Chapter Thirty-Three
STANDING BEFORE HER PARENTS, ERIK held Muriel’s hand in the library of Draycott Castle as sounds of merriment from their marriage ball flowed through the heavy mahogany door.
“No one outside of the inner circle will ever know the truth of your daughter’s daring rescue of me and the capture of one of the most notorious smugglers in the war against Napoleon. But the Prince Regent himself has written to thank her for her service.”
“The Prince Regent?” Father’s hands trembled as he accepted the letter from Erik.
“Such bravery.” Mother held a handkerchief to her eyes. “And such danger. I expect you to take better care of my daughter in the future.”
“I intend to.” He looked at Muriel. “Even though I was offered another contract from the Prince Regent after this capture, I have decided that I will not be accepting it. I planned on returning Twilight Treader to a merchant vessel only, but Sir Alexander was so distraught over his wife’s betrayal that he secured the letter of marque himself. He will be Warrick once more and attempt to alleviate some of the damage Lady Ingram caused. With my bride at my side, I intend to focus on Draybridge village and my holdings here.”
“Thank the good Lord,” Mother murmured.
Mr. Fletcher grasped her hand. “Indeed. The life of a privateer is not what I wish for my only daughter. There is such a thing as too much adventure.”
“Agreed.” Erik chuckled. “And to keep my new bride from becoming excessively bored, I have purchased the bakery in the village for her to manage as a wedding present.”
Muriel gasped as she threw herself into his arms, knocking him back a good six inches. “Truly? The owner did not mind?”
“I paid him a small fortune. He will live out the rest of his days in luxury along the coast, nearer to his only child and his grandchildren.”
“I have married the best of men.” She pecked his lips even though she wished to kiss him properly. Oh why not? That is our rule after all.
Father shifted, clearing his throat at Muriel’s display of affection.
“As heroic as your tale has been, we had best allow the countess to return to her duties, lest word circulate she is not fit for the job,” Mother interjected, rising with Muriel’s stepfather.
Given the dazed grin he was sporting, Erik didn’t seem to mind her kisses.
“You are quite right, Mother.” Muriel straightened her tiara and, on the arm of her husband, strolled out into the crowd of well-wishers, many of whom were the gentry and friends from Chilham who were staying in the castle for a weeklong house party.
“Everything is stunning, Muriel!” Elena grasped her hands. “Who could have imagined such an ending to our dear house party—you married to the earl and me betrothed to Lord Traneford! For my part in your romance, you must host my wedding at Draycott Castle to properly thank me.”
Before Muriel could respond, Elena was swept away by Lord Traneford to dance the Scottish reel and another couple approached, offering Muriel and Erik their felicitations.
The ostentatious wedding reception party was grand enough to silence even the worst of England’s gossips, but she could take no credit. Vivienne and Tess had kept her away from any and all planning. They declared that as a new bride, Muriel needed to enjoy these fleeting first days of wedlock with Erik, tucked away in their own wing of the castle. She had happily obliged on the condition that she bake the cakes and pastries for the party.
After an hour of exchanging niceties, Muriel grasped her punch glass and escaped out to the torchlit balcony, joining Vivienne and Tess in their own private celebration. “So, ladies, what do you intend to do for the whole of the summer now that the London season has concluded?” Muriel rested her palms on the rail, breathing in the delightfully cool air.
Vivienne sighed. “I’m afraid my stepbrother’s wife is ready for me to return to oversee her saucy bantlings.” She shuddered and sipped from her glass.
“You mean your nephews?” Tess giggled, nudging her, even though they all knew what tyrants the little boys were, as they took after their mother and father’s treatment of their poor relation.
She shrugged. “Upon their arrival home, they expect me to return at once and teach the children while their tutor is on holiday for the summer.”
Muriel grimaced. “Perhaps I can have Erik busy your brother and his family in London for you?”
Her eyes widened with hope. “That would be marvelous. It would give me the time I need to finish this next novel. My public is clamoring for more, and between all the excitement here and my family arranging my life for me, it has been difficult to find a quiet moment to write the novel I’ve been aching to since discovering your husband’s profession.”
Muriel scowled. “You cannot possibly pen a privateer novel.”
“And why not? I have the best source available to me, and besides, I write under a nom de plume.” She pressed her lips into a fake pout. “You wouldn’t ask your dearest friend to ignore such a wealth of muse when she has been sorely in need of inspiration? Especially when she is so close to making her living from her writing?” She sighed. “Can you imagine my life away from my stepbrother’s family?”
Muriel rubbed her forehead. “You may ask Erik. I cannot promise you that he will agree to disclose much, given the delicate nature of the matter.”
“And what about you, Tess?” Vivienne asked. “Any plans?”
“With my father constantly away in Scotland, what plans could I have? I shall follow along with whatever you two have in mind. I have no aunts to host me, or cousins to squire me about town, and I refuse to hire a companion just to satiate polite society’s expectations of an heiress on her own.”
Muriel snorted. “I’m not so certain I would thwart polite society after my series of misadventures.”
“Well, I’m not planning on proposing to anyone … especially one who turned out to be a traitor to his country and gunpowder supplier to the French.”
Muriel frowned. “Will I never be free from that shame?”
Tess grinned. “Society will forget, thanks to your marriage, but we never will. We shall always have it in our reticule to pull out whenever we have a need to tease you, should your countess head grow too big for your crown.”
“But that shall never happen, given your sweet nature.” Vivienne patted Muriel’s hand. “We must not keep you from the party much longer, Countess. It is time for you to find your earl and have that dance.”
Muriel could not keep her smile from spreading when Erik spotted her across the ballroom floor. His entire countenance altered when he was aware of her presence, as if he couldn’t wait to be near her. Her handsome husband excused himself from his conversation and wove through the guests to greet her, his hand at once finding the small of her back in such a familiar fashion it sent shivers down her spine.
“Where did you disappear to?” he whispered into her hair with a discreet kiss to her ear.
“Vivienne and Tess.”
He nodded in understanding, as he had become accustomed to seeing them flock together.
The doors to the ballroom burst open, the butler announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, His Royal Highness, the Prince Regent.”
His wife’s pulse quickened as her grip on his hand tightened in the most alarming fashion. “You’ve met him before, my love. He thought you were quite charming.”
“I know I’ve met him, Erik, but I’m supposed to be the hostess, and as this is my first formal evening, I have yet to discover what to do and not do.”
“Don’t propose to anyone,” Erik whispered.
She rolled her eyes. “Very droll and seeing as I am wed to you, I won’t be doing any such thing in the near future.”
“Just be yourself, my darling, and he will find you perfectly delightful.”
“Wonderful advice if being myself did not usually render me in the most unpleasant of situations,” she muttered.
“I’d hardly say hosting the Prince Regent at your wedding ball is an unpleasant situation,” he teased, loving watching the purse of her lips.
The Prince Regent strode into the room amid a wave of curtsies and bows as he passed, nodding to his subjects as he came to stand before Erik and Muriel. Erik bowed as his wife dipped into a flawless curtsy.
“Earl and Countess of Draycott.” The Prince Regent inclined his head and grasped Muriel’s hand, waiting for her to rise to her full height before leaning forward and whispering, “I have much to thank you for, Countess. The people of England will never know the depth of your service, but I intend on honoring you both for your heroic act.” He released her and clasped Erik’s hand before turning to the whispering crowd. “For services rendered in Lord Draycott’s time at sea, I hereby introduce the Duke and Duchess of Draycott.”
Muriel fumbled, and if Erik’s hand had not caught her waist, she would have sunk to the ground in a faint. His chest pounded in the same panic. He had only just grown accustomed to being called an earl … but a duke? He managed to set aside his shock and accept the cheers with a bow as he thanked the Prince Regent most heartily, his arm still around his bride as she collected herself.
“I—I do not know how to thank you.” Muriel rested her hand on Erik’s chest as if drawing strength from him.
“You’ve already thanked me enough with your heroic act, Your Grace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear that you bake the finest cake in all the land, and I must claim my piece to see for myself. Who knows, if it is as delicious as they say, I may need to have you bake my birthday cake come August.” The Prince Regent winked and moved into the throng of guests, all clamoring for his attention in the wake of his grand announcement.
Vivienne and Tess joined their side, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher close behind.
Mrs. Fletcher grasped her daughter’s arm. “Was that because of …?”
Erik nodded. “You have an extraordinary daughter, and I’m honored to call her my duchess.”
“The Duchess of Draycott Castle.” Muriel rested her head against his shoulder. “Who would have ever imagined this for the earl who wanted nothing more than to sail upon the high seas and the simple baker from Chilham seeking her happily ever after.”