Epilogue
Bluebelle Lodge
It was growing dark when Graeme handled the reins of the phaeton for the short trip from Risley Manor to Bluebelle Lodge. A lad came around to take charge of the horse, and Graeme helped Blythe down, her smile as wide as his must be.
A spring and summer courtship had just led naturally to a decision to call banns and marry at the parish church, with the wedding breakfast to follow at Risley Manor. The wedding night, however, would be spent at Bluebelle Lodge, where they’d first become friends so many years earlier.
Louisa and Samuel Stockwell had left the wedding breakfast early and were there to greet them on the doorstep.
“All is ready for you,” Louisa said, hugging Blythe, and smiling at Graeme, while a beaming Samuel offered his hand.
“There’s a tray in your bedchamber and a bottle of wine.” Louisa said. “If there’s aught else—”
“Lady Chilcombe will know where to look.” Samuel tugged at his wife. “We shall be off my lord, my lady,” he added with a grin.
“Well,” Blythe said. She smiled up shyly at Graeme, looking quite unlike the bold young woman he’d first met so many years ago. Her marriage had made her more prudent. Her trust now was a precious gift he intended to treasure.
He pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her nose. “I’m famished. Despite all the food at the wedding breakfast, I’ve barely had a mouthful. Let’s see what they have for us.” And then he picked her up and carried her across the threshold.
The house was quiet. The servants had left them to fend for themselves, and the children were safely ensconced at Risley Manor.
Lady Hermione had returned to her own home at the end of the Season, but she’d come for the wedding, along with a few members of Lord Loughton’s family.
She’d be staying on at Risley Manor for a few days to supervise the nursery staff.
As if Coralie couldn’t manage things herself.
The church had been jammed to the rafters for the wedding of the new Lord Chilcombe and the scandalous Lady Chilcombe.
Blythe had made inroads among many of the local families, who’d thawed because of his efforts at hospitality and good manners, as well as to Blythe’s determined cordiality and kindness.
It didn’t hurt that aside from a few items of clothing, everything needed for the wedding and breakfast was purchased locally.
He followed Blythe to the bedchamber that had been hers alone for several years. The servants had turned down the bedcover and laid out a negligee and dressing gown, both of fine red silk trimmed with black lace.
Graeme watched as she focused her gaze on the small table laden with food and wondered if she was purposely avoiding looking at the bed and dreading what was to come.
He went to help her with her pelisse, noticed her shiver, and pulled a shawl from a chair while she tossed away the skimpy bonnet she’d worn for the wedding. Then he went to stir the coals in the hearth and poke the fire to life.
When he turned, he caught her staring at the bed.
“That is one of my wedding gifts. Do you like it?”
She took in a deep breath and went to lift the negligee, putting the silk to her cheek and closing her eyes a moment.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll change into it later.”
“Phew.”
Blythe laughed. “Did you think I’d wear flannel?”
He opened his arms and she came and settled against him. “Light the candles and lamps and I’ll prepare a plate for you,” she said.
“And one for yourself. You had no chance to eat. Why, even Mrs. Jarrow deigned to speak with you.”
Mr. Jarrow senior had died in early summer, and despite still being in mourning, all of the Jarrows had appeared for the wedding, young Mr. Jarrow serving as Graeme’s best man, and his sister as a bridesmaid alongside a very grown-up looking Coralie.
“I suppose I’ll need sustenance for the night to come,” she said, biting her lip and looking up at him through her lashes. Then she laughed. “Look at you, Lord Chilcombe. The look of shock. I’m not afraid of you, you know.”
“Well, I’m very glad to hear that.”
“Since the will was settled, you’ve barely touched me, Graeme, even though we’ve had plenty of opportunities alone. Instead of a tryst, you’ve discussed drainage and planting rotations. Or the roofs on your tenants’ homes. Or what sort of lessons Nicholas ought to have to prepare for school.”
“Ah.” His heart lifted and desire stirred a bit more insistently. “You would rather I had talked about your beauty, which grows more enticing every day. And about the fascinating color of your eyes, which one moment seem blue, and in another, gray. And then there’s your hair.”
He leaned close and inhaled. “Lilacs and oranges.” One pin slid out, and then another, until her chignon loosened and he was able to rake the other pins out and send her hair cascading down her back.
“And then,” he said, “there’s the shape of a goddess hidden, always hidden under too much muslin and wool.”
He caressed her neck and then kissed it, lingering there for long moments until she was breathing hard, and he was close to bursting.
He tamped down his lust and hugged her, reminding himself not to undo six months of patience in one hasty coupling.
While he was getting his private parts into check, she was shrugging off the shawl, letting it slide to the floor and kicking it aside.
“I’m feeling rather warm,” she said. “My dress hooks are at the back.”
Thank heavens. He smiled into her hair, slid his hands under the thick mane, and began working his way down.
In moments, she kicked the gown aside also, and standing in her chemise and stays, pushed off first his coat and then his waistcoat.
And then she stepped back looking shy again. “You wanted to eat first.” And then she blushed a deep rosy pink. “I mean, you want to have supper before…”
“My darling girl.” She thought he was too stuffy for that sort of dining. “Whatever pleases you is what will please me. Come here and let’s make you more comfortable.”
The stays came off, and he seated her on the bed and removed each shoe, garter, and stocking.
Praise heaven, she was not wearing the long drawers women had started adopting.
He helped her to her feet. “Shall I assist you with the chemise?”
“Perhaps, just this time, so I can put on this scandalous wedding gift, you would turn around?”
Chuckling, he did. He had the rest of their lives to see her naked.
He kicked off his shoes and tore his shirt over his head. His banyan was draped over a chair, so he fetched it and was shoving one arm through when a hand yanked it back.
“No.” Blythe pulled the garment away and tossed it back on the chair. “I want to see all of you.”
It was his turn to blush. All of him. The silky nightgown outlined her curves, especially her decolletage. All of him came alive. One part in particular.
He didn’t want to frighten her… but of course, she’d been married.
She dropped to her knees, reached under the trouser legs and rolled down first one stocking and then the other, all the while giving him a view of her magnificent bosom.
When she stood and reached for the trouser button, he clamped his hand over hers.
“Oh,” she said, stepping back. “To be fair…” She slipped a strap of the gown over one shoulder revealing all but the tip of one luscious breast.
“Now your buttons,” she said. “I must insist.”
“Must you?” He opened the fly and pushed the trousers around his hips.
She slipped the other strap and the gown pooled at her waist.
“I’m being brave, you see,” she said, voice shaking.
“My darling girl,” he said, holding his control by a thread.
He wanted to ravish her.
“Let us do this together,” he said as pedantically as possible, and his tone stirred a faint smile. “On the count of three?”
She nodded. Her gown slid all the way to the floor, and he shoved his trousers all the way off. And then she was in his arms, and he was carrying her to the bed.
Graeme had made love to her more patiently a second time before the loud growling of both their stomachs led them to the table and the food and wine set out for them. After filling their stomachs, they moved to the warmth of the hearth, and he took her onto his lap.
“I saw Sir William speaking with you,” she said. “What’s afoot?”
She held her breath waiting. Graeme wasn’t one to tell State secrets, but she knew that, besides agricultural matters, he was avidly interested in the affairs of government.
Those, truly, were his first interest. He was young and capable, and she’d worried she might harm his career prospects.
But Sir William Taylor and his wife had been kind and welcoming, and she’d had a chance to mingle with diplomatic staff during their time in London.
“He’d like me to participate in a mission. I told him no, of course.”
“Where?”
“St. Petersburg. A treaty is being negotiated over the territories on the northwest coast of America. It would mean being gone several months. Perhaps a year. I won’t leave you.”
“We could go with you.”
“We?”
“Yes. Me, you, the children. We could leave Maddy with Louisa and Samuel. I know they’d look after her. I worried, you know, that I would hold you back in your career. You must go, with or without us.”
“My dear Lady Chilcombe, I’ve waited fifteen years for you. I only just convinced you to marry me. Do you think I’d want to be apart from you for even a few days?”
“Well then,” she said and kissed him.
The End