The Wicked Wedding of Miss Ellie Vyne Page 22

  It was plain to him, as he watched her aunt with the widowed dairy farmer, that they were indeed clandestine lovers; but Ellie, stubborn as usual, refused to see it.

  “He is just a kind, helpful gentleman,” she’d hissed in his ear when he threw her an I-told-you-so look. But as they’d rolled along, bumping and lurching from side to side in Farmer Osborne’s cart, she must have watched the older couple sitting together and let those suspicions dwell longer in her mind. She muttered under her breath, “My aunt is in her fifties, for heaven’s sake. Why go through all that again at her age?”

  James had laughed. “You think people are ever too old for all that?”

  “But she had it once already with Captain Cawley.”

  Looking down at her pert, determined face, he’d said, “And no one ever deserves a second chance at love?” A charge of smoldering hot desire swept through him when he gazed down at those lips.

  His words had hung in the air between them with far more gravity than he was ever accustomed to causing with his statements. He’d always thought Ellie Vyne never really listened to anything he said. More often than not, she heard what she wanted to hear and laughed scornfully at the rest.

  He’d never known a woman so afraid of attachments of the heart. Except his own grandmother, who must have a beating heart somewhere under all the armor. But after his own disastrous affairs with females, he probably should be more skeptical of it himself. Before Brighton, he was ready to give up on finding anyone special. At least, that was what he’d told himself. Then along came this creature, thrusting her way back into his life, making him confused, making him look into her eyes when he’d resisted for so long. Sometimes James felt as if he was still struggling to find his way out of that maze.

  When they entered the warm farmhouse, it was already crowded. He saw the boy, Rafe, complaining and squirming in a corner as Sophia Kane tried to smooth his wild black hair down with a wet cloth. He was dressed tonight in smarter, cleaner clothes, as if someone—no doubt Sophia—had really made an effort to make him look his best. Molly Robbins was complaining that he’d deliberately spilled eggnog on her dress, while Rafe protested that she’d tried to kiss him under the mistletoe. Sophia attempted to make peace. James looked for her husband and found him strolling around the party, carrying his baby son, showing off. Every inch the proud father.

  Something that had been denied him. Again he felt a surge of anger toward these people who’d kept Rafe’s survival a secret. He looked at the boy, certain now of the resemblance, both to the housemaid Rebecca and to himself. With nervous hands, he smoothed over his own hair and then his waistcoat. What could he say to his son? How did one introduce oneself to a son of twelve? For now it was delayed, in any case. Finally free of Sophia and her wet cloth, the boy ran off, closely followed by Molly Robbins, and they briefly disappeared among the other guests.

  The lower floor of the house consisted of one large room with an adjoining pantry and a scullery. Tonight with all the furniture moved aside, the openness of the space was perfect for dancing. A group of young people had already formed a set for a wild jig.

  Lady Mercy pushed her way between Ellie and James. For the party, she had dressed in a very fine spencer of maroon satin with a military-style trim and high collar, looking every bit the young lady of fashion. Hands dug into a matching muff, she coolly surveyed the house interior and proclaimed it, “humble and drafty, but rustic and picturesque in a country way.” Then her eyes sought Molly Robbins. Apparently, during their afternoon together, the two young girls had formed a tentative friendship—or as close to one as might be achieved in so short a space of time and between two complete opposites. Lady Mercy, it turned out, liked “projects,” and plain, meek Molly Robbins was her latest, whether she desired to be or not.

  “There is that Robbins girl. I lent her my coquelicot flowers for her hair.” Lady Mercy sounded surprised that the other girl had actually worn them. “She looks almost pretty tonight. The flowers lift her features. I told her so.”

  James suggested she talk to her new friend.

  “But she’s dancing with that horrid, common boy!” Lady Mercy shuddered and clutched her muff tighter. “I wouldn’t talk to him if he was the last boy on earth.” Evidently she and Rafe had met that afternoon, and it had not gone well.

  That horrid, common boy is my son, he wanted to say. Best not, though. He had yet to inform Ellie, and she ought to be the first to know he had an illegitimate child. A rush of cold air suddenly chilled his ankles. James turned instinctively to see who had just entered the house, and saw Grieves with Dr. Salt.

  Ellie saw them too. “I suppose you’ll have to go now”—she smiled sadly—“Smallwick.”

  “Not yet.” He didn’t want to leave Smallwick behind just yet. “Perhaps you’ll dance with me, madam.” He winked and held out his hand. “It is Christmas, after all.”

  “Not quite,” was the pert reply.

  “Near enough.”

  Looking around, she drew his attention to a young woman standing alone by one of the stout wooden beams. “Dance with her,” she urged him. “That’s one of Molly Robbins’s elder sisters, and I’m sure she would love to dance with you. It will make the carpenter’s son jealous.”

  There was a time when James Hartley would have refused to dance with anyone he didn’t know at a party. But there was also a time when he thought himself too grand for a country-village party like this one. So, to show he was a reformed man, James made his way through the crowd toward the mousy young woman and put on his most gallant manners.

  ***

  “My dear friend, it is so wonderful to have you here.” Sophie embraced her warmly this evening, a little flushed already perhaps from too much eggnog. “I must confess your news surprised me earlier, and after you’d gone, I realized I did not even properly congratulate you and James.”

  Ellie smiled uneasily. “You did seem preoccupied.”

  Sophie took her hands. “It was wrong of me to doubt your decision. It is none of my business, of course, and I’m sure you’ll be very happy.” She sighed pensively as her pretty green eyes wandered over Ellie’s shoulder. “You’ll certainly be very rich.”

  It seemed as if even her closest friend thought she was with James for the money.

  “I worried only because…well…” Sophie looked down at their hands, her fingers entwined with Ellie’s. “Because I know how you like to laugh, be silly, and pretend you don’t care. And I wanted to be sure you’d really thought about this marriage.”

  “You mean, not like all my other engagements?” Ellie curbed her laughter, since her friend was so solemn.

  “I want you both to find happiness, Ellie. You are both dear friends to me.”

  “And you think we’d do better finding that happiness with other people?”

  Although Sophie’s answer was firm, it was evasive. “I just want you both to be sure. I don’t want either of you hurt. This is not another of your pranks, I hope.”

  Ellie understood that Sophie was worried mostly for James. He’d been unlucky with his previous choice, and his wounds were slow to heal. Sophie genuinely cared about him still and must be afraid he’d be hurt again, because Ellie never took anything seriously. At least, she never had until now. In the beginning, her plan seemed simple—give James the convenient marriage he required as long as she conceived the baby she wanted. But somewhere over the last few days, it all became so much more. It was no longer just a simple trade without risk, without deeper attachment.

  “I promise you, Sophie, that I am finally growing up. At my age, I decided it was time to repent all my sins and be a good girl. And don’t look at me that way. Have you been taking lessons from my sisters?”

  Sophie smiled at last and embraced her again. “Then I shall say no more and leave you to it.” When her smile gained strength, Ellie was relieved to see the old Sophie back again. The twinkle was just as she remembered, undiminished. “Now”—she curved her arm under Ellie’s
and drew her close to whisper—“let me fill you in on all the Sydney Dovedale news. The news I could not tell you while the men listened.”

  Although she’d heard much of it already from her aunt, she nodded eagerly and let her old friend talk, for Sophie always had more juicy details to add. Aunt Lizzie’s news revolved around sickness, death, birth, marriage, and mourning, with not much happening otherwise. Sophie and Ellie knew that what occurred in between was often just as important and a vast deal more entertaining. Soon they were back to normal, giggling together over memories of other parties long gone, reminiscing about less complicated days. But they were both older now and wiser, both embarking on new chapters.

  ***

  James finally found Ellie again. “Now you must dance with me,” he demanded. “I’ve earned it, madam.”

  “But it’s a minuet. People will think we’re in love, Smallwick.”

  “They know us better than that, madam.” He grabbed her hand and tugged, leading her into the dance. “Dine with me in Morecroft tomorrow evening. I think it’s time we broke the news to my grandmama.”

  When she looked up at James, her eyes seemed to reflect every candle flame in the room. He was dazzled for a moment. “But we don’t know yet if there will be any marriage. Why tell her until you must? This could all be for nothing, you know.”

  “You doubt my stud abilities, madam?”

  “Don’t talk so loud, Smallwick. Do you want the entire village to know?”

  James made no attempt to lower his voice. “I’m quite certain the job for which you hired me is done, madam. Very well done.”

  Her lips puckered, ready to purse and sulk, but then they wavered, almost laughing.

  “By New Year you will be my wife, Vyne. Mine.” He stroked his gloved thumb across her knuckles. “The child in your womb makes you mine already.”

  “Do you have magical powers that tell you my state already, Hartley?”

  “Yes,” was his concise reply. “It happened this afternoon. I felt it.”

  Her cheeks flamed, and her lashes fluttered downward. James was amused. She’d never been the timid, bashful sort. When had that started? He didn’t want her to suddenly change too much. Accustomed to her wickedness, he had grown to expect it, enjoy it.

  As the music came to an end, James followed her wandering gaze and watched her aunt fill a glass cup with eggnog for Farmer Osborne. The older couple talked intimately, smiling and happy.

  “Now I know why she was so anxious when I arrived.” Ellie’s shoulders drooped. “She was afraid I’d find out. My coming here got in the way, didn’t it, Smallwick?”

  “I fear it did, madam.”

  She sighed gently. “It is often so.”

  “What is?”

  “Me. In the way.”

  James could sympathize with that. “When it comes to my family, I have frequently been in the way too.” He was the irritation that had to be coped with, first by a mother who suffered in a loveless marriage and left him to the care of nannies, then by a deserted, humiliated father who could not stand his presence, since it reminded him of a failed marriage. Finally his grandmother had been left to cope with the burden of raising James. “Perhaps,” he told Ellie, “we have more in common than we realized.”

  “I’ve been rather selfish,” she said. “I’ve forgotten that other people have lives too. They can’t always stop everything when I show up on their doorstep, demanding attention.”

  “Quite. What you need, madam, is a home. In one place.” He smiled. “And then you can have that dog you wanted.”

  Surprise flickered through her eyes.

  “You thought I wouldn’t remember?”

  “I didn’t think you were listening that night, Smallwick. You were rather pickled.”

  But her words, uttered softy under the stars in Brighton, remained in the warm embrace of his memory. Along with her very pleasant kiss and the manner in which she’d betrayed, for once, her vulnerability.

  “Come outside with me a moment, Miss Vyne.” It was pleasant to talk with this woman and not fight. He wanted more time alone with her before he faced the confrontation with Sophie regarding his son. It was a matter that had to be discussed tonight, and then he could tell Ellie. But first, he needed one last uncomplicated moment. He had no idea how she would take the news that he had an illegitimate son, or how it might change things between them. Although he knew the real Ellie much better now, her moods were changeable, and she had, after all, quite recently cracked him over the head and shoulders with a china ewer.

  “Smallwick, it’s cold out.”

  “I’ll keep you warm, madam.”

  She glanced hastily around the room to be sure no one watched, and eventually agreed, letting him tug her away from the dancers and outside into the crisp air.

  He took an oil lamp from a hook over the door and led her out to the barn across the yard. Three horses, a donkey, and two goats looked up at the first creak of the wooden door, but they returned to the food in their mangers, none too impressed by the visitors. The warm scent of beast and hay filled his nostrils, reminding James of the summers when he used to come there to court Sophia, dragging her away from her chores. All of it a long time ago. He set the oil lamp on a high, safe ledge and led Ellie into an empty stall.

  “What are we doing here, Smallwick?” she demanded.

  “I wanted to be alone with you a while, madam. I find myself possessive of your company.”

  “Anyone could come out to check on the animals, especially if they see the lantern light.”

  “They’re all busy dancing and carousing. Now kiss me, madam.” With a flourish, he produced a small bunch of mistletoe nabbed from the farmhouse doorway. It was spontaneous, very un-Hartley-like, but tonight he was in the mood to play. She brought out the devil in him, he mused, amazed by the fact that he’d sought a wife as part of his efforts to reform, yet the very woman he needed to fulfill the role should have these rebellious effects upon him. Oddly enough, this woman he’d always criticized to anyone who would listen, turned out to be the perfect partner for him. Could life be any stranger—could it possibly hold any more surprises?

  She moved back into the shadowy corner of the stall, and he followed, closing her in.

  “I haven’t had your lips on mine for several hours now,” he said huskily as he held the mistletoe over her head.

  “Smallwick, you are incorrigible.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  Unable to wait for her movement, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, warming them for her. Ellie’s hands quickly moved to his shoulders and then curled around his nape. Despite her feigned reluctance to enter the barn with him, she responded hungrily to his kiss. Very soon, one of her hands swept down his chest to his breeches.

  “Smallwick, I never did ask you how you came by your name.” Her fingers trailed over the mound that grew with speed. “It is not very appropriate.”

  “I believe it was one of Mr. Grieves’s little jests, madam.”

  “Ah.”

  “He does like his little jests.”

  “Smallwick, these stud services don’t have to be performed all at once. You can take a rest.”

  “I have no need of one, madam.”

  “So I see.”

  He paused. “Do you?”

  Her eyes twinkled, and she bit her lower lip. A dimple appeared in her left cheek. “Good Lord, no, Smallwick. You’ll have to work a lot harder than this to wear me out.”

  Lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist, he murmured gratefully, “Excellent, madam, because I am of a mind to make every moment we have alone together count.”

  ***

  The wooden slats at her back rattled and creaked. The plow horse in the next stall made a low whinny and shook his mane.

  “Ouch, Smallwick,” she muttered. “Have a care, or my hair will all come undone.”

  James entered her before she’d finished her sentence, bending his legs and thrusting upward with
the full force of his lower body. He grunted, “Your hair won’t be the only thing undone, madam.”

  It was a quick, savage mating. Very fitting for a stable, she mused.

  She should have declined his offer of a rutting there and then, should never have crept away from the party with him, skulking around and being very naughty in the hay. But she couldn’t keep her hands off him, and he appeared to suffer the same condition of beguilement. It was irrepressible. One might almost think he had some devil to exorcise tonight, something burning up inside him, needing release.

  He shuddered and braced her against the wooden divider, his mouth on the side of her neck. His strong male scent mingled with the sweetness of the hay and the waxy oil lamp. She closed her eyes, drinking it in, relishing that moment, holding onto it with all her senses and trapping it within her memory forever. As if this was the last time. Her heart stalled at that thought, and her eyelids flew open.

  Eventually he set her feet on the ground again and, like any diligent servant, straightened her clothing and her hair for her. He did not speak. She’d known him many years, and it was apparent to Ellie that he had something on his mind. Some trouble he pondered. She wanted to help, but since he did not share his problem with her, she did not know how. Like her, he was accustomed to keeping his troubled thoughts locked away, hidden behind a smile and a sharp-tongued comment.

  ***

  As they reentered the house, he tucked the mistletoe away inside his coat pocket.

  “No one else must be tempted to kiss you,” he said.

  She seemed far away, not hearing. “I should talk to my aunt.”

  James pressed a warm kiss to her hand and watched her walk away through the merry mob. She had a little straw in her hair, but it was too late to call her back and remove it.

  Now he had an important conversation to face himself. Turning sharply, he looked for Sophia. To his surprise, she was looking for him too. Their eyes met, and a silent signal passed between them. She knew he was going to ask about Rafe. Apparently, she was ready to explain.