightly—though with Rafe’s arm still draped around her waist—she untied the pink ribbon from the striped hatbox and lifted the lid. Her hand flew to her mouth on a gasp.

There, on a swath of red silk, sat a pair of glass shoes. The morning light coming in from the window glanced off the surface, making them appear as clear as water.

“Oh, Rafe. They’re . . . they’re absolutely beautiful.” She was in awe. Tentatively, she reached out to touch them and found them perfectly smooth and cool. “And they look just like my red shoes.”

“I made a cast from those shoes,” he admitted. “Well,
after
I had a little help from Calliope to stitch them back together. I knew they were important to you. And . . . since they were the shoes that brought you into my life, they’re important to me as well.”

A sob threatened to escape. But instead of falling apart into a soggy mess, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him in earnest. She would never forget the steps she’d taken to find happiness, friendship, and love.

At the door, Calliope coughed, reminding them that they weren’t alone. Not yet.

Regretfully, Hedley drew back. “I have a gift for you, dear husband, as well, but it will have to wait until we have more time . . . alone.”

His brows lifted and a grin curled his lips. “You could tempt the very devil himself, sweeting. However, you have already given me a gift—the sole surviving window at Greyson Park.”

Miraculously, the seraph window in the attic had survived. Montwood, Everhart, and even Mr. Tims had helped to rescue it from certain destruction. She glanced over at the crate sitting in the corner, prepared for a trip it never took.

“Yet when I garnered an agreeable response from one of the fellows at the antiquarian society, you declined their visit,” she said, still puzzled by his decision.

Rafe brushed a fingertip across her lips before lifting her chin to his gaze. “You helped me realize what’s truly important. The window’s rightful place is in Greyson Park, where the Danvers family—
our family
—will reside for the rest of their days. It doesn’t belong in a museum, for the sake of vanity.”

She smiled up at him, loving him more with each passing moment. “Then perhaps, when we rebuild Greyson Park, the window could go in the parlor? And beside it, a glass-front cabinet . . . ”

Her list continued as she threaded her fingers with his. Together, they walked to the hall and joined their patient friend.

“As long as Montwood marries, and I don’t have to hand over five thousand pounds, then we can make Greyson Park as grand as you wish,” Rafe said with a wry laugh.

Hedley knew he was teasing, because he’d already hired the laborers to clear away the rubble.
Men and their wagers
, she thought.

Boris greeted them near the top of the stairs. One of Calliope’s sisters—likely Tess—had fashioned a flower chain around his neck. He didn’t seem to mind the adornment. Or at least, he
tolerated
it with minimal fidgeting.

“Poor fellow,” Rafe said, giving him a hearty scratch that soon earned happy tail thumps against the runner. “It’s a good thing you weren’t part of our wager, or I suspect you’d be married by now to those Pekingese.”

Boris gave a
woof
of understanding.

Hedley tsked. “Rafe Danvers, are you blaming the wager for your current married state?”

“Of course not. I give you
all
the blame for that, sweeting.” He grinned and pressed a swift kiss to her frowning lips. “If not for you, I’d have been a lonely old bachelor all of my days—a doddering fool looking around for the other half of my heart, like a pair of spectacles I’d left in the other room.”

Hedley forgave him in an instant. Calliope sniffed and surreptitiously dabbed her eyes while pretending she hadn’t overheard. Then with Boris’s escort, they walked down the stairs.

“My parents have a wedding gift for you as well,” Rafe explained as they entered the drawing room. “Though I do not know what it is.”

Everhart was standing in front of the sofa, blocking a large shape behind him. Cuthbert and Celestine Danvers were near the glass-front cabinet, admiring their son’s work. When they saw Rafe and Hedley’s arrival, they turned in unison.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, my dear,” Celestine said with a secret smile.

Cuthbert drew an unlit pipe from his mouth and pointed to Everhart. “Gabriel, if you please.”

Everhart stepped to the side, revealing a rather large, gilt-framed portrait, propped up against the sofa.

Hedley stared in disbelief. It was
her
. . . and yet, not quite her. The dimple in her chin was missing. But it was the same face, with wide blue eyes. The same widow’s peak of hair pulled into a chignon. The same figure, although the shimmering silken gown and heaps of lace were far more elegant than anything she would ever wear.