A Season Beyond a Kiss (50 page)

Jeff’s features were sharpened with his own burgeoning desire to gather his wife up close against him and to kiss her with all the passion he had been holding in check since her departure. Only he knew of the agony he had suffered during their separation, but he heard Elizabeth’s rapid footfalls drifting from the corridor leading to the upstairs apartment and, close behind her, those of Farrell’s. The approach of the couple left him with no other choice but to smother the awakening fires that had been so quickly and easily ignited.

“What happened?” the brunette asked worriedly as she hurriedly entered the corridor and came toward them. “Raelynn, are you all right? I thought I heard you cry out.”

“I just stuck a hatpin into my finger,” Raelynn confessed shamefacedly. “Thankfully Jeffrey is taking care of it.”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t need our help,” Elizabeth replied cheerily as she noticed a pink blush infusing her friend’s cheeks. Struggling not to smile, she quickly retreated and, behind her back, motioned for Farrell to do likewise. “We’ll just take ourselves back to where we came from.”

Jeff turned to meet the widow’s sparkling gaze. “My wife and I will be having dinner out this evening, Elizabeth. You needn’t wait up for her. It may be rather late before we return.”

“Oh, of course.” The buoyant lilt in her voice evidenced her delight. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just have a good time.”

“We’ll endeavor to do such a thing,” Jeff pledged with a grin.

In the couple’s absence, Raelynn rose on tiptoes to whisper near her husband’s ear, “Elizabeth invited Farrell to supper tonight, and the way they’ve been mooning over each other lately, I’m definitely relieved to have someplace else to go. I would’ve felt like a third thumb.”

“Even if I’m your escort?”

A smile curved Raelynn’s soft lips as her sparkling eyes met his. “I wouldn’t have gone with anyone else, Jeffrey.”

  
  N
IGHT FELL QUICKLY OVER
C
HARLESTON AS THE
B
IRMINGHAMS
wended their way along the city streets. Thin wisps of fog had begun to drift up from the wharves into the narrow lanes and byways through which they passed. Soon it began rolling up around stately edifices and twining ghost-like through formal gardens. What post lights and lanterns could be seen in the distance were nothing more than vague auras of light glowing in the mists.

Jeff had chosen an elegant French restaurant at which to dine, and though the couple drew the shocked attention of nearly everyone they passed as the
maitre d’
led them to a secluded table near a window at the back, this time Raelynn was much more receptive to the stares. Swept forward on her husband’s arm, she graciously nodded to those who gaped at them in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Does this meet with your approval, Mr. Birmingham?” the
maitre d’
inquired solicitously.

“Very nicely indeed, Gascon. Thank you.”

The headwaiter stood patiently aside as Jeff removed Raelynn’s cape. Upon receiving it, the man hurried away. After assisting his wife into a seat, Jeff took a chair close upon her right and, when the waiter appeared, ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer. He had just taken his wife’s hand to speak of an affair dear to his heart when a tall, dark-haired man dared to intrude upon their privacy.

“Your pardon, Mr. Birmingham. I don’t know if you remember me from your ball, but I’m Lord Marsden.” The man indicated the vacant place on Raelynn’s left. “Would you mind if I sit a spell with you and your lovely wife and discuss a matter which has brought me all the way from England to the Carolinas?”

Jeff had had every intention of courting his wife, but in good manner he could hardly refuse his lordship’s request. Hiding his annoyance, he swept a hand to invite the man to join them. “Please, be my guest.”

The waiter arrived with the wine and was promptly sent for a third goblet. After sampling the choice vintage and a sizable portion of the timbales of shrimp and spinach, which Raelynn had shared with him from her plate, his lordship complimented his host for his excellent taste in wine and food. “It must be a rarity to find a libation of this quality here. I certainly haven’t been able to find the equal.”

“It depends on where you go and whom you know, my lord,” Jeff replied. “But then, my ships import a lot of the wines this city serves.”

His lordship chortled. “No wonder you’re so knowledgeable about where the best of it is located. Yes, indeed. Aside from their marvelous wines, I’m particularly fond of French cuisine. The sauces they use to enhance their dishes are simply superb. I became indoctrinated with everything French when I served as a royal courier to that country some years ago, but, of course, that was before their horrible revolution. When the peasants overran the country, they destroyed everything I enjoyed about it. Now France has a First Consul who means to become emperor. Napoleon will be satisfied with nothing less. No sooner did we get a treaty of peace with him last year than we’re back at war. Bloody confident, he is, and it’s no wonder, what with the scuttlebutt about there being spies in our camps, even near his majesty’s throne. Do you hear much about that sort of thing here in the colonies, sir?”

“Carolinas, you mean?” Jeff corrected, managing a brief smile. “We no longer consider this a territory under English rule.”

“Yes, of course. A slip of the tongue, as it were.”

“As to your question, we seem to be entirely removed from the happenings of the English court and the intrigue going on there.”

“But I understand your wife is English. Has she not heard of the deceit practiced near the throne by some men?”

“She has suffered mightily because of that very thing, your lordship,” Jeff informed the man, reaching across the table to take Raelynn’s hand. He wasn’t surprised to feel it trembling within his grasp. “I believe it’s still very much a painful subject for her. You see, her father was falsely accused of treason and died in prison awaiting his trial.”

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry,” Lord Marsden replied. His dark brows gathered in deep concern as he conveyed his regret to Raelynn. “I hope I haven’t offended you by speaking out of turn, madam. If I have, I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“You could hardly have been cognizant of my distress, my lord,” she murmured graciously, managing nothing more than a wan smile. “After all, you only know me as Mrs. Birmingham. My late father was James Barrett, Earl of Balfour.”

Lord Marsden fell back in his chair, his jaw sagging in surprise, but he quickly recovered and hastened to assure her, “My dear, although I knew your father distantly, I had great regard for him. At the time of his arrest, I was unable to equate the charges against him as anything having solid basis. The man was admired and respected by his peerage . . .”

“Nevertheless,” Raelynn interrupted with quavering tones, “there were those among his peers whose guileful subterfuge brought about his demise. My father was confident that the culprits would be exposed by the very thing that he had within his keeping once he came to trial, but alas, he died in prison before he ever had a chance to reveal them as the deceitful men they were.”

Shadows moved behind Raelynn’s eyes as she recalled the final, haunting days of her father’s imprisonment. He had been concerned for his family’s safety and, for that reason, hadn’t wanted them to visit the prison where he was being held. There was much at stake, he had claimed, and had charged them to keep to themselves and to secure their safety in obscurity. Yet her mother had finally gone to see him, a rare incidence in which she had disobeyed the husband whom she had honored and cherished. On that occasion, James Barrett had appeared wan and weary, yet in tolerably good health. Less than a day later, he was dead. His widow was simply told that he had taken a chill, believable enough in the dank confines of his cell, and had died of an inflammation of his lungs.

“But, surely, even after his death, you could have established his innocence with such evidence as he had in his possession,” Lord Marsden said.

“My father’s integrity and loyalty to King George will be brought to light in time, my lord,” Raelynn said, confident of the axiom that good is eventually victorious over evil. “There will come a day of reckoning, of that I have no doubt.”

“Well, I’ve certainly turned the festive mood of this occasion into a morose declaration of noble platitudes,” Lord Marsden observed dryly. “Again, forgive me for bringing up the subject of England’s difficulties with France. I must remember where I am, here in the Carolinas where neither French nor English is the standard.”

“Aye, we have our own ways of doing things in this country,” Jeff affirmed and leaned forward to inquire, “Now, your lordship, if you wouldn’t mind my asking, what is the nature of the matter you wish to discuss with me?”

“Yes, of course. I nearly forgot my business in musing over my country’s difficulties with France.” He swallowed and began afresh. “Perhaps you might remember that I was looking for an estate to gift my daughter upon her marriage. The nobleman to whom she is engaged has no hope of claiming his father’s title and, for that reason, has decided to venture to the Carolinas where his youngest brother has settled. I would have visited you sooner about this matter, but, as I discovered, you’ve been out of the way for quite some time, sir, and I haven’t been able to make it to your shipping company as I had hoped. Might you be able to help me in my endeavor?”

“Why don’t you come around to my shipping company on the morrow,” Jeff suggested. “I could take you over then and introduce you to some men who’d have more knowledge of properties that are presently available in the area.”

“Of course, Mr. Birmingham. As for this evening, would you and your wife consider being my guests for dinner? I should be honored by your company.”

“Thank you, my lord, most kindly, but I was actually looking forward to enjoying some privacy with my wife while we dine.”

“Oh, of course, how stupid of me.” The Englishman rose hastily to his feet, more than a little offended by his host’s rejection. “I shall endeavor to enjoy my dinner just as well alone.”

Raelynn grimaced slightly as she watched the man stalk pompously away. “I think you angered him, Jeffrey.”

Her husband glanced toward the rapidly departing figure. “I really didn’t want our evening ruined by his presence. Had he invited us some days ago, I would’ve been inclined to accept his invitation, but I wasn’t especially fond of the way he imposed himself upon us tonight.”

“You probably won’t be seeing him again,” she warned.

Jeff lifted his shoulders in an indolent shrug. “Matters not a whit to me, madam. His title carries little weight here in the Carolinas, and I need not feel obliged to kowtow to his wishes just because he’s a lord.” Reaching across, he plucked free a curling wisp of hair that had found its way into her banded collar. Smiling, he rubbed the strand between his thumb and forefinger, admiring its silken texture. “Like I told him, my dear, I was looking forward to enjoying your company entirely alone.”

Warmed by the deep huskiness of his voice, Raelynn felt as if she were melting from the inside out. Espying the curl twined through his fingers, she swept it upward out of his grasp as she tried to smooth her hair. “I must look a sight with my hair falling where it wills.”

“Aye, madam, that you do,” Jeff murmured and swept smoldering eyes over her face and bodice, drinking in her beauty. It seemed like an eternity since he had last seen her. The lengthy separation certainly wasn’t due to some gnawing reluctance to seek her out. On the contrary, he had oftentimes found himself pacing the confines of the townhouse as he tried to remind himself of his goals and bolster his will against an almost overwhelming need to see her. From the very first, it had been his plan to keep his distance for extended periods of time, in so doing allowing her to come to an awareness of what her true feelings were toward him, yet knowing all the while that he was playing a dangerous game of chance wherein he could lose her forever. By dint of will, he had held to his resolve, but the lengthy wait had made him unwilling to accept
any
infringement, even by an English lord.

Dinner was exceptional, the company more so, but Raelynn’s pleasure hit its peak when a small plate of bread pudding, liberally dribbled with chantilly sauce, was placed before her. The combination was no less than heavenly, and with each spoonful, she closed her eyes in sheer exaltation, eliciting chuckles from Jeff, who hadn’t been at all desirous of partaking in a dessert. He indulged himself instead in watching the winsome antics of his dazzlingly beautiful, young wife.

“Our baby will be too fat to come into this world, madam, if you continue eating the way you’ve done tonight,” he warned.

She tossed him a coy pout. “You shouldn’t tempt me beyond my ability to resist, Jeffrey. This is all your fault. You bring me to a place where every morsel is a delight and then chide me because I make a glutton of myself? I suppose now I’ll have to starve tomorrow to make up for tonight.”

“Perhaps I should stay away if I’m such a bad influence.”