MORE THAN A month after her return, Cerynise came down to breakfast much later than usual, wearing a painting smock and looking for all the world as if she had finally found the heart to return to her work. Uncle Sterling had already settled in the dining room, where bay windows overlooked the garden. He had been addressing his morning meal with enthusiasm, but at her entrance, he rose in gentlemanly manner.
“I was wondering where you were, my dear,” he greeted jovially. “Please forgive me for starting without you. I have an early appointment this morning that I mustn’t be late for.”
Cerynise spared a quick glance at the shirred eggs, hominy cakes, sausage, and applesauce available on the sideboard and swallowed with difficulty. The housemaid waddled in with a warmed plate which she set before the girl, but Cerynise shook her head. “Thank you, Cora, but I think I’ll just have tea this morning.”
The older woman poured a cup and served it with an ample piece of her mind. “Miss Cerynise, you ought to eat more than you do. You don’t eat enough to keep a cricket alive.”
Cerynise started to lift the cup, but her stomach chose that moment to do a slow, dizzying flip-flop, making her feel just as she had aboard the Audacious in the earlier days of the voyage. She set the cup down hastily and quickly averted her gaze.
“Is something wrong?” Uncle Sterling asked, glancing up to find her eyes closed and her face pale.
“No.” Cerynise looked up to find him in the process of spreading thick orange marmalade on a warm corn muffin. Cautiously dragging her gaze from him, she watched her tea do an odd little back-and-forth motion in her cup. With trembling hands she reached out to steady the cup, but immediately discovered that it wasn’t moving. It was only her stomach turning. Her hands began to shake noticeably, and she yanked them back quickly, clenching them together in her lap.
“Something is wrong,” Uncle Sterling stated with conviction, dropping his muffin. He pushed his chair back and came around to her side of the table. “You’re as pale as a ship’s canvas this morning, my dear. What plagues you? Are you feverish?” He pressed his knuckles to her brow to judge for himself.
“No, I’m fine,” Cerynise muttered in a weak, unconvincing tone. She felt perfectly well…aside from her inability to keep food on her stomach…and the strange lassitude that had continued on unswervingly since her first bout on the Audacious. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Well, no wonder,” Uncle Sterling replied, resuming his seat. “The way you’ve been moping around here lately, you’ve undoubtedly become bored after the excitement of the voyage. A young girl like you should be out meeting new friends and going to balls and such. Perhaps a stroll would improve your frame of mind. ’Tis a lovely day, and my appointment shouldn’t occupy me above an hour. When I return, I shall expect to have the pleasure of your company for a walk.”
“If you insist,” Cerynise acquiesced listlessly, finding no enthusiasm for such a task. In spite of her careful explanations to Beau about her need to set up a studio and get back to her painting, she had progressed very little toward that end. Even when Uncle Sterling had suggested that they should get together with old family friends, she had politely put him off, not wishing to go anywhere or see anyone.
“Perhaps we could stroll along Broad Street and do a little shopping,” he suggested. Women always enjoyed such things, and he was in a rare mood to be out and about with his niece on his arm. “I understand there are some excellent modistes there.”
Cerynise didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All she needed was to be fitted and measured by a seamstress. That would definitely raise havoc. But her dear, sweet scholarly uncle was so concerned about her that he imagined a new gown would be effective in bringing her out of her doldrums. She knew he couldn’t have recited more than one or two facts about feminine fashions, but he was offering to spend his own money and time escorting her to dressmakers with the hope that it would somehow make her feel better.
Cerynise smiled at him gently. “I’d love to go with you, Uncle Sterling, but perhaps we could visit some bookstores instead. I’m just not feeling in a mood to shop for material or fret over fashions right now.”
Her uncle’s relief was obvious enough to make her laugh in appreciation for the sacrifice he had been willing to make on her behalf. Soon he left for his appointment, but only after wringing a promise from her that she’d eat something. Barely had she sampled the smallest portion of a hominy cake than her stomach rebelled. She just managed to get to her room in time, but afterwards, she felt so weak she had to lie down. Finally her nausea faded, and she began to move about in a halfhearted quest to get ready.
When Uncle Sterling arrived a little more than an hour later, Cerynise was waiting for him in the entrance hall. She had garbed herself in a pale blue woolen gown trimmed with brown velvet cording and a wide band collar of the same hue. It was the only one among her day dresses loose enough to allow her to forgo wearing a corset. Since there was only a slight nip in the air, she had shunned the idea of wearing a cloak and, instead, had draped a large, enveloping cashmere shawl of pale blue and brown paisley around her shoulders. Over her neatly coiled coiffure, she had tied a pert blue bonnet handsomely arrayed with pheasant feathers. Although the converse was true, her smile suggested that she hadn’t a care in the world.
“You’re ready!” Uncle Sterling exclaimed, pleased that she was looking so winsome. Gallantly he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
The day fairly sparkled beneath a clear sky, while the air was imbued with just enough scent of the approaching spring to tantalize the senses. Everywhere Cerynise looked, she espied finely garbed men and women making their way in and out of shops. They were certainly eloquent testimony to the prosperity of Charleston. Some, she guessed, were from nearby plantations, others perhaps from the area near the mills nestled on the Ashley River or from places much farther afield. Her ears caught enunciations with a northern twang amid the leisured drawls of the Carolina inhabitants. There was also evidence of Europeans aplenty everywhere they went. After living in a city as immense as London, Cerynise could hardly think of Charleston as a great metropolis, yet it had a charm all of its own. Most of its citizens seemed to combine a love of adventure with shrewd business sense and genuine southern hospitality, which certainly made shopping an affable experience. Cerynise found herself involved in more than a few delightful little chitchats with store owners and clerks. Their discussions ranged anywhere from passing comments on their balmy March weather to lighthearted observations on the various plays presently being performed at the local theaters. After catching herself laughing in response to some witty remark, it dawned on her that merely being out and about had helped considerably to lift her spirits.
Or at least it had until she rounded a corner with her uncle in time to see an elegant carriage roll to a halt in front of a shop belonging to one of Charleston’s most renowned couturiers, one Madame Feroux. A tall, broad-shouldered man alighted and held out a hand to assist his female companion in her descent. The young lady was of such doll-like beauty Cerynise might have stared in admiration had she not recognized her own husband serving as the woman’s escort. From then on, she was helplessly caught in the throes of acute despondency with a fair amount of jealousy blended in.
Beau’s teeth flashed whitely in sharp contrast to his darkly burnished skin as he threw back his head and laughed at whatever the ravishing creature had said. He was exceptionally well garbed and looked every bit the Carolina aristocrat that he was. Indeed, no London dandy could have matched his debonair appearance. His fine, charcoal gray swallowtail coat was set off to perfection by thinly striped gray trousers and a shawl-collared vest made in a wider, complementary striped silk. A rich, waffled-silk cravat of pearl-gray was a stunning addition to his elegant garb. The fact that it was neatly in place beneath the stiff collar of his white shirt led Cerynise to wonder morosely if his little friend had had anything to do with its natty appearance. His dark gray top hat was angled jauntily upon his dark head, and if anything, his dashing good looks were even more striking than before. The petite brunette evidently thought so too, for she swayed against him, brushing her small bosom against his arm as she smiled up at him enchantingly and lightly touched a hand to his broad chest.
“Really, Beau,” she warbled, “where are your manners? Surely, it isn’t too much for me to expect that you—” She broke off abruptly when she realized she no longer had his attention. In sudden confusion, she followed his gaze to the source of his distraction, and for the briefest of moments her dark eyes chilled in arrogant displeasure as she appraised the tawny-haired beauty at whom he stared.
Beau stepped aside, deftly detaching himself from the brunette, which by no means was an easy task since she had actually taken hold of his lapel. Smiling, he tipped his hat gallantly to his wife. “A pleasure to see you again, Cerynise.”
Beau doubted that he had ever uttered a more truthful greeting in all of his life. He hadn’t seen her since the day he had stalked out of her uncle’s house, but it couldn’t be said that he hadn’t thought of her, for he definitely had. Constantly, in fact. The time during which they had been apart had been an agony of memories running over and over in his mind. When he had helped Sterling Kendall load her belongings in a carriage, every instinct within him had goaded him to ask news of her, but his stubborn pride hadn’t allowed him to do so. She had seemed so adamant about getting the annulment that he had hoped to assuage his anger by totally ignoring her, even to the point of refusing to visit his lawyer, which would have awakened his ire all over again. What he had deemed as suitable punishment for her had resulted in a living hell for himself. Thus, it came as no surprise to him to realize just how much her appearance delighted him. Indeed, his eyes feasted on her with ravenous hunger, and it was almost a full moment before he remembered that she, too, had an escort.
“Professor Kendall, how nice it is to see you again.”
“And you,” Sterling responded, cheerfully unaware of the emotional currents running between his niece and the captain. Not so the pocket Venus. When a man perused another woman in her presence the way Beau Birmingham was doing at this precise moment, her hackles were inclined to rise like those of an enraged feline. She had never been confronted with a situation in which she had to share a man’s attention with another female, for she was quite popular and had many admirers, to the extent that she could pick and choose her escorts. The fact that Beau Birmingham, the most reticent toward her, was probably the richest and, to be sure, the most handsome among Charleston’s male populace only solidified her objective of wooing him into matrimony. This tawny-haired Aphrodite whom he zealously perused was unmistakably a rival she’d definitely have to dispense with in one fashion or another.
The brunette tugged on Beau’s sleeve in an effort to break his unwavering stare. He seemed startled as he glanced around, and for barely a moment he looked at her as if he hadn’t the slightest idea who she was. Abruptly recalling his manners, he hastened to make the introductions. “Cerynise, this is Miss Germaine Hollingsworth. Germaine, I’m sure you remember Cerynise Kendall from your—”
Germaine managed a small frown and blinked her long lashes in a close resemblance of confusion as she looked up at him. “No, Beau, I’m afraid I don’t.”
He was taken aback by surprise. “I’m sorry. I just assumed your paths had crossed at some point in time.”
It was a reasonable conjecture, considering that Germaine was only a year or two older than his wife, and as much as the brunette denied it, his premise was correct. Cerynise recalled her only too well. The pampered Miss Hollingsworth had attended the same academy to which most of the wealthy families and parents with more of a professional scholarly bent sent their daughters to be instructed in a manner suitable for young ladies. Germaine had been one of those who had enjoyed tormenting a somewhat gawky twelve-year-old who had failed to believe the world revolved around bonnets and beaus. More than once in the presence of Germaine and her friends, Cerynise had been made the target of tongues that could have flailed the hide off an alligator. Yet, at the approach of an attractive male, those same young ladies had had the ability to mask their shrewish dispositions with chameleon-like swiftness and drip sweet honey with every syllable they uttered.
“Beau, dear, we really mustn’t linger,” Germaine coyly pressed. “You did promise…”
“To give you a ride to Madame Feroux’s.” He swept his hand to indicate the shop behind them. “And you have arrived.”
“Silly me.” Germaine laughed and tossed her elegantly coifed head as if embarrassed by such a foolish mistake. “Why, I hardly noticed where we were.” With a flutter of dark lashes, she looked up at Beau with a pleading expression that, in Cerynise’s mind, wouldn’t have been misplaced on a hungry wolf. “I always have such difficulty deciding what looks best on my tiny frame, and everyone says that you have the most divine taste, Beau, so I was wondering if you could assist—”
“I’m afraid not.” He didn’t even look at Germaine as he answered, for his gaze was fastened on Cerynise, who found herself unwillingly fascinated by the other woman’s charming endeavors.
Germaine’s pretty mouth tightened, but she was not about to relent. “Why, Beauregard Birmingham, how can you be so nasty to little ol’ me? I’ve heard rumors about you being a tough sea captain, but you’re also supposed to be a gentleman, and a gentleman would never deny a lady’s—”
“Am I?” he queried in distraction.
“Are you what?” Germaine asked petulantly.
“A gentleman?” Although the question seemed primarily addressed to Germaine, he never looked away from his wife. “Would you say that to be true, Cerynise?”
Cerynise was distantly aware of Uncle Sterling eyeing them both fairly closely now, no doubt bewildered by her high blush and the sudden trembling that had beset her. She was averse to praising her husband in front of the little coquette and answered him as diplomatically as she could. “Were you not one, sir, you’d certainly be unwilling for me to announce that fact,” she rejoined, her voice sounding faint in her own ears. “And yet, if I were to laud your character for your companion’s benefit, I wonder where that would lead.” To bed? Cerynise dolefully wondered.
Sensing her tension, Uncle Sterling cleared his throat. “Are you planning to remain in Charleston very long, Captain Birmingham?”
“Perhaps a bit longer than usual, Professor Kendall. I have important matters that need my close attention.” The fact that his gaze shifted from the man to Cerynise seemed to indicate that she was at the forefront of those important matters. “I should still be here well into mid-summer, if not longer.”
Sterling was growing more bemused by the moment. “Has your fascination with the sea waned, then?”
The wide shoulders lifted in a brief shrug. “I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I have other interests that have plagued me much of late, and I’d like them settled one way or the other before I’ll even think of leaving.”
Cerynise was certain that he was referring to their annulment, but he could hardly blame her for the delay. For more than a month now she had been expecting papers to arrive and had recently begun to suspect that they wouldn’t. Beau could hardly have forgotten about their marital division, but then, when he was so dedicated to remaining a bachelor, he probably thought he had all the time in the world. He’d have been shocked to learn differently.
Germaine was ecstatic over the idea of his lengthy stay. “Oh, Beau, it would be so nice to have you around Charleston for a change. I really think you’d love attending the Spring Ball this year, and since I’m still available…well, we can talk about that later. Still, I’ve always thought that sailing off to all those other countries must be terribly dangerous. Every time you leave, I wonder if you’ll be coming back. Now I won’t have to worry, at least for a while.”
“I doubt that we’d he standing where we are today if our forefathers had been afraid of danger,” Beau replied distantly, again without the slightest flicker in the woman’s direction.
“I do hope your business here proceeds smoothly, Captain,” Cerynise murmured, and couldn’t resist a gentle prodding to remind him that their annulment was something that he was supposed to arrange. “Perhaps you’ve been so busy lately that you’ve forgotten about Mr. Farraday.”
“Mr. Farraday?” Germaine began, her brows gathering in perplexity. “Does she mean the solicitor?”
The woman received no answer, for none of the others was paying her any heed. Uncle Sterling was far too absorbed eyeing his niece and the captain. Cerynise could only stare in helpless fascination as Beau’s lean jaw tightened dangerously. At present, he was looking at her so coldly that, had he been a dastardly pirate, she might have found herself run through. She could hardly ignore the fact that she had vexed him again, but she wasn’t at all sure how she had done so. He had been talking about the annulment, hadn’t he?
“Henceforth, I’ll be certain to assure Mr. Farraday’s speed in all matters, Miss Kendall,” Beau answered coolly. “Now good day to you both.” With a curt nod to her uncle, he slipped a hand beneath Germaine’s arm and escorted the delightfully surprised creature into the shop.
Uncle Sterling hesitated a moment before offering his own arm to Cerynise. When she continued to stare blankly in the direction in which the pair had gone well after they had disappeared into the shop, he took her hand and slipped it gently within the crook of his elbow. She walked stiltedly, rather like a lifeless doll, as he drew her along with him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about those papers, my dear. Are you sure the annulment is what you want?”
Cerynise was still very much in a daze and didn’t hear a word he said. She could only rebuke herself harshly for driving Beau not only away from her but straight into the clutches of Germaine Hollingsworth. Where he was concerned, it seemed she could only act the part of a complete simpleton. When she foolishly, systematically destroyed every chance that she had of keeping what she truly, desperately wanted in life, it was obvious to her that she was hell-bent on her own destruction and misery.
As if to emphasize her distress, her stomach began to roil very strangely. Completely shocked by what she was feeling, Cerynise gasped softly and swayed on her feet, coming very near to buckling to her knees. Sterling caught her arm and looked at her in sudden concern. Her pale, drawn face was enough to convince him. He raised a hand to summon a hired livery and quickly handed her in.
“If this continues, my dear,” he said as the carriage rattled along the cobbled street, “I shall insist that you see my physician.”
Cerynise shook her head and turned her face toward the window to hide her tears. “I’m fine. Really. I just got too warm, I guess.”
Her uncle murmured something about it not being very warm at all outside, but he didn’t pursue the topic any further. He was beginning to have his suspicions, and he was not above laying the blame on Captain Birmingham.
When they reached the house, Cerynise excused herself and went up to her room to rest. She doffed her gown and shoes before stretching out upon her bed. With a feeling of awe, she moved her hands slowly over her abdomen, where a definite curve was beginning to form. How long since that single night of love? Four months, give or take a week? At least long enough for the movements of the baby to become strong and sure. All of her efforts to withhold herself from Beau after that one brief episode had been for naught. His seed had already found fertile ground, and in her womb she was carrying part of him, possibly the only part she would ever be allowed to keep. It wouldn’t be long now before people began to notice her ever-growing belly and began to whisper snide comments. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to beg Beau to give up his freedom for the sake of their child. It was a choice he’d have to make on his own.
It was a long, sleepless night. Cerynise spent most of it wondering how best to proceed with motherhood. She finally decided that it would probably be better for herself and her baby if she moved away to another southern city where she wouldn’t be known and where she could make a pretense of being a young widow. She had gotten with child while married, except that it was the death of that union that would leave her greatly bereaved. Once she was settled, she could start painting again and hopefully sell her work surreptitiously as she had done before. If things went well, it wouldn’t take her long to establish a life for herself and be fairly situated before her baby was born the middle of August.
It was late the next morning when she finally went downstairs with a smock covering her gown, which had become a necessity. Since her uncle was engrossed in writing a book about the ancient Greeks, she fully expected him to be secluded in his study, where he usually worked. The study doors were closed, and with a wavering sigh of thankfulness, she went into the small morning room just off the kitchen. Her stomach was no calmer now than it had been in recent days, and she wondered if her lingering nausea was due in part to her wrought-up emotions. She had heard of women suffering from queasiness even into the later stages of their pregnancy, but she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be true in her case. Knowing that she had to force herself to eat for the sake of her child, she took a small serving of eggs and biscuit onto her plate and had made only minute progress when Cora entered.
“Your pardon, Miss Cerynise, but this package arrived for you earlier this morning.”
Even after she had been left alone again, Cerynise made no effort to examine the contents of the large envelope of stiff vellum. It was carefully folded and sealed with blood-red wax, just the sort of package a lawyer might send. Listlessly she went to the window, looked out upon the garden for a time and then returned to her place where she forced herself to eat. Gradually, she armed herself with the mettle required to open the packet.
Inside was a sheaf of legal documents written out in meticulous copperplate. The last page also bore an impressive-looking seal and room for several signatures. One was already in place.
The dark, heavy ink emphatically implied that Beau had signed without hesitation. After flipping back to the first page, she began to read the content. There was a great deal of legal terminology, but it all meant the same thing. They had never lived together as man and wife. Therefore no true marriage had existed or would ever exist in the future. They both agreed to surrender any legal rights and obligations to one another in perpetuity.
It was very quiet in the morning room. Cerynise could hear a few distant sounds of carriages and horses passing on the lane, but they did little to pierce the dark cloud that hung over her life. She knew what she was about to do was at the very least illegal and quite probably immoral, for she was about to swear to what was untrue. However briefly, she and Beau had lived together as man and wife. The fact that her pregnancy had occurred with no awareness on his part changed nothing.
She had no doubt now that what she had dreaded for nigh to three months was true, yet she was about to condemn her unborn child to bastardy, all in service to a private sense of honor she could hardly explain even to herself. The enormity of the chasm looming before her unnerved Cerynise, yet she refused to draw back now. She would never entrap Beau against his will, not when he had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t ready to commit himself to a wife and family. Nor would she sacrifice her own sense of what was fair and right, even if the whole world thought her mad.
Despite the nausea that had returned with a vengeance, Cerynise reached for the quill and ink on the serving board, sparing a pensive smile for the habits of a scholar who never knew when he might want to jot down a thought. Though her hand was shaking violently, she took a firm grip on herself and painstakingly signed her name:
Beside Beau’s bold declaration, her own seemed pale and insignificant, but it would have to do. She sanded it quickly, closed the document, and returned it to the envelope. Before she could allow herself even a moment’s hesitation, she rang for Cora. When the woman appeared, Cerynise gave her the envelope with the request that it be sent posthaste to Captain Birmingham.
Early that same afternoon, Cora came into the room which Uncle Sterling had given Cerynise to use as her studio. The younger woman’s paints, easel and paintings and sketches from the sea voyage cluttered the room. Most of the latter were on the floor, leaning against the wall as the girl strove to organize her work area.
“Miss Cerynise, there’s a lady at the front door who says she’d like to talk to you about a portrait she wants you to paint.”
“Did she give her name?”
“No, ma’am. She just said you’d know her.”
Cerynise frowned, thinking it odd of the visitor, and then questioned, “What does she look like?”
“Oh, real pretty, miss,” the maid assured her. “Small with black hair.”
“Oh, that must be Brenna.” The interest Beau’s sister had shown in her work assured Cerynise that it could be no other. In spite of everything, she was delighted to be visited by the girl, and with a smile, she cleared a place for her guest to sit. “Please show her back here to my studio, Cora, and prepare us some tea.”
Cerynise was so busy arranging a place for them to sit and chat over tea that she didn’t even think of donning the smock that she had taken off only a few moments earlier when she had gotten too warm in the room. Cora didn’t see well enough to notice much detail beyond a handbreadth from her nose, and Cerynise had felt no qualms about doffing the covering. She was just finishing her task and still had her back to the study door when a soft rustle of taffeta brought her to the awareness that her beautiful caller had arrived.
“I never imagined that you’d come so soon, Brenna,” she said, turning to face her visitor. Her smile of greeting froze in an instant as she saw Germaine Hollingsworth smirking back at her from the doorway.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Cerynise,” the brunette said, arching a dark brow sardonically. “I can understand how much you may have wanted Beau’s sister here, but I’m afraid you’ll have to contend with me instead.”
“So you do remember me after all,” Cerynise goaded, trying to appear casual as she moved toward the stool where she had left the loose cotton smock. Without a shawl or some other protective covering, she was too far along in her pregnancy to hope that people wouldn’t notice her thickening waist or rounding shape. All they would have to do was take a close look at her and they’d know instantly that she was with child.
Germaine laughed caustically. “Oh, yes, I remember you. You were that prim little artist who wanted to be left alone with her work and her own circle of friends. What was it we used to call you? Stilts? Or was it Sticks?” She laughed snidely. “Both were appropriate names at the time, but I must admit, Cerynise, you’ve acquired a more pleasing appearance since last we met.”
“Then I take it you didn’t come to inquire about a portrait.”
The woman released a pompous sigh as she strolled about the room to look at the paintings. “I really don’t know what my parents would do with another one,” she rejoined. “Last time they hired the best, you know, and I rather doubt that you’d be capable of meeting their expectations, as much as Beau was wont to laud your talent when I asked him about you. But if I’ve learned anything about men over the years, I’m willing to guess from the hungry way he looked at you yesterday, he has designs on your person, not on your paintings.”
Cerynise turned aside as Germaine blocked her access to the smock. “Then why did you come?”
“I wanted to warn you away from Beau,” Germaine replied with blunt frankness, “just in case he may come calling. You see, I intend to marry the man as soon as I can bring him around to the notion, and in the meantime, I wouldn’t want him to dally with another woman who might see some advantage in entrapping him in marriage.” She reached down to tilt a painting of a seaman outward from the wall in a quest to see a slightly larger one hidden behind it and gasped in surprise as she recognized the very person she had purposed to marry. Though she wouldn’t have admitted it, the portrait was a stirring likeness of one Beau Birmingham, garbed in a sweater and a cap with sails billowing behind him.
Germaine whirled to face Cerynise, only to find the other’s back turned toward her. Angrily she demanded, “When did you paint this?”
Cerynise glanced around at the piece that Germaine was now holding up. Those blue eyes staring at her even from the lifeless canvas made her heart lurch in misery. “On the Audacious.”
“When were you ever on the Audacious?” Germaine questioned in a sneering tone. “Beau never mentioned anything about you visiting his ship.”
“I was a passenger aboard her,” Cerynise explained simply.
“That’s a lie! Beau never takes passengers! If he did, I’d have bought passage myself to wherever he was going.”
Cerynise lifted her shoulders briefly. “I was the exception.”
“I think you’re still lying, and if you are, I’ll find out! You’re not going to steal Beau away from me, do you hear?”
“Is he yours to claim?” The fear that something of a passionate nature had already occurred wrenched Cerynise’s heart. “Or are you just being hopeful?”
“Look at me!”
Cerynise folded her arms across her midsection and reluctantly faced the woman. “I’m looking.”
“Don’t even think of trying to win him for yourself. I’ve been after him too long to let a little nobody slip of a bitch like you get in my way! And believe me, if you think ‘Sticks’ or ‘Stilts’ was bad, that will be mild compared to the rumors I’ll initiate in your behalf.”
“Really, Germaine, you could have spared yourself a visit. I doubt that I’ll ever be seeing the man again,” Cerynise said forlornly. As if protesting her statement, the baby moved abruptly within her womb. The sudden sharp roll caught her completely by surprise, and she gasped, pressing a hand to her abdomen for barely an instant before she remembered herself and hurriedly faced away.
Germaine’s eyes widened in amazement. She had seen enough to solidify one thought. The fullness detectable beneath the other’s softly gathered skirt was definitely not the natural curve of a chaste maid, of that she was sure. And she was just as certain that Beau Birmingham didn’t know a thing about the pregnant state of the little slut whom he had ogled only the day before.
“Well, now that we’ve settled that matter, I guess I should be going. I have some more shopping to do if I’m going to attend Suzanne Birmingham’s engagement ball with Beau next month. Ta-ta.”
Looking decidedly more cheerful than when she had entered the room, Germaine fairly sailed down the hall toward the front entrance. She wouldn’t have missed this visit for all the world, for she now had enough fuel to cinder Cerynise’s reputation and turn to ashes any infatuation that Beau Birmingham might have felt for the girl. Although the day before he had casually mentioned the fact that he’d be away from his house today, she had provided herself with the perfect excuse to visit him on the morrow.
The day was just breaking, but Beau was already up and dressed, not because he had risen early, but because he hadn’t even gone to bed. Having given up any attempt to sleep with the turmoil roiling within him, he had spent the night pacing his study, steadily drinking his way through a goodly amount of brandy. He had finally slumped into the chair behind his desk, where he now glared at a sheaf of papers he had left on top in full view. The documents were those that Cerynise had signed and returned to him. Once he forwarded them on to Farraday, the barrister, in his usual efficient way, would successfully conclude the matter of their marriage once and for all.
For perhaps the thousandth time, Beau inspected the delicate but unfaltering signature, as the dark cavity consuming his heart deepened progressively.
Damn her! he mentally growled. Had she even wasted a moment’s breath of notice before finishing him off? Had she, even for an instant, considered the alternative? No, of course she hadn’t, at least not since he had angered her aboard the Audacious. And he was a damned fool for regretting it all. Women definitely had their uses, but with rare exceptions a man would be well advised to consider them just another appetite in need of satisfying. He’d been lax about leaving himself open, falling for her, wanting their marriage to continue, and now he was paying for it. But no more! He was now in a mood to set Charleston on its ear. He’d drown himself in females, wallow in them, sate every urge he’d ever felt and then some. He wouldn’t stop until he was damned well numb!
Resolved on what seemed a likely course to take to rout Cerynise out of his thoughts, Beau left his desk and went to stand at the front windows, from whence he could glimpse the bay. He’d launch into preparations for another voyage as soon as Mr. Oaks returned from plying the seaboard for new cargo. Sailing to far-off ports would help ease the remorse that still throbbed within him. After all, there was no more reason for him to stay in Charleston. In a few days Cerynise would no longer be his.
With a heavy sigh, he left his study and made his way upstairs with lagging steps. He thought he could finally rest now, but only because he was too exhausted to stay awake. He passed through his spacious bedchamber and entered the dressing room, where he took a good hard look at himself in the mirror above his shaving stand. He definitely needed to rid himself of the overnight growth that darkened his cheeks, brush the taste of foul brandy out of his mouth, and wash and comb his hair in some semblance of order. He spied the bath that had been left untouched since it had been prepared for him the night before. It was now cold, but the shock would probably do him good. Perhaps it would even bring him to his bloody senses.
In a moment he was lying chest-deep in the chilly water with his head resting on the rim of the huge tub, but even there, he was continually inundated by visions of Cerynise. He had no particularly favorite memory, for they were all titillating to his senses. Yet, if he had to make a choice above the rest, it would be the one wherein he had plied her with kisses after their marriage vows. Teaching her how to kiss in a way that was sensual and arousing had been a very gratifying experience for him. Then, too, there was that moment when he had caressed her womanly softness and found the thin virginal flesh preventing easy passage. It had warmed his heart to realize that no other man had been there before him. And, of course, there was that dream of her rising up beneath him in answering passion, her soft gasps filling his mind, and her nails scratching his back.…
Beau swore suddenly, realizing that he was doing it again. For the life of him, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her! Indeed! Every memory of her seemed as dear to him as his own lifeblood.
A half hour later he whipped the bedcovers down and sprawled naked onto his bed. Sleep came upon him very quickly, but even as he finally began to relax he saw in his mind’s eye the vision he had created from his imagination and had nurtured ever since, that of Cerynise sitting on her heels beside his bed with her round breasts gleaming with a luster of their own beneath the softly glowing light of the hanging lantern.
Sterling Kendall rose at his accustomed hour and dressed absently while following a train of thought that had nothing whatsoever to do with Greeks. When he left his chamber and went down the corridor to the bedroom that his niece occupied, he was still debating how to go about questioning her. Pausing outside her closed door, he recalled the first time he had seen Cerynise, when she was but a scant two days old. Childless himself and already suspecting he was destined to remain so, he had taken one look at the lovely, squalling little creature and fallen hopelessly in love.
Over the years, he had watched her grow into an unusually thoughtful, intelligent child and had taken enormous delight in her achievements. When tragedy had struck, taking his dear brother and sister-in-law well before their time, he had despaired at his lack of fatherly experience. Other than taking her into his home, he hadn’t known what to do for the precious girl whom they had left behind. Kind Lydia had proven a godsend, and yet he couldn’t count all of the times in the past five years that he had regretted giving in to her pleas to let Cerynise live with her in England. Even coming as it had on the heels of yet more grief, his niece’s return had filled him with joy. Yet, for all of that, he could no longer ignore the fact that something was very, very wrong.
He was a simple man, content with his books and his garden, yet it would have been a mistake for anyone to think him unworldly. What he hadn’t experienced himself, which he admitted was a great deal, others had. Moreover, they had been thoughtful enough to write about it. Through his studies, he had absorbed considerable knowledge about human nature. He certainly hadn’t missed the tension between Cerynise and Beau Birmingham on the two occasions he had seen them together after their return to Charleston. Nor had he been entirely ignorant of what they had been doing at the very moment when he had opened his front door to find Cerynise on his front stoop, all of this despite a union his niece had continued to assure him was no marriage at all. He could only believe that this was something the captain had insisted upon, for no young woman in her right mind would willingly face what the future held in store for his niece without a husband.
As profoundly as Sterling was wont to hope that his fears were misplaced, he couldn’t postpone confronting Cerynise another moment. Drawing a resolute breath, he raised a hand to knock on the door. He promptly halted, a startled expression sweeping over his face as he heard a strange sound coming from the room. A moment later, it was repeated. He was about to thrust open the door when it came to him what was actually happening. Cerynise was suffering repercussions caused by nausea.
It was possibly a testament to Sterling’s character that he made no attempt to convince himself that his niece had merely eaten something disagreeable. His shoulders straightened as his hand came down to clench into a fist at his side. He wouldn’t disturb her; there was no point now. His business was with Beau Birmingham.
It was almost mid-morning when Monsieur Philippe answered the summons from the front door and explained to the beautiful visitor, “Your pardon, mademoiselle. Le capitaine was not expecting anyone. I think he’s still upstairs.”
“Are you the butler?”
Philippe laughed at the very idea. “Oh, no, mademoiselle. I am le capitaine’s chef, Monsieur Philippe Monét. Zhere is no butler at present, only a housemaid, and she is busy scrubbing zee floor in my kitchen.”
Germaine Hollingsworth was greatly puzzled. As rich as Beau undoubtedly was, she had difficulty imagining his house being equipped with anything less than a full complement of servants. She would certainly demand a full assortment when she became mistress. Curious, she probed for an explanation. “Isn’t it rather strange to have such an exquisite home without enough help to maintain it?”
“Oh, zhere are servants coming fairly soon to replace zee last ones who were let go, mademoiselle,” Philippe explained. “But zhey have not yet arrived.” He shrugged as he added, “Zee others were too lax while le capitaine was away. He came home unexpected and found only zee housemaid working.” Philippe made a gesture across his throat that highly suggested that their heads had been removed from their shoulders. “Zhey were quickly finished here.”
“Captain Birmingham doesn’t have any slaves, then?”
“Oh, non, mademoiselle. Not le capitaine.”
She smiled sweetly. That too will change, she determined. Graciously she requested, “Would you kindly inform the captain that Miss Germaine Hollingsworth is here and would like to have a word with him if he could possibly spare a moment.”
“Oui, mademoiselle.” Philippe swept his hand inward. “Won’t you come into zee parlor to wait?”
“I’d be delighted.” Germaine followed him into the front room and, at his invitation, took a seat on the settee.
Several moments later Beau came downstairs garbed in trousers, shirt, and black ankle-length boots. Not being in the best of moods, he was frowning sharply, for he hadn’t been able to get more than an hour’s worth of sleep before Philippe tapped on his bedroom door. At times, he had found Germaine amusing even though she seemed to chatter on incessantly until his mind wandered. He guessed in that respect he also found her a bit boring. In fact, come to think of it, he hated all that inane prattle she was inclined to coyly spew for his benefit.
“Oh, Beau, I do hope I didn’t disturb you,” Germaine cooed worriedly with a sweetly contrite expression as she rose and crossed the room to him. “I left my shawl in your carriage the other day, and I do miss not having it. Would you mind terribly asking your driver to fetch it for me?”
“Certainly,” he replied, wondering why she hadn’t thought of asking Philippe to do the same. He found the chef waiting outside the kitchen and sent him on the errand, then returned to the front sitting room, where his guest was now contemplating the painting of the Audacious hanging above the mantel.
“CK?” Germaine looked back at him inquiringly. “Does that stand for Cerynise Kendall?”
“Yes, it’s one of her paintings,” he answered, averting his gaze from the oil. As much as he liked the painting, he knew that henceforth it would always remind him of the young woman who had managed to firmly ensnare his heart.
“You certainly must admire her work a great deal to hang the oil in such a prominent place,” Germaine gently nudged, hoping to gain more information.
“I happen to think it’s an excellent likeness of my ship.”
“I understand that she sailed with you on your last voyage from England.”
Beau glanced around, wondering where Germaine had gotten her information. He was not above asking outright. “How do you know that?”
“Oh, Cerynise told me when I visited her at her uncle’s house yesterday. You see, I was mistaken about not knowing her, and when the realization finally dawned on me that we had gone to the same academy for a time, I wanted to apologize to her personally.”
“That was nice of you,” Beau commented, with only a slight trace of sarcasm. He was no witless fool when it came to detecting the wiles of certain women. He could sense that Germaine had something more to say and that she was just waiting for the appropriate moment to launch her cannonball, for he was sure whatever she was working around to would be delivered with devastating precision. “How did you find Cerynise? Was she well?”
Germaine shrugged prettily. “Oh, I suppose so, but you know how it is with women in their early stages of…well, you know…her condition.”
Beau looked at her inquisitively, wondering if she had lost her mind. “No, I don’t know.”
Germaine managed a blush. “You know that word ladies are not supposed to use…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Pregnancy…”
He scoffed in disbelief. “That’s absurd!”
“Oh no, it isn’t,” Germaine argued, and leaned near to further confide in a low voice. “I saw her myself. She’s rounding quite nicely. If I were to guess, I’d say she’s at least three or four months along if she’s a day. I’m sure you’ll be hearing about it through the grapevine fairly soon. A young, unmarried woman like that can hardly hide her condition much beyond the first months, and Cerynise is so slender, every bulge shows.”
Beau was speechless with shock. Four months ago he had been seriously ill and out of his head. And that was precisely the time that those haunting memories of making love to her had begun. Distracted by his thoughts, he turned away and went to the large cabinet against the far wall. There he poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter, tossed it down with a flick of his wrist, and then shuddered as he realized it wasn’t something he particularly liked.
“Beau, are you all right?” Germaine queried worriedly. Even her father, who was wont to drink overmuch in private, waited until after lunch to have his first tipple of the day.
Beau wanted to laugh at the very idea that anything was wrong. He knew now that Germaine had come in a quest to destroy Cerynise’s reputation, but she had just told the wrong person. “Aye, but it will take me a while to get used to the idea.”
His guest was still trying to decipher that statement when he faced her. When she finally gave up her futile attempt, she inquired, “Get used to what?”
“Why, to the idea of being a father.”
Germaine’s jaw dropped substantially before she managed to gasp, “Whatever do you mean, Beau?”
“Well, it comes as something of a shock, but I guess from what you say I’m going to be a father.”
“You…and Cerynise Kendall?” Her jaw sagged even more, pulling open her mouth until it gapped as much as a widemouthed bass’s. She stared at him, horrified. “You mean you’re the father of her bastar—”
Beau was suddenly delighted to be able to make the statement, “I mean that my wife is pregnant with our first child.”
Germaine’s reply was barely a whisper. “I didn’t know you were married.…”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Few people in Charleston did. My crew knew it, of course. Cerynise and I were trying to keep it a secret for reasons you wouldn’t understand, but now I suppose there’s no help for it. ’Twill have to be told.”
“But when were you married…?” For once in her life Germaine was feeling very close to a genuine faint.
“Several days before we set sail from England,” Beau informed her. Lest the woman be mistaken about the length of time it took for the crossing, he added, “In late October, about five months or so ago.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Germaine would have used a stronger statement, except that she didn’t think Beau Birmingham would tolerate being called a liar quite as well as Cerynise had. “It makes no sense. Why would you keep your marriage to her a secret?” Germaine’s skepticism strengthened the longer she thought about it. “You’re just being gallant, trying to save her from a scandal.”
“You think too highly of me, Germaine, but if you’re suffering any doubts, wait here a moment.” Beau stepped across the hall to his study and, from a drawer in his desk, withdrew the marriage document that Mr. Carmichael had given him. When he came back, he handed it to the woman. It was only for Cerynise’s benefit that he took the time to show such evidence. Otherwise, he’d have let the woman wonder till her dying day. “You see, it’s all been duly signed and documented, and if you’d care to notice the date, you’ll see it’s just as I said.”
Germaine was greatly tempted to shred the parchment in tiny pieces. Seeing his name along with Cerynise’s scrawled at the bottom made her want to scream in rage. Slowly she lowered the parchment and quirked a brow as she stared up at him. “This is most curious, Beau.”
“Aye,” he agreed, plucking the document out of her hands. He smiled for the first time in at least two days. “But I’m rather relieved that it’s out now. There will, of course, be some changes made.…”
“What kind of changes?” she asked, hoping against hope that they would be to her liking.
“I’ll have to discuss them with my wife.” Beau stepped to the parlor door and called down the hall. “Philippe, could you run out and ask Thomas to ready my carriage?”
“Oui, Capitaine.”
Beau returned to the parlor and, taking Germaine’s arm, escorted her to the front portal. “Now, I hate to be rude, but I really must be getting along before too much time has elapsed. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
Before she knew it, Germaine was standing outside the front door which had been closed without preamble behind her. She had never been so swiftly evicted from a home in all her life, and probably never would be again.
On the elegant cobblestone street that contained the residences of Charleston’s most prosperous sea captains and merchants, Sterling Kendall paused to consider the darkening clouds overhead. Other than that, he didn’t hesitate as he walked away from the same address that Germaine had left a half-hour earlier. The captain had just left, he had been told by a Frenchman, but even before departing his own home that morning, Sterling had already decided what his next course of action would be. Now his plan seemed to unfold of its own volition.
A wave of his hand secured a passing carriage. Sterling spoke the name of a well-known plantation to the driver before he settled back within the interior. The ride would take less than an hour, and he was not at all certain what his reception would be at its end, but he had no doubt what he was now required to do.