Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (18 page)

Each day gifts would arrive from her future husband, and she was touched by Raile’s generosity. Her upstairs bedroom had been filled with flowers from his greenhouse, and when there was no more space in the bedroom, the bounty of flowers spilled over into other rooms in the house. The sweetest gift Kassidy received from her husband-to-be came on the eve before the wedding.

Kassidy’s aunt and uncle had gone out and she had been alone in the sitting room when the butler announced Oliver Stewart. Oliver came in and placed the sleeping Arrian in Kassidy’s arms. She cried and hugged the precious baby to her while she looked at the valet with gratitude.

“Oh, thank you, Oliver. I was so afraid I would never see her again.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Oliver said, pleased that he had made her happy. “I have a message from his grace. I’m to tell you that he has instructed his solicitor to have several qualified wet nurses sent around for you to interview in the morning. He assures me that their credentials will be impeccable and you need not worry that this will ever happen again.”

Kassidy nestled the sleeping child against her breast. “His grace has a way of making things happen, Oliver.”

“Indeed he does, Miss Maragon. I have never seen him speak that others didn’t listen. I was also to tell you his grace got your brother’s consent to the marriage”

“Tell him . . . that he has my eternal gratitude,” she said, flooded with relief.

Oliver moved to the door, his hat in hand. “I’ll relay your message to him this very night, Miss Maragon.”

The little man stopped at the door as if he had something else on his mind, so Kassidy looked at him expectantly.

“Miss Maragon, I just want to say how glad I am . . . we are that you are going to be our duchess.”

Kassidy smiled at the valet as he nervously twisted his hat. “Thank you, Oliver.”

She was filled with relief and happiness as she moved up the stairs with the sleeping child in her arms. No one would ever take Arrian away from her again, she vowed.

21

The sun rose brilliantly on Kassidy’s wedding day. She climbed out of bed and moved to the window, watching the splash of dazzling colors reflecting against the eastern sky. How strange it felt to know her whole life would be changed forever today. There was neither elation nor sadness in her heart, merely a resigned conviction that she was doing the right thing.

She turned to the mirror, wondering if she would ever be pretty again. She looked too frail to be a bride. Her hair was so straight and straw-like, and there was no color to her face. She wished she could have been beautiful today.

When she was dressed, Kassidy admired the frothy white empire gown her aunt had given her. It hung in delicate folds to the floor and had a border of elaborate embroidery above the hem. Unfortunately, the color did little to brighten her already pale skin.

Blue forget-me-nots were woven through her hair that was simply arranged in a low coil at the back of her head, and short curls fringed across her forehead.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Lady Mary asked. “It’s not too late to withdraw your consent.”

“I will marry him.”

“I think perhaps you are marrying the right man, for the wrong reasons. You want security for Arrian, while he wants a wife who will be as little trouble to him as possible.”

“I don’t intend to be any trouble to him. He’ll remain at Ravenworth as he promised, and I’ll be here in London.”

Lady Mary smiled to herself. Knowing her niece’s impassioned nature, she doubted their arrangement would last for one year.

“I look so dreadful,” Kassidy observed, pinching her cheeks to bring more color to her face. Kassidy caught her aunt’s eyes in the mirror. “I look plain, Aunt Mary.” She added without conceit, “I always thought I was passingly pretty, but not any longer.”

“It’s the fever, dearest. When you are fully recovered from your illness, you will recover your beauty.” Lady Mary smiled, thinking how surprised Raile would be when he learned he not only married a beauty, but he would have a wife who would never be docile. It wouldn’t take Kassidy long to turn the duke’s world upside down.

“It’s time to go below, dearest,” Lady Mary said, fastening a strand of pearls about Kassidy’s neck. “The minister arrived some time ago, and your bridegroom has been here this past hour.”

Suddenly Kassidy’s eyes widened with panic. “I wish I hadn’t agreed to this.”

“Just remember who you are, Kassidy. And remember that when the ceremony is ended, his grace will go off to the country and you will remain with me.”

Kassidy drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

“By the way, I had a letter from Henry.”

Kassidy stopped in her tracks. “What did he say?”

“He was very impressed with the match and wishes you happiness. He even sent a wedding present.” Lady Mary smiled. “I’m telling you this to lighten your mood.”

“What is the gift?”

“A portrait of Henry, himself.”

Kassidy and her aunt laughed until at last Lady Mary held up her hand. “Don’t think about Henry anymore today.”

“I shan’t think of him ever again.”

Leaning heavily on her aunt, Kassidy slowly descended the stairs. She faltered only once, and that was at the door where the ceremony would take place.

Upon entering the drawing room, she smiled warmly at her uncle and nodded to Reverend Wheatly. She then turned her attention to the man who was to be her husband.

He wore long blue trousers and a double-breasted waistcoat that fit snugly across his broad shoulders. The frilled shirt was enhanced by the cravat that formed a soft falling bow at the throat. There was about him an air of arrogance and mystery. He was indeed handsome, and she still wondered why he wanted to marry her.

Raile nodded at Kassidy briskly and moved forward to offer her his arm. “Shall we?”

The hand that she placed on his arm trembled. She walked beside him, feeling as if she was about to spend her life under this man’s control. Sudden panic almost choked off her breathing and she had the strongest urge to run upstairs to the safety of her bedroom.

Raile glanced into tragic green eyes and wished there was something he could say that would reassure her that she would be safe with him. He dipped his head and whispered so only she could hear. “I give you leave to change your mind if you desire, but I would beseech you to have me.”

Kassidy looked into eyes that danced with humor and felt the tension leave her. “I gave my word, and I’ll not go back on it, your grace.”

Raile motioned the minister forward. Reverend Wheatly was tall and stately and very aware of his duty. He recited with feeling, the age-old words that ultimately bound a man and woman together in a lifetime of devotion.

Raile replied to Reverend Wheatly in deep, even tones while Kassidy stumbled over the words love, honor, until death do us part.

She stood in stunned silence while Reverend Wheatly congratulated Raile and wished her happiness. “Dwell with God, your grace, and happiness will always find you,” he said to Kassidy. “May you both have a long life together, and may your union be blessed with many children.”

Sudden weakness washed over Kassidy, and she clutched at her new husband’s arm. Seeing how pale Kassidy was, Raile lifted her in his arms.

“I believe my bride should be put to bed,” he said, looking down at her in distress.

Her aunt led him quickly out of the room, while Lord George was left to deal with Reverend Wheatly.

“This way to her bedroom,” Lady Mary said, hurriedly leading the way upstairs.

Raile glanced down at Kassidy, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the shallowness of her breathing. He could feel the heat of her fever through his coat.

“Don’t fret, little one,” he told her, “I’ll take care of you now. Put all of your troubles in my hands.”

She pressed her cheek against the roughness of his coat, feeling as if he would bear all her troubles on his strong shoulders. With contentment, she closed her eyes, too weary to think.

Lady Mary rushed ahead of them and opened the bedroom door. The bed had already been turned down, so Raile gently placed Kassidy among the soft covers before he turned to Lady Mary.

“She seems very weak. I will send my doctor around to examine her.”

“The fever recurs. The doctor assures me it will soon pass.”

“As you wish.”

Lady Mary glanced down at Kassidy, who had closed her eyes. “I will leave you with her for a moment. But I would suggest you not remain too long.” She quietly left the room so the newly married couple could be alone.

Raile gently raised Kassidy up and unfastened her gown. When she felt his hands on her back, her eyes opened and she struggled against him. “No—no,” she moaned.

“Don’t fret. All I’m doing is making you comfortable.” He took her chin and forced her to look at him. “I have that right now, Kassidy. We are married.”

The ordeal of the wedding seemed to have robbed her of her strength. Too weary to protest, she allowed him to undress her. With expert hands, he removed her gown. Impersonally, he reached for the nightgown at the foot of her bed and pulled it over her head. He then laid her back against the pillow and tied the satin bow at her throat.

Her eyes fluttered shut, but with great effort she managed to open them and look at him.

“You do that very well.” She managed a smile. “Perhaps you’ve had practice.”

There was a teasing light in his eyes. “If I say I had, would I sentence myself in your eyes?”

“No.” She yawned. “You will merely confirm what I already thought to be true. A man such as you will have ... known ... many women.”

He touched her lips with his finger. “Tonight I see only one woman, and she is little more than a girl. Have I done wrong in marrying you?”

She somehow wanted to throw her arms around him, to have him hold her close. She wanted to be beautiful for him, and to have him say he loved her. “Only time will tell if our union was a mistake, your grace.”

“Raile,” he corrected her. “And my little duchess, you have the worst of a good bargain. But, as a husband, I shall try to be as little trial to you as possible.” He stood up and tucked the covers about her neck. “You should sleep now.”

“Will you stay here tonight?” “No. Not for a year—have you forgotten?” For the first time, he saw her eyes soften with laughter.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Raile bent his head and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Recover soon, my little duchess. One year will pass before you are aware of it, and then I shall come and claim what is mine.” “Will I see you before then?” “Of course, every time I come to London.” She could no longer hold her eyes open. “Within a year you will forget all about me.” She touched his hand. “I want to thank you for having Arrian brought back to me.”

Raile smiled. “I’m glad to have her back, too.” With a soft laugh, he moved out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Kassidy drifted off to sleep with the vision of her dark, handsome husband moving through her dreams. For tonight she would have none of the nightmares that had plagued her. Instead, she would now dream of the man she had sworn before God, to love and honor.

*                                          *                                          *

Raile’s coachman held the door for him. After he climbed aboard the carriage, it moved sprightly down the well-lit boulevard. He drew in a deep breath, thinking he had at last righted a great wrong. His family honor had been restored.

A light rain began to fall, and he restlessly watched how the wet streets glistened beneath the street lamps.

Raile considered having his coachman drive him to Action Street, where Gabrielle Candeur lived, but he quickly discarded that notion. He didn’t relish a confrontation with Gabrielle tonight. Of late she had become clinging and demanding, two traits he did not admire in a woman. He would have to inform her of his marriage and break with her, but he would wait until his next visit to London. After all, he reasoned, it would be a year before he was a real husband.

Leaning back, he felt contented. Now that he had taken care of Kassidy’s future, he decided he would leave London at first light.

With both his new wife and his mistress forgotten, Raile turned his thoughts to Ravenworth—his real love.

Gabrielle Candeur had a beautiful voice and had once been the rage in France. She was now enjoying great success on the London stage. But Gabrielle considered her greatest triumph to have been when she had caught the eye of the elusive duke of Ravenworth.

It had been no chance meeting that had thrown them together. Gabrielle had deliberately set out to entrap him. She had learned about his favorite foods, his passion for fine horseflesh, and what he liked in a woman.

It had not been an easy conquest. And it had been made even more difficult because he rarely left his country estate. She had bribed the downstairs maid at Raile’s town house to inform her whenever he would arrive in London.

Gabrielle’s plans had gone even further than that. It had cost her a diamond necklace, her ruby ring, and a month’s wages to buy the gray Arabian horse with an impeccable lineage.

On the day the duke’s maid had informed Gabrielle that her employer was in London and that he would be spending the morning at Ascot, Gabrielle had been ecstatic. She had set her plans in motion. She had dressed with great care. Wearing a bright red riding habit and mounted on her Arabian, she prayed for success. How easy it had been to pay a startled stable boy to loosen her horse’s shoe.

Once at Ascot, Gabrielle had dismounted where Raile had been talking with several other ladies and gentlemen. She had pretended distress when she had approached him, beseeching his help.

How admirably Raile had come to her rescue that day. His groom had tended to her horse, and Raile had given her a ride back to town in his phaeton. By the time they reached London, he had asked her to dine, and later he had attended her evening performance.

In no time at all, Gabrielle was installed in a house on Action Street. All her bills were sent to Raile, who had proven to be generous indeed.

She had been the mistress of an Italian count and of one of Napoleon’s generals, but for the first time in her life, she was in love. When Raile was not with her, she was in the depths of despair. She was jealous of every hour he spent away from her and she feared he would one day tire of her and cast her aside.

Gabrielle first heard the rumor that Raile was married from one of the actors at Covent Garden, but she refused to believe him. Surely Raile wouldn’t take a wife without first telling her.

When Gabrielle heard the knock on the front door, and her maid’s voice as she greeted a visitor, she was annoyed because the caller was a woman. She had hoped it would be Raile. He hadn’t been to see her in over four weeks. She tapped beautifully shaped fingernails in rhythmic motion against the top of her dressing table. She would tell Louise she wasn’t receiving visitors today. She didn’t want to face anyone who might come to gloat if the news of Raile’s marriage was true.