Chapter 52
King’s Head
Cam watched Graham speak to the engine driver when they arrived in Dover on the Southeastern train, doubtless questioning him about all the problems he saw with the steam engine and any ideas he had about improving them.
Her beautiful husband was leaning slightly forward, all his attention on what the elderly, whiskered man in his soot-covered black wool clothing and his ancient square-toed black boots was telling him.
She was content to sit on a bench outside the small station and chat to Cilly.
Cilly said, “It still amazes me Mr. Towbridge laid down the law to your sister. I really wish I could have been there to witness it. I always believed he was too kind, too patient, no match for your sister. He’s shown great strength.”
Cam said, “I’ve been thinking about it and I believe Win will keep the reins firmly in his hands at least with his family.
I have no doubt he will keep her on the straight and righteous path.
But when Eliza and I are alone? I don’t think she’ll be able to help herself, her treatment of me has lasted such a long time—”
“I think you should smack her a couple of times,” Cilly said.
Cam laughed, then fell silent. Perhaps she should, remind her of the promise she’d made.
It was a pleasant day, the wind bringing only a slight chill to the air from the English Channel.
The sun was trying its best to give them some shine.
Cam sat back, felt what sun there was on her face.
Graham’s valet, Nutworthy, walked to and fro, stopping to repeat instructions he’d already given to the single porter, a gangly lad with a thatch of coal-black hair and a space between his teeth.
He looked to Cam like he wanted to throw Nutworthy onto the tracks with a train coming.
Luckily, a pony cart arrived not three minutes later and the lad stacked their luggage in the back and strapped it down. Cilly smiled at the boy, gave him half a guinea, which made him smile from ear to ear and do a little dance.
Nutworthy gave Cilly a nasty look. “That was unnecessary and much more than he deserved; he was a rude boy. I knew he wasn’t listening to my careful instructions.
Just look at his lordship’s valise, I see a black smudge, possibly grease from the little lout’s dirty hands.
” But then Nutworthy fell suddenly silent; he appeared to look inward.
He sighed. “His lordship is always telling me to be kind, to be tolerant, but it is sometimes difficult when all I want is for things to be done properly. Ah, I must try harder.”
And both Cam and Cilly were disarmed.
The Hepburn coach with its coach-door insignia of a great golden eagle pulled up during the luggage transfer and Riker the coachman jumped down and strode toward them. The two horses, beautiful matching grays, stood placidly. Riker gave Cam a sharp bow and a wide smile.
Graham called out, “I’ll be just a moment, Mr. Riker,” to which Mr. Riker shook a fatherly head and said with the freedom granted a forever retainer, “I see Lord Graham is a copy of his father and his poor dead mother, interested in anything that has a moving part. I’m told by Terrance, his lordship’s valet, not this young lordship’s valet, but his Lord Vereker’s valet, that this drives Lady Eugenie quite mad.
Mr. Blakeney remarks she’s a muttering pacer.
“As for Master Tallyrand, he just grunts, but all see smiles with those grunts. Then he swings his rifle over his shoulder and walks back to that charming little cottage he built himself in the eastern woods, and very fine it is indeed. Mr. Blakeney visits Master Tallyrand, you know, takes sweet buns from Mrs. Sample, she’s the cook, you know, the moment she takes them out of the oven and wraps them lovingly in soft wool cloths to keep them hot.
I visit Master Tallyrand to see his horse, Galahad, is well, and I always find he is properly shoed and healthy. Master Tallyrand is just that good.”
Cam was enthralled with this outpouring. He’d taken only two breaths. She would have to ask Graham if Riker was as efficient as she was in his explanations. She grinned up at him. “Thank you, Mr. Riker. You’ve provided me excellent information very economically. Are you married?”
“Oh aye, eleven years now to my precious helpmate, Mathilde, and we were blessed with two strapping boys.”
“I look forward to meeting your family, and well, everyone’s family.”
He gave her a wide grin showing beautiful white teeth. “Welcome home, my lady. You will find King’s Head is a special place, full of beauty and mystery and sheep.”
Cam laughed, introduced him to Cilly.
“Ah, here comes his lordship, doubtless the train driver has made his brain buzz with new ideas, better ideas, just ideas in general, but alas, these sorts of ideas shouldn’t be encouraged in a young man’s brain given he’s a brand-new husband.
” And his white teeth gleamed with humor.
Cam hoped Mr. Riker was going to be an excellent ally at her new home.
Then he added, all seriousness, “I want you to know, my lady, everyone, from Cook to the new stable lad, is on the lookout for anyone who wants to do Lord Graham harm. All are stout-hearted.”
Cam felt a lump in her throat, managed to say, “Thank you, Mr. Riker. Needless to say Lord Graham and I are very concerned.”
Mr. Riker said, “Mrs. Mince and Mr. Blakeney will speak to Miss Cilly here, and Lord Graham’s valet. Everyone will be alert.”
A royal homecoming could not be more splendid than theirs at King’s Head, replete with a celebratory feast prepared by Mrs. Sample over a period of two days, the marinade, French, you know, taking the longest with constant attendance to ensure perfection.
There was a graceful curtsey from Mrs. Mince, the housekeeper, who made introduction of all the female staff, lined up in a straight line, frank curiosity on all their faces, and Blakeney introduced the porters and footmen.
Cam repeated each name and smiled at each curtsey.
And so many new faces, and behind those faces Cam knew they would do their best to protect the Lord Vereker’s long-lost son now returned to the bosom of his family.
What struck her most was the joy on her father-in-law’s face at the sight of his son.
He held him and everyone looked on, smiles on every face.
Once Blakeney showed them to their very fine bedchamber with its attached dressing and bathing room and yes, even a water closet, he lightly touched his hand to Graham’s shoulder, smiled, bowed, and left them.
The moment the door closed behind him, Cam threw her arms around Graham, whispered in his ear. “King’s Head is huge, larger than my father’s country home, Bryne Hill.”
“Ryder told me Bryne Hill is a lovely manor house near Loddenwell in Devon. He also told me he’d heard your older brother is a fine master, though he’s rarely in London, preferring to live in Boston.
” He stroked his fingertips over her eyebrows, slid her glasses off her nose and slipped both glasses and gold chain into his vest pocket.
He said, all conversational, as he unfastened the long row of beautifully sewn buttons on the back of her traveling gown, “King’s Head is old, built way back in the time of Queen Elizabeth on the ruins of an Augustinian abbey.
You and I will explore the ruins, the monks’ cells, picnic with the dozens of sheep under an ancient oak tree.
No, we will not swim in the Green Stream as it’s called.
It’s far too terrifying. Everyone believes there is something lurking beneath those green waters, something from another time, something dangerous.
” He didn’t add he always carried a small pistol in his coat pocket, a knife strapped to his ankle.
She blinked up into his vivid blue eyes, saw there was even something more, and it was passion. She said, “It is close, but perhaps Mr. Riker is even more informative than you were.”
He laughed as he slipped the gown off her shoulders.
“Now.” Graham kissed her, nuzzled her neck.
Her finally sewn linen chemise and the light corset, the three petticoats were familiar to him now so it didn’t take him long to strip her down to her lovely bare flesh.
He couldn’t stop kissing her, telling her what he was going to do, quite graphic he was—thanks to Jayne and several hell-raising young men at Oxford—and if she wondered where he’d learned such immensely delicious phases and words, she was too beside herself to ask.
When Graham was down to his skin, she couldn’t help but stare at him. He was so splendid, so very perfect. She stroked her hands down his back, over his flanks, as far as she could reach. She bit his earlobe, kissed his neck, whispered, “Do you think the servants know what we’re doing?”
He reared up, smiled down at her. “My father tells me they’re a smart bunch, and, of course, all-knowing when it comes to the family, like all your people at Whitsonby House.”
“But, Graham, we were so discreet on our trek to our bedchamber perhaps they believe we are in here behind a closed door pondering the mysteries of the steam engine or maybe examining the bedchamber furnishings and the wallpaper, or perhaps napping due to fatigue from our long journey from London. Don’t you think?
” Cam leaned up, bit his shoulder, licked where she’d bitten.
“Or perhaps all the males are talking about how strong and manly you are, that you could easily demolish the heavyweight champion Ben Counts.”
“However do you know about Ben Counts?”
She grinned. “I heard two stable lads had won bets on him. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I know all the females are whispering how very beautiful you are and wondering if I’ve fainted dead on the floor at the sight of you.”
“Am I as bare as you are, dearest, or am I modeling my new vest and trousers?”
“Surely that is indelicate. Well, yes, your vest is probably under the bed.” Cam pulled him down on top of her.