CHAPTER 17

Spencer didn’t know what he expected her to say or do, but he certainly hadn’t factored in the possibility that she would stare at him with owl-rounded eyes and a general air of disbelief. “No, I’m sorry, but you do not get to just say that. You don’t. You’ve, you’ve”—she waved a hand around and over him as she talked—“taken too many hits to your head. You don’t know what you’re saying. Spencer, you have a responsibility to your duchy, to six hundred years of Whitfields—”

“Darling, shut up.” He’d said it with the utmost affection and respect for her. “I just said I love you, woman, and the baby is mine. I am the present duke, so what I say goes in this generation. I daresay this baby won’t be the first questionable Whitfield to inherit, but that is neither here nor there. I have said it doesn’t matter, and that is what matters.”

“Do you have a headache, Spencer?” She pressed her palm to his forehead. “You could be feverish—”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head to dislodge her hand. “I am fine. Of sound mind and body, discounting the attached canine, of course. Victoria, did you not hear what I said? I said I love you and—”

“You are a pompous ass, do you know that?” Her voice, too, was tinged with affection and respect.

“I do. But under these insanely ridiculous circumstances, I think I am entitled, madam. After all, I have just determined the course of my duchy, the rest of my life and yours, hopefully, all while wrapped like a sausage with a panting dog who has been eating, I do believe, and if you will excuse me, excrement.”

Victoria sniffed, and her voice sounded emotional. “Do you know something, Spencer?” She leaned over him, angling away from the dog, and tenderly kissed his mouth, very lightly. “I love you, too. I do. And I will probably never love you more than I do at this moment. What you just said was an amazing thing. Simply amazing.”

Now Spencer didn’t trust himself to speak. Not lost on him, either, was the irony that it had taken being hit over the head three times, attacked by a foul-breathed dog, and tied up like a mummy to hold him in place long enough to make him admit what his heart had known all along … he loved his wife. He shuddered to think what could have happened to him in the next few days had he not admitted it now. He might have been lynched or beheaded, the way it was going.

But still, the realization was too new … too raw, somehow. He needed more time with it, time to grow into his understanding of what he’d just said. And so, he resorted to a more immediate concern. “I take it you were the intruder in the room, Victoria. Did I hurt you? I tossed you around quite a bit.”

“I’m not hurt. But you did scare me.”

“I am certain I did. Why did you come in here?”

She looked everywhere but at him. “Well, it hardly seems important now, given what you’ve just said, and what I’ve said, but I told myself I wanted to apologize to you.”

“Apologize? For what?”

She worried her fingers and stared at them. “It’s not important. And it wasn’t really my true reason for coming in here, anyway.”

Spencer arched an eyebrow. “I see. Then what was?”

The moonshine backlit her mahogany hair, giving her a halo of vulnerability. “I wanted to sleep with you.”

Though Spencer’s heart gave a happy leap at her unexpected words, he could only stare at her, which was just as well given that he remained trussed up with the dog. “You wanted to sleep with me?”

“Yes. Just sleep.” Her words tumbled out of her as though she feared her courage would fail her. “I know you have a headache, so I wasn’t going to ask for more—”

“Victoria—”

“No, let me finish. I … I miss your body next to mine. You used to sleep with me sometimes in England after we”—her voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper—“made love. I liked that. The sleeping together. And the … other, of course. But I didn’t want you to be angry with me because of what Edward said about your loving me. I didn’t expect it. I certainly had no right to—”

“Victoria.” Spencer’s heart swelled with love for her. She’d missed him. She’d wanted his nearness. She’d come in here simply to be with him. So moved was Spencer that at first he could say nothing more than what he already had. Then, he gathered his courage. Why was saying he loved his wife the hardest thing of all for him to say? Why was admitting he needed her so difficult? And yet, it was. He didn’t trust easily and this love was the most awful and intense sort of trust to extend to another person. But even knowing that, he still wanted to do exactly that.

And so, he said: “When this debacle between Neville and me is over, I would like very much to sleep with you, too, for the remainder of the night. And every night thereafter. Forever. That is, if I do not die first from this dog’s breath. Good Lord.”

Victoria’s solution was to pet the animal. “Poor Neville. He didn’t mean any real harm.”

“Oh, poor Neville meant great harm, Victoria. But I don’t blame him. If I believed someone meant you harm, I would react in exactly the same way he did. Although I would hope I would do so with better breath. And armed with more than my teeth.”

In the next second, he realized the room had quieted and was suddenly lighter. Apparently, the accursed kerosene lamp had finally been lit by someone. He exchanged a look with Victoria and Neville, and then looked toward the foot of the bed with a degree of confidence for whom he would see. And he was right. There, clumped at the bed’s foot and apparently stunned into further inaction by the sight that greeted them were Edward, the elder Redmonds, Jefferson Redmond, Hornsby, and Mr. Milton. All in their nightclothes; Mr. Redmond armed with a shotgun; Hornsby with a chamber pot.

“Great Scott!” Mr. Redmond cried. “What the devil happened here?”

“Never mind that,” Mrs. Redmond fussed, rushing to her daughter’s side. “Pardon me, Your Grace.” She held up her trailing nightclothes as she stepped over him, cocooned there on the floor with the dog, to get to her daughter.

“Of course. Please. Don’t mind me.”

“Thank you.” Leaning over Victoria, Mrs. Redmond put an arm around Victoria’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, are you all right? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to have a baby, sweetheart?”

Victoria froze. She sat close enough to Spencer that he could feel her tension. He quickly answered for her. “Because she only found out this evening earlier when Dr. Hollis examined her.”

Mrs. Redmond and Victoria turned to him, both vying to be the first to say, “She did?” “I did?” Then, Victoria apparently caught on and turned her face up to her mother’s. “Yes, I did. I didn’t know until then. And Dr. Hollis said I was to rest, and then we didn’t see you the remainder of the evening.”

“But you did. I came back up with him, following supper.”

Victoria stared blankly at her mother and nudged Spencer, who chanted: “We were going to tell you at breakfast today. We asked Dr. Hollis not to tell you. We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, a surprise to announce at the barbecue, too. How nice,” Mrs. Redmond said, sounding mollified. “But how did Edward know? He just said you didn’t want it known.”

Everyone turned to Edward, whose gaze darted from one to the other of the crowd. “Because I came up to their sitting room last evening the moment I arrived here from Savannah, remember?”

Mrs. Redmond considered Edward and, apparently, his explanation. She turned to her daughter. “You told him first and not me?”

“Oh, Mama, please—”

“I told my cousin, Mrs. Redmond,” Spencer cut in, “quite separately from Victoria. She didn’t know, until now, that Edward knew.”

That apparently satisfied his mother-in-law because, looking very pleased, Mrs. Redmond straightened up and turned to her husband. “Did you hear that, Isaac? We are going to be grandparents. Come hug your daughter and tell her how much you love her.”

“First, Mr. Redmond, if you would, please,” Spencer quickly called out, “put that gun down.” He had no wish to be blasted to kingdom come. And with him thus bound, it could hardly be sport for Mr. Redmond, at any rate.

Mr. Redmond dutifully handed the shotgun off to his son and came forward, speaking to his wife. “My love, don’t you think we should first see to disentangling our son-in-law from Neville? I can’t think either of them is enjoying their present arrangement.” The tall, elegant, and gray-haired man, a titan of industry, stopped next to Spencer and Neville and stood there, frowning down at them as he scratched his head, which resulted in his hair standing up in gray spikes. “We might have to cut y’all apart.”

Alarm screamed through Spencer. “Cut us apart … how?”

“What? Oh. I, of course, mean the netting … cut it apart. Not you and Neville. We’ll cut the netting away from you since I don’t think either of you would benefit from us rolling you over and over to unwind you. But, I swear, I never in all my life saw the likes of this pickle.”

“I assure you, Mr. Redmond,” Spencer said from the floor, “I have never in all my life been in the likes of such a pickle.”

And he meant everything that had happened to him since he’d married the man’s daughter.

*   *   *

Several hours later, on what turned out to be a pleasantly cool and sunny morning, Spencer stood slightly behind his cousin at the end of the rickety dock behind River’s End. Bathed, dressed, and breakfasted, they had been excused from the house because it was being taken apart, or so it seemed, from top to bottom as Mrs. Redmond supervised the maids’ cleaning and the cooks’ cooking for this afternoon’s infamous barbecue. The two Redmond men were on the far side of the large plantation home overseeing the roasting of the meat. And Victoria remained in bed, attended by Rosanna, and suffering from her morning sickness and resting up for the afternoon’s festivities.

On the walk out here, with Neville benignly padding along beside them, Edward had, like a little boy, collected a tidy pile of smooth stones, which now resided in a stony pyramid on the dock. Employed in skipping them, one at a time, across the swamp’s placid surface, he flung one and watched it skip only once before sinking. “Damn. I say, we were practically pushed outside just now, weren’t we? Rather rude.”

Spencer tucked his thumbs in his dark trousers’ waistband. “I didn’t know you had a wish to remain inside and help Mrs. Redmond supervise the cleaning and the cooking.”

Hands clamped to his slim waist, and attired in a shirt, vest, and long trousers, Edward pivoted around to show Spencer his devilish smile. “She is a lovely creature, isn’t she?”

“I will personally take you apart if you make one overture to the woman.”

Fighting a smirk, Edward shrugged. “You made the same threat to me last night when I told Victoria that you love her. And nothing has happened to me as yet.”

“‘As yet,’ Edward, are the words you should concentrate on.”

He grinned outright. “You do, though, don’t you? Love Victoria, I mean.”

“That is between my wife and me.”

“You do,” he chirped with supreme confidence. “And now everyone knows about the baby. That changes things, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would not. But perhaps, Edward, with you apparently having nothing more to occupy you than sticking your nose in my business, you should offer your services to the men working on the other side of the house.”

Edward wrinkled his nose. “Hardly. Mr. Redmond and Jefferson and their men are placing on spits those bloody carcasses for the barbecue. Do you really see me participating?”

“No. But it is a much safer pursuit than lusting after Mrs. Redmond or worrying my life. And a much more grown-up pursuit than skipping stones across the water.”

“This from a man employed in merely watching me do so. You, sir, poke fun at my bit of sport because I am better at it than you are. We both know the truth of that.”

“You break your mother’s heart with your terrible penchant for lying, Edward.”

“I do not. But speaking of grown-up pursuits, Spence, old man, you looked quite cozy earlier this morning lying there on the floor with that dog on top of you. Though I wasn’t surprised. I’ve known you, in your younger, more randy days, to wake up with far worse in your bedroom.”

“Shut up, Edward.” Still infused with a satisfaction deep inside born of having held his wife’s sweet, warm body next to his for the remainder of the night, no matter what his lingering doubts might be, Spencer refused to be baited.

And yet, Edward insisted on trying. “Are you aware that is all you ever say to me? ‘Shut up, Edward.’”

Spencer shrugged. “And are you aware that you never do?”

With a grunting chuckle, Edward bent over to retrieve another stone from the pile he’d laid on the dock’s wood-planked deck. Neville sat hard up against the stash. “Pardon me, Neville, if you don’t mind, old boy.”

Ignoring Edward, the bloodhound sat with his attention focused on the leading edge of the swamp, no more than twenty yards away from the dock’s end and across a green and glassy brackish stand of water.

Spencer turned his attention there, too, with a natural sense of unease for being so close to a foreign and inhospitable environment. The swamp, from here, appeared benign enough, but Spencer was not taken in. Despite being fascinating for its overgrowth of tropical trees and plants, this place held danger locked within its confines as surely as he was standing there on the dock. No doubt, and farther back in that wild jungle of plants and water, it teemed with large and hungry reptiles lying in wait for the unwary. Feeling no compunction to explore, Spencer quickly assured himself he was absolutely content to remain right here.

He watched Edward bounce another stone across the water. “Good show, Edward. Four bounces. Your best yet. Yet I half fear you’ll hit a bad-tempered resident of the swamp’s waters which could, in one bite, swallow us and this dock whole.”

Edward spared Spencer a glance and grinned. “Surely your friend Neville would warn us if he sensed a predator in the immediate area.”

Spencer noted the dog’s perked ears and sustained concentration on the swamp. No doubt, he ate things that came out of there, and that accounted for his breath. “Yes, he’s been following me everywhere since his attack earlier today. Either he feels a need to make it up to me, or he still believes he should keep a wary eye on me. Either way, he’s a rather disconcerting presence.”

“I think he believes you’ll steal the silver.”

“And do what with it, exactly?”

“Damn!” Edward’s next stone had sunk on its first plunk. He turned to Spencer. “My arm is getting tired.”

“My assessment, as well.”

Abandoning that activity, Edward moved on to the next. Bent over at the waist, his knees bent and his hands braced against his knees, he peered over the dock’s edge. “What say you, Spence, old man? Should we take this fancy little boat out for a spin over these pristine waters?”

“Not on your life—or without significant weaponry. But what boat?”

“Come here. This one.” He motioned for Spencer to join him. “Most interesting design. Like some sort of rowboat, only not.”

Spencer joined his cousin. So did Neville, now curiously looking over the edge of the dock with them. Adopting Edward’s pose, Spencer saw, tied to the dock, a hideously unseaworthy little craft that didn’t look as if it could hold Victoria’s slight weight, much less his and Edward’s, without sinking. “How does one direct the thing? Wait.” He pointed to a long pole stuck in the boat, its other end extending out of the craft. “Perhaps it’s poled as are the gondolas in Venice.”

“Oh, I see. Yes. But it certainly doesn’t resemble a gondola, does it?”

“No. And this swamp, for all its water, doesn’t resemble Venice, either.”

Edward was quiet a moment, then … “Do you think you could live here, Spencer? I mean in America. Georgia. Savannah.”

As surprised as he was amused at Edward’s quietly stated question, Spencer replied: “Would you care to narrow that down to a specific street and house?”

Still bent over, as was Spencer, Edward arrowed a glance his cousin’s way. “Shut up, Spencer. And I’m being serious. I mean it. Could you live here?”

Spencer straightened up, and Edward followed suit. “I assume you have a reason for asking?”

To Spencer’s further surprise, Edward turned increasingly red, even to the tops of his ears. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh. Aha. I see. Now, what was the young lady’s name you paid the call on yesterday? I forgot to ask how your visit was received.”

“Very well, thank you. Miss Lucinda Barrett and her mother were duly charmed.”

“I see. To the point of you wishing to stay in America?” Spencer turned serious. “Edward, you fall in and out of love so easily—”

“No, this is different.” Edward forged ahead, positively animated. “I promise you it is. Miss Barrett is the epitome of femininity. She is sweet and charming and blond and her eyes are blue and she is witty and educated and so very warm and her family was very welcoming—”

“You’re a titled earl, Edward. Of course they were welcoming.” Spencer hated like hell to sound the voice of elder reasonableness, but with Edward, one must.

Not that he appreciated it. “You think a title is all I have to offer a woman? You think it’s the only reason she would encourage me?”

“Hardly, Edward. You know me better than that. I am simply advising caution—”

“Because of the way your marriage worked out? Is that what you’re saying—”

Cutting off Edward’s harsh, intemperate words was Spencer, who had hauled him up to his face. “Don’t you ever speak of my marriage in that manner. The circumstances are not the same and I will not—”

Cutting Spencer off was Neville, who growled and barked and yipped … and growled again and whined. Spencer quickly released the ruffled Edward and pivoted around, expecting to see the dog menacing them. But instead, the dog faced the swamp. He was on his feet. His long body fairly quivered with excitement, as though he were preparing to jump off the dock, right into the water. Exchanging a quick glance with Edward, Spencer followed the dog’s line of sight out to the swamp … and gasped in surprise.

Right at the swamp’s edge, and standing quietly in a boat larger but of the same make as the one tied to the dock, was a young and muscled black man dressed in tattered clothes and a sweat-banded slouch hat that had seen better days. With his powerful legs spread to maintain his balance, he evinced an air of pride and wariness. In his hand, held like a staff, was a long pole, which he obviously used to propel his craft. He neither spoke nor raised a hand in greeting … he merely stared.

Their own near-altercation abandoned in light of this turn of events, Edward grabbed Spencer’s arm in a viselike grip and whispered: “Good Lord, how long do you suppose he’s been there? And where the devil did he come from?”

Though not whispering, Spencer kept his voice down and his attention on the man. “The interior of the swamp, obviously. I think he’s been there a while, too. Perhaps just out of our sight. His appearance certainly explains Neville’s fixed attention on the swamp. I had thought he smelled some sort of prey.”

“What do you think he wants? The fellow in the boat, I mean.”

Spencer looked into Edward’s fear-rounded eyes. “I assure you I have no idea.”

“Well, what do we do now?”

“I suggest we greet him and ask him what he wants.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Spencer?”

“And why, Edward, would it not be?”

“I’m not certain. Just a natural caution. Perhaps it’s the suddenness of his appearance and his continued silence. Seems … ominous, not quite above board.”

“I hardly think we need fear him. After all, there are two of us to his one. But should we become faint-hearted and turn tail and run, I believe we could make it to the house before he seized us.”

“Now you’re making sport of me.”

“Yes, I am. The fellow has allowed us to see him, after all, and it is daylight. And he doesn’t appear to be armed. Therefore, and again, I suggest we speak to him and see what he wants.”

Edward urged Spencer ahead of him. “A grand idea. Go ahead.”

“Do not shove me, Edward. The last thing I need to do is fall in this awful water.” Thus ruffled and irritated, Spencer straightened his vest and hitched his pants. Seeing that Neville had sat down on his haunches and wagged his tail in a friendly manner as he stared fixedly at the young man, Spencer felt more confident as he raised a hand in greeting and called out, across the water: “Hallo, out in the boat. Is there something you need?”

“You that British duke what married Miss Victoria, ain’t you?” The man’s voice was higher pitched than Spencer would have expected for a man his size. He sounded younger than he looked, too.

Surprised to be so quickly identified, Spencer turned to Edward, who looked as stymied as he felt and who merely shrugged. Spencer faced the man again. “Yes, I am. How did you know that?”

“Miss Cicely done tole me. She knows everything.”

“Well, I don’t know Miss Cicely, but she was right about that. I am John Spencer Whitfield, the Tenth Duke of Moreland, the Right Honorable the Earl of Shandsbury, Marquis of— Oof!”

Edward had elbowed him. He now smiled brightly, intensely. “I don’t think he cares for a recitation of your many titles, impressive though they are, Spence, old man. It could take hours.”

Spence, old man, glared at his cousin before returning his attention to the black man in the boat, who called across the water: “Miss Cicely sent me to fetch you and Miss Victoria. You got to come right now with me to see her. Got somethin’ y’all needs to see.”

“Good Lord,” Edward hissed, “the presumption of the man.”

Spencer said nothing for a moment as he assessed the situation, looking from the young man to the swamp behind him and back to the man. “And this Miss Cicely, where does she live?”

The black man pointed behind himself … into the swamp.

“Spencer,” Edward whispered, “I don’t like the sound of this at all. It could be a trap.”

“It could be worse than a trap, Edward,” Spencer whispered back, though he never looked away from the figure standing in the small boat. “It could be the height of ridiculousness even to consider going with him, which I am not going to do and which Victoria certainly is not going to do.” His every sense on alert now, and feeling a prickle of danger run down his spine, Spencer called out to the boat: “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are and—”

“My name Jubal. Miss Victoria know me. She’ll tell you.”

“I’m sure she will. However … Jubal, Miss Victoria cannot be disturbed this morning. I thank you for your invitation to go with you and see Miss Cicely, but as there is a barbecue planned for today and my wife is expecting a baby—”

“I knew that, too.”

This stopped Spencer. Until early this morning, no one but he and Victoria and Edward had known she was with child. So how did this man know? Then Spencer caught himself. Of course he hadn’t known. He’d merely seconded what Spencer had already said, just as he hadn’t known, until Spencer told him, that he, and not Edward, was the duke who’d married Victoria. Comforted by the forthrightness of logic, Spencer good-naturedly replied: “You knew? I see. Miss Cicely again, I take it? She told you?”

“Yes, suh. She know everything.”

“As you’ve said. However, knowing of my wife’s fragile condition as you do, you can understand how she—we—cannot go with you. I hardly think it would do her any good to subject herself to the dangers of a swamp.”

“Hunh. She come out here all the time to see Miss Cicely. Now, you got to go git Miss Victoria. She’ll know she got to come, if’n I say she do.”

“Absolutely extraordinary, Spencer. Victoria out in that swamp? I don’t believe it.”

“I do.”

“You do?” Apparent surprise stood Edward sharply at attention.

“Yes.” Though he shriveled inside with fear to think of his wife traversing the waters of the swamp, Spencer believed Jubal when he said Victoria knew him and that she would heed Jubal’s invitation, as it were, to go with him now. Spencer also hated like hell where this path led. Because Edward still stared at him, Spencer added: “It makes sense when one thinks about it, Edward. Victoria lived right here on the edge of this water all her life until a few months ago. And there is the boat tied to the dock.”

“None of that means Victoria makes use of the boat.”

“True. But factor in Victoria’s stubborn will—and her penchant for crossing bodies of water despite the dangers to herself and being told not to do so.”

“Ah. Good points, all. But the mere thought of her out there, Spencer.”

“I know.” Spencer also knew what he had to do now, so he called out to Jubal: “I’ll tell Victoria you’re here—”

“Hello!” Edward grabbed his arm. “You can’t be serious, Spencer! Only a moment ago you said it would be the height of ridiculousness—”

“I know what I said, but I’ve changed my opinion.” He’d spoken quietly to Edward, but again Spencer raised his voice enough to stretch his words across the water. “I will tell Victoria you are here, but first you have to tell me why Miss Cicely sent you.”

The young black man’s changed posture radiated surprise. Spencer pressed his point. “I have every right to ask, Jubal. If you don’t tell me, I won’t tell Victoria you’re here.” He then played a hunch. “And that would leave you no choice except to come out of the swamp and up to River’s End to ask for her yourself.”

Jubal’s eyes widened in an evident panic. “I cain’t do that, suh. You got to tell her for me. I cain’t come outta the swamp.”

“Are you saying you live out there, man?” Edward all but shouted.

Jubal’s expression closed as his chest expanded with apparent offense. “Ain’t to my likin’. I got no choice. Lot of us ain’t got no choice.” He focused again on Spencer, this time issuing orders. “You go git Miss Victoria and tell her what I said. Tell her it’s about my sister.”

Spencer’s breath left him in a rush. His gaze locked with Edward’s. Dread claimed Spencer, slowing his pulse to a thumping beat he could actually feel. “Jubal, what’s your sister’s name?”

“Jenny. My sister named Jenny.”

“Heaven help us,” Edward said under his breath.

“This be ’bout her and her baby, Sofie. You and Miss Victoria got to come. Won’t take but a little time, neither. You be back long before that barbecue starts.”

And suddenly, Spencer knew he had to go. So did Victoria. “All right. Wait here for us.”

His brown eyes rimmed with white, Edward grabbed Spencer’s arm. “Are you mad? You can’t go out there. Neither can Victoria.” He lowered his voice and hissed fearfully: “This could be a trap.”

“I’m aware of that. But Victoria will know this man, or she won’t. That’s why I asked him to wait. If she doesn’t recognize him—”

“Is of no import, Spencer. He could be in on the scheme, or whatever it is, that involves Sofie, and even Victoria might not know it. Once you go traipsing off with him, you’ll have no one to help you.”

“I do not traipse, Edward. Nor do I intend to go unarmed.”

“Oh, I see, one gun against how many men? We don’t know how many, do we?”

“Or it could be exactly as this man Jubal has said. Him and his mother. I hardly think we’ll be overrun with the enemy.”

“Spencer, I hate to say this, but this Jubal fellow said there are a lot of … them living out there. I mean his kind. Now, while he might be an upstanding citizen, what we don’t know is how all of … his fellows feel. And if they’re living in that swamp, there’s got to be a reason.”

Spencer made certain his level gaze met his cousin’s. “Perhaps the reason they are has nothing to do with them, Edward. Perhaps it has more to do with people like us. White people. That swamp may be the only place Jubal and his fellows feel safe.”

Edward let go of Spencer’s arm. “Certainly a wretched existence for them, no doubt. I’m sorry. I … just worry. And I would feel the same way if that swamp were inhabited by white people, or orange people, because we don’t know who the enemy is.”

“I thank you for your worry, but I don’t feel it’s warranted as I’ve reasoned this out. Remember, Jubal said Victoria goes out there all the time. She must feel safe with him, with them. And she must know this swamp. That gives us two edges, so I will defer to her on this matter. It’s the best I can do.”

“No, the best you can do is not go. But, since you’re determined, Neville and I are going with you. I can add a gun to your arsenal, and Neville has all those teeth and a short temper.”

“I thank you for your offer, but neither of you is going,” Spencer assured him. “Four people—or, rather, three and a dog—are more likely to be missed than two would be. At any rate, I need you here to cover for us until we get back.”

Edward raised his eyebrows. “And exactly where do I tell people you two are?”

“Oh, come now, Edward. You are a most inventive fellow. You’ll think of something. It shouldn’t be hard, given how chaotic the household is today. Cite our need for privacy as loving newlyweds. Say we went for a walk together. Or a carriage ride. That should do it. And then keep everyone from talking to each other.”

“A carriage ride? And should someone question one of the grooms and he knows nothing of having brought around a carriage for you, a carriage still clearly visible in the inventory? What should I tell them then?”

“Obviously, Edward,” Spencer said through gritted teeth, “the carriage ride was a bad suggestion. I will instead rely on your penchant toward … inventiveness to adequately confuse and keep off our trail anyone who should ask. I trust you can do so brilliantly since I expect to be hard pressed to come up with answers to the questions I’m likely to get regarding the tales you told to the lady callers in Savannah. I refer to my alleged infirmities. A tropical fever that left me covered in red spots, Edward?”

He suddenly looked ill. “You know about those stories, then?”

“Obviously I do or I would not bring—”

“Hey, over there!” Along with Edward, Spencer pivoted to face Jubal, who glanced around nervously. “You got to go git Miss Victoria and come with me now in that there jonboat.” He, of course, pointed to the flimsy piece of carved wood riding queasily atop the brackish water and tied to the dock.

Spencer’s heart sank. He’d thought he and Victoria would go with Jubal in his larger, sturdier craft. “How are we supposed to do that, Jubal? Perhaps that … pretentious hollowed-out log would hold my wife’s weight but not our combined weight. It will sink.”

“It ain’t sunk yet. I ride in it with Miss Victoria all the time. Tell her I’ll wait just outta sight where cain’t no one see me. Hurry, now. We ain’t got much time.”