Valentine (21 page)

“Not yet,” he agreed, clear puzzlement in his voice and eyes.

“Then I am claiming it now,” she said in a fierce undertone. “I wish to speak my mind to your mother. But I thought I would tell you first, since we have some sort of a contract on the subject.”

“Is that what you call it?” Sylvester said with a dry smile, not yet appreciating the seriousness of the issue. He glanced across the room toward his mother. “So what’s all this about?”

Theo told him what Lady Gilbraith had said. “I don’t mind, for myself,” she said in the same fierce tone. “But she embarrassed Mama and forced
her
to be rude to a guest, which she hates to do, so I am going to tell her ladyship exactly what I think of her.”

Sylvester closed his eyes on a surge of anger that was directed as much at himself as at his mother. Only he knew how hideously far from the truth she was. If anyone had been generous in this marriage, albeit unwittingly, it was Theo.

He turned from her, saying curtly, “This is for me to deal with, not you.”

Theo looked up at him and saw that he was as angry now as he had been with her in the stableyard. She almost began to feel quite sorry for Lady Gilbraith. The old bat didn’t know what was coming her way.

“May I come too?” She took a skipping step to follow him.

“No, you may not!”

It was such a ferocious negative that she fell back to observe the scene from a discreet distance.

“Ma’am, a word with you.” Sylvester’s voice was frigid as
he reached his mother. He turned to his mother-in-law and said, “Permit me to make my mother’s apologies, Lady Belmont, for an inexcusable insult. I can only imagine she’s suffering from an excess of excitement.”

Lady Gilbraith’s face seemed to fall in on itself. She gasped, two spots of color burning on her cheekbones, but was rendered speechless.

“You will wish to make your farewells, ma’am,” Sylvester said. “And I’ll escort you to your carriage. I know you wish to reach Stokehampton before nightfall. Mary …” He jerked his head imperatively at his equally dumbfounded sister, took his mother’s elbow, and escorted her unprotesting from the gallery.

“Good heavens,” Elinor murmured. Sylvester Gilbraith was not a man to tangle with. But he’d come to the defense of his bride, and that could only endear him to his mother-in-law. She returned to her duties as hostess with a sigh of relief that the competition had been removed.

Theo, although she couldn’t hear any of the exchange, saw her mother-in-law’s discomfiture and her swift disappearance and decided that she’d been suitably avenged.

On his way back to the long gallery twenty minutes later, Sylvester stumbled upon Rosie sitting on the floor in the corridor staring intently at the palm of her hand. An empty champagne glass was beside her.

“Is this one ant or two?” she asked, without looking up. “Sometimes I think it’s one, and then it seems to be two.”

He squatted beside her, taking her upturned palm. “How much champagne have you had?”

“I’m not sure,” Rosie said vaguely. “Is it one?”

“It could have been two, but at this point it’s just a dead insect smudge,” he declared, folding her fingers over her palm. “And don’t let me see you with another glass of champagne, little sister, unless you want some trouble.” He rose to his feet, reaching down to pull her upright.

“Is that a sword of Damocles?” Rosie inquired, brushing at her dusty pink skirt. “A what?”

“That thing that Theo said was hanging over her,” she replied absently. “I think I’ll walk down to the dower house and see if my museum has arrived safely. Will you tell Mama?”

“Yes, I’ll tell her.” He shook his head, half smiling as Rosie weaved her way down the corridor, on the lookout for any interesting specimens. He thought he was beginning to get the hang of this new family he’d acquired. There was certainly something rather appealing about them … particularly when compared to his own.

Refusing to think any further about his mother, he returned to the gallery, where the reception was beginning to break up.

“Have you had news of Edward, Sir Charles?” Emily linked arms with her future father-in-law as they went downstairs. “I keep reading the
Gazette
for news of his regiment, but by the time we get the paper, it’s hopelessly out-of-date.”

“The news is old news before it goes into print, my dear,” Sir Charles said with a sigh. “But we believe that no news is good news.”

“I wrote to Edward about Theo’s betrothal several weeks ago.” Lady Fairfax took Emily’s other arm. “I expect a reply is already on its way from Spain.”

“Yes,” Emily agreed. “Theo and I wrote too.”

“Perhaps he’ll have a leave in the next few months,” Sir Charles said, patting her cheek. “It’s hard for you, my dear. It’s always hard for women in wartime. Waiting and worrying.”

“Women and fathers,” his wife said gently. Edward was their only child.

“Lord Stoneridge was in the Peninsula, I believe,” Emily said. “But before Edward was sent to serve there.”

“I gather Stoneridge served in Portugal,” Sir Charles replied. His host had not cared to expand upon the subject
beyond the succinct information that he’d been wounded, captured, and exchanged.

“Are you leaving already?” Theo came over to them. “Thank you for giving me away, Sir Charles.”

“My pleasure, my dear.” He kissed her cheek. “I hope Stoneridge will be doing the same for Emily before too long.”

Emily blushed, but Theo laughed and hugged her sister. “Of course he will. I have a feeling Edward will be home very soon.”

“Now, what makes you think that, Theo?” Lady Fairfax asked, drawing her cloak around her.

Theo frowned. Why had she said that? It had just slipped out, and yet she knew it to be true. Her scalp lifted as an odd sense of apprehension darkened her mind.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she looked up at her husband, who had come to stand behind her. Her apprehension vanished. There was quiet intent in his gaze, and it was for her alone.

“Do you wish to walk down to the dower house with your mother and sisters?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, a moment too late for real enthusiasm, and laughter sprang into his eyes. His bride had other things on her mind.

“Come, then. Your mother and Clarissa are waiting for you and Emily. Sir Charles, Lady Belmont was hoping that you and Lady Fairfax would take tea with her in the dower house.”

“We should be delighted,” Lady Fairfax said briskly. “The aftermath of weddings and suchlike can leave one most dreadfully blue-deviled.”

She went off energetically in search of Elinor, and the others followed. The party walked slowly to the dower house, everyone aware of what the walk meant. Elinor was losing her home, but she was as assuredly leaving her daughter in possession of everything that would have been hers if her husband had lived. And in that, there was a sense of Tightness.

At the door to the dower house, she kissed Theo on both cheeks and said matter-of-factly, “I shan’t visit you, my dear. When you and Stoneridge are ready for visitors, send Billy with a message. You have Foster and Mrs. Graves and Cook to help you if you need advice as to the household.” It had been readily agreed by all parties that Theo, as she took the domestic reins of Stoneridge Manor into her own hands, would need the services of the old retainers more than her mother in the much smaller dower house.

Elinor extended her hand to her son-in-law. “I wish you joy, Stoneridge.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He kissed her hand.

Her eyes held his for a moment; then she said softly, “Theo isn’t always easy to understand, sir, but she’s worth the effort.”

The earl’s eyes flicked to his bride, who was bidding her sisters farewell. He smiled. “I know it, ma’am.”

The girls were whispering, their heads close together; then Theo broke away, and three laughing countenances were revealed. There was an air of mischief about them all that both amused and intrigued Sylvester, and he guessed they’d been having a similar exchange to the one he’d overheard in the corridor the previous day. Then Theo stepped away from her family, moving beside him.

Putting an arm around her shoulders, he turned her back toward the driveway. They were both aware of the eyes following them to the curve in the driveway until they were out of sight of the dower house.

Theo gathered up the gauzy train of her wedding dress, throwing it over one arm, and began to run back to the manor, her veil streaming out behind her.

After a surprised moment Sylvester broke into a run, catching her up easily. “Gypsy!” He seized her around the waist and swung her into his arms. “What’s the hurry?”

“I was hoping you were going to demonstrate the answer to that,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder, fluttering
her eyelashes at him in a wonderful parody of a demurely flirtatious miss.

“Oh, I intend to,” he declared, and with a swift adjustment tossed her over his shoulder. “It will be a great deal quicker in this fashion, I believe.”

Ignoring her vociferous protests at this undignified method of transport, he strode up the steps and into the house.

Theo reared up against his shoulder as they entered the hall. The house felt very strange. “Where is everyone?”

“Out,” he said. “Celebrating our wedding. Either in the courtyard or in the Hare and Hounds. And they’ll be doing so for many hours.”

“You mean the house is empty?” she exclaimed.

“In a manner of speaking,” he agreed, a chuckle in his voice, as he took the stairs two at a time, despite his burden.

He kicked open the door of his bedchamber and unceremoniously tossed his bride onto the bed in a swirl of silk and gauze.

“Now, Lady Stoneridge, let us put this marriage beyond all possibility of annulment.”

“
S
O WHAT HAPPENS
now?” Theo lay back on her elbows, regarding her husband with a quizzical smile. The clock on the mantelpiece struck four o’clock. Her wedding night was beginning rather early.

“For a start, you stay where you are and do nothing,” Sylvester said. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth a firm, straight line, as he stood by the bed looking down at her as she lay in a cloud of virginal white.

“Shouldn’t I at least take my shoes off?” She wriggled her feet, clad in ivory satin slippers, by way of demonstration.

“No, I don’t wish you to remove a single garment.” He eased the snug-fitting silk coat off his shoulders without taking his eyes from her.

There was such intensity of purpose in the hooded gray gaze that Theo shivered, and all desire to joke vanished. It had only been a way of lessening her own tension, she realized.

She watched as he unfastened his cravat and tossed it to join his coat on the chaise longue. The white waistcoat followed
it. With slow deliberation he unfastened the tiny pearl buttons hidden in the ruffled sleeves of his shirt before shrugging out of the garment. It joined the others.

Theo had felt the warmth of his skin, the power in his chest and shoulders, but she’d never seen his naked torso. The muscles in his back moved beneath the taut skin as he turned to throw his shirt onto the chaise. There was not an ounce of spare flesh, and when he turned back, she saw a thin white scar running down his rib cage, curving around the narrow waist, following the thin line of black hair down beneath the waistband of his satin knee britches.

In leisurely fashion he pulled off his shoes and his striped stockings. Theo found that she was holding her breath as the buttons of his britches flew undone. He pushed them off his hips, stepped out of them, and turned to throw them onto the chaise.

Theo’s eyes stretched wide as they slid down his back, over the firm buttocks, the long, muscular thighs, the hard calves.

He turned slowly to the bed. The scar was etched into the flat belly, finishing just above one slim hip. Theo stared at his aroused flesh and felt the first faint stirring of alarm, imagining that jutting shaft entering her, becoming a vital part of her own soft body, invading her.

But she couldn’t take her eyes from him. He was beautiful in his nakedness … beautiful and terrifying.

Sylvester leaned over her, cupping her chin in the palm of his hand, bringing his mouth gently to hers. “There’s nothing to fear,” he said as if he understood the wild complexity of her emotions. “There may be a little pain at first, but it will soon pass.”

Theo only nodded, for once in her life unable to find words. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the smooth round bone fitting her palm before sliding her hand down his arm, over the hard swordsman’s biceps, her fingers rustling through the thick dark hair on his forearm.
After the barest hesitation, she laid her hand flat on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the skin. Boldly, she touched one nipple with the tip of her finger, and he smiled, holding himself still, leaning over her as she continued her exploration.

She traced the scar with a fingertip, running over the clear outline of his ribs and down to his hip, feeling the sharp jutting bone of his pelvis. She wanted to go further but suddenly found she couldn’t. She looked up and saw he was still smiling.