| |
“What exactly is the matter with Farleigh Cottage?” Edwina asked when she and Cecilia sat down in one of the upstairs parlors the next day. Edwina had already unbuttoned her dress and was nursing the three-month-old Neville.
Cecilia managed to keep from sighing, as she thought of what to answer. Archie had not confided in her about the problem. After the night they had spent together, she doubted that he could have been with another woman. They had retired early after dinner, and he had seemed practically insatiable as he had made her climax several times before doing so himself then had wanted her again almost instantly after.
“I suppose it’s not that important,” Cecilia murmured and tried to sound as if it really was of no consequence. “Would you have liked to have helped with the wedding preparations?” she asked as a way to change the subject.
The wedding was tomorrow, and Millie was busy with the decoration and several last-minute details - she dragged a reluctant Hester around after her. Charlotte was helping them, while Lucy was teaching the older children how to draw. The men had all fled the estate to go hunting.
“No, I would rather have joined the men,” Edwina stated with a smile. “Or Lucy for that matter. I miss spending time with my two oldest sons. One of the things no one tells you about having children is that even though your heart is big enough to love all of them, your days will not magically expand to include more hours to do so.”
She smiled while she said it which took the sting of her words, even though Cecilia could hear the sadness lying beneath it. The two eldest boys, Miles and Vincent were five and three, and Cecilia had seen especially the youngest cling to his mother when the family was together. She admired how close-knit the marchionesses’ family was and especially the work that she started to glimpse lay behind it. Like Millie, Edwina loved her children for who they were. Cecilia hoped that she could do the same herself and not be too influenced by her own parents.
They spent a couple of hours in the salon and then joined the other women for elevensies.
“Oh, I thought Archie was with you,” Millie said as they entered.
“He left after breakfast,” Cecilia answered with a frown since her mother-in-law had been in the room when Archie had taken his leave.
“He returned about an hour ago. We saw him from the window,” Hester told them and indicated one of the windows facing the drive up to Great Farleigh Hall. The salon faced the garden which was why they had not seen him.
Cecilia’s mind raced to try to come up with an answer. Their relationship was still new; perhaps it had simply not occurred to Archie to seek her out when he came back even though she would have liked him to. And had expected him to do so to be quite honest.
“Perhaps he joined the men on the hunt,” Edwina suggested and lay a hand on Cecilia’s arm. It was clearly a gesture of reassurance more than anything else, and Cecilia offered her a faint smile.
“No, he has not left again,” Hester said and took a bite of her food. Her reply was so unpretentious that it almost made Cecilia smile despite the queasy feeling in her stomach that Archie’s behavior gave her.
***
Archie watched from his chair by the fire as Cecilia’s maid left the room. He was certain that the maid had found it quite scandalous that he had been there when Cecilia had dressed, but since they were back in his old bedroom in the family hallway, there was little to be done about it. Except, of course, he could have left the room like any decent husband would. But he was not decent in that regard.
“Is the estate in trouble?” Cecilia asked and interrupted his musings on propriety. She was tucking on a pair of long white silk gloves and was dressed in a light blue dress with the most generous neckline that he had yet seen her in. For a moment he was distracted by the way the fabric clung to her bosom and tried to imagine it in a deep blue or purple. She would need a completely new wardrobe when they traveled to London. The washed-out colors of an unmarried woman did not bring out her best features.
“Archie?” she prodded. He looked from her breasts to her face and found her smiling slightly, even though he could also hear a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“No, nothing is the matter with the estate,” he answered and walked towards her to drop a kiss on her lips. His hungry body immediately demanded that he deepen the kiss and he was all too willing to oblige and lose himself in Cecilia and her embrace for a moment. But she took half a step back, not out of his arms, but out of reach of his lips for the time being.
“If you are having financial difficulties, I want you to tell me. I don’t want to be one of those wives who do not realize the seriousness of the situation until they are evicted from their homes.” Her gray eyes were serious and for a moment Archie wanted to confess the whole thing.
How he had told Lavinia of the doctor Gregory knew and she had been livid with anger, throwing a bowl after him that he would even suggest what she should and should not do with her body. How he had spent the rest of the day pouring over his father’s books in an attempt to find a suitable tenant. All the while he had been pretending that he merely wanted to see how his father did his accounts since he might be inspired. Which had caused his father, when he returned from the hunt, to give him a half-hour lecture about how to run an estate – “even a small one” as he had said. Archie had gritted his teeth and tried to remember that his father was simply telling him this out of the kindness of his heart and not as a way of annoying him.
He had found two tenant families that might be suitable. Both young families whom he knew from childhood. He had played with John Hook as a boy, while Mary Connor was the first girl that he had ever kissed. He should probably not divulge that detail to Mary’s husband if he wanted Mr. Connor to raise his bastard child, but he and Mary had parted on good terms, and he felt certain that she would be a good mother and keep his secret.
But no, he could not tell Cecilia all this. He did not want anything to shake the delicate balance that they had finally found in their marriage.
“We are not in financial trouble,” he now assured her and cupped her face. He meant to bend forward and kiss her again, but she spoke before he had the chance.
“You know that my father will release my dowry to you shortly. It is quite substantial...” she began, but Archie interrupted her. It was true that Cecilia’s dowry was substantial. He had only had little time to discuss it with Mr. Gaywood before the wedding, but even though Cecilia’s father was “only” the son of a baronet, the family was wealthier than many that held significantly grander titles. It was a stroke of luck that they had been good investors through generations.
“I am not going to spend your dowry on the estate. It is your money and I want it to go to you. I didn’t marry you for your dowry,” he purred as he pulled her close. This time she let him, and they shared a heated kiss, but when he tried to nudge her towards the bed, she broke the kiss off.
“Not tonight,” she told him with a smile and swatted his shoulder lightly. “The dining room is packed with wedding guests.”
“Then no one will miss us,” Archie countered.
Cecilia did not answer but merely wrenched out of his arms and walked towards the door. As she reached the door, however, she turned and extended a hand to him. Archie took it and was awarded with a beaming smile that made his heart flutter. No, he could never do anything to endanger this.
***
They shared a quick breakfast of buttered toast in bed the next morning since there would be a large wedding breakfast later, sharing kisses and touches whenever they could. When they had finished and Archie tried to lay her down on the bed, Cecilia resisted though.
“Not again. We don’t have the time,” she protested, even though her body was already humming with desire.
“I can be quick,” Archie murmured as he was unbuttoning her nightgown. Cecilia had only put it on for the sake of the maid bringing them toast. She had given up all pretenses of sleeping in a nightgown now since Archie would peel it off her first thing as she came to bed anyhow.
“Not that quick,” Cecilia teased him. She gave him a peck on the lips. “Besides I don’t want you to be quick,” she teased as she squirmed out from underneath him and went to the bellpull to ring for her maid before he could object.
Archie sighed but heaved himself out of bed and quickly put on his dressing gown.
“Tonight,” Cecilia promised him with a smile. He nodded and left to get dressed in Gregory’s room since Cecilia could not dress with his valet around. Her lady’s maid arrived only moments after to help her.
“The whole house is upside down this morning, my lady,” she confided with a smile.
Cecilia could vividly imagine. About a hundred guests and as many servants were staying at the estate at the moment. It had to be a very tight squeeze to help so many people dress and bathe at the same time.
After her bath, Cecilia dressed in a pale green gown. If they did go to London after the wedding, she wanted to order new dresses. They had not discussed it after they had reconciled but had been busy with other matters. She wished to experience London with Archie when she knew that he was not simply traveling there to be in the arms of his mistress.
There was a knock at the door. Her lady’s maid opened and received a letter from the young boy standing outside.
“I suppose that everything is done differently today,” she said as she placed the letter on Cecilia’s dressing table. It was addressed to Archie in what was decidedly a feminine handwriting, although appalling clumsy. Cecilia’s stomach squeezed into a knot, and she felt the toast scratch the roof of her mouth. She willed herself to be calm as she stared at the letter and tried to guess its content. There could be any number of reasons for a letter from a woman arriving for Archie. It did not have to signify that he was having an affair. Perhaps it was from one of the other guests. Cecilia had seen how fond he was of especially the youngest of the Winterbottom sisters, the dowager Baroness Granville. Or Rosie as Archie had simply called her.
“She is like the annoying, bossy cousin you never knew you always wanted,” he had said as a way of introduction. The short, brown-haired woman who was a year older than Archie had elbowed him in the ribs.
“I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Archibald,” she said with so much emphasis on Archie’s full name that Cecilia knew that it was a jibe against him. Even though he had not said so, she had learned long ago that Archie did not particularly like his first name.
“Call me Cecilia, since we are sort of family, I suppose,” Cecilia had offered. Archie had put his arm loosely around her waist and squeezed her and Cecilia had felt his gratitude and been certain that they understood each other perfectly.
But now she was not as certain. She had not sensed anything of a carnal nature between Archie and Rosie. It could simply be a brief message between them. Rosie was a young widow, perhaps she wanted to know whether she could ride in Archie and Cecilia’s carriage. If it was indeed from her.
Cecilia surveyed the missive. It was not franked, which meant that it had not been posted. She turned it over. It had been sealed though. Would Rosie have sealed a message merely asking for a ride or anything like a benign favor? It had to be from someone else then.
Cecilia looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her lady’s maid was almost done with her hair that was piled high on her head with curled tendrils around her ears. Her cheeks were slightly red with agitation, and she looked at her throat as she swallowed several times.
She should trust Archie. Whoever had written the message for him was not his mistress. He had told her that he would be faithful to her and that she should trust him.
She looked at how her teeth biting into her lower lips turned the plump flesh around it white.
“Thank you, Miss Wilkins. I will put on my jewelry on my own,” she blurted and reached for the earrings on the dressing table.
“Very well, my lady,” Miss Wilkins said and sounded a little surprised by Cecilia’s outburst.
As soon as Miss Wilkins was out the door, Cecilia gently opened the letter. Her heart hammering in her chest.
“Archie, I need to see you today. Urgent change of plans. I have reserved the private parlor where we usually meet. Lavinia.”
Cecilia’s mouth went dry, and her throat constricted into a tight knot that made it almost impossible for her to swallow. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear the message into a million pieces if it could somehow prevent the words on the page from being true.
But there was no time for any of that. She had to meet Archie and Gregory downstairs in fifteen minutes to head to church. She gripped the dressing table as she gulped down large breaths of air in an attempt to hide all emotion from her face.
When her insides felt like the sea being swatted around by a brisk breeze and not a torrent storm, she rose from the chair and found the tinderbox on her nightstand. She lit the candle and heated the back of the seal over it, waiting for the seal to be just warm enough to stick to the letter again. It was not a bullet-proof method. If one looked more closely it was evident that the letter had been opened before, but she hoped that Archie would not notice. Her brother David and she had practiced it quite often when they were children, and David had gone through a phase where he thought he was going to be a spy.
When she joined Archie and Gregory in one of the downstairs parlors, she handed Archie the note as if it was nothing of import.
“This came for you,” she told him and even managed a smile as she handed Archie the letter. His eyes widened a little and his mouth gave an involuntary twist as if he was not certain whether to smile or speak or perhaps was simply hiding another emotion that would have been even more revealing. It told Cecilia in any event that he knew the handwriting. This Lavinia had said that it was the parlor where they usually met. Since the letter was not franked, Cecilia assumed that it was a private parlor at the local inn.
“Thank you,” Archie told her and tucked the letter into a pocket in his coat. As always, he was impeccably dressed in black jacket and trousers and looked so handsome that it might hurt her eyes.
“Should we leave?” she asked.
“We are waiting for Rosie, Lady Granville,” Gregory said and glanced between them. Cecilia tried desperately to keep her senseless face a blank mask and not have the corners of her mouth fall as she realized that Gregory knew who this woman was. It made her body even more rigid that everyone but her knew that Archie was not being faithful. She could not even be amused that she had been right about Rosie riding with them.
Rosie strode into the salon a moment later in a burgundy gown that enhanced all the best features of her curvaceous body. It made Cecilia instantly jealous, but new dresses would hardly solve any of her problems.
“I can’t wait to see Hester in her wedding dress,” Rosie told them as they sat next to each other in the carriage.
“I hardly think she has given the dress much thought,” Gregory stated amiably from the other side of the carriage where he was seated next to Archie.
“Oh, I’m sure she has not. But I can just imagine the look on her face. She will be like a scowling owl.” Both Archie and Gregory smirked at the comment. “I can’t believe how your mother has persuaded her to have such a large wedding,” Rosie went on.
“I don’t even think Millie had to do any persuasion,” Cecilia told her before she thought about it. The visits that Millie and Hester had paid to the Cottage were clear before her inner eye. “I suspect that Hester would have gone along with practically anything to marry in haste.”
She immediately knew how her words could be viewed and tried to will herself not to blush. But from the curious look on Rosie’s face, she was not sure that she succeeded.
“I mean, because she and Flint are so in love,” Cecilia quickly amended, feeling that she had only made it worse.
There was a moment’s awkward silence. Cecilia refused to look at her husband and dared not look at her new brother-in-law to ascertain whether he had interpreted her words the way she feared. Rosie just beamed at her.
“All the better then,” she said and patted Cecilia’s arm. “If Hester has had no say in the dress whatsoever, we can be certain that she will probably be scowling even more now that she is wearing it.”
Cecilia had no time to respond, as Rosie immediately went on.
“Now Lord Lambourn, what’s he like? You must know him rather well since you were to marry him.”
Cecilia opened her mouth but had no idea how to describe Flint’s character in only a few brief sentences. Nor was she certain what exactly Rosie was hoping to hear.
“Now Rosie, you can’t ask questions like that,” Archie chided. He was seated diagonally from Rosie but leaned forward to swat her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. The movement made his leg brush against Cecilia’s, and she hastily drew her feet back.
“Like what?” Rosie demanded, completely unperturbed by Archie’s scolding.
“Like you have known Cecilia all your life,” Archie said with a good-natured smile as he leaned back again.
Cecilia allowed herself a glance in his direction. He was sitting comfortably against the back of the carriage, eyeing Rosie with a slight smile around his lips. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary with him.
“Well, she is your wife,” was all Rosie countered as if that explained everything. Her eyes narrowed as if she wanted to start a fight.
“I heard Mother and Hester have chosen dahlias and roses for the wedding,” Gregory told them before Archie had a chance to speak.
“Yes, Millie told me that they had picked several kinds of flowers from the hot houses,” Cecilia offered.
“I would never have left the planning of my wedding to my mother,” Rosie said, apparently accepting that the subject needed to be changed although not that it needed to be about flowers.
“Do your tastes differ very greatly from that of Lady Winterbottom?” Cecilia asked. Her own certainly did.
“Well, no, I suppose not. I could just never give over that kind of power to anyone. When I married Bernard, I had planned the whole thing down to every last detail.”
“Yes, we remember. It was excruciating. She could not shut up about organza for an entire month.” Archie confided the last part in Cecilia in a mock whisper. Cecilia looked at him stone-faced for a moment, then remembered that it was a joke and tried to smile. At least she felt fairly certain that the corners of her mouth curled upwards. She caught a glimpse of Archie’s frown before she turned her attention back to Rosie.
“It was a very nice service, Rosie,” Gregory told her gently, leaned forward and patted her gloved hand for a moment. For just a fraction of a second, pain was visible in Rosie’s dark brown eyes, then she batted Gregory’s hand away and straightened in her seat. A blank mask descended on her face almost as clearly as if she had pulled one on.
They arrived at the church not long after and were shown to a pew at the front, the four of them sharing a bench. Cecilia and Archie were sitting in the middle with Rosie on Cecilia’s left side and Gregory on Archie’s right. Rosie was chatting animatedly about how this was the first time that she attended a Montagu wedding in this church. The first time one of the Montagu siblings had been married here had been Archie’s eldest sister Charlotte, but at that time Rosie had been too young to be allowed to participate, which she had been sorely put out over.
It took at least half an hour for the church to fill and for Hester and her father to arrive. Cecilia felt a smile tug at her lips as she saw Hester’s wide eyes. She did in fact look like an owl. Although not scowling, merely one that was a bit confused about what was going on around her. Cecilia turned to look at Rosie to see if the other woman had noticed and perhaps share a knowing smile but found that Rosie was staring fixedly at the front of the church, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Cecilia quickly found her handkerchief in her reticule and handed it to Rosie without a word. As far as Cecilia knew, Rosie had been widowed for four years. By all accounts, it had been a very happy union although much too short. And if Rosie’s reaction to seeing another bride was any indication, she certainly still missed her husband.
Rosie took the handkerchief without saying anything and quickly dabbed her eyes. Cecilia returned her attention to the front of the church again, where Hester and her father had reached Flint. The love and devotion shone through both of their eyes. They would have a happy marriage, Cecilia thought as she sat down again, and the vicar began speaking.
As to what would happen to her own marriage, Cecilia could only guess. It might be that after this day she and Archie would come to live apart. She certainly could not give herself to him while he had other women as well. She shuddered at the thought. Her movement made Archie turn and give her a questioning look.
“Is something the matter?” he whispered.
Cecilia could not bring herself to meet his gaze. But just shook her head and folded her hands in her lap. Archie reached out and took one, which was so surprising that she just let him.
“Everything that has happened between us has happened so quickly. It would only be natural if it is strange for you, seeing Flint marrying someone else,” he murmured close to her ear. His breath was hot on her neck and sent shivers down her spine. How was it possible that she wanted him yet hated him all at the same time?
“It’s not that,” she muttered, which was clearly a mistake because Archie’s natural follow-up of course was:
“Then what is the matter?”
“I’m just cold,” Cecilia whispered in a rushed voice. It was not a complete lie. She had underestimated how long they would be sitting in the small, drafty stone church and her feet were starting to feel cold.
“I would warm you if I could,” Archie purred close to her ear, and his words made Cecilia heat all over. She swatted his arm and looked pointedly ahead as she tried to concentrate on the vicar’s words and Hester and Flint’s vows.