Barbara Metzger (26 page)

Late that evening, Lesley scratched on Carissa's bedchamber door. He was wearing a velvet-edged robe, his tight-fitting trousers, and an open shirt. He carried a bottle of wine and a rose.

Carissa was dressed for bed, in a new pink gown and matching robe with falls of lace at the neck and sleeves. She'd been thinking he might come, hoping he'd come, fearing he would not. She couldn't go to his room, she knew, not again. There was not enough courage in the kingdom for her to take another chance on being rejected. His first words relieved most of her doubts.

"Well, Mrs. Kane, are you ready to become Mrs. Hammond at last?"

"I am ready, but are you sure, Lesley? There is still bound to be talk."

"Good grief, what do I care about talk? You are all I care about, Carissa. You have to know that."

His kiss relieved her of the remaining uncertainties. Then he said, “I hope you don't intend to go into mourning for the dastard?"

She eyed the bed behind them. “No, I did that ages ago."

Lesley tried to ignore the down-turned sheets, the soft pillows. While he poured them glasses of wine, he told her, “A rider came while we were out, with the results of the magistrate's investigation. Cantwell was his real name, not that it matters anymore. The messenger also brought a report from Bow Street about the search of Mason's rooms. They found this.” He handed her Sir Gilliam's will, dated two years ago. In it he left his dearest friend and beloved honorary daughter his house and fortune, except for pensions for the servants and an allowance for his nephew Broderick. Carissa had to borrow Lesley's handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

"I'm afraid it's all gone, every shilling and then some, but I can offer you six houses, a horse farm in Virginia and a hunting box in Scotland. If none of those suit, I'll buy you six more."

So of course Carissa had to tell him that she'd live in a cottage with him, as long as there were no mice. And he had to kiss her again, mingling the taste of wine on their lips. Then he said, “The Runners also found two clothespresses full of women's gowns in Mason's rooms."

"Why, that sly dog had a woman friend all these years. I never would have supposed such a thing."

"The Runners don't think he had a lady friend, not exactly."

"Ah, a paid companion then. I am not surprised no woman would go with him without payment. That must be why he never brought her to Kensington."

"The neighbors told the men they'd never seen a woman go in the place, and it was empty when he leased it."

Carissa was confused. “There must be some explanation."

"Oh, there is. I'll explain it another time, after we are married, which had deuced better be soon. The messenger brought a special license also, my love, so we can be wed tomorrow, unless you want your father to be here."

"And the duchess would be insulted if we did not invite her."

"Hm.” He was tasting her neck now. “We can decide about the wedding tomorrow, my love, but can we have the wedding night right now?"

Her kiss was answer enough.

So rapt in their awakening passion were they that Carissa forgot all about Pippa, asleep on a cot in the adjoining dressing room, in case she had bad dreams in the night.

Rubbing her eyes, Pippa wandered out of the dressing room. She saw her mother alone with Lord Hartleigh, in a lady's chamber, with no chaperon in sight. “I'm telling,” she said.

Lesley did not bother releasing Carissa from his embrace. “You can go tell everyone, Pippin, because it is quite proper. I am to marry your mother and be your father, the way I promised. Now go to bed, your own bed. Sue will be missing you and I need to tell your mother how much I love her."

He locked the door behind her.

Sometime later, close to dawn, Lesley was rudely shaken awake. He opened his eyes to look into his beloved's brown ones, and smiled, a slow, satisfied, seductive smile. “It's been a long night, my love, but I'll try."

Blushing, Carissa shook him again. “Not that! It's Cleo. My cat is having kittens!"

Lesley rolled over, pulling her next to him. “Congratulations, Lady Hartleigh-to-be. You finally found something you cannot blame on the dog."