Lady Beresford's Lover (28 page)

Serena and Robert joined the group, and Serena hugged Vivian. “I thought it would turn out this way.”

Robert shook Rupert’s hand. “You were right,” Rupert said. “It is a madness.”

Vivian didn’t understand that at all, but it didn’t matter. What was important was they were all happy for Rupert and her.

The door opened and a butler followed by three footmen entered carrying champagne and glasses. Once the flutes were full and everyone had a glass, Edward, as she had been instructed to call him, raised his glass. “Congratulations to Rupert and Vivian. May you have a long and happy life together.”

“When is the wedding?” Freddy asked.

“In the morning.” Rupert slid his arm around Vivian. “There is no point in waiting.”

“At Stanstead House or on Mount Street?”

“The wedding will be at Lady Telford’s and the wedding breakfast at my house. Her ladyship sent a runner to inform my staff.”

“You’ll want to inspect the house.” Freddy raised her brows at Rupert. “Shall we come with you?”

Vivian almost choked on her wine. “Now?”

“No time like the present.” Freddy set her glass down. “Whitsun, have my coach brought round.” The butler bowed and left the room. “Even though you are a widow, you’ll not wish to be seen going into Rupert’s residence without a chaperone. Serena and I shall accompany you for propriety’s sake. Our husbands can take care of the children.”

“After you see the house,” Serena said, “we can go with you to Mount Street where you can change, and we’ll all meet back here for dinner.”

“Excellent.” Robert gave a slow smile. “We can all tell Vivian stories about Rupert’s childhood.”

“Only the most embarrassing ones, I’m sure,” Rupert shot back.

“Naturally. That’s what families are good for. Have you told Grandmamma yet?”

Rupert grimaced. “I didn’t think she was in Town.”

“She arrived back today.” Robert bounced his daughter. “Ever since she was introduced to that French modiste, she’s been going to Paris for her wardrobe.”

Rupert’s arm tightened around Vivian’s waist. “I suppose that will be our next stop.”

“If you give me a moment,” Serena said, “I’ll send Grandmamma an invitation to dinner.”

“My lady.” Whitsun bowed from the doorway. “Your coach is waiting.”

Once again, it was only a matter of minutes before they arrived at Rupert’s house in Grosvenor Square. The door was opened by a white-haired butler who stood as erect as a soldier.

Rupert kept his palm on the small of Vivian’s back. “Harlock, meet your new mistress, currently Lady Beresford.”

The servant bowed. “We received the information about your marriage, and I speak for the entire staff when I say we have been a long time without a mistress, and it will be our pleasure to serve you.”

“What he means,” Freddy said dryly, “is that I never liked the place, which had nothing to do with the staff, and the last female to live here was Stanstead’s grandmother.”

Well, that was plain speaking. Vivian was glad Rupert had told her what had taken place here. She inclined her head to the butler. “I’m sure Lord Stanstead and I will put things to rights soon enough.”

“This is your house, my lady,” Rupert said firmly. “It is not for me to interfere with your management of it.”

If only he knew how much that meant to her. She would thank him later, when they were alone. “In that case, is the housekeeper available? She might wish to accompany us as we tour the house.”

“If you will consent to drink tea in the morning room, I shall have Mrs. Honiwell prepare what will be necessary.”

“Thank you, Harlock. Rupert, lead the way.”

No more than twenty minutes later their little coterie had consumed several delicious biscuits, most of a cake filled with nuts and fruit, and two pots of tea.

A plump woman in her middle years with light brown hair knocked on the door and curtseyed. “My lord?”

“Ah, there you are, Honey.” Rupert stood, helping Vivian to rise from the low chaise. “My dear, allow me to present your housekeeper, Honiwell. Honey, my future wife, Lady Beresford.”

The housekeeper curtseyed again. “A real pleasure, my lady.” She smiled as if Vivian was the answer to all her prayers. “I have my notebook, if you’d like to begin with a short tour. We shall have a full inspection later, if you agree.”

“Certainly.” There wasn’t time to-day to look at everything. “Perhaps in the next week or so.”

“More likely after we return from our honeymoon.” Rupert took Vivian’s hand. “I have a surprise planned for you.”

Her cheeks warmed in a blush. “What a time to tell me.”

“I could hardly tell you before you agreed to marry me.”

Her face was going to be beet red at this rate. Naturally, she would have thought he had meant to take Cleo. “Very true. How bad is the house?”

Rupert gave her a sly look, but Honiwell responded, “We’ve kept it clean, my lady, and the linens are in good repair, but there has been no one to select new hangings.”

“Or furnishings or any of that sort of thing. Am I correct?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Rupert”—Freddy stood—“don’t you have something to do in your study? I’m sure we shall go on much more quickly without you.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He bowed. “It has to do with my surprise.”

“Devil,” Vivian said to his back as he ambled out of the parlor.

Serena raised one brow. “For all that his name is Stanstead, he is truly a Beaumont.”

Vivian and her future relations followed the housekeeper out of the room and up the stairs.

As they entered the first bedroom, Freddy pulled a face. “I must apologize to you. I did not raise my son to be interested in domestic matters. I had so little interest myself.”

“No matter. I’m perfectly capable of taking them on.”
Ecstatic
would be the word. Since Vivian was thirteen, she’d been looking forward to having a home to do with as she would. Beresford was a bitter blow. Yet, with Rupert by her side, she would move forward to a new and much better life.

S
un flooded Silvia’s bedchamber. This was her wedding day. She couldn’t believe that after having hated Nick for so long, she was finally going to become his wife. Not that it had been Nick’s fault. Her father had a lot to answer for. She and Nick would deal with Papa later. This day was to be celebrated.

She had been dressed for the past several minutes, waiting for Vivian and Cousin Clara. Not long ago, Silvia had heard a carriage drive up to the front of the house, and she wondered how soon the visitors would leave.

The door opened and Cousin Clara entered in a froth of brightly colored shawls and skirts. “We are almost ready to go. Lord Beresford sent this over earlier.” Clara opened a box. “For you to wear.”

Silvia’s jaw dropped. She’d never seen anything so striking. Displayed on a Prussian-blue velvet cloth was a necklace with pearls and rubies interspersed on three strands, matching earrings, and a bracelet. On closer inspection, the bracelet appeared to be new, but the other pieces were quite old. “Where did he find them?”

“I have no idea. They are not part of the Beresford jewels,” Vivian said prosaically. “I brought you one of my blue handkerchiefs to borrow for today. I think Beresford has taken care of the old and the new.”

Although Silvia knew it was customary for a gentleman to give his bride something on their wedding day, she hadn’t given it any thought. The sense of a pleasant dream deserted her, leaving in its place an excitement she hadn’t experienced since before Nick had left to return to the army. She wanted to jump up and down and skip as she had as a child. “Someone put them on me, please.”

Clara chuckled. “Give me a moment.” She made Silvia sit at the dressing table before fastening the necklace.

All Silvia could do was gaze in the mirror. “I feel different, as if I’m no longer a single lady.”

“If you’re going to wear the rest, don them.” Clara’s voice was slightly hoarse. “Beresford will be waiting.”

Silvia quickly inserted the gold wires through her ears and slid the bracelet on her wrist. “I’m ready.”

Even though Cousin Clara had offered the use of her house for the wedding, and Mr. Trevor had agreed to off iciate, in the end Silvia and Nick had decided to have the service performed at St. George’s. She might still be angry at her father, but she had been raised a rector’s daughter and church was where she wanted to be for her wedding.

Nick, his friend Lord Hawksworth, and Lord Stanstead were already at St. George’s when she, Clara, and Vivian arrived. Nick glanced up as they entered through a side door, and gave her a crooked grin. Dressed in black and snowy white, he’d never looked so handsome.

He held out his hand. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes, I’m more than ready.”

Silvia was radiant and exquisite, and Nick was going to have one hell of a time being civil to her father when they returned to Beresford. The old man had made them wait years for this moment. But right now, Nick was simply happy she was going to be his. Everything else could wait.

In typical Silvia fashion, she had wasted no time joining him. Her grip on his hand was sure and firm. She would make an excellent wife and countess. Most importantly, she would be his lover and the mother of his children.

“Who gives this woman to this man?”

Silvia seemed to grow taller as she gave the clergyman a look and said, “I give myself to him.”

“Umm, most unusual.” The man coughed. “My lord?”

Stanstead raised a brow, ready to step in if needed.

Nick gave an imperceptible shake of his head. “Is there a law against it?”

“No, but—well.”

Silvia’s lovely chin had turned mulish. He had no doubt she was prepared to argue canon law with the vicar.

“In that case, she will give herself away.”

The man coughed. “Very well. Nicholas James . . .”

After they signed the register, he gathered her into his arms. “I’m glad you’re my wife.”

She rose on her toes and kissed him. “I’m glad you’re my husband.”

“We have a pathetically small wedding breakfast waiting for us.”

“We’ll have a larger celebration when we go home to Beresford.”

He placed a light kiss on her lips. “You think of everything.”

Silvia grinned and Nick saw the sun, moon, and stars at the same time. “I do, don’t I?”

“Come along, minx. We need champagne.”

“Yes, I rather think we might.”

Their wedding breakfast included the same people who were at the church, but Lady Telford had done a splendid job of hosting a small but elegant feast.

An hour later, when Silvia and Nick were departing for his house, he finally got to kiss his new bride. “Do you really want to attend Lady Jersey’s ball?”

Silvia’s lips formed a pout. “Under other circumstances, no, but Cousin Clara is correct. It is the perfect time for the
ton
to see us married. After all, we cannot leave Town until after Vivian and Lord Stanstead are wed.”

Nick stifled a sigh. “At least we have the rest of the day.”

As soon as they arrived at his house, he introduced her to his small staff, and escorted her to their bedchamber.

Nick had waited for this moment for years. He, Silvia, and a bed.

He gave her time alone to change when he would rather have undressed her himself. Yet he must be careful not to alarm her; she was a rector’s daughter, after all, and had thought kisses could make her pregnant.

He knocked, strode into the room, and stopped. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her blue-black hair tumbled to her waist over the highly embroidered gown. When he’d looked his fill, he closed the distance between them. Removing his cravat, he kissed her. But instead of letting him take the lead, she put her hands on his chest and began pushing off his jacket.

“Silvia, love. Slow down.”

“Take it off. I’m already in my nightgown, and you haven’t even undressed.”

“I didn’t wish to scare you,” he said in his defense. What in blazes had got into her? Her hands went to the placket of his breeches. One by one the buttons were unfastened. This was truly going to be a shock. “You might wish to wait.”

His waistcoat was shoved down over his arms, and she tugged at his shirt. “Take it off.”

“Silvia, have you any idea what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do. Cousin Clara explained everything.”

“Never let it be said I don’t give you what you want.” He toed off his shoes and pushed down his breeches while bending over to allow her to remove his shirt. Once he was naked as the day he was born, he started unbuttoning her nightgown. “How many blasted buttons does this thing have?”

“I don’t know. I made it too long ago to remember.” Her voice was breathy as she rubbed her palms over his chest, playing with the hairs covering it.

“Silvia, I can’t get the blasted buttons undone.”

She pushed his fumbling fingers away but had no better luck than he had, and grabbing both sides of the gown, ripped apart the fine muslin fabric.

For several long moments he could only stare at her as full, dark-tipped breasts greeted him. Finally he found his voice again. “Oh God! You are gorgeous.”

A blush rose in Silvia’s cheeks. Not as worldly as she thought she was. All the better for him. He stroked her back, over her lush bottom, and smiled as she moaned. He nibbled her full, deep-rose bottom lip, encouraging her to open for him. When she figured out what he wanted, he dived in, exploring the warm cavity. Soon their tongues were dancing and battling. This is how it would always be with them.

Sweeping her into his arms, he threw her onto the bed and jumped in after her. Suddenly, it creaked ominously.

“Nick, I think we should go to another room.”

“It will be fine. Kiss me.”

The next thing he knew the mattress, with them on top, collapsed to the floor. “Damn, blasted thing.”

“Watch your language.”

Then the sound of wood popping shot through the air. “Damn!”

Grabbing Silvia, Nick rolled them off the bed just before the heavy wooden canopy came crashing down.

For a moment she was so still he thought she’d been injured. “Silvia, talk to me.”

“Truly.” Her tone was so calm it almost scared him. “Nicholas Beresford, you do not wish to know what I would say.”

“No.” He grimaced. “You’re probably right.”

Sun streamed through the window, and someone started pounding on the door. “My lord, is everything all right?”

Blackford. His butler.

“Give me a minute.” Nick rummaged in his wardrobe and found a robe for Silvia, then donned his breeches. “Come.”

The door opened a crack at first. Blackford’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“The blasted bed crashed, that’s what happened.” Nicholas raked his fingers through his hair. “Did you or anyone else bother to inspect this furniture in the past twenty years?”

Looking affronted, his butler replied, “That is the housekeeper’s job, my lord.”

“Where the devil is she?”

“We haven’t had one since Mrs. Murray went to live with her daughter.”

“When was that?”

“Before the old lord stopped coming to Town.”

Silvia began to laugh. “Nick, how could you not notice you had no housekeeper?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I’ve never had to bother with one before. My mother always dealt with them.”

Casting her eyes to the ceiling, Silvia shook her head. “Blackford, which of the bedchambers are fit for use?”

“This is the only one left on this floor.”

“I’m going to murder someone.” Nick was rapidly losing control of his temper. “Why the devil didn’t you tell me?”

His butler straightened. “It is not—”

“Your job.” He strode over to the window before he said something he shouldn’t. Why of all times did the bloody bed have to break on his wedding day? Part of the fallen canopy caught his eye. “Worms. I wonder how much of the furniture is rotten?”

“That will be all, Blackford. Please call my maid and his lordship’s valet.” Silvia crouched down and inspected the bed. “This has been going on for a while.” She rose. “The only thing to do is go to Cousin Clara’s. She has more than enough room.”

“We can go to the Pulteney.”

“I would not feel comfortable at a hotel.” Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned her head against his chest. “She’ll understand. To-morrow we can look at some warehouses for pieces that are already built, then order the rest.” She reached up and pulled his head down. “We shall be fine. Come, husband, I still want you to bed me.”

“Vixen.” Despite his foul mood, Nick smiled. “You would have made a fine soldier’s wife.”

“I know. Let’s find different quarters, Colonel. We still have a ball to attend.”

 

Shortly before eight that evening, Rupert descended from his town coach and up the steps of Lady Telford’s home. He had distressing news for her, and wasn’t looking forward to her reaction.

Barnes opened the door. “Good evening, my lord. Her ladyship will be down shortly.”

“Is Lady Telford here?”

“She and the new Lady Beresford are in the drawing room. I’ll announce you.”

What the devil was Silvia Beresford doing here? Had Nick angered her already? “Thank you.”

“Stanstead, good to see you.” Nick greeted him with a glass of wine. “I know you must be surprised to see me, but the thing is”—the man actually flushed—“we had a mishap and are staying here until the house can be redone.”

Rupert moved toward the sofa, only to see Silvia blushing a deep red. “Lady Telford, Lady Beresford, good evening.”

“Don’t mind them.” Lady Telford shook her head at the younger couple. “Never thought I’d see a military man turn missish. Their bed broke, and it turned out most of the furniture was rotten. That’s what happens when a house doesn’t have a mistress.”

“Cousin Clara!” Silvia blushed even harder if that was possible.

Rupert gave brief thanks to the deity that his furniture was still sound, and struggled not to laugh. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Better check your own, Stanstead,” the older woman remarked caustically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Rupert.”

Vivian entered the drawing room. Every day she was lovelier.

He kissed her cheek before leading her to the window seat. “Your father has arrived. I drove around Berkeley Square before coming to fetch you. The lights were on and the knocker is back on the door.”

She gave a tight nod, and drew a breath. “That is unfortunate. Clara, I believe you will be having a meeting of some Ladies’ Benevolent Society here in the morning.”

Rupert was all at sea. What the deuce was she talking about? “I’m happy his arrival hasn’t thrown you into a panic, but why would you want your cousin to have a houseful of women when we are marrying to-morrow?”

“Not a real one.” Vivian giggled. “Father is terrified of groups of women. Particularly of ladies who do good works. He will leave his card and slink away until it is safe to return.”

“And by then, we’ll be at my house for the wedding breakfast.”

“Exactly. I decided there was no reason to be afraid of him.” She smiled, and Rupert wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her in front of everyone. “I’ve made my decision. I signed the settlement agreements, and there is really nothing, other than bluster, he can do about it. He’ll simply have to find another dog.”

“This is not the first time you have mentioned a dog. What does an animal have to do with all of this?” Clara stared at Vivian as if she’d lost her sense. After a moment, she must have finally understood. She snapped her wineglass down. “Tewkesbury. Of course. I should have made the connection before now. That cur. Your father should breed himself to a dog. I would like to say I cannot believe he would trade his daughter for a bitch, but that is exactly what the muttonheaded idiot did, is it not?”