A Worthy Wife (21 page)

The rest of the guests, Aurora’s aunt and uncle, were already out collecting whatever it was they collected, according to the footman in the hall. Kenyon expected to see tadpoles in his teacup next, but if they were content, he was content not playing the polite host every moment. Aunt Ellenette was in the breakfast room, the footman informed him, but Frederick was with her, so she already had someone to talk to. She’d take exception to his undress anyway, so he went back up the stairs to his wife’s bedroom.

Aurora woke up late. She’d intended to get the household in order so his lordship would not be put to the least bother. Her husband had been so understanding, so reassuring, so— So she sat in bed, dreaming over her chocolate. She smiled at him when he came into the room, almost as if she had conjured him out of sweet reveries. He certainly looked like a maiden’s dream this morning, with his hair still tousled from sleep and a slight shadow on his jawline. “Good morning, my lord.”

“And to you, my lady.” He placed the rose that he’d filched from the hall table on the pillow beside her.

“I’m glad you came. We need to talk.”

He sat beside her on the bed, smoothing the hair away from her cheeks. She did not shy away, so he touched her lips with his fingers, butterfly soft. “Sh. Not yet. Everyone is well and accounted for. In fact, I don’t know how you planned it, but your latest venture has wrought miracles.” And her body, under its thin silk covering, was making magic of its own. He kissed her, tasting the chocolate on her lips. “Hmm. You know, I have been thinking, my dear, that we know each other a lot better than we did. We really ought to have our wedding night one of these days.”

“Hmm.” Her whole body was
hmm-ing
in response. “But what of your doubts?”

Windham was relieved that she hadn’t mentioned
her
doubts. His bride was not going to stand on her scruples any longer, thank goodness. He couldn’t have stood another day. “I read some of your mother’s letters,” he
told her. “The ones she wrote to your aunt. She begs forgiveness for what she is about to do, without specifics, in the same letter sending her daughter away. You must be right. Elizabeth planned to claim her child’s death to get you away from your lawful father.”

“So there is no more question about the legality of our marriage?”

“I still wonder about Podell, but I am growing more and more understanding of his need to make you his. Lud, I burn for you, Aurora.”

He loved her blushes, though not as much as he loved her bare skin. He took off his robe and started to untie the ribbons of her nightgown.

“My lord! It is daytime!”

“Yes, I noticed. So?”

“The servants!”

“Know better than to interrupt a gentleman and his wife on their honeymoon. I’ll lock the door if it will make you feel better.”

“Are you sure?” She was not just asking about the door, but about his feelings, their future, everything.

He was sure he’d embarrass himself like a schoolboy if he had to wait much longer. “Positive.” He slipped beneath the covers beside her, stretching his length against hers. She pressed nearer, craving the closeness as much as he did. “Everything is going to be fine. In fact, it’s going to be heaven, my love. You’ll see.”

That’s when the cat found something to eat: Frederick.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Meissen vase was the first of many fatalities. The seven-piece Wedgewood tea set was now the seventy-piece set. The Sheraton chair was now a footstool. The first footman on the scene was still on the floor. As the chase moved toward the kitchens, the staff started cheering for the cat instead of trying to separate Puss and the pug. Odds were being shouted out and wagers placed until Windham arrived, glaring at all of them.

Since none of his well-paid servants seemed to think halting the havoc was part of his or her duties, the earl tossed a pot of water on the combatants, which caused Cook to set up an even louder ruckus. That was her soup stock.

Trying to get out of the way, two scullery maids slipped on the water, knocking over a table piled with chopped vegetables for the soup. The earl had to reach in and pull the furry mass apart, getting bitten, scratched, and sopping wet. Aurora had the presence of mind to grab a large towel—for the cat. When the beast was wrapped in the fabric, she gave him a pat—the earl. She gave the dog one of the soup bones and the cat the plate of kippers that were going to be his lordship’s breakfast.

Aunt Ellenette needed the services of Christopher’s physician. So did Frederick, though he complained with every stitch—the doctor, not the dog. Not knowing how to dose an overweight, overwrought pug with laudanum, they gave him some brandy. It was the first time in anyone’s memory that the pug wagged his tail.

The cat was banished back to Nialla’s room, with a better latch on the door. Nialla was in tears at the scope
of the destruction. She’d begun to hope, to have dreams again, but now she recalled she was nothing but a displaced, disgraced chit, even deeper in debt to these people whose beautiful home Puss had tried to destroy. Reading to their brother could never be recompense for this mess.

And Christopher remembered he was nothing but a disabled soldier who could not comfort the poor little peagoose. He couldn’t get out of bed when she rushed past sobbing, couldn’t take her in his arms, even if she didn’t have the Fiend’s own feline in hers. Damn, he’d never get to hold another woman; worse, he’d never get to hold this one. Kit swept his arm across the bedside table with all the bottles. None of them were going to give him back his arm or his life, so what was the use?

Brianne and Wesley had an argument almost as loud as the dog and cat when he tried to get up to help Aurora.

“Lady Windham this and Lady Windham that. Aurora’s all you care about,” shouted Brianne, consumed with jealousy. “I saw you making sheep eyes at her in the carriage, and you’ve been singing her praises all morning. And she’s most likely begging my brother to spare your life just because you smiled at her, the noddy. Well, you are nothing but a here-and-thereian, and she is as fickle as Kenyon’s first wife.”

On her way back to her room, Aurora gasped. Kenyon, at her side, would have stormed into the guest chamber and committed mayhem of his own, had not Wesley’s quiet voice reached them in the hall. “You shame your brother with your accusations, and you shame your sister-in-law, who has never been aught but a perfect lady. You shame me, to think that I would repay them thus for my very life. If you think so ill of me, my lady, perhaps I should leave after all.”

When Kenyon ordered his sister to apologize, Brianne threw a tantrum that likely gave the highwayman a permanent disgust of her, to the earl’s deep regret. But she did beg everyone’s pardon before retiring to her room, back in mourning. Before Kenyon could assure his wife that Brianne would recover and no, he did not suspect
her of dallying, with the highwayman, not for more than a minute or two, anyway, a maid rushed in. The monkey was loose outside on the grounds.

“Oh, dear, he’ll catch cold. And I promised Lady Anstruther-Jones I’d take good care of him. What if he gets stolen?”

“Who the devil would want a bothersome beast like that?”

Trying to chase after Sweety, Ned climbed aboard Magpie, the retired cart horse that acted as a lawn sculpture these days. City child that he was, however, Ned fell right off, and had the wind knocked out of him. Windham thought he might have broken a rib. Ned was delighted that he wouldn’t have to go to school for a few days, but that still left the monkey up the tree, and Lord Windham’s wife looking at him expectantly. This was not what he had counted on seeing in her eyes this morning.

No, Aurora did not think the monkey would come down when he was ready.

Damn, Kenyon thought as he unbelted his silk dressing gown, leaving his legs et cetera bare beneath his nightshirt. Instead of mounting his beautiful bride, Lord Windham was mounting a blasted oak tree, which the infernal monkey climbed higher, of course, as soon as the earl was close. Kenyon had no choice but to follow, with half the shire looking up, he was certain, at his et ceterae.

Aurora’s aunt and uncle meandered past, their arms full of nets and jars. They suggested a bowl of fruit, which reminded Kenyon that he never did have breakfast. What, were all his hungers to go unfulfilled this morning? “No, thank you, I never eat while I am up a tree. I’ll find something later. Oh, for the monkey.”

Aurora sent a footman off to kitchens—and giggled at him.

“Funny? You think this is funny, madam?”

She must have, for she nearly bit her lip, trying not to laugh out loud.

The fruit did not work, nor the bread, nor the chicken—the rest of lunch, in other words. Finally, Aurora herself hauled the inebriated pug outside to a blanket, despite Aunt Ellenette’s screeching, and the monkey flew down the tree, almost dislodging the earl, eager to have a game of tail-pull. Aurora caught Sweety before he could reach the dog and, since it worked with the cat, wrapped the monkey tightly—in Kenyon’s robe. She told one of the gardeners to bring a ladder around for the earl as she left.

How could a day that had started out so promising turn so perverse? The early sunshine had fled behind the clouds by the time Kenyon was down and dressed, and the day grew as dim as his chances of getting his wife alone this morning. Looking at her as she ministered to the boy, Ned, Kenyon became uncomfortable in his unmentionables. Dash it, a man ought not lust after his own wife. He ought to be able to satisfy his needs; that was supposed to be the advantage to a man in marriage, wasn’t it? It was the only one, as far as he could see. Too bad he was not getting to savor the rewards, only suffer the rest.

Then the post came, and the day went from bad to worse.

Lord Phelan Ramsey was spotted in London, Windham’s man there reported, but was playing least in sight. Creditors were lined up outside his lodgings, and gambling partners were calling in his vowels. Word had gone out, it seemed, that an expected windfall had not materialized. The windfall was to have landed in Ramsey’s lap remarkably close to the time of Aurora’s failed marriage to Podell.

“Too shady by half,” Windham muttered, and Aurora had to agree. Her aunt and uncle had no idea where Lord Phelan might have come into an inheritance or a coup from investments. As far as they knew, his lordship lived on a small family annuity and his wagering winnings. In their infrequent dealings with him, he’d never mentioned another source of income.

Windham told himself it did not matter. He did not need any more confirmation of his marriage, nor discussion of its legality. In fact, he just might owe Podell a favor. Nor did he need another fortune if one did, indeed, exist. Thanks to Aurora’s escapades, money might be flying out of the Windham coffers as fast as the monkey flew through the orange trees, but Kenyon could stand the nonsense. Still, that niggling doubt remained at the back of his mind.

Aurora was more than curious; she was all for finding the missing lord and the feasible fortune. “I can think of a thousand ways to spend a few extra pounds and pence. Then I wouldn’t have to be constantly counting the cost of every little thing.”

If Aurora thought she was being economical, Kenyon dreaded to think what she might consider extravagant—elephants in the apple orchard, perhaps, or a home for unemployed orange-sellers. But he did enjoy his hot water, Kenyon reminded himself, and he did like seeing his wife smile, when she was not laughing at his expense. “I’ll ask my man to hire a Runner to look for Ramsey. It’s better to know what he was up to, than wonder for the rest of our days.”

Ned was all for going himself. “Ain’t—isn’t—no one in London I can’t find.”

Aurora frowned. “I thought you were too sore to go to school for a week.”

The boy ignored her. “If your bloke’s punting on Tick, guv, I know all the sponging houses an’ diving kens he’d try. No Runner can get near half the places me an’ my friends can go.”

“He has a point.”

“He has lessons, if he’s to grow up to be a Runner.” Both males were looking at her so pleadingly—Ned to be allowed to return to London and show off for his chums there, and the earl, for her to get rid of the lad so they could have some privacy—that she said she’d think about it. Ned went to pack.

The next letter was going to give Windham all the privacy he wanted, in Paris. Peace was about to be declared, the secretary wrote him, and the earl was needed to help draft terms of surrender. According to Whitehall, his experience in the diplomatic corps, his fluency in the language, and his influential connections made Windham a prime candidate for the committee.

“Damn and blast! I’ll have to go back to France.”

“Why can’t you simply tell him no?” Aurora thought her husband had spent little enough time with her since their wedding as is. Besides, he’d just returned with his brother. Surely the Warriners had done enough for king and country.

“You don’t understand, my love. This isn’t any secretary asking, this is the Home Secretary, writing on Prinny’s behalf. To refuse would be close to treason, I’m afraid.
Noblesse oblige
,
and all that.”

It was deuced unobliging to expect a new bridegroom to leave his wife. Windham crumpled the letter in his fist. “I might be able to take you with me, though. What do you think?”