Lady Beresford's Lover (30 page)

“You already do.”

Vivian held him tightly as he kissed her again. Wrapping her legs around his slim waist, she urged him to join with her. Before long, she was shuddering with completion, and Rupert plunged more deeply than he ever had before, wringing the most out of her pleasure before collapsing off to her side. For a few minutes, he cuddled her in his arms as their breathing slowed.

“Vivian, how did you know about the Hill Street house?”

She rolled over, lying half on his chest. “I had asked for a list of estates, and it had mistakenly been added.”

“I find that extremely odd. Who were the property agents?”

“Jones.”

“My love. I have a feeling”—his chest rumbled with laughter—“your cousin has been conspiring to help us.”

“I think you may be right. I found it strange that she would put me in a separate wing.”

“And when you didn’t oblige her by taking advantage of it, the house appeared.”

“How . . . how devious of her. Although, I don’t understand why she did it.”

Rupert covered her lips with his, kissing her sweetly. “She reminds me of my grandmother. They were raised in an earthier time. Yet I think she knew you needed to find a gentleman to love you.”

A
soft tapping at the door woke Vivian. Rupert’s arms were around her and she was curled up next to him.

“My lady?” Punt said softly as she opened the door. “I must get you ready.”

Rupert kissed Vivian. “I’ll send her out in a moment.” As Punt withdrew, he threw the covers off them. “My love, you need to dress for our wedding.”

She went to grab the sheets back, but couldn’t find them. “What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

Vivian sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Two hours.”

Getting up from his side of the bed, Rupert came around and pulled her up. “Less than that. You’ll soon be mine forever.”

“And you’ll be mine.” Vivian wrapped her arms around him, seeking his warmth. “I’d better go.”

She broke her fast while the tub was being readied. Punt insisted on washing Vivian’s hair, which had to then be dried. She’d never be ready in time. It was not until shortly before eight that she was finally at the dressing table having her hair dressed.

“I’ve never known you to fidget like this,” Punt scolded. “But I suppose all brides get a case of the nerves.”

Vivian hadn’t been at all anxious about her first wedding. She had been too innocent to know better. Yet even now, her unease was not about marrying Rupert but that something or someone would stop her from doing so. “I’ll try to be still.”

Punt slipped light blue, apatite-tipped pins into her hair.

“Where did those come from?”

“Miss Silvia.”

Vivian should have known. “New and blue, or borrowed?”

“New. Her ladyship sent a comb that’s old and borrowed.” Punt stepped back. “You’ll do.”

Vivian glanced into the mirror. Her curls shone like they had never done before. “What did you use in my hair?”

“A bit of oil her ladyship gave me. Do you like it?”

“It makes a great deal of difference.”

The clock struck eight and Vivian almost came off the bench. “I’m late.”

“Has no one told you the bride is never late?” Clara stood in the doorway. “Unless she doesn’t appear at all.” She stepped off to the side. “Stanstead’s family is here, and he is champing at the bit.”

Vivian expected to feel her heart pounding with nerves, but nothing but calm came over her. No matter her fears, neither Rupert, or Clara, or any of the others would allow anything to stop the wedding. “I’m ready.”

 

Rupert couldn’t tear his gaze from Vivian as she glided into the drawing room, a vision in a gauzy white gown with silver netting, which set off her perfect complexion. Her cheeks were a delicate pink.

Robert punched him in the shoulder. “You’re a lucky man.”

“I am.” As Vivian came up next to Rupert, he held out his hand, waiting until she placed her fingers in his palm, where he would keep them for the rest of their lives. “Two hours has never before seemed like an eternity.”

Vivian graced him with a brilliant smile.

Mr. Octavius Trevor opened his prayer book. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes.” Rupert was more than ready to have the deed done.

“Who will give her ladyship away?”

“I will.” Nick strode to the makeshift altar. “As the head of Lady Beresford’s soon-to-be former family, I’d like to do it.” He glanced at Vivian. “If it’s all right with you?”

“I’d be honored.”

Rupert held Vivian’s gaze and she held his as they promised to love, honor, and cherish one another. A stifled sob came from one of their guests as the rector pronounced them man and wife.

Once they signed the register, Lady Telford announced an early breakfast. “It will still be a few hours until the wedding breakfast, and I imagine everyone is hungry. Lord and Lady Stanstead may lead the way.”

Vivian turned to face their families, and stopped. “Mama, when did you arrive?” She looked around in panic. “Is Father—”

“No.” Her mother rushed forward and hugged her. “No. I came straight here.” Lady Brackford held Vivian by the shoulders, tears streaming down the older woman’s cheeks. “How beautiful you look, and happy. I can’t remember when I’ve seen you so radiant.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Rupert let go of Vivian’s arm long enough for her to embrace her mother. “I really do not wish to see Father though.”

“I can’t blame you. A more addlebrained idea he never had. You’d think he’d been reared in a cow byre.”

“May we,” Nick cut in, “insult him in the dining room? I’m famished.”

“Indeed we may,” Lady Telford pronounced. “Cook has outdone herself.”

The sideboard was laden with dishes, everything from ham and beef to kedgeree. Pots of jam and butter that had been molded into flowers and fruits were on the table, as well as cakes and biscuits normally served for tea. Footmen scurried back and forth with pots of coffee and tea.

“We won’t have to worry about eating at the wedding breakfast.” Rupert leaned back in his chair at the foot of the table, replete.

Vivian turned her hand that was under his and gently squeezed his fingers. “Considering how many guests we shall have, that might be for the best.”

Rupert had been concerned about the condition of his house, but his servants had scrubbed and polished the ballroom and other reception areas so that they sparkled. There had been no time to change the hangings, but all else would be ready. Vivian would have nothing to be ashamed of in her new home.

A loud rapping came from the front of the house, and a few minutes later Barnes entered the dining room and bowed. “My lady, Lords Brackford and Tewkesbury wish to speak with Lady Stanstead alone.”

“Not a chance.” Rupert rose. “I shall go to the hall.”

“Stanstead, I have too many breakables there.” Lady Telford calmly poured another cup of tea. “If you are afraid they may make off with Vivian, the gentlemen may join us here. Barnes, escort their lordships to me with two extra footmen in the event they require assistance making their departure.”

All the gentlemen around the table had pushed their chairs back and focused on the door. A few moments later, Tewkesbury and Vivian’s father stood just inside the room, waiting.

Lord Brackford bowed to Lady Telford, then to the company at large. “I didn’t realize you had company.” His gaze focused on Vivian. “Let’s go, my girl. You’ll move home until the wedding.”

She paled, but remained seated and raised her determined chin. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Father, but the only place I shall remove to is my new house.”

He glanced at Tewkesbury and smiled. “See, I told you she’d go along. Always has been a biddable puss.” Brackford directed his attention back to Vivian. “No need for that. If you wish Tewkesbury here . . .” Vivian’s father screwed up his face. “I didn’t tell you who you’d be marrying.”

“Father, I am already re-married. We shall shortly be leaving for the wedding breakfast.”

A flush rose in the older man’s face, mottling his already florid complexion. “Nonsense. No one has written me asking for your hand. I refuse to allow you to wed anyone else but Lord Tewkesbury. You will do as I say. His lordship and I have settled the business.”

Rupert had had enough. Just how thickheaded was his new father-in-law? “My lord.” Rupert waited until Brackford realized he’d been spoken to. “Vivian and I wed two hours ago.” The other man stared at Rupert, his eyes glazing over as if he didn’t understand. “She is now the Countess of Stanstead.”

“But . . . but . . . I made a promise to Lord Tewkesbury.”

At the other end of the table, Lady Telford looked down her nose at Vivian’s father. “Lord Brackford, has it escaped your notice that Vivian was not only past her age of majority, but a widow as well? You had no business, indeed no right, to promise her to another without her consent.”

The man stood stock still, jaw hanging as if in shock.

For the love of God.
Rupert squeezed Vivian’s hand. “Sweetheart, I know he’s your father, but he must either give up this foolish notion and congratulate us on our marriage, or leave. I will not have him upsetting you in any way. Not to-day or in the future.”

Tewkesbury, who had been surveying the room as he bounced on his toes, suddenly seemed to take notice. “You mean it’s already done? You’re leg-shackled?”

“Christ almighty,” Nick swore. “What the devil do you think Stanstead has been saying? Are the both of you deaf and dumb?”

Tewkesbury turned red enough to have apoplexy and roared, “Brackford, you promised one bitch for another!”

This time, Rupert had no hesitation. Before the cur could spew another vile word, he punched the man in his stomach and then his nose. Tewkesbury swayed, then dropped to the ground, holding his cravat to his nose. “You struck me.”

“Call my wife vulgar names again and I’ll do worse than that. I’ve had enough of your offensive analogies. If you utter another insult concerning her, you may choose your second.”

The older man propped himself up on his elbows. “See here, young man.”

“I’d stop if I were you.” Hawksworth, who had accompanied his brother Octavius, grinned wickedly. “Stanstead has one of the steadiest tempers I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t count on his patience lasting. He may never have fought a duel, but I’ve never seen him lose, be it in the ring, pistols, or sword.”

Lady Brackford, who also appeared to have had enough, rose from the table. “Henry Brackford, stop acting like a knock-in-the-cradle, rubbishing commoner. Be a man and get rid of this poor excuse for excrement. You may also congratulate your daughter on making a better match by herself than you could ever have made for her.”

Not knowing what else Tewkesbury was capable of, Rupert stood over the man as he struggled to stand. “Barnes.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Have his lordship escorted out.”

“It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

Barnes snapped his fingers and two burly footmen grabbed Tewkesbury’s arms. “The
ton
will hear about this, my lord,” Tewkesbury shouted down the corridor.

“Good.” Rupert was proud he kept his voice even. “Then they will know not to ever insult my wife.”

There was a screech and the sound of a door slamming shut. Had Barnes actually had the man thrown out of the house? If so, good for him.

Narrowing his eyes, Rupert stalked over to Lord Brackford. “What is it to be, my lord? Do you wish to maintain relations with my wife”—that fact seemed to bear repeating—“or not?”

Lord Brackford searched those present, his gaze locking on his wife. “Miriam, you would allow me to be thrown out?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “I would do it myself.”

He turned toward Vivian. “Vivian, you owe a duty to your father.” She rose from the table, moved to stand next to Rupert, and took his hand. “I owe a greater obligation to my husband.”

The breakfast room became as quiet as a church during prayers. Finally, Vivian’s father looked at Rupert. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused. I wish you happy on your marriage to my daughter.”

Rupert stuck his hand out. “We thank you. Now the rest of us are going to my house for a wedding breakfast. You are welcome to join us if you wish.”

“I’d like that. You’re very generous.”

“That must have been some dog,” Nick muttered, most likely speaking to himself.

“Oh, she was.” Vivian’s father took out his handkerchief and for a moment Rupert thought he’d weep.

“Nicholas Beresford.” Silvia took him by the ear. “Do you not know when to be quiet?”

“There will be no more talk of dogs.” Lady Brackford took her husband by the arm and led him out of the room. “Honestly, you’d think you were a bunch of little boys instead of grown men.”

“One time my brothers and I tried to trade my eldest sister for a horse,” Hawksworth said, earning him furious glares from all the ladies. “Fortunately, my father discovered the plan. We couldn’t sit for a week and were on short rations for a month.”

“I’m surprised Susan didn’t hit you,” Mr. Trevor added.

Hawksworth grinned ruefully. “Oh, she did. Papa had two footmen hold each of us while she took a shot. Made me wish I’d never taught her to punch.”

Vivian began to giggle, then laugh, and finally tears ran down her cheeks, and she was holding her stomach, gasping for breath.

“You’ve given our poor daughter the vapors, Henry.”

She waved a hand in front of her face as she tried to speak. “No . . . not vapors,” she managed to get out between whoops of laughter.

Rupert held her, trying not to laugh himself. Eventually, she recovered her countenance enough to say, “Rupert, my love, I’ve never seen anything like this before. You were wonderful. The perfect knight in shining armor. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Damn everyone. He kissed her for all they were both worth, which was quite a lot, as it happened.

“All’s well that ends well,” Freddy chimed in. “My son, I have frequently been proud of you, but never more so than today.”

“Yes indeed.” Vivian dropped her arms. “Now we have a wedding breakfast to attend.”

 

Standing in the hall of her new home, Vivian was overwhelmed at the number of guests who had arrived. “I had no idea there would be so many people. However did you manage it in such a short time?”

“Mama, Grandmamma, and Cousin Clara arranged it. I merely loaned them my staff.”

Even Lord and Lady Banks were present; however, their daughter was apparently suffering from an indisposition and could not attend.

In addition to those of Rupert’s friends whom Vivian had already met, the Huntleys, Wivenlys, and Feathertons had also arrived. Vivian had heard of them all, but never before met the other ladies. They were, to a woman, strong and resilient. She couldn’t believe her luck in finding not only a wonderful husband but such good friends as well.

“It is time to join our guests, my lady.” Rupert grinned as he took her arm.