Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles) (15 page)

could call on her the afternoon of the twentieth. Stacy was

smiling with delight at the prospect when Tanner entered the

room.

"That's quite a smile," Tanner chuckled as he pulled his

wife from the settee and into his arms.

"I got a letter from Sunny Hawkesbury. She and Chelsea

Gallagher want to come to see me on the twentieth."

"That's this Friday. You'd better reply right away."

"How do I get word to them?"

Tanner, who had been bending his head to kiss her,

straightened in surprise.

"You send a servant."

"Oh," Stacy said inadequately, feeling very young and

gauche under his raised brow.

Tanner saw the color rise in her face. He bent and pressed

a kiss to her brow and then spoke with his arms wrapped

securely around her.

"I came up to ask you to go riding with me. Write your

note, and I'll give it Price. If ever you have a question, see

Price; he'll take care of you. After you've finished with your

reply, you can slip into a riding habit and we'll get a ride in

before dinner."

Stacy smiled gratefully and did as he asked. Within 40

minutes, she'd sent word to Sunny and was riding across the

meadows of Winslow with her husband. Only once did she

think of Lucinda's news and took a moment to share it with

Tanner, who didn't seem surprised at all. As Tanner stepped

up the pace to a gallop, Stacy wondered where her aunt and

Roddy were now.

"Something is wrong, Cinda."

"No, Roddy, it's not."

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"You're not being straight with me. Have I done something?"

"Oh, no," Lucinda shook her head, but she refused to look

at him. They were at the new house on Bates Street, Brentood.

The painters had been there that day, and Lucinda and

Roddy had come to see the results. The wedding was set for

one month's time, and Roddy wanted to be certain that everything

was just right.

Roddy did not press Lucinda as they continued their tour,

but when Lucinda would have 7bid him goodnight at her front

door, he came in without asking. She started toward the stairs,

but he captured her hand and led her into the library. The fire

burned warmly, and after they were seated on the sofa, Roddy

spoke. Lucinda still had not looked at him, but Roddy told

himself he wasn't leaving until he was sure he understood her

silence.

"What's frightening you, Cinda?"

Lucinda drew a quick breath. He had so easily guessed her

problem was fear. She wanted to deny it but couldn't find the

words. Her throat closed with tears. Roddy's next sentence

was her undoing.

"I'm not Aubrey."

Lucinda put her face in her hands and sobbed. Roddy's

arms surrounded her. Her frame shook with harsh weeping,

and Roddy let her cry. When it seemed that she was calming,

he produced a handkerchief and Lucinda took it gratefully.

"I'm sorry," she said shakily, "I don't know what's come

over me."

"I think I do. I think for years you've convinced yourself

that Aubrey was unfaithful because of some deficiency in you.

That's a lie, Lucinda. Aubrey wasn't faithful to you or to anyone,

including himself. His infidelity was his problem, not

yours.

"I'm not going to be married to you for a month and then

go looking for greener pastures. If I'd been that kind of man, I

would have proved it a long time ago. You're all the woman I

want, and will ever want."

^

\

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Lucinda was staring into his face, now close to her own, as

though she were seeing him for the first time. He was so

wonderful, more wonderful than she deserved

"Do you believe me?" Roddy asked.

"Yes, I do," Lucinda said with wonder and then knew she

had to be completely honest. "However, I may be plagued by

doubts again."

"If you are, come to me, Cinda, just as soon as the fears

surface."

Lucinda leaned forward and kissed him then, but Roddy

held himself in check. They lived in an age and time where

intimacy was a casual thing. Not so with Roddy Caruthers.

Lucinda was precious to him, and even knowing that she

would be his wife in a month was not enough to press him into

doing something he felt was wrong.

Just a few weeks now, Roddy told himself as he exited. She'll be mine to have and hold in just a few weeks.

Stacy sat on the huge bed their first night at Winslow and

tested the softness. She didn't lie back, but bounced a little on

her seat and then got comfortable against the headboard

With the ease that years of practice afforded her, she then

reached for her hair.

Rayna had brushed it smooth for her, but for as long as she

could remember she'd braided it down her back at bedtime

and did so now. It made her hair much easier to manage in the

morning. Even though Tanner liked it hanging free, Stacy's

mind was on other things and she acted out of habit.

She had just reached for a book on the nightstand when

Tanner joined her. She watched him make himself comfortable

against the footboard and then stare at her.

"How do you like Winslow?" he asked.

"Oh, Tanner," Stacy said, setting the book aside, her eyes

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^bright with enchantment. "It's the loveliest home I've ever

seen. I can't think of what your impression must have been

when we were in Middlesbrough."

"I was quite comfortable at Morgan, and I enjoyed your

grandfather tremendously. Hettie tends to step out of place

quite regularly, but since she doesn't live here, I think I'll

survive."

"She's rather protective of me," Stacy returned apologetically.

"So I noticed. I've gained the fiercest looks from her. I

don't know if she really believes we're married" Tanner's

voice was dry.

Stacy laughed "She's been like a mother to me, and even

though she's negative and scolds a lot, I can't think of what I'd

have done without her."

"Your parents died when you were young, didn't they?"

"I was little more than a baby. I don't remember either of

them. It's always been Papa and Hettie and of course Peters.

He's been like a father also."

"I have an ancestor that reminds me of Peters. His portrait

is in the north wing. I'll have to show it to you sometime."

"Is the north wing always so cold?"

"Actually it is. It gets very little sun and has always been

drafty."

"It's more than the temperature, though," Stacy said, her

eyes on some distant spot. "The colors used in the decorating

are cold too. It's nothing like the rest of Winslow. When I

walked through there it felt like a completely different place."

"My grandmother had dreary tastes in decorating. Everything

else has been remodeled. The north wing has what's left

of her furniture. Feel free to redecorate."

"Is it used very often?"

"Almost never," Tanner answered her.

"Then I don't see any point in spending the money. If you

want me to, I'll do it, but it seems like a waste."

"It's up to you," Tanner told her softly, but his mind was

not on the north wing. It was on discovering that his wife was

110

not a spendthrift. He didn't know a woman alive who didn't

like to spend money on everything she could get her hands on.

Tanner wondered how many years they would be married

before she stopped being a surprise.

stacy peered into the mirror for the fifth time and then

paced the room some more. Sunny and Chelsea were scheduled

to arrive in an hour, and Stacy was a nervous wreck. She

so wanted to make a good impression, but she was convinced

that they would find her out of place in a home as lovely and

grand as Winslow.

Stacy stopped suddenly and mentally scolded herself. Her

mind was headed off into all kinds of whimsical nonsense,

and that was ridiculous. After a final glance in the mirror, she

made herself walk calmly down the wide staircase to see if the

parlor was in readiness. She met Tanner as he came from his

study.

"Ah, here you are. I was just headed to see how you were

doing."

"I'm doing fine," Stacy told him much too brightly, her face

pale.

Tanner's voice was meant to be reassuring as he continued,

"When do your guests arrive?"

"In 48 minutes."

Tanner had to hide a smile at her precision. She had

obviously worked herself into a fine state and was on the

brink of panic.

"I've known Chelsea Gallagher and her husband, Rand, for

112

years. She's a fine woman, and of course you've already met

Sunny."

"Of course," Stacy agreed, feeling worse than ever. "I don't

like my dress," she added absently.

"Then why are you wearing it?"

"Because it's part of my trousseau, and I can't let it hang

there."

"Change your dress, Stacy," Tanner told her calmly.

"I don't have time."

Tanner gently took his wife's hand and began to lead her

back up the stairs.

"You think I'm acting like a child, don't you?"

"No, I don't," Tanner answered her. "I think you're understandably

nervous because this is the first time you've entertained

here. Hating your dress only adds to the problem.

Rayna!" Tanner finished with a shout to Stacy's maid.

When Rayna appeared, Tanner gave her orders and Stacy

was amazed at how much calmer she felt from just listening to

him.

"Lady Richardson does not like this dress, and quite

frankly it's not my favorite either. Please see her into something

more comfortable." With that he turned to Stacy.

"Do not rush. If your guests arrive early, I will keep company

with them until you come down."

Stacy's chest heaved with relief. "Thank you, Tanner."

Tanner's long-fingered hand tenderly captured her jaw.

"You're welcome, sweetheart, and trust me, you're going to do

just fine."

Chelsea Gallagher was nothing like Stacy expected. She

was older than Sunny, even though they were sister-in-laws. In

fact, she was old enough to be Sunny's or Stacy's mother. She

had a youthful air, however, and was beautiful in her own

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right. Stacy, who was at times rather uncomfortable with her

figure was quite pleased to find Chelsea more heavily enowed

than she was herself.

Chelsea was not as tall as Stacy, but her overall figure was

more filled out. Sunny was also on the tall side, but her figure

was willowy. Her tummy was becoming nicely rounded giving

evidence of the child to come.

Sunny hugged Stacy as soon as she arrived, and Chelsea

shookherhandsowarmlythatStacy'sfears melted. There was

no lack of conversation in the time that followed as Stacy