Chapter Twenty #2
Briefly, Adrian closed his eyes, sending up a prayer of thanks.
“Go, Mr. Vane. Find Lady Redver. Ask her the same question you had planned to ask me tonight.”
Vane bowed his head. “Thank you, Miss Wainwright.”
She sighed as she watched him make his way back into the ballroom.
From the shadows, Adrian whistled through his hands, mimicking the sound of a blackbird. She turned. Her eyes widened.
He withdrew further into the garden and then whistled again. Just beyond the hedge was an almost private clearing where they would both be entirely cloaked by night.
Her brow furrowed, but she stepped off the terrace and followed him into the division in the brush.
Adrian faced her, taking both of her hands into his own. He lowered his head until their foreheads touched.
This deep into the garden, the light from the windows was so faint he could barely make out her features. But he didn’t need to see her to take comfort in her presence, any more than he’d had to see her, as the Blackbird, to rouse his passion.
“If you had encouraged Vane”—his hands tightened—“I would have interceded.”
She expelled a short puff of air—something even less than half-hearted laugh. “You told the Blackbird you had learned the lesson she set out to teach—women are not yours for the choosing.”
“No, they’re not.” He slid his thumb along her glove. “But does it follow that I cannot offer myself to a woman? To you?”
“I don’t know why you would.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I made you beg.”
“I would have begged, even if you hadn’t asked. I wanted the Blackbird like no one I’ve ever wanted before—until you. But you were right, that first night, I wasn’t willing to give anything real in return.”
“And now?”
“Miss Eliza Wainwright has convinced me I have something worthy to offer.”
“You are not angry with me?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand, then. Why did you turn away from me back there?”
How he wanted to soothe the heartbreak in her voice!
“I have a confession to make—I had once determined to behave in exactly the manner I just behaved. I intended to expose the Blackbird by touch, demonstrating we’d been intimately acquainted.
Nightmarishly, the plan I had abandoned was coming true.
I’d recognized you, and I did nothing to hide that recognition.
If I’d lingered any longer, the gossip would only have gotten worse. ”
“I felt as if I were trapped in a nightmare, too.” She hiccupped back a sob. “I thought I was losing you forever.”
“You won’t.” He kissed her forehead. “You can’t.”
“Stop.” She sounded panicked. “You can’t possibly still want me. You must be furious!”
“Furious? I’m delighted. Absolutely unable to believe my luck—friendship and passion. I never would have believed I could find both in one lady. But I did…”
“Adrian—”
He silenced her with a light kiss.
“Listen.” He could just make out the sounds of a waltz. He released her hands and held out his arms. “Dance with me, Miss Wainwright.”
“Waltzing is what got the Wainwright girls into trouble in the first place.” She wiped at her eyes. “And you can’t dance.”
“I can dance. For a long time, I chose not to do so. But then an enchanting Siren changed my mind, made me want to fully embrace my life.”
She made an inarticulate sound as she took his hand and then stepped forward, allowing him to place his arm around her waist.
Plaintive notes traced the air, wrung out of violin strings by long, rosined bows.
The notes, strung together, became a phrase, and the phase sequenced into melody.
One, two three. He counted the steps as he led, easing into the rhythm his body had never forgotten.
And soon he was spinning Eliza on a sing-song cloud of sound.
In truth, though he practiced with Emily this afternoon, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel when dancing. Of course, he’d expected this moment to be more fraught.
He expected to be doing so inside the ballroom.
He held her close—far closer than would have been proper if they’d been inside.
He rejoiced that they were not inside.
Slowly, they moved. He led her, tentatively at first, and then with more certainty.
“Are you—is everything…”
“I’m fine,” he said against her ear. “Better than fine.” The damp, musty scent of spring earth hung in the air. Each breath condensed into haze. He never wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else. “But I won’t be fully at ease until you agree to be my wife.”
“I might be mad.”
“You might be mad. I might be mad—”
“But,” she added, “the whole world is suddenly sparkling, and I never want to be anywhere else than in your arms.”
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded. “I’m only sorry we’ve come together too late to save Cassie.”
“Save Cassie? Your sister is to be a duchess.”
“They don’t love one another.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not yet.”
“Could he love her someday?” she asked.
“Perhaps,” he replied. “But right now, I’m most concerned about the woman I love.”
He stopped moving and took her fully into an embrace. She rested her head against his shoulder.
“That’s better,” he said.
“Who am I to argue with a marquess?”
“I hope you do. And often.” He pressed his cheek against her hair. “I want to be challenged. I need to be challenged.”
“A marriage of true minds.”
“Pardon?”
“Lady Asquith warned us not to confuse marriage with a marriage of minds. But I believe the phase she meant to quote was marriage of true minds. She said it meant…” she frowned, trying to recall. “…something about always being willing to listen, to witness, and to support.”
“Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.”
“That’s the poem,” Eliza confirmed. She lifted her face. “And you certainly found alteration in me.” She smiled ruefully. “I don’t see how you can trust me. I used you. I was angry with Harbury, and I took that anger out on you.”
“I was angry with the world, and I used you to distract me.”
“We are quite the pair.”
“Pair, I think, being the important word. If it weren’t for meeting the Blackbird, I would have gone on trying to solve all my dilemmas by restricting my world. I never would have realized that what I needed to do was expand it…”
“Ah, Adrian.”
“I was perfectly serious before. You made me believe I had something of value to give.”
“I misjudged you from the start.”
“Perhaps. Or maybe you judged me for my actions before you learned the state of my heart.”
“And what is the state of your heart?”
“It loves. It loves you.”
She heard the words, not just with her ears, but with her whole body.
“Mine loves you, too, Adrian,” she whispered as the music ended. “Shall we face the ton?”
“Together?”
She nodded. “Together.”
Adrian and Eliza were married by special license.
After a wedding breakfast hosted by Lady Asquith, the bride and groom made their way to a certain blue building at the terminus of Cleveland Row.
Eliza entered through the ladies’ entrance, Adrian, the men’s but they came together just outside the office of Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
“Lord and Lady Redver,” Hermia announced as she ushered them inside.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon leaned back in her chair and folded her hands together. “Well.”
“You don’t look surprised, ma’am,” Eliza said.
“In my experience,” Adrian said, “Bessie is hardly ever surprised.”
“On the contrary”—Bessie leaned forward—“I am surprised. I am surprised the two of you took so long to come to what was always, to me, the obvious conclusion.”
“A little more than a fortnight is too long?” Eliza asked.
“My dear, I had you marked as the Lyon’s marchioness from the moment you entered my building.” She shrugged. “But you had to come to your own realization.”
“Are you serious?” Eliza gasped.
“I only make matches that last.” She sighed. “Life would be so much easier were I empress.”
“Aren’t you?” Adrian chuckled.
“Within these walls, yes.” She rose. “Would you like to collect your letters?”
Eliza cast Adrian a shy glance. He nodded.
“Yes,” Eliza said. “I have the letters Adrian’s mother sent to mine. I treasure them even more, now. I’d like to read the ones she sent to Adrian, so I can come to know her better.”
The Black Widow gave her an approving nod and then went to the safe. She handed Eliza the box. “Olivia would have been well-pleased, having you for a daughter-in-law.”
“I don’t expect I will see much of you, or Adrian in the future,” the Black Widow said, “but should you ever wish to hear more about her, I would be happy to tell you what I know.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Eliza said.
The jet beads on Bessie’s bodice glittered in the candlelight as she turned to Adrian. “The affliction?”
Eliza slipped her hand into his. He’d told her about his affliction before the wedding, she’d offered, as always, sympathy and support.
“Rarer now,” he replied. “Thanks to your tisane. The symptoms faded once I went to live with Harbury. As I move on with my life, I have hope they will fully fade again.”
Bessie placed a hand on his cheek. Her chest rose, as if she were holding in emotion.
Adrian closed his eyes. For the first time, he let himself feel her concern for him. This woman had done so much for him. For his family.
“I owe you my happiness,” he acknowledged.
“Just take care of yourself, and of your wife.” She went to the cabinet and retrieved two packets of letters. “These are yours. And Mr. Vane has been kind enough to supply the letters written by Poppy to Olivia. Why don’t you take them upstairs and read them together. The usual room—”
Adrian snorted. “For the usual price?”
“This one, is my wedding gift. And before you go, I have something for you, my dear.” She unlocked a drawer in the cabinet, pulled out a ring with a cluster of rubies, and handed it to Eliza.
“My grandmother’s ring!” Eliza exclaimed.
“As I feel I made this match at Adrian’s unspoken behest, I cannot keep the payment I took for you. Besides, a lady should always have something to remind her of the strong women in her life.”
Eliza placed the ring on her finger, eyes sparkling. “How can I thank you?”
“No need for thanks.” She shrugged. “But should I ever be in need of a favor in future…”
“Consider us both at your service,” Adrian replied.
Hermia made sure the pathway to the upper rooms was clear, then led then into “their” room. They climbed up onto the bed and, together, pored through the letters.
“I’m glad my mother had a friend in yours.” Adrian shook his head. “I never knew.”
“And I had always wondered about the identity of the mysterious O,” Eliza replied, gathering up the piles. “Unfortunately, the letters from my mother prove that Cassandra was right—she did love my father, even though he’d been chosen for her, even though he proved so cruel.”
Adrian took the collected letters and set them aside. “What’s clear to me is that she loved you all even more.”
Eliza placed her hand in his. “We will be different.”
“That we will—though I imagine we will make different mistakes.”
“I choose you.”
He brushed her hair from her face. “And I, you.”
“Do you forgive her? Your mother?”
“Yes. I knew how badly she suffered, and I have always cared for her. But I also believed care didn’t mean much. I can see now how little in her own life she was able to choose. And I can see how much my mother’s scandalous behavior was in response to my father’s poor choices.”
“She hurt him because he’d hurt her?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think my mother had the power to hurt my father. But she did have the power to love us. She tried to shield us. And she chose Lady Asquith as a godmother to Cassandra and myself.”
“Lady Asquith, I’m sure, will always be a maternal figure to you all.”
Adrian held out his arm and Eliza cuddled up against him. He listened to her breath. Marveled at the weight of her against his chest. This was the luckiest he’d ever felt inside a gaming hell.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For reading these with me. For agreeing to spend your life with me. For softening my rough edges.”
She turned her face upward so she could see him. “As you’ve softened mine?”
“Have I?”
“We’ve the marriage of true minds, remember?”
He crossed his legs. “Pity I could never bed my wife in a gaming hell.”
“No, of course not.” Her eyes twinkled. “But perhaps you could you bed the Blackbird…”
His lips spread in a grin of pure delight. “Will she insist I cover my eyes?”
“No,” she said shyly. “This time, I want you to see.”
Eliza placed a hand against Adrian’s cheek and turned his face. Those lips she had long admired were finally hers to claim. So, claim them she did. She kissed him softly. Sweetly. As he had kissed her in the Academy.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I thought it was your custom to disrobe before any assignation at the Lyon’s Den.”
His forehead smoothed as he smiled. “So it is.”
She tucked her feet to her side and leaned back. “I’m waiting.”
He began, as he had that first night, by removing his coat, holding her gaze with a mischievous smile as he did so. Then, he removed his waistcoat, and then his cravat.
She frowned. “I don’t remember you taking this long the first time.”
“Minx.” He yanked his shirt over his head.
“Rogue. You’re going to have to stand up to take off those trousers.”
He lost his mischievous expression. “I don’t want you to be surprised.”
“By what?”
“I’ve scars on my thighs.”
“From the war?”
“I have a few of those, too, but no. From the affliction I told you about. For a long time after I held the child I thought had died, I would feel the weight of him there. And when I did, I felt an irrepressible urge to scratch. As if I could claw out that feeling with my own nails.”
“Oh, Adrian.” She straddled his legs, took his face into her hands, and kissed him deeply.
He smiled against her lips. “That was unexpected.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Oh,” he laughed. “Never be sorry for kissing me or touching me! You may do that whenever you wish. Gently, though, please.”
“Gently?” she repeated.
“Yes. The exact word the Black Widow used to prepare me. She said you—as the Blackbird—had not had vast experience. She said I must remember to be gentle.”
Eliza giggled. “I hadn’t any experience.”
“Humm,” Adrian hummed. “We must set our minds to correcting such a travesty.”
“Often,” she agreed. “And vigorously.”
He gathered her back into his arms and held her close.
“Adrian?” she whispered against his cheek.
“Yes?”
“Take off your trousers.”
She felt his chuckle against her body. He was hers. All hers. And she was going to savor every, vigorous moment.