Twelve
In fact, the duke’s messenger arrived very late that night, having ridden hard from London. They were given the packet he had brought at breakfast. And so, that very morning, Gavin and Rose were married by a clergyman who had been forewarned, using the special license the courier had fetched. The Terefords stood up with them in the church, and the servants observed. Rose’s maid stared as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. In a surprisingly short time for such a revolution in one’s life, the vows were spoken, the marriage lines signed, and the union sealed.
There was no time for Rose to mull over her new status. The Terefords and the Keighleys had an appointment immediately following the ceremony with a local solicitor. “I have the conveyance you requested ready,” the man said to the duke when they arrived at his offices. He took them into a room with a large table, ushered them all to seats, and laid a document before the duke. Tereford read it, passed it to his wife, and waited until she nodded approval. Then he took up a pen and ascribed his signature at the bottom.
“There,” he said when the ink had dried. He placed the pages before Gavin and Rose, who sat side by side opposite him. “We have settled the estate of Yerndon on the two of you. Jointly. Ownership not to be alienated from either.”
Rose stared at the document. She had known it was coming, as part of the plan, but the reality was still astonishing.
“You have done what your families wanted,” said the duchess with a smile. “Yerndon now belongs to the Keighleys and the Denholmes.”
“Not exactly what they wanted,” murmured Gavin.
Rose nodded. Their families wanted sole possession. And, strictly speaking, she was no longer a Denholme. But she’d been one all her life up to now. Surely this would end the silly war. Strangely, she felt as if a rug had been pulled out from under her. The dispute that had shadowed her whole life was gone. “You’re sure you wish to do this?” she asked the Terefords. Both she and Gavin had asked before. It was such a generous act.
“We have many properties to manage,” replied the duchess, as she had before. “We would never use Yerndon. I see your love for the moor, but I cannot really share it.”
“But the money,” said Rose. “You might have sold the place. Or earned rent.”
Gavin nodded.
“I consider it an investment in amity and friendship,” said the duke. “Things I have learned a great deal about in the last year.” He looked at the duchess, tenderly amused.
His expression made Gavin remember their first meeting. He’d thought that Tereford sneered, that he was effete and incompetent. He couldn’t have been more wrong. The world turned upside down since then.
“And there is some reason to argue that it should return to your family holdings,” the duke added. “Both of them, that is.”
“As you have repeatedly heard,” murmured Rose.
The four of them smiled at each other.
“We know you will do well by Yerndon because you care for it,” said the duchess.
“You are a fine estate manager,” her husband said to Gavin.
“Thank you,” Gavin replied. He desired no greater compliment.
“Also, should an opportunity arise, you can do a service to someone else. In some different form. My wife has made me a great believer in…roving kindness.”
The duchess laughed at the phrase.
“Yes indeed,” said Rose. “We certainly will.”
Gavin pushed the document toward her. “You can keep this safe.”
“I?”
She seemed stunned, and Gavin had some idea why. Her father would not even have thought to let her read such a paper. Gavin had quite a different philosophy. He nodded.
Rose picked up the pages as if they were terribly fragile. She put them into an envelope the solicitor provided and held it to her chest.
They returned to the hotel, but the rush of events did not slow. The Terefords were ready to go now that the business was concluded. They were packed, and their luggage was brought down and loaded. After final farewells, they and most of their servants set off for London.
Gavin watched the carriages drive off down the busy street, then turned to Rose—his wife! She gazed up at him. Her maid and two of the Terefords’ servants who had elected to stay in Yorkshire for a time to help out stood beside her. Those three seemed to be anticipating the next act in this headlong drama with relish.
But events seemed to have skidded to a halt now. Passersby walked around them as if they were stones in a flowing stream. Carts and carriages went by in the street.
“Shall we go back in?” Rose asked.
They shouldn’t stand here like blocks. Gavin ushered the group into the hotel.
“I think we should stay here one more night,” Rose said.
Their wedding night, Gavin thought with a flash of yearning. He would do whatever Rose wished, of course. What would she wish? It was better to find out here than at Yerndon, where their families would be wondering where they’d gone. They might already be lying in wait for them. Gavin hid a wince. They would endure the uproar that was coming. Just not right away. “A good idea,” he replied. He went to speak to the hotel staff and found it easy to engage their rooms for another night. The servants were dismissed to do as they liked for the day.
This left the newly married couple alone together. They had made the leap into the unknown, and now here they were in it. Gavin wished they could walk out onto the moor together. They knew themselves best there.
“Could we go back to that tea shop?” Rose asked. “It was such a pleasant place. Can we find it again?”
“Of course.” He knew where they’d rambled on a day that had been relaxed and carefree—unlike this one. Perhaps Rose wanted to recapture that mood? It was another good idea. She was full of them.
“We can declare its pastries our wedding cake. And toast each other with cups of tea.”
Gavin surveyed her expression. She looked merely amused. “Do you wish you’d had a more festive wedding?” Ladies cared about such things.
Rose cocked her head at him. “Festive? With our families in attendance, you mean? And our neighbors in the church pews waiting for…metaphorical bloodshed? No.”
“Forget I asked.”
He offered his arm, and they walked back along the route they’d taken yesterday. More swiftly, as the weather was not as fine. Scudding clouds passed overhead, and it was cooler. Coming to the tea shop, they went in and sat at the same table as yesterday. “We should order one of every kind of cake they have,” Rose declared.
“Even that anise one you didn’t like?”
“It was…a strong flavor,” she admitted.
“You screwed up your face like a cat sniffing lemon peel.”
She laughed. Heartily, gaily. Gavin felt something in his chest ease and expand. It would be all right, he thought.
“Not that one then,” said Rose. “Just all the others.”
When they had been served, she held up her cup. “We actually did it,” she said. She tapped his cup in a salute and took a sip. “The morning went by in such a rush. My brain is still reeling.”
He felt the same.
“It’s sinking in, though. I’m a married woman. I have my own house. Signed and sealed. Not to be taken away.” She laughed. This time she sounded giddy. “Do you know what that means?”
“Beyond the fact of it?” Gavin didn’t think she was referring to the changed nature of their relationship. The spark in her gaze was almost militant.
“The ‘fact of it’ means I can do what I like. I’m no longer some sheltered miss who isn’t to know anything or decide for herself. Such a ridiculous creature. I can…” She stopped short and looked at him with narrowed eyes.
They were the eyes of the youthful Rose who’d been in the forefront of their adventures, who’d shone with daring, who’d disdained obstacles. Until she’d been driven into hiding by a clamor of scolding voices. Well, he wasn’t one of those. Not anymore! “You can do what you like,” he echoed. He could hope that what she liked would be…him. She wouldn’t have married just to get free of her parents, would she?
His tone had obviously not convinced her. “If I am half owner of Yerndon, I should be entitled to half the estate income,” she said.
Gavin nodded. “It isn’t large at present, but it will rise as the place is improved.”
“I have some ideas about that,” Rose replied, a clear challenge.
“Splendid,” he answered, though he did feel he was much more skilled at estate management than she could be. Her father would not have brought her into the process. And even if he had, Denholme wasn’t very good at it. “Much of the income will need to go back into the land for a while,” he said. He wished this didn’t sound like bargaining. “You will be in charge of the household accounts, of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated as if she’d expected this. Gavin saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes, however. “Also, I shall walk on the moors. Every day, I imagine. On my own.”
Gavin nodded. She was a creature of the moor.
“I am telling you about it,” she went on. “Not asking permission.”
“Why would you?”
“I shall want a room of my own at Yerndon for mounting specimens and keeping my record books.”
“Any room you like.”
“The front parlor? The dining room? Both of them perhaps?”
“If you wish.” This was easy as he knew she wouldn’t want those. She’d prefer something more private.
“The corner bedchamber at the back would work well,” she said. “It has windows on two sides.”
“A good choice.” And if they were speaking of bedchambers… But they weren’t, not in the truly interesting sense. Could he inquire about sleeping arrangements for tonight? He couldn’t decide how to frame the question in this context. It was certainly not part of any bargain. He wouldn’t ever have it so. “A cake?” he asked instead. “You liked these pink ones.” He picked up the small pastry and held it out to her.
Meeting his gray eyes, Rose noticed both warmth and uncertainty in those depths. He wasn’t fighting her. Or pointing out her flaws and shortcomings as her parents liked to do. He’d given that up. She thought of all the ways he’d changed since they first arrived at Yerndon to stay. As she had too. He’d given the deed to Yerndon into her care. He’d made this daring change with her.
And something else had changed today, Rose realized. Kisses were now allowed. Encouraged even. Rather than forbidden. Kisses and much more. She was…authorized to explore realms of sensuality that had been hidden from her. On impulse, she leaned forward. Instead of taking the cake from him, she took a bite.
Gavin dropped it.
A current of wild laughter ran through Rose. She wanted everything, all the pleasures society’s rules had withheld. All the powers a wife, a householder, might wield. Sugary icing melted on her tongue. She savored the sweet taste. She enjoyed the flush on Gavin’s cheeks and the hope in his expression.
He retrieved the bitten cake and put it on the small plate in front of her. “You know, Rose,” he began. And stopped.
“I know a good many things,” she answered. “I hope to learn many more.” Her tone was suggestive. Yes, it was. She hadn’t even known she possessed such a tone. Gavin raised his eyebrows. She nearly giggled. He was afraid to ask. She smiled at him and thought his breath caught.
“You.” He stopped again.
“I?”
“You…have a crumb.” He touched one corner of his mouth.
She licked it away, slowly. The effect was gratifying. “Thank you.”
His hand dropped. “What do you hope to learn?” he asked.
He’d found his suggestive voice. It felt as if the shop had suddenly gotten warmer. “So many things.” Her giddiness was overtaken by a more serious ambition. “Joy,” she said. “Contentment. Triumph.”
Gavin stared. “You can’t expect me to know those things,” he said with a catch in his voice.
“How would either of us know them after the way we’ve been reared? But can’t we discover them together?”
“Rose.” He reached over and took her hand. She closed her fingers around his. “Do you really think we could?” he asked.
“I do,” she replied. It was another wedding vow, a promise between the two of them.
He looked moved. His grasp was warm and strong. He nodded. Then he seemed to become aware of how closely they were leaning, of the chattering strangers around them. He sat back, released her hand, touched his teacup, then cleared his throat. “I did want to say. About the…intimacies of marriage. We can take things slowly. I would not do anything…”
“I should have said passion too,” Rose murmured. “I want to learn all about that.”
Gavin went very still. “You…”
“I indeed. And thoroughly.”
The air seemed to crackle between them. The others in the café ceased to exist for a moment.
“Shall we go back to the hotel?” she asked.
The effect was all that Rose could have wished. The remaining cakes were put in a box to take away, their coats were resumed, and they’d stepped outside. The walk back to the hotel was much faster than the stroll out had been, but not because of the thickening clouds that covered the sky.
Gavin moved in a fever of anticipation. He would not, of course, sweep Rose up in his arms and carry her down the busy street, into the hotel, and up to his room, as part of him wanted to do. That was out of the question. And it was too far anyway, a more practical part of him pointed out. He would be panting with exhaustion by the time they reached a bed, and that would not do at all. He wanted to be panting with something else entirely. He thought of telling Rose. She would probably laugh. But perhaps it was too soon. She might be embarrassed. And he wasn’t looking for laughter just now in any case.
Leeds seemed frustratingly crowded suddenly, with mobs of people in his way. It felt as if the hotel continually receded into endless distance.
At last they reached it, however, and went inside, where Gavin was annoyed to find Rose’s maid lurking.
“Oh, Sue,” said Rose.
“I didn’t know if you might want me, miss.”
The girl wasn’t lurking, Gavin acknowledged. That wasn’t fair. But right now she was one more obstacle to be got round.
“Not just now,” Rose replied.
Sue nodded. “Only, there’s a play on right nearby here. A comedy, they say. The others thought of seeing it.”
“Go, by all means,” said Rose. “Take the evening off.”
“May I really, miss?”
Yes, thought Gavin. Go, go.
“We’ll be busy enough when we return to Yerndon,” said Rose. “Do you have money for a ticket?”
“Yes, miss.”
Gavin dug in his pocket and brought out a handful of coins. “Treat yourselves to dinner. All three of you.” He held them out.
The maid hesitated.
“To celebrate the wedding,” Gavin added.
Sue seemed to recall that they now had a new relationship. She took the money. “Thank you, sir.”
“Have a good time,” said Rose.
The maid gave them a sly look. “You too, miss,” she dared before hurrying away.
Rose’s muted gurgle of laughter was adorable, and somehow as enflaming as any seduction Gavin had ever known.
“Will you come to my room in twenty minutes,” she said a bit shyly.
“Twenty,” he repeated. It was not an eternity. It just felt that way.
They walked up the stairs together and then separated. In his old room Gavin shed his greatcoat, hat, and gloves and wondered how to prepare for a wedding night that he must reach through a public hotel corridor. He decided he would dare to take off his neckcloth. Shave? Wash up certainly.
When the time had at last passed, he went and knocked at her door.
Rose opened it and stepped back. She was wearing a clinging, skimpy garment of satin and lace that he would not have thought she possessed. His expression must have said as much because she gestured at it. “The duchess gave me this.” Letting a ribbon trail through her fingers she added, “I asked her to.” A blush traveled down her cheeks, her neck and onto the enticing curves revealed by the low bodice. “It’s lovely but…”
“Breathtaking,” Gavin interrupted. He stepped in and shut the door.
Rose shifted under his heated gaze. “It’s odd wearing so…little when you’re fully dressed.”
“That is easily remedied.” He shed his coat and shoes and stockings and stood before her in breeches and open shirt.
Rose took one step, another, and then was in his arms, offering her lips, twining her fingers in his hair.
She was fragrant and pliant and eager. The nightgown was mere gossamer under his hands. He felt the heat of her skin as if it was bare. They kissed as they had before, and yet differently. The barriers were gone, in every sense.
As a countrywoman, Rose knew the basics of mating. But it was one thing to know and another to feel the rush of sensation that came with caresses. Longing flooded her, arched her up to meet his touch. He teased and roused each most urgent part of her, making it obvious that he had done this before, while she had not. She didn’t care.
They threw off their clothes and climbed into the bed Rose had daringly turned down. She let her hands roam as well now, discovering him, exulting when she made him moan. She would learn passion by the thrilling sounds she could draw from her new husband. She would create a map of desire from his pleasure.
And then Rose forgot every plan and ambition as Gavin took her to the taut peak of longing and over it, into a bright, dissolving ecstasy. When he entered her, there was a little pain, soon gone as he moved, first gently and then with an urgency that thrilled her. She held him as he found his own release, delighting in the power of giving it.
They panted together. Gavin raised his head and dropped quick, butterfly kisses on her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids. When she laughed, he smiled tenderly.
Afterward, they lay side by side, her head on his shoulder, encircled by his arm. “Are you…well?” he asked.
“Very,” she replied. “Happy to have begun my study of passion.”
He laughed. “May it be rich and satisfying,” he said.
“Oh, I think it will be.” She rose on one elbow to kiss him.
There was a rattle of rain on the window. It felt inexpressibly cozy to lie here in his arms in the inclement evening.
“Do you want to go down to dinner?” Gavin asked a bit later.
She didn’t want to rise and dress and mingle with a dining room full of strangers. She could think of much better things to do, in a bit. But she was hungry. Rose was reluctantly conceding that dinner might be in order when she remembered the box they’d brought back with them. “That is unnecessary,” she answered. “We will eat cake in bed. Naked and thoroughly dissipated.”
This time Gavin’s laughter was uproarious.