The Duke of Morewether’s Secret (16 page)

“She is disheartened, the poor thing.” Francesca shook her head. “I remember how much I hated confinement. She didn’t even have Dalton to order around for the last two days since he and my brother have been gone.”

Thea whipped her head around. “Christian’s with Lord Dalton?” Her fiancé had left town the morning after the special license had been obtained. He’d kissed her goodbye — a rather toe-curling kiss to be sure, but he refused to tell her where he was going, only that he’d be back well before the wedding. It was a surprise, he had insisted.

A mysterious smile curled Francesca’s lips. “Yes, and my husband as well.”

“All three of them?” Anna leaned forward on the tufted bench.

Francesca nodded.

“Where did they go?” Thea asked. “What are they doing?”

“I’m not allowed to tell.” Francesca sat straight against the seat back and folded her hands in her lap. The mysterious smile remained.

“Will you tell me?” Anna poked her friend in the arm.

Francesca shook her head. “No, indeed, I will not.”

“I’m your best friend,” Anna protested.

This time the Countess Harrington shrugged. “I can’t tell. I was made to promise.”

Anna’s jaw flew open in protest and she gasped. “Surely you’re jesting. Your
best
friend.”

“I’m going to be your sister. You have to tell me.” It was driving Thea mad — where had the man had gone off to with a twinkle in his eye with such secrecy? She didn’t approve of secrets on general principle. Nothing good ever came from keeping secrets. Except for possibly her brothers. They had been a secret at one time, but no longer, and she was dedicated to the prospect of making sure they had the lives they were due. She couldn’t imagine how she’d eke out enough time before the wedding to revisit the educational prospects for the boys. Somehow falling in love had gotten her off her original mission. She frowned.

“You’ll know soon enough.” Francesca was clearly reveling in extending the mystery. “Oh, don’t pout. He made me promise.”

Anna squinted her eyes at Francesca for a moment, then turned her attention to Thea. “If we really want to know, we should set Penelope on her. That girl could pester her to the point of begging for the opportunity to tell us.”

Thea rolled her eyes. “No. Whatever it is, I’ll know soon enough.”

By the time Lady Penelope Cavendish, Lord Dalton’s oldest sister, hoisted herself into the carriage the topic of conversation had filtered back to the looming wedding and the excitement of purchasing even more new clothes. Thea’s insistence she had plenty of clothes was dismissed with a wave of a finely gloved hand.

“When do you leave on your honeymoon?” Penelope asked with all the authority of an unmarried woman.

“Two days after the wedding. That’s why Christian obtained the special license.” Thea didn’t mention the conversation where she told her fiancé they shouldn’t continue to have marital relations until
after
the wedding. That particular conversation ended with a breath-quickening kiss, some comical cursing from Christian and added to the reason for the flight to the Archbishop. “If we missed that particular ship it would be several more months before we could travel comfortably again.”

Anna pulled her carefully written lists from her reticule. “That’s why I have some summer dresses listed — in deference to the weather in Greece.”

The idea of warm sea breezes and sky as clear and blue as the water beneath it filled her with a rush of homesickness. None of the dresses she’d bought for London would be appropriate for Santorini. Greece was not the place for wool and triple petticoats.

Francesca leaned into the center of the carriage and the rest of the ladies instinctively leaned in as well. “And let us not forget the pretty night things for the honeymoon. With your lovely coloring, I think pink and lacy and —”

Squeals interrupted the Countess as Lady Penelope giggled and covered her eyes. “Oh yes, very lacy.” Her giggles were infectious and even the married Francesca was soon laughing with her.

“Perhaps we should have left the unmarried ladies home for this trip, hmmm?” Francesca grinned.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Anna showed nothing of the frivolity of a second ago. “I’ve been involved with this since the beginning — as much as I could be and not been bread and buttered myself.”

“Anna Sinclair.” Thea armed her tone for scandalized censure, but the blush heating her cheeks surely proved what her friend implied was only too true. Christian was a marvelous kisser.

Anna nudged her friend, shoulder to shoulder. “It’s not like I haven’t walked in on an embrace or two.”

Thea’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, dear.”

“Oh, do tell.” Penelope urged with a gleam in her eye. “Until you came along, I’d always hoped for a kiss from Morewether myself. I can only imagine the glory of such a thing.”

“I don’t think so,” Thea declined and shook her head with vigor.

Lady Penelope clapped her gloved hands together. “Oh, please. I’m never going to get the opportunity to kiss a rogue of such reputation. You ladies keep going and marrying the really exciting ones. First Francesca nabs Harrington and then you come all the way from Greece to tie up the best one.”

Francesca turned to look at Penelope. “I had no idea you had designs on my brother.”

Rolling her eyes and flopping back against the upholstered seat, Penelope said, “Of course I did. I think the only unmarried woman — or married one for that matter — who wasn’t interested in Christian is Anna here.”

Anna nodded in agreement. “I can’t get past the brother-like quality. Besides, I’ll never marry a rogue. They say they may make the best husbands, but I want a homebody type fellow. A bookish sort who’s uninterested in cards and horse racing and cavorting.” She said the last word with disdain and then realized her faux pas. She extended her hand and grasped Thea’s in her own. “I’m certain Christian will be steady, the model husband.”

Francesca snorted and Thea had to agree with her assessment. Still, she did love him and she had every intention of marrying the man. “Ladies, I know who I am betrothed to.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Anna insisted. “I’ve known Christian for too many years and know how infuriating he can be. I only meant he wasn’t for me. I still can’t believe it because I’ve been warning him off this whole time, but I’ve never seen him so … so … dare I say, in love. You’ve won him, Thea, his heart and his trousers.”

Again, Penelope squealed at the outrageous comment.

“She’s right,” Francesca agreed. “I never thought I’d see my brother quite so affected. Brava, my dear.”

“Don’t think all this —” Penelope rolled her hand in an encompassing gesture “— is going to deter me from my original question?”

Thea shook her head and frowned. This had been a strange conversation and, frankly, she’d lost track.

Penelope’s grin was avid and on the verge of scary. “Tell me about kissing Christian.”

Chapter Fifteen

Christian was pacing. He had no reason to believe Thea would fail to show, but he couldn’t cease the relentless movement until she was standing before him in front of a minister and had said the words. He did realize his anxiety was probably some cruel retribution for all the women he’d unwittingly tortured over the years. In his defense, he’d done a lot of soul searching in the last several weeks, and he’d never truly intended to be so cruel. In fact, the opposite. He’d thought by being forthcoming with his limitations he was mitigating their pain.

It didn’t matter. He was through playing games with ladies. And opera singers. And actresses. And any other woman who flounced by. The only woman he was interested in now was a brilliant, gorgeous one who’d never flounced a day in her life.

He loved the irony.

“Can I get you a drink or something? You’re driving me batty with all that back and forth nonsense.” Thomas swirled the liquid in his own glass as an enticement.

Christian’s best friend had arrived earlier under the guise of best man, but he was pretty sure Thomas was also present under the capacity as the witness for the book makers at White’s. Christian had put a hundred pounds of his own money down as soon as he learned there had been odds set on whether he’d actually go through with the wedding. The five to one odds were too good to resist, especially on a sure thing.

“I’m not drinking before my wedding.”

“I’m not suggesting you get pickled, just settle your nerves. It’s as if you’re going to take flight.”

Christian paused in front of the window looking out over the street and mindlessly watched the traffic on the lane. “I’m not nervous.” There was a chuckle from behind him. “Really, I’m not. I’m fiercely excited. I have found the woman.
The
woman. Do you understand the significance of that?”

Thomas was smirking from his lazy pose in a chair, the crystal glass rested on his knee.

Christian continued, shaking his head in wonderment. “The perfect woman? I don’t think you understand. It’s miraculous. I never thought it would happen. I didn’t believe she was out there, that she even existed. You’ll never understand.”

Thomas laughed as he stood. “You’re such an ass. What do you think? You’re the only man who found the perfect woman? I do find my wife to be quite special, you know, and I do believe Dalton, if pulled away from the side of his lovely bride, would have something fine to say about her as well.”

“Yes, of course. I wasn’t trying to say —”

“I know.” His friend popped a biscuit in his mouth from a tray Christian’s valet had left to entice him into eating. “You thought you were too … discerning?”

“No, just I never thought I’d find one woman who could keep my attention for the rest of my life.”

“Oh. We all assumed it was because you were too fickle, vacillating, and apathetic to consider anything beyond the several odd months you’d tolerated a mistress.”

Christian flashed Thomas a disdainful look over his shoulder. “You’ve been married how long now? Five years? All tied to my sister’s apron strings.”

Thomas roared with laughter. “Your sister’s never worn an apron in her life.

Hands on his hips, Christian turned from the window. “My point was it wasn’t so long ago you were out tomcatting with me, and now you’re all civilized.”

“Indeed.” Thomas toasted Christian with his empty glass. “And
my
point is you’ve been nicked like the rest of us by a thief in a petticoat. You’re destined for a life of quiet civility now. There’ll be miniature lords and ladies terrorizing your home soon enough.”

His defensive stance melted, and Christian grinned at his oldest friend.

Thomas strode forward and pulled him in for a familiar hug. “I’m teasing you. I couldn’t be happier for you. Thea is a lovely girl, and Francesca really likes her. She’s going to lead you on a merry chase for the rest of your lives, and I can’t wait to watch it.”

A rap on the door preceded the entrance of his valet. “The lady has arrived, Your Grace.”

“And the noose tightens.” Thomas said the words in an ominous tone and chuckled like a melodramatic actor. When Christian turned to look at his friend, aghast, Thomas’s laugh blended into the friendly chortle he knew so well. “Come on. Let’s not keep the lady waiting. She’s fiery that one.”

Yes, she was, and that was exactly what Christian loved about her so much. She was gorgeous, breathtaking, in a pale pink gown cut low across her chest revealing the swells of her breasts. Her dark hair, swept up off her nape, showed of the graceful curve of her neck.

The small crowd of their well-wishers, his sister and her husband, Harrington, his mother, Anna Sinclair, and Lord Dalton without his wife, gathered around them in his study while they said their vows. Thea, in her lilting accent, promised to love, cherish, and obey him, meeting his gaze all the while. She had never been lovelier than that moment, pledging herself to him in front of those people most important to him. She loved him, and even more important he loved her — fully and completely, with a strength he’d never imagined possible. Without reservation he promised to take her as his lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death them did part.

The minister pronounced them man and wife, and Christian breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t acknowledged it, even to himself, but he’d had a superstitious feeling something was going to cause the whole thing to crumble, something epic and he wouldn’t get to keep her. The minister said it, though, and she was his wife. Thea’s face glowed with an ecstatic smile, brightening her already lovely face into, dare he say, resplendent joy? Maybe that was just his reaction. Resplendent. Incandescent. He was feeling giddy.

To keep himself from erupting into laughter, he grabbed his wife and kissed her. He bent her back over his arm, lowered his lips to hers, and closed his eyes. She tilted her head and opened her mouth to receive him, welcoming his tongue to worship her.

It would be unseemly to drag her into the nearest sitting room, wouldn’t it?

Their kiss — which even Christian would admit was verging on vastly inappropriate — was interrupted by an embarrassed cough from his mother and whistles and applause from Dalton and Thomas.

“If you like,” Thomas offered with a suggestive leer, “we could all depart and toss the wedding breakfast to the wind.”

“Never.” His mother — now the Dowager Duchess of Morewether — smacked Thomas on the arm. “Not after all the planning I’ve done.”

Thea tittered, and her face turned an adorable shade of pink visible even under her darker complexion. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. If I couldn’t have my own family present …”

“I’m so happy for you.” Francesca wrapped his wife in a big hug. “Don’t you go easy on him now.”

Christian scowled, but his sister only grinned at him.

Anna patted Francesca’s arm until she released Thea from her embrace. “My turn.” She kissed Thea on both cheeks. “Who could have predicted? Certainly not I. If anyone had even suggested you and Christian would make a love match … Well.” She shook her head in wonder.