The Devilish Montague (20 page)

It was very difficult staying affixed to her decision to tell him about Richard and the money.

“You are an enticing opponent,” he said with amusement when he saw her rosy cheeks. “Food?” he suggested. “I believe I smell a meat pie.”

Yes, that’s what she meant to do! Entice him with Cook’s savory offerings until he was in a good humor and willing to listen. Glad to be offered the opportunity to return to good sense again, she began spreading the wealth from the hamper across the cloth.

“I suppose it is too soon to return Percy to the conservatory?” she asked.

Instead of flirting, they really needed to be talking, but she wasn’t much accustomed to serious discussion. When her wiles didn’t work, she usually did what she wanted and let the shouting fly over her head. Which inevitably led to those disasters that plagued her path. Really, she ought to learn a better method, but if she was too honest, she was terrified Mr. Montague would call off the wedding.

He nodded while chewing his pie, then took a sip of wine to wash it down. “If nothing else, the bird’s curses could chase off the pigs.”

Jocelyn hid her delight that
talking
had actually got her one thing that she wanted. She pinched a crust off her pie and flung it to a noisy sparrow. “Shall I send one of Lady Belden’s footmen to retrieve Percy?”

And then the servant could bring the parrot and Richard to Chelsea. She would have one small part of her family safe and happy.

“You have to ask?” Mr. Montague said dryly. “The creature raises a racket every time I leave the room.”

“I know, but I thank you for not making him into parrot pie. You’ll be amazed at how well Percy adapts once he has a home. Why on earth did the duke ever acquire him? I wonder.”

“I’ve never exchanged more than a few words with His Grace, so I can’t say,” Blake said with a dismissive wave of his wineglass.

She moved on to the next idle question floating across her mind. “Would you really have shot Mr. Ogilvie in a duel if he hadn’t chased after Percy?”

Watching the sparrow bob about, she flung bread crusts, and a squirrel peered from beneath a blackberry bramble, his tail quirking.

“Duels don’t necessitate killing.” Mr. Montague shrugged and sat up to inspect the dishes she’d set out. “I only meant to terrify Ogilvie and shoot the bird to impress the ladies.”

“A little hint,” Jocelyn said dryly. “Women most generally do not appreciate violence.”

“Men hunt,” he declared. “We are nothing if we cannot provide for and protect our families. I cannot promise I won’t shoot birds, because I do. Partridges are particularly tasty.”

“Fair enough. I can’t promise I won’t scare the birds from your guns if I have the opportunity,” she replied pertly, hiding her trepidation. They truly did hold opposing viewpoints.

That their marriage might be the worst disaster she’d ever willingly entered into loomed ever more certain. Perhaps she did not need to tell Blake of Richard just yet, not until the vows were said and there was no backing out.

Jocelyn watched anxiously out the window of Lady Belden’s carriage as it pulled up to Carrington House on Friday. Blake had gladly surrendered his house key and Percy to the footman she’d sent to fetch them. He did not have to know that the servant did not go straight to Chelsea with the items, but back to her. She couldn’t possibly send Richard out here with only servants to introduce him to his new/old home.

“You and Percy will be in charge until I can move in,” she told her brother as the carriage halted and he reached for the door.

She knew better than to expect Richard to compliment the house’s newly polished front entrance and trimmed lawn. Still, she was a trifle disappointed when he simply said, “Harold cannot have Percy. He is
ours
.”

He leaped out before the steps could be lowered. He was already halfway up the front walk, carrying a whistling Percy, before the postboy could help Jocelyn down.

Having Blake treat her like she was a spun confection all yesterday had been rather intoxicating. She had to remember that
this
was her life—watching out for her brother. His love and trust were all she really needed. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe Blake would appreciate her concern.

“This is better than before,” Richard said approvingly after touring the conservatory and kitchen. “I wish I could have Africa back.”

If Harold had sold Percy after he’d lost the house, might he have done so only recently? In which case, tracking Percy’s mate might be possible once she had the time to focus on the search.

“I will ask around and see if we can find Africa. And the cockatiel twins.” The rare Australian birds had been ordered especially for Richard’s tenth birthday. She still cried when she remembered their special whistle as she entered a room.

Richard nodded in agreement. He did not express emotion well, but she thought it was a happy nod. “I will start building perches,” he said.

Jocelyn breathed a sigh of relief. Once Richard was suitably occupied, all would be well. “You must choose your bedchamber while we’re here.”

“I have already noted appropriate hiding places,” he answered.

Of course he had. They’d spent a great deal of their childhood hiding. Before their father’s death, their ability to sit quietly out of sight had also made them good at scouting wild birds.

Their experience in making themselves invisible had been useful later, during their years of dodging annoyed brothers-in-law and furious older sisters. They’d lasted about two years with each sister before exasperation had set in and they’d been asked to move on to the next. They only had three sisters, so now it was Jocelyn’s turn. This time, they were staying.

“We won’t have a cook until Monday,” she warned her brother. “You must be careful with the money I gave you. Don’t spend it all on Percy’s feed. You must buy food for yourself. There is a very nice pub up the street.”

Richard nodded. She knew he was only half hearing her, so she hoped some of what she’d said stayed with him.

She followed Richard around the conservatory as he checked out the dilapidated tables and repaired panes and examined the broken birdcage she had refused to throw out. “I’ve sent Mama a note asking her to forward your trunk,” she added. She’d also sent a note to her half sister in case Mama buried her request in a book and forgot about it. One never knew for certain what information might divert Mama from any appointed task. Many of Richard’s oddities replicated their mother’s behavior, which was why people often looked askance at Jocelyn. The Byrd-Carrington line was not precisely normal.

“She has reached Charlemagne,” Richard said. “Will we have palm trees?”

Jocelyn easily followed the wandering path of his thoughts. “Charlemagne, my, my. So we are of royal lineage. How amazing.” And totally useless, but tracing the family genealogy made their mother happy. “I am sure we can find palm trees to buy, but you must be the one to keep them watered. I don’t think I can afford a gardener.”

“I can do that. My bird books?”

“I will send for all your books. We will build shelves just for them.”

Richard turned abruptly and squeezed her in a clumsy hug. “Thank you!”

The times when Richard was comfortable enough to show his appreciation could be counted on one hand. Rejoicing, Jocelyn hugged him back. “I love you, Richie. I promise, we’re going to be happy here, and no one will ever take this home away from us!”

As long as she could keep Blake alive for a year.

Monday morning, Jocelyn tugged nervously at the slip of lacy veil she wore over her hair. Entering through the church’s side door with only Lady Belden and Richard as company, she listened to the silk crepe of her short train rustling across the cold stone floors. She was well versed in what etiquette required of her, but given her lack of experience, she was not so certain about her moral choices.

Which was why she was worrying about silk and not the man waiting for her on the other side of the transept.

Lady Montague had happily agreed with the marchioness that silver was the latest rage in wedding gowns, although Jocelyn thought the silk wasn’t very practical. If she did not freeze for lack of underclothing, she’d no doubt have wedding cake staining it before the morning was done. But she loved the little slip of lace threaded with gold ribbons pinned to her hair. It had taken the maid an hour to curl her hair into shiny ringlets. She hoped the result would leave Blake as speechless as he made her.

The priest in Lady Belden’s parish had cried the last of the banns yesterday. Since no one had objected to their marriage—or really, scarcely cared—they were free to perform the ceremony today. Jocelyn was torn between wanting the exchange of vows to be over and wishing she could wait forever.

She had seen her groom only in church since the picnic. She’d held her breath and introduced him to Richard, but they’d done no more than shake hands. Blake hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss with her brother’s asking if he liked birds.

Actually, Blake had seemed to be nursing an aching head, probably from bachelor frivolities with his rather intimidating friends. His neckcloth had been a little more askew than usual, and he’d been staring at her bosom more than listening to the sermon after they’d taken their seats. She wasn’t certain that he’d paid much better notice when she’d said her brother would give her away, but he couldn’t say that she hadn’t warned him that Richard had arrived. Surely he understood that meant he would be living with them.

Blake still hadn’t told her if he meant to keep his rooms in the city or if he intended to live with her and Richard. She was too nervous to think past the next few minutes.

She jerked her thoughts back to the moment as the door on the south side of the transept opened. A rustle of skirts and chatter warned her that the groom’s party was arriving. Jocelyn clutched her bouquet of hothouse roses bound with gold and silver ribbons. She would have the ribbons undone from nervousness if she must stand there much longer.

She took a deep breath as Blake entered, his sharp gaze sweeping the aisle until he found her in the shadows. She thought maybe his wide shoulders relaxed slightly before he turned to escort Frances in. He’d chosen to wear formal black trousers and an elegant gray cutaway coat that she’d been told was a gift from his parents. And he wore his silver vest. She smiled, inordinately pleased that he’d not only remembered the color of her gown but also matched it to make her happy.

Baron Montague had been reluctantly kept from the fall harvest for the occasion. Jocelyn studied him, seeking some resemblance to his youngest son, but Lord Montague was half a head shorter and quite a few stone heavier, with a ring of silver hair. He lacked Blake’s straight, square-shouldered posture.

The baron seemed content with the short, stout Lady Montague, though, and led her in with quiet pride.

Jocelyn wished that Blake would someday look upon her that way, but it didn’t seem possible.

One of Blake’s older brothers attended. He was a little more like Blake, without the silver streak in his dark hair, or the proud, broad-shouldered stance that Blake naturally assumed. Jocelyn had merely sent announcements to her family, knowing they would not come. Her mother was easily confused and did not like being rousted from her studies, and her half sisters would not leave their children to accompany Lady Carrington to see that she arrived safely. Jocelyn was thrilled just to have Richard.

The vicar stood at the altar, gesturing them to come forward. Lady Belden stood up with Jocelyn. Mr. Atherton stood with Blake while his family settled in the pews. Jocelyn thought she’d nibble her nails through her gloves if someone didn’t say something soon.

In the light from the rose window, Blake looked more stiff and solemn than usual. Beneath his thick dark hair, his gaze was steady when he met her eyes, but she could read nothing in it. She prayed he did not regret agreeing to this marriage. It was so very
permanent.

But people married all the time, on far less basis than they were. She tried to stay smiling as the vicar announced matrimony was for the procreation of children and a remedy against sin. She was far more ready for sin than children. The part about
the mutual society, help, and comfort
they were supposed to provide each other was a little dubious as well. Shooting Blake’s toe was probably not helpful. Hiding an addled brother might not be comforting. And the
mutual society
might be angry and cold once her groom learned she had no ready cash.

She needed to concentrate on the vicar’s words. At the proper phrase, she tapped her brother’s shoulder, reminding him to say “I do” and sit down. Richard seemed a bit distracted by his surroundings, but he performed his duty well. As long as he didn’t see any pigeons, he’d be fine.

Now that Richard had given her away, Blake captured her hand and held it firmly, as if he had no intention of letting her go. She breathed a little easier. They were two adults with an
understanding
. She was swearing it before God and Church, after all. She had to make it work.

If only there had been time to ask Blake what they would do after the wedding breakfast. Their kisses were lovely, but this was a marriage of convenience
.
Surely he could not expect more than kisses? She really should have made that clear, but such a topic had been too embarrassing to talk about.

Blake startled Jocelyn out of her reverie by placing an old and lovely band of gold inset with tiny diamonds on her finger. Jocelyn held her breath as the ring slipped over her knuckle, and she fully grasped the reality of this moment. Nervously, she glanced up, and caught the flare of heat in her groom’s eyes as he stared at her . . . only her.
Oh, my.

Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder
were the last words that she actually heard. The vicar prosed on in a monotonous tone for some while after that, but all she could do was look up at Blake looking down at her and hope her knees didn’t give out.