Season For Desire (24 page)

He caught his breath. Held it. Tugged free the fragile old cloth, which proved to be a small drawstring bag. It was weighty, promisingly so. One of the strings snapped, rotten, as he pulled it.

“Father? Will you do us the honor?”

Richard held out a hand, and Giles upended the bag into it. A jumble of glassy fire and gold fell forth, so much that he had to swoop up his other hand to cradle it in his palms.

Lady Irving uttered an admiring blasphemy.

“Yes,” said Richard. “Yes, exactly.” The diamonds winked and beamed at them.

Richard sat on the floor and began laying out pieces. A crescent-shaped brooch, a jeweled hair comb, drop earrings, a ring, and a necklace. They were great stones, baguette and emerald cut. In the necklace, each was edged by tiny winking gems with a generous-sized edge of more diamonds. Between these, two delicate lyre shapes, almost like a tulip bud, lay on their sides and supported a giant teardrop diamond.

It was a fortune in stones. It was enough to build a business on—or a new life.

Giles swallowed. “My father and I talked about this, Audrina. If we found the stones, we agreed that you should choose any piece you liked.”

“Why?” She turned from the diamonds to look at him, puzzled.

“Because you were part of this quest. Because I don’t want you to feel trapped, ever. You should have the right and the freedom to decide your own worth, in whatever way you wish.”

Richard cleared his throat. “Let’s give them a bit of privacy, Estella.”

“You must be joking. This is better than an evening at the theater.”

Before Richard marched her away, he turned out his pockets into the poor box.

Audrina watched them walk up the church aisle. “If you want to know what I wish, Giles . . . I wish we would marry. I know you said you would not, but if the only thing keeping us apart is your hands—and my pride—and all the happenstances of birth, and distance—”

“Oh, is that all?” Somehow, over his heartbeat’s thumping agreement, he managed a mock frown.

“Well, yes. I said nothing about feeling or worth, did you notice? I feel more . . .” She considered. “Myself. I feel more myself with you. And I love you.” She laced her fingers into his. “If we need to, we can use my whole dowry to treat your hands, and we’ll live in a hovel. As long as you design it. Only if you think any of this sounds like something you might like to do, tell me at once because I am beginning to feel nervous.” Not that her features betrayed a flicker of it.

Until he said, “It all sounds like something I want to do,” and she let out a sigh that seemed to fold her in half.

“Let me do the thing properly.” Helping her to her feet, he then knelt before her right there on the cold flags of the church floor.

“I see what you’re up to, young Rutherford,” called Lady Irving. “There’s a ring right next to you.”

Giles ignored this in favor of the pair of warm green eyes that studied his. “I want to marry you, Audrina. I want to be with you; I want to deserve you. I want to watch you laugh or set your jaw or ruin bread. I want to notice when your eyes well up—yes, just like that—and have a handkerchief for you . . . Oh, for God’s sake, I don’t have a handkerchief. I’m sorry.”

She laughed. “I don’t need to wipe these tears away.”

“Everything you suggested sounds delightful,” he said, “except for living in a hovel and tossing away money on medical expenses. I do not think that will be necessary. You see, there’s a more than fair chance that I am . . .” What was the word? “Fine.”
Fine
was as good a word as any.

She gaped. “How—when—how can you—” She shook her head. “Explain,” she finally choked out.

So he did, a quick sketch of his mother’s symptoms and his own, and—not insignificantly—the relief from pain that had persisted for a blessed interval after she stretched and rubbed his hands. “But even if that weren’t the case, I would propose marriage to you. I wanted to, you know that. Between the two of us, we did a fair job of chasing ourselves apart. But I never wanted to go.”

“I wanted you to stay.” Her voice caught. “I wanted to lie in your arms in bed, in a room painted the color of your eyes. I wanted you to say that you wanted to marry me because a future together was worth fighting for.”

“
You
are worth it.” He paused. “You make me want a future of bright and infinite possibility. You make me appreciate the present more: this now, and all the nows that come after. On either continent, on either shore, I want to be with you.”

“Why not both? Your father has crossed the Atlantic several times. Surely we could, too.” The set of her jaw, that vivid look in her eye, that flush on her cheek: She was having An Idea. “When you wish, I will travel with you to America on two conditions.”

“What are those?”

“First, we must live in New York, or wherever it is a man of imagination and skill can design buildings. Second, our home must always be open to your siblings—or mine, should any of them venture across an ocean. Oh, and there’s a third condition as well.”

He realized he was still kneeling. Holding her hand, he eased to his feet. “The first two would be my honor. What else are you thinking of?”

“We must get a dog. Since we left Castle Parr, do you not miss having dogs about?”

Had the wedding of Lady Charissa Bradleigh to the Duke of Walpole taken place in a fairy tale, the first day of the year 1821 would have dawned with sunshine and birdsong.

Instead, the sunshine was distant and reluctant, and any birds trying to sing forth the day were silenced by a belligerent wind.

But Audrina had grown used to stern weather over the past few weeks. She had developed a certain fondness for freezing rain and drifts of snow. She did not even mind being mired in mud.

As long as one had the right company.

And this morning, as seemingly all of polite society flocked to Saint George’s in Hanover Square, she had the best company imaginable. Not the duke her parents had wanted for her, and not the scandal she had once sought for herself. No, she held the arm of Giles Rutherford, whose heart was both noble and roguish. And who loved her, just as she was—which was one of the most seductive thoughts a woman could possibly entertain.

Well. She could probably think of others, too.

With the crowds of guests and sundry onlookers, they passed beneath the grand pedimented façade of the church. Saint George’s could hardly be a greater contrast to the small, echoing puzzle box of Saint Luke’s. All soaring spans and ornamentation, it was floored in black and white marble, with sparkling chandeliers casting down their winking warmth. Giles whispered all sorts of observations into Audrina’s ear, admiring comments about
clerestory windows
and
barrel vaulting
and
triforium
.

“From your use of strange and wonderful architectural terms, I gather you are enjoying yourself,” she murmured back.

She was, too. After returning from Saint Luke’s the previous afternoon, she had laid out the tale of her absence for Charissa, who was first shocked, then relieved by the pleasant resolution, and finally delighted by her betrothed’s heroics. Then Audrina had kissed her infant nephew’s fuzzy-haired head and listened to Petra’s plans for the future. She had embraced Romula and Theodosia when they arrived, scarred but smiling behind their veils.

There was more room for
different
in her family than any of them had ever known. Tongues might wag behind closed doors or fluttering fans, but the family would soldier through. Today was an important part of that, as the silk-wrapped members of high society stood shoulder to shoulder in this grand church, with light spilling jeweled through stained glass, over dark pews and bright faces, to celebrate. To witness as vows transformed a man and a woman into a husband and a wife.

That was the essence of it. That was the heart of this day. And with her hand on Giles’s arm, she felt the significance, the promise of it, as never before.

As the final words of the ceremony were spoken, Charissa grinned, and even the Duke of Walpole’s inscrutable features were softened by a smile. Audrina noted that her mother clutched a handkerchief and tried to cry, while her father visibly sagged with relief. At last, one of his daughters had caught a duke. Or rather, she and the duke had caught each other.

The resplendent new duchess walked back up the aisle on her husband’s arm. Her dress was fit for a princess: silver lamé net over a silver-shot silk, flounced with three rows of lace. Their mother had dithered and agonized over whether a fourth ought to be added at the last moment, but the arrival of Petra and young Adam had shaken up the countess’s plans and saved the fingers and eyesight of the
modiste
.

Besides the new duchess’s glow of happiness, her jewelry caught the eye of many. As His Grace and Her Grace passed, Audrina overheard murmurs: “Where could she have got that necklace? So elegant! I thought I had seen everything Rundell and Bridge had to offer.”

She turned and recognized the speaker as an acquaintance, so she allowed herself a reply. “It is a Rutherford piece. Do you know the name? He will soon have a shop in Ludgate Hill.”

When the lady mustered a knowing expression—“Oh, Rutherford—of course!”—Audrina turned back to Giles and whispered, “There, we knew good would come of Charissa wearing your mother’s necklace.” Something borrowed and something old at once. It seemed it would bring luck not only to the bride, but to Richard Rutherford.

The guests filed from the church, and a crowd formed on the front steps as carriages lined up to take them to the wedding breakfast. The formality of the ceremony dissolved into a clutter of embraces and how-d’you-dos, and Audrina sighted familiar faces. Lord and Lady Xavier were there, as expected; the earl had taken off his spectacles as usual and was squinting at Lady Irving as she recounted the end result of Lady Xavier’s puzzle solving.

And that snake, David Llewellyn, really had attended the ceremony. When he became visible in the crowd, Giles growled.
Growled
, like a beast.

“Shh.” Audrina laid a calming hand on his arm, though the growl was most gratifying. “We have to act as though we don’t want to punch him in the face. This is all part of Walpole’s plan for diverting scandal.”

“Scandal, scandal. Who gives a damn? I
do
want to punch him in the face.”

“You sound like the lady who is soon to be your stepmother.”

Giles went pale. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

Laughing, Audrina edged closer to the lady in question, still in conversation with Lord and Lady Xavier. She wanted to thank Lady Xavier for so handily breaking the codes within the puzzle boxes. She had never known the young countess well, but had admired her wit ever since they’d both attended a scandalous house party at Lord Xavier’s country estate two years before.

As the words of gratitude were leaving her lips, another couple joined them: a small blond slip of a woman with loosely pinned hair, followed by a sandy-haired man with an expression of wry good humor on his features.

“Ah, Julia,” said Lady Irving. “Did you get to hug your newly-wed friend? Most vulgar, of course, to show that sort of enthusiasm.”

The blond woman was introduced as Lady Irving’s step-niece: Julia, Lady Matheson. Audrina, mentally paging through the peerage, recalled that this lady—who was also Lady Xavier’s stepsister—had married a viscount several years before, since which time the pair had lived in the country.

“I did hug her,” said Julia, “and I didn’t mind that it was vulgar, and neither did she.” To the others, she explained, “Lady Charissa was my first friend in London when I arrived here several years ago. James and I don’t return to the city often, but we couldn’t dream of missing Charissa’s wedding.”

“I dreamed of it,” said the man at her side. “It was the only dream I’ve had in weeks, now that our youngest has decided to spend her nights growing teeth instead of sleeping.”

Julia gave her husband a tight hug. “Because you came along, you got to sleep in the carriage!” To Lady Irving, she added, “We’re returning to Kent tomorrow. The nurse says she’ll give notice if we stay away longer. Something about how our two children talk more than any four she’s ever cared for.”

“I considered it a compliment, really,” said Lord Matheson.

“I did, too.” Julia craned her neck. “James, can you tell whether our carriage is here? There’s a tin of biscuits hidden beneath the seat, and I want to eat them.”

“We’re about to attend a wedding breakfast,” said Lady Irving.

James laughed. “Just wait and see. She will still be able to do justice to the food. My wife is a woman of strong appetites.”

“Vulgar,” Lady Irving said. Audrina noticed with some delight that Julia, Louisa, and Giles all mouthed the word as she said it.

“So, Aunt Estella,” added Louisa. “Do I understand correctly that you are soon to embark upon a vulgar state yourself?”

“If you mean that I’m getting married, yes. Eventually. Soon. You’ll all have to start calling me Mrs. Rutherford instead.”

“I’m not certain my nerves can handle the shock,” James mused. “Will Mrs. Rutherford still wear bright turbans and bark out orders?”

A tiny smile. “Very likely she will, yes.”

“Then I am happy for her. And I wish Mr. Rutherford all the luck in the world. Where is the fortunate fellow, by the way?”

This was a good question; Rutherford had melted off after the ceremony. Lady Irving waved a hand. “Something to do with those diamonds we just found. The new duchess will be wearing the entire parure for the wedding breakfast. Sounds dratted uncomfortable if you ask me, but she seems to like shiny things.”

“Fortunately for the jewelers of London, many people do.” Giles paused. “Stepmama. Oh, no, I can’t do it. I’ll have to keep calling you Lady Irving.”

“You young rogue.”

The carriage for Lord and Lady Matheson and Lord and Lady Xavier drew up just then, followed by the crested equipage of the countess-for-a-bit-longer. Farewells ensued, then Lady Irving elbowed Audrina. “Audrina, what’s got you standing like a looby? Get in, girl.”

Even through their gloves, Audrina relished the warmth of Giles’s hand. “I shall ride with Giles.”

“Oh, is
that
how it is?” She harrumphed. “I suppose it’s all right since you’re betrothed. Mind you don’t forget to turn up for the wedding breakfast.”

Audrina dutifully promised—though in truth, would anyone notice if she and Giles were absent? Such a happy chaos of family and friends, of well-meaning strangers and one defeated Llewellyn. In fact, the only people Audrina could not recall seeing were her dear friend Jane, Lady Kirkpatrick, and her husband. They had begged off the wedding in favor of spending the Christmas season with Lord Kirkpatrick’s family in Cornwall. If Audrina was still in London when the Season began, she would see the return of the Kirkpatricks in company with his lordship’s sister, making her society debut.

If that young lady seemed inclined to sneak away from ballrooms in the company of strange and sinister men, Audrina could give her a bit of advice. But really, there were so many ways to find happiness that she would probably do nothing except wish them all the best.

At last, the battered carriage rented by the Rutherfords several months ago drew up before the church steps. “Lady Irving will see to it that your father gets a stylish new carriage,” Audrina said as they climbed in.

“I have no doubt that Lady Irving will see to everything my father could possibly imagine, and a great deal more besides.”

With a gentle jolt, the carriage set off for the short drive to Grosvenor Square. They could have walked the distance more quickly, but this way, they had privacy for a few minutes.

A few minutes they used to great effect. In this few minutes, they learned precisely what could be touched without creating telltale creases in one’s clothing; they kissed, deep and sweet and all the more enticing for having to be so, so careful not to displace a single hairpin in Audrina’s hair.

“I can’t touch you enough,” Giles growled before trailing kisses up the line of her neck. This growling was a rather intriguing new habit, and one that Audrina intended to investigate fully in a situation with more time and fewer clothes.

All too soon, the ride was over. Not a hint betrayed their interlude save for flushed cheeks and quick breathing.

Well—one thing might betray them. “Give me a few minutes to settle.” Giles drew in a deep breath. He rapped at the ceiling of the carriage and ordered the driver to make a circuit of the square.

“We shall talk of innocent things. Perfectly innocent, not at all lust-inducing subjects.” Audrina racked her brain, finding it more difficult than expected to think of a non-lust-inducing topic when alone with Giles, her skin tingling from the memory of his last kiss and the promise of his next. “Um. After the wedding breakfast, we shall be off to Surrey? You mentioned that Lord Xavier had a small commission for you.”

“Yes. But eager though I am to begin, there are a few things I’m even more eager to do. First we shall get a special license, if your father is willing to put in a good word with the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“If he will not, Walpole will,” Audrina said. “My new brother-in-law seems eager that his wife’s family should be happy.”

“What a bright fellow. Your sister has chosen well.” Giles flexed his hands. “I also wish to consult a physician about the pain in my hands and wrists, as long as I can locate a medical man who doesn’t think leeches and galvanic shocks are the cure for every malady.”

“I am no medical man—”

“Thank goodness.”

“
But
I think I have an answer that will help.” She slid away from him on the squabs and took one of his hands in hers. Pressing at the center of his palm, she worked at the joints until he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yes. Yes, you do. Now stop that or I’ll ravish you in the carriage.”

“Is that meant to make me want to continue, or to stop? Because it’s having the former effect.”

Giles shut his eyes. “I can’t tell the driver to go around the square again. I cannot. Cannot. Cannot. Others will notice.”

“All right. Goodness. I am beginning to suspect that you are not as improper as you pretend to be,” she teased, releasing his hand. “What after Surrey, then? Shall we see the world?”

“We might be able to see more of England first, if that’s all right with you. My aunt, Lady Fontaine, cannot navigate her own home because she uses a wheeled chair. A nephew with some knowledge of building might be able to figure out ways to amend the structure for the sake of her comfort.”

“That sounds like an excellent notion. I should like to see you make peace with your mother’s relatives.”

“Yes, I’d like that, too.”

“There must be other such families,” Audrina said. “Like Lord and Lady Dudley, perhaps. Families who need a bit of change in order to be comfortable in their homes. A man of connections—with an earl’s family on the distaff side and a marquess’s on his own—could surely find those people.”