by Anne Gracie
“Pshaw!” His aunt dismissed Nash’s abilities with a scornful wave. “Arrangements? He’s marrying the gel in some hasty, hole-in-the-corner fashion in some poky and obscure village church.”
“He has arranged a bishop to be present.”
Lady Gosforth sniffed. “Only one? I suppose that will have to do. But what has he done about her dress? And clothing for those children? And what about afterward?”
Marcus gave her a blank look.
“Exactly! That child has no family to support her—and don’t look at me like that, I know she has a gaggle of siblings, but pray, what use are children? It’s a mature and knowledgeable woman the gel needs, and as usual, it falls to me to do what must be done.”
Odious, arrogant old woman.
Maddy was still shaking with anger . . . or reaction . . . or something. She should have walked on, pretended not to hear. What was that saying about eavesdroppers never hearing any good?
Part of her was glad she’d given the old harridan a piece of her mind. It was immensely satisfying. If only she didn’t feel the slightest bit sick about it.
She hated fights. Her wretched, wretched temper.
And now she was so late for her waltzing lesson Nash had probably given up on her and gone riding. She wouldn’t blame him if he had.
She would, however, blame him for thinking about resigning his job—if it was true, of course, and she was by no means convinced it was. Though Lady Gosforth had seemed quite sure.
How could he even consider such a thing? He loved his work.
She reached the green saloon just as someone played the opening chords of a waltz on the pianoforte. Maddy eased open the door and peeped in. And watched transfixed.
The carpet had been rolled back to make a dance floor. Tibby, Mrs. Delaney, was at the pianoforte.
Two couples stood on the floor, ready to commence. Jane and Susan were partners. Jane bowed and Susan curtsied—both very nicely, Maddy thought proudly. She’d taught them, as Grand-mère had taught her. The girls wore their pretty new dresses. Their faces were bright with concentration and excitement. Maddy smiled mistily. Her little sisters, growing up before her eyes, preparing for their new life.
Oh, yes, indeed, she would marry Nash Renfrew. To secure this future for her little brothers and sisters she would probably have married a gargoyle.
But Nash Renfrew was no gargoyle. She watched him now, tall and elegant and as handsome a man as she’d ever dreamed of. He bowed gracefully to his very diminutive partner.
Lucy made a deep, wobbly curtsy, then bounced up in triumph. She gripped his hands and carefully climbed onto his feet, standing with one small foot on each large boot. Maddy swallowed.
“Ready?” Nash asked the little girl.
Lucy nodded. Tibby played the opening bars and off they danced, tall man and tiny girl standing on his feet, her little hands clinging to his in an excited death grip.
They circled, first in a very slow clump-clump-clump, clump-clump-clump, then faster and faster as Lucy became used to the rhythm and the movement. Soon they were stepping to the music, then twirling around the room.
Maddy’s eyes misted up. Lucy was so proud, so thrilled. Once, Nash swept her up in an arc through the air and she squealed with delight, then he settled her deftly back on his boots and they continued as before.
“Maddy, Maddy, look at me, I’m dancing!” Lucy caught sight of her and shrieked gleefully. “Me and Mr. Rider are dancing a waltz!”
Maddy laughed and clapped and nodded, halfway to tears.
Even if she hadn’t already fallen head over heels in love with Nash Renfrew, watching him now with her little sisters, she fell in love with him again.
Do you love my nephew? Of course she loved him. How could she not?
The music finished, and again, Nash made an elegant bow. Lucy, a little dizzy from the dance and also from the excitement, began a curtsy, wobbled, then landed with a bump on her bottom.
She looked up, dismayed. Her lower lip quivered, but before she could burst into mortified tears, Nash bent and swept her up in a dizzying arc, whooshing her high above his head, and twirling her around until she screamed with delight again.
He deposited her on chair saying, “Thank you for the dance, Miss Lucy. Miss Jane and Miss Susan, well done, you were grace personified and a credit to your teacher, who is clearly brilliant.” They giggled, as he’d intended.
“And now,” he turned to Maddy with a gleam in his eye, “for your older sister.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Renfrew,” Tibby interrupted, “but we must finish now.” She blushed slightly. “I need to feed my son.”
“Yes, of course,” Nash said. “Thank you, Tibby, for playing so beautifully for us.” The girls, to Maddy’s pride, chimed in with their thanks.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault for coming so late,” Maddy said. “Girls, it’s nearly four o’clock, and Mrs. Deane and Lizzie will be expecting you in the nursery for the final fitting of your dresses for the wedding. I’ll be up later.”
Tibby and the girls left and suddenly the room was too quiet, too empty. Maddy wiped her palms nervously on her dress, hoping the trepidation she felt didn’t show. But if his aunt was right and he was considering resigning his job, she had to talk to him about it at once.
“I can manage without music.” Nash held out his hands to her, his blue, blue eyes smiling. “It won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”
She swallowed. Maybe she should get the lesson over with first. And then talk. “All right.”
“You put this hand here.” Nash placed her hand on his shoulder. “And I place my hand here.” Just above the curve of her waist. His fingers were inches from her breast.
She pulled back, frowning. “Ladies and gentlemen don’t touch when they’re dancing, except for their hands.”
“That’s why the waltz caused such a scandal when it first appeared in ballrooms. Now it’s so widely accepted only the dowdiest prudes refuse to dance it.”
She would not be a dowdy prude. She gave a curt little nod and moved back into position.
Nash said, “It’s a one-two-three step, and all you need to do is to relax and trust me. On the first step, I will move forward with my left foot, and you will move backward with your right. After that just follow my moves. Now, on the count of three: one, two, three.”
They moved off and almost immediately she tried to steer him in the direction she wanted. He stopped. “The man is supposed to lead,” he told her. “The woman follows.”
“Lead then,” she said.
Again they stepped off in perfect harmony, but half a dozen steps later, she was trying to steer him to the left while he wanted her to go right. The trouble was she needed to have it out with him, and while her emotions were in such a turmoil, she couldn’t concentrate on the wretched dance.
“It’s a matter of trust,” he murmured in her ear. “The children did it instinctively.”
“They’re children, they trust easily.”
“The trouble is, you’ve been running your life for so long by yourself that you’re used to being in control. But it’s like marriage. I lead, you follow, and we move forward together as a team.”
It was the perfect opening. She dropped his hand and stepped back. “But you don’t think that about marriage, do you? You don’t expect us to move forward, you think I’ll drag you down.” Her voice shook on the last part of the sentence.
“What?”
“That’s what your aunt said.” She bit her lips to stop them trembling.
“Well, she’s wrong. I don’t think anything of the sort.” Nash was outraged. “I’d never say such a thing. Or even think it,” he added angrily, seeing the doubt in her eyes. And the hurt. He reached to take her hands but she snatched them away. He swore under his breath.
She folded her arms in what he recognized was a defensive position and said, “Then why did you tell her you’re considering resigning your position in the diplomatic service and becoming a
country squire?”
“Blast Aunt Maude for an interfering old woman!”
“I quite agree, but is it true?” She waited.
Nash forced himself to calm. “I am considering it,” he said coolly, “though nothing is decided.”
“Why?”
He cast around for the most convincing way to put it. “I’ve never had the opportunity to run my own estate before. It interests me. And I find I enjoy country life. I could breed horses, like Harry, and—”
“Fustian!”
“Fustian?” He wasn’t used to people, especially women contradicting him. Apart from Aunt Maude.
“Complete and utter fustian,” she said composedly. “You’re afraid I’ll be a disaster in diplomatic circles.”
“I am not!” He denied it indignantly. He hadn’t though any such thing. Out of her depth, perhaps, but not a disaster.
“You are. You haven’t said it, and perhaps you haven’t thought it in so many words, but that’s what’s behind this. And I won’t have it.” She lifted her chin in a challenge.
God, but she was adorable when her temper was up. He raised an eyebrow. “You won’t?”
“No, I won’t. Have a little faith in me, Nash Renfrew. I might not have been raised in government circles, but I will learn. And manage. And have a little faith in yourself. A few mistakes on my part will not reflect on you and the years of excellent service you have given your country.”
He blinked at the confidence she had in him. The pride. And felt ashamed that he’d doubted her, even for a minute.
“Don’t listen to that horrid old aunt of yours.”
“She’s not so bad when you get to—”
“You and I will make an excellent team. And we’re going to be very happy.”
He knew that. He was already very happy. Frighteningly happy. She wasn’t going to call off the marriage. For a second he’d feared she might.
Maddy swept on. “I won’t be hidden away at Whitethorn simply because I might fail. All my life I’ve been stuck in the country, dreaming dreams of how life could be, of travel, adventures, and lo—” She broke off. “And now I have the chance to make those dreams come true,” she amended.
Nash swore silently and tried not to wonder about the word she’d bitten off so abruptly.
She opened her mouth, closed it, drew a deep breath, and said quietly, “You are the man of my dreams, Nash Renfrew, and if it is truly your heart’s desire to live the rest of your life at Whitethorn, then I’ll live there with you gladly.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand to stop him, and continued, “But I think you want a brilliant diplomatic career, and I would love to be a part of it. Not just for you, but for myself, to travel and meet people and serve my country, too, as your wife. If you could bring yourself to trust me, we could have a glorious life together. But if I do fail—”
“You won’t,” he said and took her in his arms. “I never for a minute thought you might fail. I did wonder if I was asking too much of you,” he admitted, “but if you are sure . . .”
“I’m very sure.” She slipped her arms around him, her eyes shining with faith and . . . and something else.
A fist closed around Nash’s heart. He swallowed, unable to think of a thing to say in the face of such a gift.
So he kissed her. Long, hard, and possessively.
And then they danced. And this time they moved as one, locked together in a slow-moving embrace, their bodies touching from chest to thigh.
At one point he murmured, “There’s supposed to be several inches between our bodies.”
“I’ll try to remember,” she said.
“Good.” He pulled her closer.
“Mr. Benson has sent a message up to say you’re wanted—we’re both wanted—in the front anteroom at your earliest convenience, miss,” Lizzie said from the door as Maddy finished dressing for dinner.
“Me? Why would he want me?”
“No idea, Lizzie, so let’s find out.” Benson, the butler, must think Maddy would need her maid with her, which meant it was serious. They hurried downstairs toward the anteroom nearest the front door. A rumble of male voices came from within.
When Maddy entered she found Nash and Benson with a big, brawny man of about thirty with dark, curly hair and very tanned skin. Dressed in a smart blue coat with large brass buttons, tight, dark breeches, and shiny black boots, he had a tough, vaguely nautical air. Maddy had never seen him before in her life.
Behind her Lizzie gasped. Maddy turned in time to see Lizzie blanch and take two uncertain steps. Slowly Lizzie’s knees buckled.
Nash and Benson leapt forward to catch her, but the big, tough seaman was faster than all of them. He caught Lizzie before she hit the floor and swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Lizzie? Lizzie, love, it’s Reuben.” He stroked her cheek, his big, work-roughened hands.
“Smelling salts, ma’am?” Benson proffered a small bottle. Maddy took it and waved it under Lizzie’s nose. She sneezed, screwed up her nose, and opened her eyes. She stared at the man who held her so tightly.
“Reuben?” Lizzie whispered.
“Aye, Lizzie, love, I’ve come back to you,” he said softly. “Come a long way, I have. Your Uncle Bill told me I’d find you here. He said you’d become a lady’s maid. Had enough of cows, love?”
“Put me down,” Lizzie said.
Reuben carefully placed her back on her feet. “All right now, love?”
“Just perfect,” Lizzie said and smacked him hard across the face. “Where have you been all this time?”
“I—” Reuben began.
“No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Had your fun with whoever it was, and now she’s kicked you out and you’ve come crawling back.”
“No, I—”
“Well, just you think again, Reuben Brown! I wouldn’t have you back if—mmph!” Her tirade came to an abrupt end as Reuben lifted her off her feet and kissed her. Lizzie struggled, kicking and punching.
Nash stepped forward to intervene but Maddy stopped him with a hand on his arm. A moment later Lizzie’s struggles faded, and she was returning the big man’s kisses, her arms twined around his neck and her legs lifting—quite scandalously—to wrap around his middle.
“Now, lass, you’ll shock the good folk here.” Reuben eased Lizzie back to her feet. Lizzie glanced at Maddy and gave her a sheepish grin. Then she remembered her grievances and gave her errant husband an unconvincing glare. “You’d better explain yourself to my satisfaction, Reuben Brown, or that’s the last one of those you’ll get from me!”
Reuben winked at Maddy, then straightened Lizzie’s cap, which had almost fallen off, and kissed her on the nose, ignoring the irritated swat she gave him in return. “No need to take on,” he told her. “There was never anyone but you, lass, and you should know that.”
“Then where have you been all this time?”
“I was press-ganged,” Reuben said simply. “Went to town to buy the black bull, and before the sale, had an ale with some lads celebrating a wedding. They must’ve slipped sommat into the drink. Next thing I knew my wits were addled and I was on a cart bound to Bristol—a member of the Royal Navy.”
“Press-ganged?”
Reuben nodded. “I’ve spent the last couple of years sailing the seven seas in the service of Mad King George. India, the Americas, Tahiti—you name it, I’ve been there.”
“Why didn’t you let me know?”
“How? No post offices in foreign parts. Besides, I couldn’t write and you can’t read.”
“I can now,” Lizzie told him with pride.
“Me, too.” Reuben grinned with a flash of white teeth. “A shipmate taught me to read and write. I’m an educated man now. And”—he took out a leather pouch and jangled it—“I’ve still got the money for the breeding bull and a bit of extra besides.”
Lizzie’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t spend it?”
He grinned. “No bla
ck bulls at sea.”
“Oh, Reuben,” Lizzie breathed.
Reuben’s face softened. “I missed you mortal bad, Lizzie.”
Nash nudged Maddy and jerked his head. Reluctantly she agreed. She was dying of curiosity, but Lizzie and her long-lost husband needed to be alone. “Lizzie, take Reuben away where you two can be private. Give him something to eat and spend as long as you need catching up and sorting out your plans. I won’t need you until tomorrow.”
“Lizzie will be giving her notice, ma’am,” Reuben said quickly.
Lizzie thumped him on the arm. “I speak for meself, Reuben Brown. I haven’t decided whether to take you back, yet.”
“Have you not?” Reuben said with an unworried grin.
Lizzie tried to look severe and failed. “Can this big lummox stay here with me tonight, Miss Maddy?” she asked, blushing.
“Yes, of course,” Maddy said and hugged her. “I’m so glad for you, Lizzie.” She gave Reuben a clear, direct look. “Lizzie is my friend, Mr. Brown, and she’ll always have a place with me if she needs it.”
“And for that I thank you, ma’am,” Reuben said easily. “She won’t be needin’ it, but I’m grateful she’s had a friend like you while I was gone. Her Uncle Bill told me what you done for Lizzie and I’m in your debt.”
“Thank you ever so much, Miss Maddy. I’ll stay with you until the wedding. Give this man time to find us somewhere to live.” Lizzie glanced up at her husband with a glowing expression, turned, and dragged Reuben toward the stairs.
Nash laughed softly and wrapped his arm around Maddy’s waist. “Couldn’t we take a leaf out of their book and just disappear upstairs for the rest of the day? And night,” he murmured.
She sighed longingly. “I wish we could. Propriety is such a burden at times, is it not?”
Nash came to her room that night, as he had every other night, but he didn’t bring her a drink, or compliment her hair, or make light conversation about the day, as he usually did.
He simply strode into the room, and without a word, swept her into his arms and kissed her, deeply, passionately, so that by the time he finished, she was on her bed, her senses spinning, her nightgown up around her neck, and her legs locked ecstatically around him.