Chapter Twenty-One
Raindrops pattered softly against the windows of the luxurious carriage that splashed along the Dover road. Kissing the top of the curly head which nestled just below his chin, Gideon murmured, “Are you disappointed, love, that it must rain on our bridal day?”
Naomi leaned her head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him. “Nothing could disappoint me this afternoon. I am, at long last, Mrs. Gideon Rossiter.”
He bent to kiss her rosy lips. “My father judged it a proper scramblement of a ceremony.”
She chuckled. “Rushed into by special licence and with only two weeks’ notice. Dreadful!”
“Two weeks, indeed! I have waited and yearned for you these past six years at the least, Mrs. Rossiter, and feared this day would never dawn! For which I have no one to blame but myself. And I do not ask that you give up your title, dearest girl.”
“I know,” she said tenderly. “But ’tis what I wish. That chapter of my existence is closed. The best part of my life begins now—as your wife.”
She was kissed again, of course, and then they were quiet for a long while; the comfortable quiet of belonging.
Holding her, loving her with all his heart, he yet was conscious of the shadow that lay over them.
How would she feel if she knew what he had told General Underhill?
How would she feel if she knew that the earl was responsible for all his father’s misery?
Would she be enraged if she guessed how, in striving to protect her from more grief, her new husband also deceived her?
“It was so kind of Uncle Bertram to act for my father,” murmured Naomi. “Is a nice old gentleman, do you not think?”
“He gave the bride to me. How could I not think him a prince of uncles?”
“I wonder,” she said, with a small sigh, “whether I will ever again see Papa.”
Gideon started. “Why should you doubt it?”
She sat up straighter, pulled away, then turned to face him, her lovely face grave.
She had dreaded this moment and now that it was here, her heart was thundering.
“My darling husband, there is—is something I should have told you. But … I was so afraid, you see.” She looked down, and when she lifted her head, her lips trembled a little.
He tried to speak, but she put her fingers over his mouth, and said unsteadily, “No, beloved. You must hear my confession, now that I—I have begun it. You think you know your wanton, but—you have no notion of how very devious and sly I am. I waited, my Gideon, until we were safely wed, and—and I can only pray you will not demand an annulment.”
“Of all the idiotic—” he managed, frowning and pulling her hand away.
“Wait! Oh, wait! You must hear me! I shall never find the courage again!”
She looked so frightened, so shaken, and perhaps it was best that she tell him just how much she knew, so he waited.
“I have come to suspect,” she said in a scratchy little voice, “that … that my father schemed and plotted with Louis Derrydene to … to ruin Sir Mark.” Her eyes filled with tears as the terrible words were spoken.
She cried, “Oh, Gideon! Can you forgive me for keeping silent? Do not hate me! Please! Do not—”
He swept her to him then, holding her close and dear against his heart, and murmuring between kisses, “Dear, silly, foolish little meadow sprite. How can I hate the lady I have loved all my life?”
Naomi sat up straight and blinked at him. “You knew! Oh, Gideon! Why did you not tell me? How I have agonized over the shameful business!”
“And I also. I did not dare mention it for fear that ferocious pride of yours might again come between us.” He stroked her cheek, his eyes searching her face. “How did you know?”
“I think I began to wonder about it when you became so convinced that the little jewelled man was connected to Sir Mark’s troubles.
I remembered how angry my father had been when I lost the silly thing.
But I did not really believe it was true until we went to the Derrydene house so that you could search Sir Louis’ study.
Something Lady Derrydene said that morning troubled me, but I could not for a while think what it was.
And then I remembered. She said to her butler, ‘Tell Camber to drive the team around to the stables.’ Papa had told me he scarce knew Sir Louis and had never been to his house.
If that was truth, how could Lady Derrydene know my groom’s name?
” She sighed, her eyes very sad. “So many things came to mind, then. Little things Papa said to slight you, or your family. The way he kept teasing me about your—your reputation with women. How insistent he was that we terminate the betrothal. I realized that he hated Sir Mark, and had set out deliberately to ruin him. And I have been so—so wicked as to let you wed me, knowing that your father—an he knew it all—would straitly, and very justifiably, forbid our marriage! Truly … I am shameless!”
“Thank heaven,” said Gideon huskily, and kissed her again. So she did not know the worst of it—that Collington had subjected her to so terrible an ordeal, and that he might be involved in even more serious plotting. God willing, he would shield her from that knowledge for as long as he lived.
He said gently, “’Tis too late for my father to stop us now. But although I honour him, I would have allowed nothing to come between us, at all events.”
Naomi gave a great sigh of relief. “My poor conscience is easy at last! I can truly start afresh and forget it all.”
He wondered if she really could forget, and said carefully, “An Lord Collington should stay abroad, shall you mind terribly, my love?”
She smiled happily and nestled closer. “I have you,” she murmured.
It was raining when they pulled into the yard of the Ship Inn at Dover.
Ostlers with sacking held over their heads ran to lead in the horses.
Beaming, the host threw open the door and ushered the bride and groom into a parlour warmed by lamplight and fragrant with the smells of wood smoke and dinner.
As they walked inside, laughing, and shaking the rain from their garments a shout went up.
“Here they are!”
“Thought they could slither away and escape us!”
“You’re fairly caught, you two slyboots!”
And they were surrounded by a merry crowd of well-wishers.
Morris and Horatio, and Perry Cranford; Katrina, Gordon Chandler, Gwendolyn, Rudolph Bracksby, and even Tummet, looking thinner but cheerful.
All throwing rice and teasing them fondly; and Falcon grumbling that he would not be within ten miles of this place save that he’d been bamboozled by his sister, but demanding a kiss from the bride nonetheless.
“Oh, I feel sure Jamie would have been glad to drive Miss Katrina down,” said Gideon with a twinkle.
“Any where, at any time,” declared Morris fervently.
“Sooner than allow such a horrid contretemps—” began Falcon.
The commotion had attracted attention. A slender dark lady with a small girl beside her turned from the desk to glance their way.
A shrill scream rent the air. “Papa Ross! Papa Ross!”
Naomi whirled around, and turned chalk white as the curly-haired dark child ran across the suddenly hushed parlour, arms outstretched.
“Mignon! My babe!” Gideon bent, scooped her up and kissed her heartily, then turned to gather the lady into his embrace. “And my lovely Lilla!”
She clung to him, her voice breaking as she said in rapid French, “Ah, Gideon! At last we find you! My dear! My very dear! I feared you must be dead!”
Katrina whispered faintly, “Dear God!”
“I should have killed the bastard,” said Falcon through his teeth.
Gideon turned to Naomi. “Here’s a fine coil,” he said guiltily. “Of all times to have to make you known to my family! This is Madame Jean Favre and the very young lady is Mignon, my—”
“You unprincipled ’ound!” The voice came from the door, and a tall man with his left sleeve pinned up came in, water dripping from his tricorne. “Do you seek my loved ones to steal away ze very moment we ’ave land in your country?”
He threw his arm wide and caught Gideon into a hug. “This it is well met, mon ami! Mon cher ami to whom I owe so much! Ah, and ’ere is Lieutenant Morris! We shake ze ’and, all so!”
Setting down the child, Gideon said, “Mrs. Rossiter, allow me to present Capitaine Favre, whose family became my own when—”
“When my dear ’usband ’e is left for dead on ze battlefield, and taken prisoner,” interposed the lady.
“We would ’ave starve, madame, save that my Jean and Gideon, although they fight on different sides, they ’ave the fine friendship from school days, and Gideon take us under ’is—’ow you say this, James? ”
“Under his protection,” said Morris, grinning.
“Stumblewit!” muttered Falcon.
“Oh, Gad!” gasped Morris, turning very red as many shocked eyes turned his way. “Only I—er, should not say that, of course! Assure you, Naomi, old Ross merely looked after ’em! N-nothing more, do promise you! Didn’t do a curst thing, actually!”
“’E do a very great deal,” protested Madame Favre, bewildered. “Without my Gideon’s always ’elp I ’ave not know what it would become of us!”
Naomi said feebly, “Then—then, this is your family, Gideon? But—but you said there were three children, and—”
“Ah!” cried madame. “Then, you ’ave know, mon cher? Nurse, she take my twins up ze stairs!”
“Twins!” gasped Gideon. “Jupiter! I thought I was making it up!”
“Wicked, wicked man!” said Naomi happily, her last shadow vanishing.
Madame Favre exclaimed in French, “So this beautiful creature, she must be your lady of the garden, and you are married to her! Ah, it is good, my dear, dear, Gideon!”
Much later that evening, when the festivities had finally ceased and the celebrants had all gone their separate ways, Naomi reminded her husband of madame’s remarks.
“There were,” she called to him sternly, “altogether too many ‘dears!’ ’Tis quite obvious to me, Captain Rossiter, that you and Madame enjoyed a very agreeable relationship. ”
Sitting up in bed, his eyes glued to the door of the dressing room, Gideon agreed provocatively, “Exceeding agreeable. With regard to Mignon, especially. I am very fond of children. Speaking of which … are you ever coming in?”
“Oh! How naughty you are,” she said, dimpling as she dabbed Mysterious Moonlight here and there. “I wonder that you dare say such things when you deliberately allowed me to think that all those horrid rumours were true! Why, sirrah?”
“Because you were so willing to believe the worst of me, of course.”
“Your pride was hurt, was it?” she said indignantly, standing and blowing out the dressing room candle. “I think you are far more full of pride than ever I was, Captain Rossiter!”
“I grant you, ’tis a dreadful vice,” he admitted with a grin. “I promise never to indulge it a—” And he stopped, because Naomi had come in at last.
Her very décolleté nightgown was a drift of salmon pink lace and net that allowed a tantalizing glimpse of the loveliness it veiled. Her glorious hair rippled in a glowing mass about her creamy shoulders, and as she stood there, her eyes were tender but very shy.
“Oh … egad,” he whispered. “And I am telling another lie! ’Fore heaven, I must be the proudest man alive!” He reached out to her. “Come to me, my love—my life.”
“Do you truly welcome a—a guttersnipe to your bed?” she asked, walking slowly and demurely across the room.
“I told you once,” he said breathlessly, “that I must be time’s greatest fool.”
Naomi looked into his adoring face and ran to him. “The dearest, bravest, most gallant fool who ever…”
Captain Gideon Rossiter pinched out the candle.