Chapter 24 #3
Mrs. Cadogan bustled into the room flanked by the butler and two footmen carrying trays of refreshments.
The group sat long, laughing and talking and making arrangements for Jem’s marriage, Portia’s future, and provision for the Falstead children.
Portia hugged Judith and shed tears on her shoulder when Judith welcomed her into the family.
It was late when Lucasta helped Aunt Cornelia withdraw to her room, for Jem insisted that Lady Evers put up with them for the night.
“I’ll remove to Frotheringale House tomorrow,” Aunt Cornelia said with a yawn, “and that fool nephew of mine won’t say a word against me.” At the door to her room, she took Lucasta’s hand in both of hers, and her smile was sweet and sad.
“My little Lucasta,” she said. “Singing in the Foundling Chapel and playing Handel’s organ. How proud your father would be of you. And your mother, too.”
For the hundredth time that day, Lucasta’s eyes welled with emotion, but for once she didn’t mind being buffeted by the currents. It was the measure of her joy.
“Make certain your young marquess consults me about settlements.” Aunt Cornelia yawned again. “I won’t simply give him everything. I want some put in trust for your children.”
“Good night, my favorite aunt,” Lucasta said fondly. “And thank you for welcoming his family, for they will be mine now as well.”
Jem waited for her at the end of the hall when she turned from her aunt’s door. Lucasta recognized the same alcove where they had embraced the afternoon of his grandfather’s death, the same niche with its marble bust, the same portrait of some stern ancestor on the wall.
A deep warmth surrounded her when she stepped into his arms. Safety, wonder, passion, and something she groped to name—a sense of stepping into a place that had been shaped and ready for her. Waiting for when she was brave enough to enter.
“My condolences on the loss of your father,” she murmured. She gathered that Jem did not much admire or respect his father, but it must be a heavy blow nevertheless. She had been devastated to lose her parents, and still missed them both.
“Naught but good can come of it,” Jem said, stroking the back of her neck. “Portia is here and the children are safe. I can start at once to repair the ills he has wrought.”
“And you are the Marquess. Do you still mean to travel to the West Indies?”
“Not unless I must. I should be able to make out the manumission papers here for all the people on his estates. I will direct my father’s solicitors to break the land into parcels and gift a portion to each family, so they have a place to live and means to support themselves.
” He moved his lips along her ear, and she shivered.
“We can wed in unseemly haste,” he went on. “Or wait a few weeks to allow Josie to make up your wedding clothes.”
“We ought to make some allowance for mourning,” she answered, resting her head on his shoulder. “What is unseemly is the season’s most eligible bachelor, compelled to surrender his hand by one unadvised kiss.”
“That was a very advised kiss.” He rubbed his cheek over her hair, which was quietly shedding powder on his beautiful coat. “I was courting you from our first dance, Lucasta. I don’t think you knew that.”
“That was a courtship?” She lifted her head to gaze inquiringly at him. “Engaging me to give music lessons to your sister and cousin?”
“A brilliant tactic which I would advise all ardent suitors to adopt,” he confirmed. “And I rescued you from your errant cousin, did I not? Both of them, in point of fact.”
She sighed with happiness. “And you sang with me. In public. For money.”
“Indeed I did. What more do you require as assurance of my regard? Flowers? Poetry? A wedding trip to Italy or France?”
“Poetry is never out of place.” She rested her chin on his chest and gazed up at him expectantly.
“To Lucasta, who is going to the stage.” He struck a dramatic attitude, and Lucasta chuckled. “Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind, if from the warehouse of linen drapery to, um, your arms I fly.”
“My arms,” she said, sliding these around him, “and none other’s, I hope.”
“Oh, more? Second stanza. A new mistress I now chase—” He tightened his hold about her. “The, um, something in the field.”
“Gorgon,” Lucasta supplied.
“Hardly. Now what is my line: A stronger faith I now embrace—a stage, a career, a—vicar’s daughter.”
“Yet this inconstancy is such that I too shall adore,” Lucasta murmured.
“Mmm.” A silence fell as their lips met. “I must change the last lines,” Jem said huskily in her ear. “I love nothing more than you. Not honor, not respect, not society’s approval. Nothing.”
“And I you,” Lucasta whispered, framing his face with her hands. His eyes glowed with steadfast love, reflecting her own. “I was wrong about something. I thought I wouldn’t survive if I gave up my hopes of a musical career. I thought it would hurt less to give you up rather than my dream.”
“But?” He moved his lips along her jaw to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and Lucasta melted in his arms.
“I have my whole life to sing and perform,” she told him. “But when you came to the balcony with Judith and asked if she could play, and then you sang with me— I realized that even if I could have my dream, it wouldn’t be enough. I want, and will always want, you.”
“And now you have me,” Jem swore, and gave her a kiss promising a lifetime of harmony, in their lives and in their souls.