Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
It took some doing, but a week and a half after Ariadne had promised Emily her own ton outing, they and four other girls her age—chaperoned by their parents, of course—were heading to Gunter’s Tea Shoppe on Berkeley Square.
As they trundled off, Ariadne chattered on about her maize cashmere walking dress, accentuating her tiny waist and diminutive figure. With her ebony hair arranged in ringlets and decorated with silk leaves.
That was all fine.
What was not fine was the cloth this gown was made from, soft pink silk, the square bodice bared her plump, white breasts almost to the nipple. In fact, if he could surely see her nipples, someone else could too.
He suddenly wished she were wearing one of her old, dowdy gowns, even as unfitting for her status as they were. He felt the urge to direct the carriage to a haberdashery and buy an entire bolt of cloth to cover her with.
“Your Grace?”
His wife was looking at him, her eyebrows raised and a small smile playing on her lush lips.
Minx.
Ever since that night they had made love, she had not left his bed since, and last night, when he had her on her knees gripping the headboard with white knuckles, she had that same smile on her lips.
She knew what effect the gown had on him.
Just as he knew the moment they arrived home, he was going to tear it off her.
“Surely you must be cold,” he said, plucking the thick shawl from the back of the squabs and draping it over her shoulder, making sure to pin both ends in the middle with a diamond broach.
She looked exasperated but didn’t undo it.
“Emily,” she said. “How do you like Marianne and Marina, the Donovan twins?”
Clara had introduced Ariadne to her daughter’s friends, who had expanded the circle, and now she had seven girls between the ages of seven and twelve.
Now, Emily had more friends, and Ariadne was happy for her. Some of the girls were already in boarding school, and the mistress was highly recommended.
“I like them,” Emily said, “Marianne likes books like me, but Mariana prefers dolls.”
“My sister loved dolls when she was younger, too,” Ariadne said. “Celestine loved to dress them up and make tea parties with them.”
Emily wrinkled her nose, “I prefer animals.”
“Which is a good thing,” Ariadne replied. “Animals know those with good souls.”
Arriving at the sweet shop, Cedric stepped out first and helped both down before they stepped to find the other girls and their families already arrived.
While feeling the repulsive stares on the back of his neck, Cedric wondered if he should have privatized the shop for a day.
He was aware, distantly, that his height was among the many things that made people uneasy.
Six feet and three inches of scarred, silent duke tended to clear a room more swiftly than a declaration of plague.
Emily ran over to Amelia the moment they entered the shop, and the two girls hugged as if they had not seen each other half an hour ago.
“Your Grace,” Lord Hamden, Clara’s husband, approached them with a bow. His wife was on his arm, a ray of sunshine in daffodil yellow.
“I see Modiste Redmonde has done her magic again.” Clara laughed as she kissed the air near Ariadne’s cheek. Even as new to la bise as Ariadne was, she understood that was the way the ton ladies greeted each other at times. “I have never seen anything so beautiful.”
‘She has,” Ariadne dimpled. “Your ensemble is captivating.”
Cedric tried to regulate his eye roll, but Ariadne saw him anyway. “I dare say our gentlemen must think we are featherbrained chits for gabbing about trims and trefoils.”
“We do,” Cedric replied.
“Not we,” Samuel shook his head, the light glinting off the grey in his temples. “You are not going to get me in trouble.”
Snorting, Cedric looked around, easily skipping over the open stares and whispers. The girls were flocking to the counters, and after deliberations and debates worthy of ones in Parliament over the menu, the seven girls got what they wanted.
When the sweets arrived, he sat back and watched his wife and daughter’s delighted faces as they sampled the delicious confections.
Watching her interact with the children, Cedric had a sudden thought on —if it came to it—how she would be with their own children.
A mental image of her belly swollen with his child constricted his chest with a feeling he couldn’t quite name.
Her eyes in the small, sweet face of their son, her smile in the smile of their daughter, and his chest.
“A coffee,” he told a passing waiter.
While the ladies gossiped and the children chattered, Cedric shared a table with Samuel and two more lords to discuss a new bill on the table at Parliament, a place where he had a better footing.
He happened to look over to see Ariadne grab a napkin and wipe a smudge of cream from Emily’s nose, and fixed a small clip in Amelia’s hair, and the shocking wave of possessiveness her felt had him staring for longer than he wanted.
“Am I late?” Silas’ voice cut through his reverie, and he looked over to see his friend stride in, tan breeches, tall Hessian, sapphire blue waistcoat, and blue cut-away jacket.
His brows lifted. “I was not aware you were coming.”
“And miss this chance to see you in sunlight?” Silas’s face held wicked delight. “No one could pay me to miss that.”
“Gentlemen,” Cedric deadpanned to a group of four. “Let me introduce the court jester, Silas Crane. Lord Stromwell.”
“I’ll happily ride on a camel’s back, juggling fifteen balls and balancing three teacups on my head if I can see this.
” Silas laughed, waving at a waiter and getting himself a cup of black tea.
“I must know what kind of mesmerism your lovely wife has so I can use it to get you to attend my parties.”
Throwing back the rest of his coffee, Cedric dryly added, “You’ve got a better bet of hell turning into ice.”
“I’ll take those odds,” Silas chuckled. “Now, please tell me how this came about? You despise sweets.”
Samuel chuckled. “His lovely wife. Do you not know the power of the female mind?”
Silas seemed to shudder. “Not in the marital way, god no.”
“Count your blessings,” another lord laughed. “One day you’ll go to bed and the next way, wake into a completely different home.”
Hearing that, Cedric’s gaze flicked repeatedly toward Ariadne, but it was dark and unreadable. The faint tightening around his mouth betrayed how much it cost him to remain still, to play his part as the beast the tone saw him as while being near the woman who had stolen his guarded heart.
Silas, shrewd as ever, caught his glance. “Dear god, you are truly leg-shackled,” he murmured.
“Remind me that you’re paying for the next round, at drinks after Parliament next Wednesday at Whites,” Cedric said firmly.
With Silas’ eyeroll, the conversation returned to the bill, and the children finished their ices. Little by little, lords and ladies began drifting out of the room—after dropping by his table to thank him and Ariadne for creating this new coalition of girls.
When only he and Silas stayed at their table nursing refreshed cups, he asked Silas a question that had been lingering in his mind since the moment Ariadne had questioned Silas’s intention towards Celestine.
“Silas,” he began. “I need to ask you about Celestine.”
“Your wife’s sister?” Silas asked nonchalantly. “What about her?”
“Do you plan on pursuing her or not?” Cedric asked directly.
“I hope the young lady is not hanging her hat on me,” Silas said solemnly. ‘The girl is beautiful and bright, but not for me. You know I have no interest in naiveté. You know I prefer bed partners who know what they are doing.”
That is what I suspected.
“Then kindly let the little miss down,” he told his friend. “Write her a letter, visit her at her home, send her a smoke signal for god’s sake, but do not let her keep hoping for something that will never happen.”
Silas rolled his neck. “Sure, sure. I’ll get to it.” His eyes drifted over to Ariadne and Emily, and his face took on a wry expression. “She’s really good with her, isn’t she?”
“Very,” Cedric replied.
Dropping another dollop of milk in his cup, Silas dropped his voice, “Did you tell her about Helena?”
“As much as was necessary,” Cedric said. “I don’t find it necessary to rehash the past any more than I already have.”
Something flickered over Silas’ face, but it was gone before Cedric could assess what it was. “Don’t mistake me,” he told Silas, “I am not disregarding her memory, but I have finally allowed myself to move on.”
Silas’ reply was simply a twist of his lips and a nod before finishing his drink. Cedric looked up as Ariadne lifted a sleeping Emily into her arms and carried the child over to them.
Giving Silas a dimpled smile, she said. “Good to see you, Lord Stromwell. I’d like to take a walk around a stroll around the square?”
Although he had planned to return to work, he didn’t have the heart to deny her. Standing, Cedric took Emily from her, and the child naturally rested her head on his shoulder.
“I apologize to cut our discussion short, Silas,” he said. ‘But familial necessities call.”
Shaking his head, Silas solemnly said, “You are no fun anymore. Go on, go on, flaunt your marital bliss in my lonely, lonely state.”
“You’ll find someone to love,” Ariadne said. “And if it is my sister, you and I will need to talk.”
“We just spoke about that,” Cedric said. “As I said previously, Silas is chronically polite.”
She knew what it meant instantly, and while her face fell, she still managed to smile. “I understand, my lord. If it is any consolation, I’d love to have you as a brother-in-law.”
Although he had planned to return to work, he didn’t have the heart to deny her a simple walk that would take all of fifteen minutes.
While he held the sleeping child, they ambled along the maple tree park, gilded by the late autumn sunshine. The trees were getting bare, but a few still had brilliant scarlet and gold leaves, clinging in ragged clusters, trembling in the chill wind.
The small park near Gunter’s was not expensive, but it still ran near the road where passersby openly gawked. Once again, Cedric couldn’t even find it in himself to care.
“Today went well,” she said. “I am glad Emily made new friends.”
“You did as well,” he pointed out. “At one point, I believed you all made a cabal, a society of ladies who might upend society and take over.”
She quirked a brow, “We just might, and frankly, it's about time.”
Laughing, his arm slid around Ariadne’s waist, his stormy eyes taking her in as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. She gazed up at him with smiling eyes.
Emily roused, “Papa?”
“Yes, pumpkin?” He craned his head.
“Stop moving so much,” she grumbled. “I want to sleep.”
“Aye, milady,” he said, and to Ariadne said. “I believe that is our order to go home.”
Two nights later, while Cedric was paging through law books and jotting notes for his speech, Hunt came inside, “It’s happening, sir. Leander is about to move.”
“When?”
“At five in the morning, on a ship called The Magdalene,” he said. “It's bound for the western city of New York.”
He was out of his seat and grabbing for his coat. “Get the carriage.”
“It’s waiting for you,” Hunt replied as he handed Cedric his gun. “Godspeed.”
London at night was the antithesis of the city during the day. Almost every time he did venture out through the night, he marveled that it was as if the city had flipped on its head.
The genteel were gone from the streets, lurkers reigned, women of the night lingered at corners and alleyways, and hawkers rolled carts through the streets to feed late-night workers.
He sat back in the squabs and rubbed his face. “God help me with this one.”
Twenty minutes later, the carriage stopped at the carriage gate of the brothel in SoHo. Once the doorman let him inside the Botham House, Cedric could see what all the rumors were about the mistress modeling it after the pleasure houses he had seen in France. It wasn’t a brothel— it was a palace.
The large front hall was decorated lavishly with four doors that led to different parlors, and a wide floating double staircase led to the upper floor. There were paintings of grandmasters on the walls, and chandeliers dangled from the ceiling.
He passed open doors where young women, clad in gossamer shifts pinned to look like Grecian togas, tended to clients seated in loveseats and sofas, drinking champagne, playing cards, laughing, and chatting. Someone was playing piano.
“Where is his room?” he asked the footman.
“This way, Your Grace,” the youth bowed and led him down a corridor.
When he arrived at the door, the last one in the corridor, the footman gave him a key and quickly vanished. Opening the door, Vincent stepped in and instantly saw the two forms on the bed. He passed a table with an open champagne bottle and more spirits before he came to his brother's side.
Leander was smiling in his sleep, and Cedric wondered what the blissful dream was about; perhaps about his new life in the new country.
Cedric wondered how to wake him. Crossing back to the table with the champagne, he grasped the half-empty bottle and upended it over Leander’s head.
His brother came awake with a horrified shout and a gasp as if he was being shoved under water to drown. A curse left his mouth, and as he swept the drink away, Leander looked up. “What the hell are you doing here, Cedric? Lingering in the damn dark like a demon.”
“Dragging you back to your home so you can explain your actions and apologize,” he said stonily.
By this time, his mistress, Lady Delilah, had woken and was clutching the sheets to her person, but Cedric did not care about her.
Leander swung his legs out and jammed them into a pair of trousers.
“And how do you think you’re going to accomplish that?
Lob me over the head and drag me out of her unconscious? ”
“If you test me, yes,” Cedric said.
“Good luck with that,” Leander scoffed.
Taking a moment, Cedric said. “What about this, if you come home, explain yourself, apologize, I will damn well drive you to the ship myself.”
That made Leander jerk. “H—How did you know about that?”
“There is little I do not know,” Cedric said. “Now, are you coming in peace, or do I have to knock you unconscious, because I will.”