Chapter Twelve #2
“You should be at home in bed, shouldn’t you?” he said, pressing one of the glasses into his old friend’s hand.
Foster’s fingers closed around it, and he took a grateful sip. “God, no. Though I’ll not deny I’m as weak as a damned kitten. If you knew how bored I am with my own bed and those same four wretched walls...!”
“Sorry,” Durward said. “I meant to miss you altogether. If the ball caught you at all it should only have grazed your shoulder... You could have died. By the look of you, you still might.”
“No, I’m on the mend,” Foster insisted. “It’s just taken so long that I’m not used to doing anything just yet.”
“Don’t try and spare me, damn you,” Durward burst out. “You relapsed! That’s why your father had the warrant raised—”
“Never thought he’d do that,” Foster admitted. He gave a weak, yet achingly familiar grin. “Seems neither of us thinks ahead. I faked my relapse to get my sickroom to myself for a while, so my man could help me plan my escape.”
“Just to attend Snake Sanderly’s wedding?”
“Of course not, idiot. I came to see you. To prove I was alive and you didn’t need to flee the country and leave the woman you loved.”
Durward felt his jaw sag and snapped it back into place. “How do you know about the woman I love? How did you know I’d be here?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Foster said, taking another swallow of brandy. His eyes had brightened and his colour was improving. “First, tell me about this lady who’s finally tamed you? Was that her beside you when I arrived?”
“She hasn’t tamed me,” Durward said, affronted. “She doesn’t even try. She just...is. And yes, she was beside me. She was going to run away with me, Foster, share my adventures and my disgrace.”
“That takes courage,” Foster allowed. “And a lot of love. What on earth was she thinking of? She doesn’t look to be weak of intellect.”
Durward snorted with laughter. “She’d tie you in knots! She flattened me with two words on our first acquaintance.” He let his smile fade. “She’s everything I ever wanted, Foster. Only I didn’t know it.”
“Who is she?”
Durward shrugged. “No one of rank, just a lady. A sea captain’s daughter of reduced circumstances.”
“Will you marry her?”
“Yes. I was going to even before you showed up though I couldn’t think a Newgate wedding would be quite the thing for her.”
“Well, you can do it in St. George’s, Hanover Square now. Or anywhere else you like. Talking of weddings, aren’t we meant to be attending one?”
Durward set down his brandy. “Are you up to this?”
“I insist upon it.” Foster rose without help and for a moment Durward stood looking at him. “What?”
“Is this really going to be fine, Foster?”
“Do you know, I think it is? Now.”
DURING THE WEDDING breakfast, Carina sat next to Foster, who entertained her with funny stories about youthful mischief, which generally featured Durward and occasionally Lord Calton, an amiable if rakish gentleman who sat on her other side.
Durward was placed further up the table among the children who were full of lively spirits, no doubt influenced by Harriet who had never shone quite so brightly as she did now.
Durward himself seemed unexpectedly content among the children, making them laugh, and clearly enjoying their own unique company.
“I never saw Durward as the fatherly type, before,” Foster remarked, casting Carina a knowing glance. “Quite the revelation.”
Heat seeped into her face. “He has a young brother who is devoted to him,” she said defensively.
“Very true,” Foster agreed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“He told you, didn’t he?”
“We wish him well, you know. All his friends do.” Foster lifted his wine glass to her very slightly and for some reason a tide of well-being washed over her.
He hesitated. “I don’t need to tell you that he will never be charged over this foolishness, do I?
Nor that he will never repeat the mistake.
Nor will I. I think we have both grown up. Finally.”
“Or woken up,” she murmured.
“That too.”
“You are a good friend,” she said with difficulty.
“So is he,” Foster said, which was probably the oddest thing ever said, for a man who had almost died by the hand of the same good friend.
Carina’s sense of well-being lasted into the departure of Lord and Lady Sanderly, who set off on their wedding journey to Scotland via the earl’s principal seat, where he would introduce Harriet to his household and set in motion any urgent changes she wished to make.
Sanderly spoke in low tones to Sir John, who was warmly shaking his hand. Harriet turned to Carina who stood among the children in the front driveway.
“Thank you for taking care of them,” Harriet said, just a little shakily.
“It is my pleasure,” Carina said. Everything was, right now.
To her surprise, Harriet pressed her bridal posy into Carina’s hands. “Good luck,” she whispered. “He is a loyal man and he loves you.” And then she was hugging the children, her smile bright and her words light and joking.
The children cheered her into the carriage and ran after it, waving madly for as long as Orchid could keep up.
There was a moment when the child’s lip wobbled, as though the reality of being without the sister who had always looked after her had hit home.
But Lily and Alex took her hands, and swung her high in the air, and she laughed again.
Since the wedding guests all began to drift off, either to their own rooms or toward the stables to arrange their departures, Carina swept the children back to the nursery to chatter and play games like jackstraws, during which Orchid fell asleep on Lily’s shoulder, and was carried to bed for a nap. The excitement was too much for her.
Mildred, the nursery maid, appeared shortly after, saying that Lady Grandison would appreciate Carina’s company whenever it was convenient.
Carina went happily downstairs. On the bedroom floor landing, her joy in the day vanished. For Sir Hugh Mansel stepped out of a shadowy alcove.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, blocking her way. “Finally, I have you alone. One might almost think you have been avoiding me.”
“I have. Excuse me. Lady Grandison has sent for me.”
“Lady Grandison?” he sneered. “Or Lord Durward? Aiming higher than the man who merely supplied your bread and butter?”
“You barely paid me enough for bread,” she retorted, though she should have known better than to rile him. She was just tired of the whole injustice of his pursuit.
She was rewarded with his ugly, oily smile, and a quick, ungentle push into the alcove wall.
“Well you needn’t think Lady Grandison—or anyone else—will pay you any salary once I’ve had you, for the world will know. I might consider sharing you with his lordship, if he still wants you.”
As he spoke, he rammed himself up against her—and everything rebelled.
“How dare you!” she cried, and stamped hard on his foot, at the same time as she gave him a mighty shove in the chest with both hands.
He let out a howl of pain and rage, but she didn’t fool herself. It was only surprise that dislodged him, and that only temporarily. An instant later, his hand was over her mouth so that she could barely breathe.
“Not a sound,” he rasped in her ear.
Only then did she hear it too, footsteps hurrying toward them through the gloom of the passage.
This was her worst nightmare. Whether she could draw attention to her presence or not, she faced certain ruin either way.
But her body reacted from pure instinct, trying to shake off his foulness. And quite suddenly she was free.
Someone had yanked Mansel off her by the collar.
Durward.
His face was a terrifying mask of fury. So much for his turning over a new leaf concerning duels...
But Mansel did not appear to see the danger. He laughed. “My lord! Care to share this little lightskirt? She is—”
Durward struck him with such speed that he never saw it coming. Mansel hit the floor, his expression one of almost ludicrous surprise. Durward followed inexorably, fist clenched, and hauled Mansel’s upper body off the floor by his shirt front.
“You dare to touch my betrothed?” he snarled. “To sully her with your foul words?”
Only now did Mansel see his true danger. He flapped his hands, though whether in an effort to free himself or placate Durward was anyone’s guess.
“B-betrothed, my lord?” he babbled. “But I assure you she waylaid me! Begging for my—”
Durward hit him again and stood over him.
“I will tell you this once only. If you so much as say her name, I will kill you—and I will hear, you know. This is my world, and my wife’s.
You will leave this house immediately, or I will kill you.
More than that, if I ever hear of you treating another female so, I shall make sure neither you nor your wife are ever invited anywhere. Do I make myself clear?”
“My lord, my lord, forgive the misunder—”
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Oh yes, my lord, abundantly.” Mansel nodded wildly like one of Orchid’s nursery toys.
Shockingly, Carina wanted to giggle.
Durward dropped him and turned on his heel to face Carina who had remained in the alcove, wide-eyed and perfectly still. He smiled, one of those dazzling, brilliant smiles that melted her, and almost to her surprise, she found herself smiling back.
“Shall we go to Lady Grandison? I thought we might announce our betrothal.” He offered his arm, which she took with something approaching wonder.
“Why not?”
As they walked away arm-in-arm and took the stairs down to the drawing room, she was amazed to find she wasn’t even shaking. That delightful sense of wellbeing was back, as though this man’s presence was all she ever needed. He stood by her, protected her, looked out for her.
“And you neither killed him outright nor challenged him,” she said aloud, unable to keep the admiration from her voice.
He let out a choke of laughter. “You are wonderful, you know. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, no,” she said, holding tighter to his arm in case he went back upstairs. “I don’t believe I have even a hair out of place. But, Travis, are you sure about this?”
He paused at the foot of the stairs, from where she could hear voices drifting from the drawing room, and turned to face her, frowning slightly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Are you?”
She smiled. “Oh yes.”
It was very strange, for while his sudden kiss caused her to fall against the wall, and she was positively hemmed in by his urgent body and his hungry mouth, she knew no fear, only delight and tenderness. With a muffled sob, she threw both arms around his neck and kissed him back.
The moment went on and on, each kiss folding into another, whispers of love tangling with lips and tongues and sweet, increasingly bold caresses. Carina forgot where she was, knew only who held her and whom she never wanted to let go.
Until, abruptly, Lady Grandison’s sharp voice broke into the idyll.
“I do hope I am addressing the future Lady Durward?”
Durward lifted his head, his eyes ablaze with mischief as well as passion. More than that, they invited her to share the joke before he turned to face their hostess.
“You do indeed, ma’am. Miss Jasper has just agreed to be my wife.”
There was a gasp, and Carina realized there were several people with her ladyship.
Hastily, she smoothed her ruffled hair before Durward took her hand and drew her to his side.
It was Lady Mansel who had gasped and still stared at her as though in outrage—though whether at the breach of propriety or the prospect of being outranked by her despised secretary was not clear.
At any rate, she was quickly blocked from Carina’s view as Grandison came to shake hands with Durward, and Lord Wolf and the Duke of Isbourne pounded him on the back.
Lady Grandison kissed Carina’s cheek with a mixture of pleasure and regret—for she was losing a governess.
“I’ll stay until Lady Sanderly returns,” Carina said hastily, and her employer laughed.
“We’ll see, my dear, we’ll see. The important thing is, we all wish you very happy. Very happy indeed.”
I already am, Carina thought with awe. Her hand crept into Durward’s and she felt the responsive squeeze of his fingers. I am in love, I’m to be married, and I am happy.
Durward’s lips almost touched her ear. “Now you can never tell me to bugger off.”
Laughter caught in her suddenly tight throat. “I hope you never will.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
And he never did.