Society's Most Scandalous Viscount (32 page)

“Of course,” Angelica confirmed, already walking toward the door.

In the end, it was decided Benedict would accompany them home. Helen was served tea and the ladies returned to their bedchambers to prepare as quickly as possible while she waited belowstairs.

The earl's bedroom was a dark, macabre chamber. Never having seen the interior of the rooms, Helen and Angelica held hands as they approached the looming bed. The windows were closed, the curtains drawn, leaving an impossible task to the multiples of candles, their feeble glow as weak as the man who lay under the heavy velvet counterpane.

A maelstrom of emotions coalesced with growing intensity as Angelica approached the wooden monstrosity. Camphor and other odorous medicinal ointments assailed the senses as one grew closer. Grandmother remained belowstairs at present. They'd learned the doctor had come and gone only moments before they'd arrived, but now the chamber may as well be their father's tomb.

Dark, dank, and morbidly solemn, the walls were absent of decoration other than a large crucifix and several crystal sconces. It wasn't until she and Helen remained a few steps from his bed that Angelica noticed a brass umbrella stand beside a tall armchair near the fireplace. The glow of the flames flickered shadows as if they danced a merry game of puss-in-corners, but the very sight of the multiple of sticks caused her soul to grow cold, her worst childhood nightmares confirmed. Even lightning could not destroy the threat that lived in those instruments.

“Are you all right?” Helen's whisper resounded in the oppressive silence. Only a few steps more and they'd reach their father's side. “I cannot feel my fingers for how tightly you're squeezing my hand.”

“I'm sorry. Yes, I'm fine,” she lied, wishing she could escape the confines of the room and sweep away her past like ash in the hearth. She was to begin a new life soon. Benedict, who waited patiently below, would provide her the courage she needed to move forward. She drew her hand free from her sister's grasp and settled her eyes on her father.

“It's very difficult, isn't it? To see him this way after all the years we knew him differently. I looked up to him, as any daughter would her father, but over the years, most especially when he became incensed when I hadn't learned my scripture thoroughly or responded with the answer he desired, I hardened my heart. I felt so very ashamed to have such feelings and buried them deep down, beyond my heart—somewhere fathomless, where I hoped to ignore them and never admit to them, but now I understand fully. I was not wrong to harbor those emotions. He was not a good father to us, while we tried to be the very best daughters.”

“I know. I practiced the same deception until I realized I'd done nothing worthy of his punishment. I began to make my own choices, not all of them sound…but all of them mine.” Helen's delicate whisper concurred. “But we will be all right now. Even if this hadn't happened, we would have found a way. I believe it so.”

Angelica searched her sister's face for any sigh of regret, but all she saw there was peace and this brought her comfort. For a time no one did anything except breathe and after a while, the mood eased. The silence no longer pressed in on all sides. The tick of the clock became decipherable instead of her heartbeat in her ears. And then Helen made the most perfect gesture. Clasping Angelica's hand, Helen placed it palm down atop her pregnant belly, where a kick…no, two strong kicks, reminded them life must continue.

Silent tears coursed down Angelica's cheeks as she hugged her sister dearly. It no longer mattered what madness their father had perpetuated in the past. They would find happiness. With their arms around each other, they left never seeing their father's eyes crack open or his strained expression, powerless to speak. They had already agreed on the carriage ride over they would hire him the best tutors and teachers. It was the least they could do.

Epilogue

Waning sunshine warmed Angelica's bare toes as she lay on a chaise near the edge of the sea. Amused, she wondered if she'd ever wear narrow slippers again and yet she couldn't be happier. With reckless indulgence Benedict had this special chair made for her relaxation because she so enjoyed the rush of the waves as they broke near the shoreline and now, with only a few weeks to go before their baby was born, she couldn't manage the same lithe balance or agile dances that once filled her days. She eyed the horizon and smiled. Night would come quickly; already the sun sank into the shimmering waters. The sunset brought with it peaceful composure. She had only to believe all those days ago. Believing in her future was the key. Everything resolved in the end.

Father never recovered the ability to speak before he passed away and perhaps that was divine intervention as there was nothing left to say after their painful confrontation. As Grandmother often reminded her, no one can understand the mysterious workings of higher fates. Happiness and peace filled Angelica's heart now and that was all that mattered.

She struggled to sit upright, her belly tight and heavy, and with the back of the chaise as support peered upward with hope Benedict would be on the terrace, but no. He likely remained inside creating chaos. The nursery was almost finished and the playroom and schoolroom underway. She should rescue the carpenters and painters from his perspicuous interference. Between Bitters and her husband, the fatigued workers hadn't a hope of working without interruption. Worse yet, the nursery had been painted four times—Benedict declaring the shade of blue too dark, too light, too
something
with each fresh coat.

Waddling,
oh how she remembered walking fondly
, she made way in the sand to the side entrance and slowly climbed the stairs. Benedict would scold her for not waiting for assistance. He coddled her shamelessly. Her breath caught whenever she considered him with their baby nestled in his arms. During this time of confinement, he'd done everything he could think of to please her. His hair fell well past his shoulders again. He invited Helen and Grandmother frequently and forbade Cook from serving veal as Angelica suddenly despised the smell of it. He spent many an evening reading aloud or rubbing her lower back. She smiled with unmitigated joy. How he must miss making love, although he'd adeptly taught her other ways to bring him pleasure. Pregnancy had brought about significant changes to her body too: larger breasts and acute sensitivity. Benedict seemed inordinately delighted.

She reached the top of the stairs and wandered down the hallway to the study, pausing in the doorway to view the man of her heart for over a year now. He stood with his back to her, his broad shoulders and tapered waist causing a sigh to escape her. He held a large framed painting, commissioned and completed only weeks beforehand. At last, the paint on the walls must be dry. Her shuffled footsteps gave her away and he glanced back with a start, a grin lighting his face, his eyes inspecting her from head to toe.

“Let me help you.”

He moved to set down the artwork but she stalled him with a shake of her head. “No, I want to see it up close before you hang it.”

She came to stand at his elbow, their eyes fixed to the portrait. Thank heavens the artist had painted her without the swell of pregnancy, for she suspected her figure would never return completely, especially as her husband bragged to Jasper and Penwick of wanting six children or more. The duke, that scoundrel, readily encouraged him and the two were a force Angelica feared she'd never overrule. She accepted this with a smile in her heart.

The artist displayed unmatched talent, the portrait done with exacting perfection. Somehow he'd managed to give Benedict the handsome face of a hero with the beguiling expression of a rogue. Nyx stood over his shoulder to the right and she positioned to his left, her hair unbound and blowing in the wind as Benedict preferred it. The ocean waves were painted in their eternal roll to fill the background. How very well done indeed.

“It's wonderful.” Benedict placed it atop the mantel and gathered her close. “We'll commission Laurence to paint another when the baby is born.”

Whenever Benedict spoke of their child it was as if flowers bloomed within her. She couldn't contain her giddy laughter. “That could be any time now.”

“Well, there's plenty of wall space. We'll create an entire gallery. I'm sure Grandfather will want his due.”

His chuckle rumbled from his chest to hers in as much as it could, considering her stomach remained between them. “I adore the duke. He's become the perfect companion for Grandmother, although she's spoiling Grace. Helen will never manage her daughter if Grandmother continues to dote so much.”

“A streak of permissive mischief is the key to your grandmother's vitality. You wouldn't change a hair on her head, and you know it.” His voice dipped to a husky murmur.

“Agreed.” She shifted so her body slanted sideways and she could rest her check against his heart. “I love you, Benedict Hampton. No matter what life brings, you will forever be my pirate.”

“And you my precious mermaid.” He wrapped his arms tighter still. “We have forever and every day after for happiness. We have all the time in the world.”

They stood in each other's embrace until Angelica feared the cozy comfort might lull her to sleep on her feet. “Let's go out on the terrace for a little fresh air.”

They walked hand in hand to the open glass doors. Outside she settled in an overstuffed chair while Benedict swung his telescope skyward. “Perhaps tonight we'll see another falling star just as the night I spied you dancing near the water's edge. The heavens led me to you, you know.”

“I'm thankful for that.” She sighed a breath of contentment and closed her eyes. “Well, if you do see one, don't forget to make a wish.” She smiled, aglow with love from within. How could this be true? To be adored by a magnificent man, free of constraint and misery, her loved ones well, her future secure?

Benedict could only have read her mind.

“I don't think there's anything else to wish for, Angelica.” The tenor of his voice spoke to extraordinary devotion. “I have you and that means I have everything, our lifetime of love within reach.”

CARINA™

ISBN: 978 1 474 03593 4

Society's Most Scandalous Viscount

Copyright © 2015 Anabelle Bryant

Published in Great Britain (2015)

by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollins
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