THE BIRMINGHAMS, ONE and all, gathered at Harthaven to officially welcome Cerynise into the family. Sterling Kendall had been invited as well. Having led a singular life for a goodly number of years, he found himself a bit flabbergasted by all the effervescent chattering of the women and the sharp, witty humor of the men. Besides Beau’s immediate family, there was Suzanne’s fiancé, Michael York, and Brandon’s brother, Jeff, and his sister-in-law, Raelynn, and the couple’s four offspring, the oldest of whom was Barclay, a young man of twenty who preferred to be called Clay. Stephanie, an auburn-haired woman of eighteen, was engaged to be married the following year to Cleveland McGeorge, a prosperous art dealer. Although Cleve was originally from New York, in recent years he had moved to Charleston, where he presently owned a shop and lived in a townhouse. Jeff’s second son, Matthew or Matt, had just turned fifteen, and his youngest child, Tamarah, was nine. Of all of them, she looked the most like her father with her black hair and green eyes. After meeting and conversing for a time with each of the family members, it didn’t take Sterling long to come to the conclusion that they were all an integral part of a vivacious collection of interesting, intelligent and extraordinarily fine people who were wont to make even strangers feel completely at home and at ease in their close-knit unity.
Cerynise was just as overwhelmed with their eager acceptance of her, and in no time at all she found herself exchanging confidences with Brenna, whom she could readily envision becoming a steadfast friend. Although she guessed Beau’s mother was less than two score and five years old, Heather Birmingham looked no older than a woman of thirty. She was small and petite, like Brenna, with no hint of gray in her black hair. Upon meeting her new daughter-in-law, Heather had smiled and gathered Cerynise’s hands in her own as she assured her how delighted she was to have her in the family. Then the mistress of Harthaven had ushered her through the introductions while Beau did the same for Sterling. Heather had also shown Cerynise around the house and led her on a tour of the bedrooms upstairs, starting with the one Beau had grown up in, which she assured Cerynise was now hers as well. Heather then made her acquainted with the help and did so lauding the praises of each and, most especially, a large, gray-haired black woman named Hatti. The fact that the old woman had helped to bring Brandon and, thereafter, all of the other Birminghams into the world solidified her as a respected pillar in the family.
It was not until everyone had taken seats around the long dining table that Cerynise glanced across the room and realized that the painting she had once warned Beau against buying was hanging in a prominent place on the wall above the sideboard between two large porcelain sconces. Lighted tapers cast a warm glow upon it, setting it off to perfection. Cerynise’s surprise was so complete, she gasped and looked around at Beau, who was just helping her into her chair.
“What can I say, madam?” He grinned as he shrugged. “I liked it well enough to buy it for my parents.”
“I think it’s absolutely beautiful,” Heather said proudly from her place of honor at the end of the table. “And it pleases me so much more to know that my daughter-in-law painted it. Stephanie’s fiancé thinks it’s the best thing he has ever seen and would be very interested in looking at more of your paintings with the idea of selling them for you. The fact that the artist is a woman didn’t seem to faze him in the least. Cleve assured us that what really counted was the quality of art, not the gender of the person who painted it.”
“More of her work should be arriving fairly soon,” Beau announced, “but I get first dibs…as her husband.”
“’Twould seem you rather enjoy that distinction,” Heather rejoined fondly.
“Aye, Mama,” Beau admitted, tossing her a grin as he settled into his own seat and gathered his wife’s slender fingers in his. And to remind his mother of all the times she had cautioned him not to waste his time with either this winsome maid or that one, he added, “This one is definitely worth keeping.”
“I can see that for myself, dear,” Heather sweetly averred. “Which, of course, reminds me. I must invite some of the ladies out from Charleston and the surrounding area to meet Cerynise.” Her gaze shifted to her new daughter by marriage. “Would that be amenable to you, my dear?”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Birmingham.”
“You’re in the family now, Cerynise,” Heather replied, waving off the formality with a soft chuckle. “None of that Mrs. Birmingham stuff now, or there’ll be a lot of confusion. Call me Heather or Mama or some such thing.”
“Hey, Tory,” Jeff called from near the opposite end of the table and winked aside at Brandon as he did so. “I hear you’re going to be a grandmother. Are you sure you’re old enough?”
“Hush up, you rascal,” Heather rebuked with another graceful wave of her hand as she grinned back at him. “Just because you and your brother took your own sweet time finding the right woman to marry doesn’t mean that my Beau should have followed your examples. He’s done as well in nearly half the time.”
“Ouch!” Jeff chortled. “You do get wicked when you’re riled, Tory.”
Heather delivered a smiling riposte. “It only took you a score and five years to catch on to that fact. If I didn’t know better, I’d be inclined to think you’re a little backward.”
The exaggerated expression of distress that Jeff assumed evoked as much amusement as their bantering. Sitting beside him, Raelynn stifled a giggle behind a napkin and exchanged an amused glance with her sister-in-law before she dipped her head in approval.
“You’d best be warned, brother,” Brandon cautioned with a chortle. “Heather is feeling her oats with a new daughter under her wing.”
“She’s getting feistier by the day,” Jeff quipped. “I think I’m already bruised.”
Raelynn patted his hand consolingly. “No one deserves it more than you, darling.”
“Egads!” Jeff looked appalled. “What shrews we’ve married!”
“Oh, Uncle Jeff, you’re such a tease,” Suzanne accused, laughing along with her beau. “You know you love every one of the Birmingham women and wouldn’t trade any of them for all the gold in China.”
“Are there any other women in existence?” Jeff queried, feigning confusion as he glanced around.
When the hilarity died down, Suzanne looked across the table at Beau and Cerynise and eagerly asked, “You are coming to my engagement ball, are you not?”
“Of course, Princess,” Beau replied fondly. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“I hope I can find something to wear that’s suitably large,” Cerynise interjected wryly. “Otherwise I may have to wear a barrel.”
“Madame Feroux may be able to help you,” Brenna suggested. “I’m sure all the other ladies have had their gowns made for some time now.” She tossed her brother a mischievous look. “Madame Feroux is especially fond of Beau, and I’m sure if he asks her, she’ll work night and day to outfit you with a marvelous gown just to please him.”
“Hush, minx,” Beau cautioned. The teasing grin he wore belied the baleful gleam in his eyes. “You’re only trying to stir up trouble.”
Brenna’s blue eyes sparkled impishly as she turned her attention to the far end of the table. “Mama, you wouldn’t believe what I heard from Madame Feroux the other day. Can you believe that Germaine Hollingsworth had the nerve to tell the couturier that she thought it wouldn’t be long before Beau asked her to marry him? The dressmaker was all aflutter, thinking it was true.”
“No doubt,” Heather murmured, extremely grateful for the way things had turned out.
Though Brenna’s fine brows puckered in feigned confusion, a teasing glimmer could still be seen in her dancing eyes as she looked toward her brother. “What are you going to do with two wives, Beau?”
Acutely aware that Cerynise was awaiting his answer, Jeff chafed uneasily. “I merely gave Germaine a ride in my carriage the other day after we happened to find ourselves sitting beside each other at a wedding of a mutual friend.”
“Just happened?” Brenna rolled her eyes in disbelief. She had gotten wind of a whole plethora of rumors that Germaine had deliberately started, no doubt with the idea of keeping other eligible maidens a respectful distance from Beau. Brenna had no doubt that Cerynise would eventually hear the same stale rubbish from some unwitting soul if she frequented the shops in Charleston in months to come. Perhaps more than any member in the family, Brenna had been confident of her brother’s indifference toward Germaine as a possible wife. She wanted Cerynise to be aware of that fact, as well. To bring Beau’s reluctance clearly into the open, she offered several conjectures. “I suppose you were sitting in the pew first, and Germaine just happened to sit beside you, and I also suppose that she asked you for a ride when her carriage was probably just around the corner. When are you ever going to learn, dear brother, that you’ve always been viewed as the large fish in a very small pond? Your admirers have been casting nets in hopes of scooping you up for some time now, which might explain Germaine’s overconfidence. She was the most dedicated.”
Heather exchanged a glance with Brandon, who sat at the head of the table. Only he had known the true depth of her concern when they had noticed Germaine’s zealous campaign to win their son for herself. In past years, there had been a lot of vague scuttlebutt about the beautiful young woman, but as yet, none of it had been established as true. They had been acutely aware of the hazard of their son relenting to Germaine’s appeal and taking her into his bed. Pregnant or not, she’d have gone to her highly volatile father and complained that she had been trifled with. Mr. Hollingsworth was certainly not above forcing appropriate responses in a wedding ceremony by surreptitiously holding a gun directed toward the groom’s head.
Brenna persisted with a sisterly penchant for needling her brother. “Madame Feroux said you came into the shop with Germaine the other day, Beau, and it was right after that that Germaine predicted her marriage to you. If you’re not going to marry Germaine, why would you go to the dressmaker’s with her?”
Beau sighed in exasperation. “Have you ever noticed that Madame Feroux has an amazing ability to spill everything she knows except what’s pertinent to the situation? What she probably failed to mention was the fact that I stayed no longer than ten minutes at the most, and then I was on my way out again…without Germaine.”
“My goodness, Beau, you really don’t need to get so upset,” Brenna chided sweetly, amused by the ruddy hue that had swept into her brother’s face. She was rather pleased with herself, for she had goaded him into revealing his hasty departure, which she had known about through Madame Feroux. “I’m sure Cerynise hasn’t a jealous bone in her body.”
“On the contrary,” the tawny-haired beauty corrected with a smile. “I most certainly do where Beau is concerned. And since Germaine warned me away from him, I still suffer qualms whenever her name is mentioned.”
“You mean Germaine actually warned you away from Beau?” Heather gasped in astonishment. “How could she even dare?”
“Would this family allow me to change the subject for a moment?” Brandon begged in an effort to help his son out.
“All right, Pa,” Beau readily agreed, immensely relieved for the intrusion, for the topic of conversation had begun to nettle his good humor. “If you think you can get a word in edgewise in this family, go right ahead and try.”
“You’re just the one I wanted to talk to,” his father replied, cocking a brow at his son. “So just answer me one thing.”
Beau spread his hands to convey his willingness to comply. “I’m listening, Pa.”
“Now, I don’t have any argument against Monsieur Philippe. He’s quite an exceptional cook, but don’t you think that you’re taking advantage of the man by expecting him to serve as your butler and houseboy, too?”
His son shrugged casually. “When I returned from my voyage and walked into my house, only the housemaid was working while the others were lounging around on their backsides watching her doing their chores. Except for her and Thomas, the rest have been let go. In fact, I couldn’t get rid of them fast enough.”
“That may well be, son,” his father responded dryly, “but I find it damned unnerving to have a front door opened and find myself confronting a man with a meat cleaver. My hackles may never go down again.”
The whole table erupted into guffaws and giggles at the vision of their tall, broad-shouldered host standing in wide-eyed alarm before the much smaller chef, who, if anything, had probably been oblivious to the reaction he had caused with his cleaver.
Cerynise was launched into a laughing fit that left her holding her arms across her midsection in misery. “Oh, this family is absolutely the most wonderful group of people I’ve ever met in all my life,” she declared, wiping away tears of mirth. “But now, I shouldn’t laugh anymore. It hurts too much.”
Brandon raised his glass of wine in salute and grinned at her. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”
An enthusiastic chorus of ayes followed, affirming the fact that the greeting was unanimous. Undisputedly Cerynise was now in the family.
A fortnight later Harthaven overflowed with women who had been invited out to meet Beau’s bride. All morning, carriages had been arriving at Harthaven, disgorging guests who were eager to take a close look at the new Mrs. Birmingham, who by all reports was already with child.
Certain things were known about Cerynise Birmingham. She was originally from the area, which some ladies accepted with relief, considering the obvious preferences the elder Birmingham brothers had displayed for foreign women. She had lived in England for a time and had finished her education there, which seemed a further point in her favor since the fading from memory of the unpleasantness surrounding the struggle for independence had presently made all things English fashionable. Her guardian, the late Lydia Winthrop, had indulged the girl’s love of painting to the extent that she had been instructed by the very best teachers and, as a result, was quite talented with a brush. Heather and her two daughters were now sitting for a portrait, which Cerynise was in the process of painting, and the three usually went into Charleston for this, visiting the residence of Beau Birmingham at least twice a week. At times, they were even accompanied by the elder Birmingham, and on occasion, the whole family could be seen dining out or attending the theater, accompanied by Suzanne’s fiancé, Michael York.
It was also rumored that Cerynise was from a good family, albeit one that had always been a bit outside the social mainstream. The Kendalls were of a scholarly background, and Cerynise, it was said, was no exception, a notion that frankly astounded those who had known Beau for some time. In their opinion, it wasn’t the female mind he valued as much as other things, which made them all wonder privately if she pleased him in bed.
In the last week or so, Madame Feroux had eagerly yielded a few more details about Cerynise to every lady who came into her shop. Mr. Beau’s gifts of jewelry to his young bride are exquisite! Miss Cerynise brought the pearl necklace with her just to see how it would look with the gown I’m making for her, and my dear, I must say the beauty of the piece is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Why, it’s simply extravagant. Which reminds me, did you happen to see her wedding band? It’s entirely crusted with diamonds! And the gown she intends to wear at Miss Suzanne’s engagement ball is probably the costliest I’ve ever made. Mr. Beau personally requested it after he accompanied his wife to my shop. Oh, and you should have seen the way they touched! Why, it was divine! Never have I seen a gentleman display so much affection for his bride with only a casual grazing of his hand. And Miss Cerynise is as elegant as a swan, even if she is in a motherly way.…She’s at least four months along, you know, but I have it on good authority that they were married in England. Can you imagine meeting there by coincidence after knowing each other here for so long a time? And so on and so forth.
All of this talk served to whet the ladies’ curiosity even more than it had already been, and of course, they decided that they’d have to view Cerynise Birmingham for themselves just to see what sort of wife Beau had chosen for himself. Thus, a veritable avalanche of women descended upon Harthaven.
“Your mother said that no one declined her invitation,” Brandon remarked over his shoulder as he stood before the French doors in his study, where he and his son had adjourned in search of a peaceful haven amid a houseful of prating women. Another carriage rolled to a stop in the circular drive, and this time a white-haired ancient was handed down by her driver and assisted in her ascent of the front steps. “Good heavens, there must be a hundred or more already here, and now it looks like even the greatgrannies are toddling in.”
Beau joined his father at the doors and peered out across the porch. “Why, that’s Mrs. Clark, isn’t it?”
“Aye, Abegail Clark.”
“I haven’t seen her in years. In fact, I thought she was dead.”
“That old woman is too feisty to lie down and die.”
Beau glanced at the grandfather clock in the room and then, stepping near the interior door, opened it and peered out like a small, wary mouse from a peephole. He was vividly aware of his own dismay when he realized that even the entry hall was filled wall to wall with guests. “I think you’re right, Pa. There must be a hundred or more in the house. How long is this damned thing going to last anyway?”
“Not long enough for what you’re planning,” Brandon responded with a wayward grin.
Beau turned with a question. “What am I planning?”
“The way you keep looking at the clock, I’d guess you’re wanting to escape here with Cerynise fairly soon. I think your expectations are much too high to be believable.”
Beau’s eyebrows shrugged upward briefly. “Well, I had hoped to. I’ve been expecting a shipment of goods from England to be arriving at the dock any day now, and I wanted Cerynise to go with me.”
“What is it this time?”
“Well, her paintings for one thing.”
Brandon couldn’t curb a grin. “I thought you were just wanting to get her back to your bed.”
Beau shot his father a look of surprise. “Why should you think that?”
“Well, boy, you’ve been drooling over her ever since she moved into your house, and from your obvious good humor, I must assume she pleases you very much. I can only commend your wisdom in not waiting a whole year before you settled her into your bed. Some men aren’t that smart.”
Beau laughed at his father’s dry wit. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Pa. You have a better relationship with Mama than most men have with their mistresses.”
“Aye, but she’s better than any mistress.”
Beau’s lips twitched as he sought to restrain his amusement. Teasing his father was much more fun now that he was married, too. “Tell me, Pa, when a man gets as old as you, are you still able to…function…well, you know…in bed?”
Brandon looked appalled at his son’s suggestion that he couldn’t perform his husbandly duties. “Egads, boy! What do you take me for? A damned eunuch? It may well surprise you to be told that your mother still wonders on a monthly basis if she’s pregnant.”
“I’m sorry!” Beau spread his hands and backed away, as if afraid that he was going to be thrashed. Of course, the merry gleam in his eyes contradicted that idea. Puckishly he rubbed more salt into his father’s tender hide. “One never knows with older couples…if they have the strength to…ah…finish…what they start.”
Brandon snorted. “I have half a mind to get your mother pregnant just to show you, boy. Why, you’re not even dry behind the ears yet, and you’re wondering if I’m too old. Ha!”
“Mighty touchy about your age, aren’t you, Pa?” Beau needled, having difficulty keeping a straight face. “Seeing as how Mama is so young, maybe you’re worrying that in a few years you won’t be able to satisfy her.”
“You’ve got a mouth on you that I’d like to wash out,” Brandon retorted.
Beau dared to get close enough to settle a hand consolingly on his father’s shoulder. The fact that it was just as hard as his own was clear testimony that no weakness of any kind troubled his sire. “That’s all right, Pa. I’m sure Mama will understand when that time comes.”
“I swear, this damned house just isn’t big enough for the two of us…and it’s not your mother I’m talking about.”
Grinning, Beau casually shrugged his shoulders. “I know that, Pa. That’s why I have a house in Charleston.”
“Good thing.” Brandon relented enough to chuckle. “Although with the baby coming, your mother is definitely wishing you lived closer.”
“I gather she’s as pleased as a cat with cream over my marriage to Cerynise.”
“Oh, indeed. She couldn’t be more delighted, especially since it seemed for a time that you were headed in a more…ah…worldly direction.”
Beau had to decipher that statement a long moment before he asked in surprise, “You don’t actually mean Germaine Hollingsworth, do you?”
“I never thought you’d go that way,” Brandon assured him. “’Twas your mother who worried.”
Beau laughed at the very idea. “Mama would have gotten her dander up for sure if I had brought Germaine home as my wife.”
“Now how can you say that?” Brandon queried with a chuckle. “We both know your mother is the sweetest, gentlest woman imaginable.”
“Never mind that Irish temper of hers or that pure steel backbone?”
Brandon grinned. “Well, I’ve never minded any of that. She never gave me cause to. Germaine might have, though.”
At that very moment, Germaine was indeed feeling some antagonism toward the mistress of Harthaven. Scarcely a room away from where Beau and his father were chatting, she sat with a false smile pasted on an equally stiff face, but inwardly she was seething. She couldn’t abide the fuss presently being made over the girl whom she and her friends had delighted in mocking years ago. From every direction she was hearing extravagant praises heaped upon the one whom she had once derided as “Sticks.” Cerynise certainly didn’t seem so tall now after filling out. Germaine accepted that fact almost as a personal affront and mentally jeered, How dare the twit return so lovely, serene and self-possessed? Like some otherworldly creature.
Heather Birmingham evidently doted on her new daughter-in-law and was making every effort to protect her, at times even displaying the ferocity of a mother cat. For years now people had been generously inclined to describe Heather as such a nice person, so kind and compassionate, so gentle and lovely, and so on. Well, the fact of the matter was that those sapphire eyes could freeze a person with a positively frightening chill that even now sent shivers up Germaine’s spine. It didn’t matter that the icy glare was being bestowed upon the culprit who zinged Cerynise with a sharp barb. It was still the deadliest glower Germaine had ever been the recipient of.
Perhaps that was how Heather had thus far managed to keep a firm grasp on her husband, Germaine mused sullenly as she picked up her cup and sipped the tea. Being the wife of a strong-willed man like Brandon Birmingham all these many years couldn’t have been easy. Yet, by all reports, Heather had handled him amazingly well, and at times, even strangers had remarked that the sensual richness of their marriage could almost be felt when the couple came together in a room.
If Germaine had ever suffered any qualms about her goal to marry Beau Birmingham, those trepidations had primarily been caused by the worry that he was too much like his father and couldn’t be easily maneuvered. Then, too, she had been half-afraid that he wouldn’t indulge her in a manner to which she had become accustomed. Her parents had always seen her every wish fulfilled, and she had often wondered if Beau would prove more stubborn, but that possibility hadn’t been borne out in Cerynise’s case, considering the fact that the tawny-haired twit was now wearing a sapphire ring and a diamond wedding band that almost made Germaine choke with envy.
Germaine set her cup down on her saucer and, seizing an opportunity presented by a lull in the conversation, remarked sweetly, “You know, Cerynise, I don’t believe we’ve heard how you and Beau actually met. Was it terribly romantic?”
Despite the fact that she had grown leery of the woman and her snide questions, Cerynise laughed gaily. “Oh, I’ve been in love with Beau Birmingham ever since he was a student in my father’s school.”
Germaine managed a tight smile as she corrected her rival. “That’s not really what I meant. We all know that he was your father’s student. I was wondering how you met up with him in London. Surely your guardian forbade you to fraternize with seamen.”
Cerynise had learned how to respond to catty girls and women during the five years she had been away. Dealing with them calmly, efficiently and as truthfully as possible was always the best way to blunt their thorny pricks. “It seemed reasonable for me to return to Charleston after Mrs. Winthrop’s death. When I started making inquiries about the ships bound for the Carolinas, I was told that Beau had a ship in port. One thing led to another, and we decided to get married before we sailed.”
Heather smiled with delight at the gracious way in which Cerynise had answered her would-be tormentor. Heather knew there was much more to the story than either her son had cared to elaborate on or her daughter-in-law was now revealing, and that she hadn’t personally been informed of all the details. Nor did she think she needed to be. Contrary to what everyone in the family imagined, she knew her son was no saint. He was too much like his father for her to have nurtured such a farfetched notion. And she really didn’t care whether it was by hook or rook or by the book, she was immensely relieved that Beau had managed to marry a woman of whom she could be proud and who all but idolized her son.
“I really don’t understand,” Germaine responded, frowning prettily as if greatly perplexed. “Was Beau in London long enough for a formal courtship? Or should I dare imagine that your marriage happened through a whirlwind romance?” She tilted her head aside and laid a fingertip to her chin reflectively. “It seems terribly odd that when we met that day outside of Madame Feroux’s shop, it was almost as if the two of you barely knew each other.”
The little conversations that had been going on among some of the other ladies died away. Soon every ear was attentive and every eye was fastened on the guest of honor.
“Beau and I were trying to keep our marriage a secret,” Cerynise answered smoothly. “I believe that has been explained to you. I was naturally shocked when I saw him with you, but he later told me that you had asked for a ride after he went to a wedding of a friend with whom you both were acquainted. Beau also told me that once inside of Madame Feroux’s, he was there ten minutes at the most.”
Germaine felt as if she had just surprised a porcupine at very close range. She had hoped to embarrass the girl by letting everyone know that Beau had actually escorted another woman to the dressmaker’s, but when Cerynise explained precisely how everything had taken place, as if she had been lovingly reassured by her husband, it was she, Germaine, who was now abashed because it was now obvious to every lady present that the man had been in a hurry to leave her.
“You were staying with your uncle, Professor Kendall, when you returned, were you not?” Irma Parrish inquired. She was a woman past her prime, yet she clung to youth with raiment far more suitable for someone half her age. She was also a notorious busybody and Germaine’s cousin, which made her a natural ally. “Was there some reason for that?”
“I hadn’t seen my uncle in five years,” Cerynise replied. “And since Beau and I didn’t want anyone to know we were married, staying with Uncle Sterling seemed the appropriate thing to do.”
“But why were you trying to keep your marriage a secret?” Irma persisted.
“We did get married on very short notice, and with people wont to make much of our haste…Well, you can probably understand that it would have seemed far more proper for us to have a long courtship and a lengthy engagement before the nuptials. Do you not agree?”
Irma’s mouth opened and closed several times, similar to that of a fish drowning on land. Finally she answered lamely, “I suppose I do, but I really don’t see why you stayed with your uncle.…”
Either the woman was harping on the subject or she was a half-wit, Cerynise decided, but she deigned to answer as patiently as possible. “With whom should I have stayed? Uncle Sterling wanted me to, and of course Beau was kind enough to allow it, considering our efforts to appear no more than casual friends.”
“Beau being kind again,” Germaine remarked thoughtfully. “How terribly noble of him. Did he marry you out of kindness?”
The statement was slipped in with a smile so adroitly that Cerynise was momentarily taken aback. She had forgotten how malicious Germaine could be, but by quickening degrees Cerynise was growing more experienced in her dealings with the woman. As a child she had just wanted the raven-haired beauty to leave her alone, but her ire now rose and her back stiffened at the implication of her words. The time seemed ripe for Germaine Hollingsworth to rue the day that she had ever tried to make a public spectacle of Sticks.
“Do you actually imagine that Beau would have married any woman out of kindness, Germaine? If so, you’re greatly mistaken about what he wants from a wife. Beau is no simple, mild-mannered, benevolent gentleman who waits upon the whimsical moods of his wife. He is much more demanding than that. But I suppose only a wife would be cognizant of that.” The smile with which she concluded her remarks was enigmatic, hinting at what more she could have said about her husband to enlighten Germaine and the rest of her attentive audience. She had said enough to imply that as a modest young woman, she was being, at best, discreet.
Heather grinned in glee. “More tea, anyone?” she inquired cheerily and, with a slight movement of her hand, summoned a servant to put out more sandwiches and cakes for the ladies.
Abegail Clark shifted her meager weight in a chair with the help of her cane. “All this interrogation reminds me of what Heather went through when Brandon first brought her back from England. I didn’t like it any better then than I do now.”
The deciding factor came when Martha Devonshire, who was linked by birth and marriage with every family of significance in the Carolinas, gazed through her lorgnette at the Birmingham bride. “I was never of the opinion that travel benefited a woman of quality. Yet I must admit that I may have been mistaken. Never have I met a young lady with such poise and graciousness.”
That judgment rendered, the formidable matron sat back to observe the obedient nods of the assembled females, the vast majority of whom would never have dreamed of gainsaying her.
An hour later, the assembly ended and the guests reluctantly left. More than a few were inclined to linger, having discovered that Cerynise was a genuinely interesting person to talk with. Having been the recipient of a meaningful frown from her son, Heather graciously eased them on their ways with cheerful reminders that they would be seeing Cerynise at Suzanne’s engagement ball. Even so, by the time the last guest departed, it was nigh the middle of the afternoon.
Beau strode in from outside, where he had gone to walk off his frustration and, upon his reentry, hurriedly collected his wife’s cloak and bonnet. “Pardon my haste, Mama, but I’ve got to get back to Charleston. This tea took much longer than I expected.”
He brushed a kiss on his mother’s cheek as they bade farewell, and Brandon came out on the porch to stand beside his wife and to wave them off. When the carriage had rolled away, he slipped an arm about Heather’s narrow waist and leaned over her ear to whisper, “How would you like to have another son, madam?”
Heather’s head snapped up in surprise. “For mercy sake, what brought that on?”
“Beau doesn’t think we’re still capable of copulating.”
She chortled in amusement as she slipped her arms around her husband’s lean waist. “He doesn’t know you very well, does he? But he’ll find out differently when he’s your age. Until then, I think we should consider a sea voyage on the Audacious instead of another child. Beau is planning on taking Cerynise with him after their baby is born, and you know you’ve never forgotten your love of sailing.”
“’Tis your grandchild that lures you, madam,” Brandon accused with a grin.
Heather rubbed his hardened chest admiringly as she lifted blue eyes coyly to meet his. “We could spend a lot of time in our cabin making love. And who knows what will come of it?”
“When did you say Beau was leaving?”
Beau reached for the knob to open the front portal for his wife, but before he could turn it, the dark green, white-trimmed door was pulled inward by a man outfitted as a butler.
“Jasper?” Cerynise gaped in astonishment. “My goodness, what are you doing here?”
The butler’s eyes swept down her briefly before he smiled. “Your husband invited me to come and work for him, madam. He even paid our fare.”
“Our fare?”
“Yes, madam,” Jasper replied with a nod and another smile. “Bridget and the others are here, too. In fact, the lot of us were able to personally escort your paintings to Charleston. They arrived undamaged, and I took the liberty of putting them in the study with your other ones.”
Bridget had heard the muted voices from the back of the house and approached rather hesitantly as she made her way down the hallway leading from the kitchen. Cerynise took one look at her and, sweeping inward, hurried to greet the maid. They embraced and wept a little, but only with joy.
“Ye’re lookin’ grand, mum…I mean…Mrs. Birmingham. Never have I seen ye lookin’ so fine.” Her twinkling eyes dropped to the slight curve of Cerynise’s belly, which had now become evident even beneath a shawl. “And ye’re going to have a wee one. Oh, I’m so happy for you, mum.”
“Thank you, Bridget,” Cerynise replied, patting the woman’s hand affectionately. “But tell me, have you met my husband?”
“I only saw Captain Birmingham on the ship that day we brought yer clothes, mum. But had ye asked me at the time, I’d have told ye somethin’ would come o’ the two o’ ye bein’ together. I just never dreamt ye’d be married afore ye left London. At least, that’s what Monsieur Monét told us. Ye must’ve been fairly dazzled by it all, what with it happenin’ so fast an’ all.”
“I’ve known my husband ever since I was a child, Bridget, and have been in love with him for just about as long, so it wasn’t all that sudden for me.” She giggled as she added, “For him, perhaps.”
Beau joined them, and after his wife made the formal introductions, he asked the maid, “Did Philippe show you where you’re going to be housed?”
“Oh yes, sir. Past the garden in the servants’ quarters, an’ may I say, sir, I’ve seen no finer accommodations for servants.”
“I hope you’ll be comfortable there.”
“I’m sure we will be, sir, an’ thank ye most kindly for helpin’ us out with our passage an’ all. We couldna’ve made it here without ye givin’ us so generous a purse. Jasper kept a careful accountin’ sir, so’s ye’d know what exactly was spent.”
“Good servants are hard to find, so I performed a better service for myself by paying your way here,” Beau assured her.
“Just the same, sir, we all appreciate what ye’ve done for us.”
Cerynise cocked her head musefully at her husband as a sudden realization dawned. “Are they the reason why you were so anxious to get home?”
Beau moved his shoulders briefly upward and grinned. “I thought they’d be arriving any day now, but since there were so many factors that could hinder their arrival, I could only guess at the approximate date. I’ve been checking the ships arriving from England on a daily basis, but I didn’t have time this morning.”
“You seem to enjoy keeping secrets from me, sir,” Cerynise accused with a soft chuckle.
His smiling eyes dipped to her small, protruding belly before they met hers again. “Aye, madam, but no more than you.”
* * *
The night of Suzanne’s engagement ball arrived, and Cerynise took special pains with her appearance, knowing that she’d not only be confronting Germaine again but others who might have once set their hopeful sights on Beau as a possible husband. Madame Feroux and her assistants had worked tirelessly on an ice-blue creation to have it ready in time. At Beau’s request, the gown had been made similarly to the pink one his wife had worn the night he had entertained his hunting companions on board his ship in England. The design had been changed slightly in that it had a longer bodice to conceal the curve of her stomach as much as possible. The weighty skirt of beaded silk was gently gathered beneath it. The sleeves were long and flowing, much like in the days of knights and ladies fair, but the neckline had definitely been made on the order of the pink gown and was cut squarely across her breasts. Beau had found it the most intriguing asset about the earlier version and had insisted that it remain exactly the same.
Cerynise’s hair had been dressed high on her head to display the pearl-and-diamond earrings that dangled prettily from her dainty ears. For a belated wedding gift, Beau had given her an eight-strand pearl choker bedecked with a beautiful pink-and-white cameo encircled by diamonds. Cerynise had expressed her gratitude with gushing pleasure, for she had never seen anything as exquisite, much less owned it. Yet, even as costly and fine as the necklace was, the method by which it was given failed to compare with the ceremony of devotion with which her husband had presented her a new wedding band. He had gone down on one knee before her and, after removing the gold filigreed band from her finger, had ardently pledged his troth to be a faithful, loving husband. He had slipped the diamond ring on her third finger, kissed it, and then rose to seal his pact with a more thorough caress of her lips. What had followed was an evening that neither of them would likely forget, starting with a private dinner in their bedroom, a shared bath in Beau’s huge tub wherein they had lain side by side, and ending in a night of love such as one would expect of a newly wedded couple.
When Beau requested help in folding his cravat in the late afternoon preceding his sister’s engagement ball, it was no longer such a rare occasion that Cerynise had cause to be dubious about his motives. She only began to sense that something was different when he bent his head near hers and warmly whispered, “Delectable view.”
Cerynise glanced down to find her breasts generously displayed by a gaping neckline and the shallow bodice of the lace chemise she wore beneath. Lifting her head, she smiled into his shining eyes. “I was sure you had seen it all before.”
“Aye, but this time I don’t need to keep my hands in my pockets. I can handle the sights to my heart’s content, anytime or anywhere we can find a bit of privacy, madam,” he breathed, brushing a kiss against her temple as his fingers plucked open the back placket of her gown. The heavily bejeweled bodice slid from her shoulders like weighted silk and plummeted to her waist, leaving the gossamer batiste and lace chemise molding the fullness of her breasts.
Cerynise stood before him like one bewitched by a strange enchantment, her eyes glowing with sultry warmth as he tugged the straps down and hastened the descent of the undergarment with his hands until that, too, lay bunched around her waist. The pale, pink-crested orbs thrust forward proudly, seeming to invite him to taste and touch. His mouth took possession, moving over the tempting fullness in a leisured caress, savoring the sweet nectar from the soft peaks and drawing blissful sighs from his wife, who stood in assenting, quiescent rapture as his lips and tongue stroked across her naked skin. Her nipples tingled for more, and she arched her back to make them more accessible to him. Her breath was snatched inward in small gasps as he availed himself of the opportunity. He devoured them completely, leaving them glistening with moisture from his warmly licking strokes. A long moment later he traced his lips upward along her graceful neck and captured her mouth in the same greedy quest.
When at last he drew back, Cerynise had no strength left in her limbs. She swayed against him, begging breathlessly, “More.”
“After we return home,” Beau murmured huskily. Searching her soft, liquid eyes, he pulled the garments up over her bosom and shoulders and refastened the placket. “That will be my promise for later, madam.”
“But you took away all my desire to leave,” she whispered tremblingly. “I’ll be yearning for you all night.”
“’Twas my intent, madam.” His warm breath caressed her skin as he chuckled near her cheek. “Every waltz we dance, every glance and touch we exchange will be fired by this interlude and the thought of what will await us once we return home.”
Cerynise moaned, exaggerating her disappointment. “Do you suppose it’s possible for a wife to rape her husband?”
“You have more power over my body than I do myself, madam, but how can it be rape when I’d be a willing participant?”
She smiled shrewdly as her fingers plucked open his trousers and repaid him in kind, giving him a full measure of his own heady potion. Pleased with the results, she drew back for an admiring gaze.
“Now I’ll be ready for you all night,” Beau groaned, drawing her hand back to him and closing his fingers hard over hers.
“Just desserts,” she breathed, licking his mouth with the tip of her tongue. She could feel the pulsing warmth of him, imploring her to continue, but with a last enveloping stroke she pulled away. “If I must suffer, sir, so must you.”
Beau was sure that it would be at least an hour before his blood cooled. “Did I ever tell you what a vixen you are?”
Cerynise smiled contentedly. “Only in bed, sir. Only in bed.”
Many of the guests had already arrived by the time Beau’s carriage pulled to a halt before the door. He handed Cerynise down and paused to kiss away the small, fretful frown she now wore. During the long ride out to Harthaven, her mood had become entangled by worry over what the evening would bear. She was especially anxious about being bombarded by catty questions from at least a handful of rejected maidens.
“If you only knew how beautiful you are, my love,” her husband crooned near her ear, “you wouldn’t let anything bother you, especially Germaine.”
“I’m sure she has spread it abroad that I lured you into marriage by devious methods,” Cerynise muttered. “And everyone else will be wondering how far along I am…or giving me chiding looks and saying that I shouldn’t be here at all under the circumstances.”
“You’re a Birmingham now,” Beau reassured her. “You belong here more than all of the others put together. As for your condition, we have no reason to be ashamed, my love. We were quite properly wed when you got with child.”
Cerynise heaved a forlorn sigh. “That may be well and good, Beau, but tongues are still bound to wag.”
“They’ll stop…when we’re about eighty years old,” he teased, placing a doting kiss upon her brow.
She smoothed his black lapel admiringly. Except for his white shirt, cravat and a burnished silver brocade waistcoat handsomely adorned with a high, crisply folded collar, he was dressed entirely in black and looked every bit as debonair as that day when she had seen him with Germaine. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Beau?”
“You’ll probably find me so close at hand, madam, that you’ll want to shoo me away.”
“Never.”
Beau pulled her arm through his and, climbing to the porch, whisked her through the front door. The butler took her royal blue velvet cloak, and then, as Beau escorted her toward the guests, who had turned to stare, Heather slipped through the crowded ballroom to greet her son and daughter-in-law. After giving each a doting kiss, she turned a brilliant smile to the roomful of people and shushed their conversations with a graceful wave of her hands. She was promptly reinforced by her husband, who settled a hand upon her shoulder.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Heather called as her sparkling blue eyes swept over the faces of friends and acquaintances, “for those who haven’t met her yet, I’d like to present our new daughter-in-law, Cerynise Birmingham, only offspring of the late Professor Marcus Kendall, whom many of you probably remember. Beau and Cerynise were married in England in late October before they set sail for the Carolinas. They wanted to keep their marriage a secret, and as yet they haven’t confided in me as to the reasons why. I’d like to think it was to allow us the honor of seeing them wed in a church. Yet, as things have a way of developing in real life, Brandon and I are going to be grandparents in August.”
Hearty applause, blended with laughter and congratulations, soon followed. A sigh of relief slipped from Cerynise’s lips as she felt her tension easing, having been becalmed by the affable way Heather had handled the situation. Her mother-in-law had cut cleanly through to the heart of the matter, skillfully dispatching innuendoes and conjectures with a graciousness that was irresistible.
Beau was close at hand to introduce his wife to the guests who came forward eagerly to wish them well. Many of Beau’s male companions from years back had been students of her father, and they briefly related amusing tales from their association with their dedicated schoolmaster. Names soon became a confusing tangle that fairly boggled Cerynise’s mind, for it seemed a whole avalanche of amiable guests wanted to extend their congratulations on the couple’s marriage and welcome them back from England. Her softly pleading eyes made her husband chuckle, and he begged for time out to dance with his wife.
“Feeling better?” he asked as he whirled her about in a waltz.
Cerynise laughed, evidencing not only her relief but her pleasure at being able to dance for the first time with her husband. She found him every bit as smooth on his feet as the dance instructors whom Lydia Winthrop had hired for her had been. Indeed, he was like some fairy tale prince, who swept her around the ballroom, continually turning in ever-widening circuits until the faces of those who watched became an indistinct blur beyond his broad shoulders. But then, her eyes strayed rarely from his face.
“Your mother certainly simplified the situation,” Cerynise remarked, reveling in the fact that nearly everyone had been informed of their marriage. “Right now, I feel as if I’m floating on a cloud. Definitely a great weight has been lifted off me.”
A devilish grin stretched across Beau’s lips. “Is that the way you feel after I make love to you?”
She looked perplexed for barely a moment and finally understood his risqué remark. “Your weight is immensely more enjoyable to bear, my love, but I think you know by now how much I crave your body. I’ve not seen any finer.”
Beau’s eyes glowed as he challenged her. “As if you’ve seen more than mine, madam.” He shook his head. “Nay, when you blushed to the roots of your hair the first time you saw my chest, I became convinced that you had never seen a naked man before we were married, but that’s exactly the way I preferred it. I want you all to myself.”
“And you can have me, sir, anytime you want me.”
“My old bedroom is upstairs,” he suggested with a warm leer.
Cerynise gave him a coy smile. “Of course, you know we’ll be missed.”
Beau sighed, sorely regretting that fact. “Aye, and we’d never get your hair up quite as nicely as it is now. As much as I desire to take my ease of you now, madam, I guess we must wait until we get home.”
“You’re a terrible tease, sir,” she fussed flirtatiously. “Of that I’m now thoroughly convinced. You know very well I would be leading the way if you’d invite me to dally upstairs with you for a while.”
Beau tossed his head back and laughed in hearty amusement. “I might yet, madam…but only when I can be sure that no one will come searching us out.”
The couple’s graceful flight around the ballroom aroused a seething black rage within the heart of at least one who watched with close attention from the sidelines. For the moment, Germaine Hollingsworth stood alone in the crowded room, feeling quite envious of her rival. If not for Cerynise, Germaine had no doubt that she would have been dancing in Beau’s arms this very moment. He was the very essence of masculinity, tall and powerful, darkly sensual in his good looks, supple in his movements, yet hard as an oak, a fact which had both excited and delighted her whenever she had casually touched his broad chest. She could envision herself running her hands over his naked body, marveling at its firm structure, and bestirring him to a passion that would have made him her willing captive. But it was obvious now that he was Cerynise’s slave. Indeed, if he had ever looked at her the way he had visually devoured Cerynise that day outside of Madame Feroux’s shop, Germaine would have had cause to nurture some hope for herself in the weeks and months to come. Diligently applied temptations could tear apart the noblest intentions if the heart was at all willing. But as long as Cerynise remained the coveted jewel in his eye, Germaine couldn’t foresee that happening. Frankly, she wished that Sticks would drop dead, preferably now, but dying in childbirth would definitely suffice.
Beau was completely entranced with the soft pools of adoring hazel that he beheld before him. They glowed with a shining luster that radiated her love for him. Feeling immensely blessed to have found such devotion, he swept his beautiful wife around the ballroom floor. Her pliant body moved with his, as if their minds were joined in sweet accord. He had no doubt they were, for he could read the desire flaming in those darkly translucent depths and knew that his own shone with equal fervor.
For Cerynise, nothing existed beyond her husband’s encircling arms and the endless glitter of green eyes that held hers captive. Their words were muted, an intimate sharing of comments, affirmations of love, and secrets solely their own. There was a warm, underlying excitement within her that he had kindled with his earlier promise, and the slightest brush of his thigh or the gentlest squeeze of his hand on her waist made her breasts tingle in anticipation of that moment when she would be alone with him again. Though her fingers lightly brushed the fabric of his coat and casually caressed him in ways that were totally acceptable even in the midst of so many people, each glance they exchanged was charged with erotic meaning, each smile a reminder of what awaited them upon their arrival home, for it was only there that they could be assured of adequate privacy. It was nothing less than a slow, rhythmic dance of building desires, a sensual ritual in foreplay that excited them, yet no one else could discern.
The music continued to fill the ballroom, and Beau reluctantly yielded his wife to the other Birmingham men who came to claim a dance for themselves. He, in turn, performed his duty by his mother, sisters, and cousins. Tamarah was included in that list, and though she pleaded with her parents to be allowed to stay up for the whole affair, she was sent off to bed in Brenna’s room at an hour appropriate for a girl her age. As for the other young women in the room, for Beau it was as if they didn’t exist. His heart and his gaze were firmly fixed upon his wife who, even while being escorted around the dance floor by his relatives, seemed to have eyes only for him.
Beau had been drawn aside by several of his hunting companions and as he laughed and chatted with them, Cerynise and Brenna accepted glasses of punch from a servant. The two women were engrossed with watching the dancing couples, but it wasn’t long before both of them became aware of Germaine urging Michael York out onto the floor. The man didn’t seem to know how to respond to her invitation except to accede to her plea, yet apparently it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He seemed terribly discomfited by the depth of her bodice, for the woman was all but spilling out of a dark violet confection which appeared more of a marvel of engineering than a generous endowment. Making a concerted effort to appear casual, Michael looked everywhere but at her, and as soon as the tune ended, he quickly excused himself and beat a hasty retreat to his fiancée, who listened with smiling attention to what had all the appearances of being an anxious explanation. After a moment he kissed Suzanne’s hand as if relieved and drew her out onto the ballroom floor, where he danced divinely, at ease.
It didn’t take much imagination for Cerynise to come to the determination that it would only be a matter of time before Germaine also cornered Beau. The thought was barely formed when she saw the woman moving toward him with an inviting smile.
Brenna leaned near Cerynise to whisper, “Do you see where that woman is heading now?”
“Toward my husband,” Cerynise answered in a muted tone.
Brenna ground her teeth in vexation. “Wouldn’t you like to pull that hussy’s hair out?”
“By the roots,” Cerynise affirmed, remembering the jealousy that had once been aroused when she had seen Beau handing Germaine down from his carriage that day in Charleston.
Brenna patted her sister’s-in-law hand consolingly. “Trust Beau to do what is right.”
A pensive sigh slipped from Cerynise. “He must be cordial to her, of course.”
Germaine’s popularity among the men might have heightened her confidence to the degree that she fully expected any member of the opposite gender to drop whatever he was doing at her approach. But Beau was so busy conversing with his friends, that he looked right past her, never even realizing she was near. It caused the woman an undue amount of shock and frustration, for he seemed genuinely unaware of her presence. The tiny brunette set her arms akimbo and stamped her foot to demand his attention, but upon realizing she was there in front of him, Beau promptly introduced her to a young gallant who was far more eager to lead her onto the dance floor.
“Superb!” Brenna exclaimed cheerfully in a whisper and turned to meet Cerynise’s radiant smile. “Isn’t he marvelous?”
“Oh, indeed!” Cerynise agreed happily.
“Now look,” Brenna urged. “He’s coming back to you.”
Beau cast a questioning grin toward his sister as he took Cerynise’s arm. “Do you have any objections if I dance with my wife, Little One?”
Brenna willingly accepted the cup from her sister-in-law. “None at all, Tall Man.”
As the couple moved away, Brenna turned to find a place to set the two cups and was somewhat startled to find a russet-haired young man a few years her senior approaching her. She recognized him immediately as Clay’s closest friend.
“Your pardon, Brenna, but I was wondering if you’d care to dance. Clay said that you might be acceptable to the idea.”
“I’m very acceptable to the idea, Todd,” she replied, bestowing a dazzling smile upon him.
Gleaming white teeth were readily displayed in a jubilant grin as Todd hurriedly took the cups from her and passed them on to a servant. Gallantly he swept her a bow and then drew her small, slender hand within the bend of his arm, causing her father’s eyebrow to jut sharply upward, even from across the length of the room.
With a coy smile Heather sought to smooth her husband’s ruffled feathers as she rubbed a hand down his lapel. “Todd is only asking our daughter to dance, my dear, and I’d be very appreciative if you’d do me a similar favor.”
He clicked his heels in a debonair bow. “May I have this dance, madam?”
“I’d like nothing better, my love.”
Brandon laid a hand possessively on the small of her back and led her toward an open space on the ballroom floor. Still, he couldn’t resist a complaint as they began to dance. “I overheard Clay talking to his brother about Todd Phelps’s growing infatuation with our daughter, madam.”
“Well, he’s definitely a nice young man, from an upstanding family, but Brenna is only sixteen.…”
“My sentiments exactly, madam.”
Heather smiled as her husband strove to keep their youngest daughter in sight. Brenna was his baby girl, and from all indications, he was going to be extremely reluctant to give her up to just any young swain. A man would have to prove himself an exceptional individual before he’d find favor with her father.
Some time later Beau and Cerynise stepped out onto the front porch for a bit of fresh air. They meandered arm in arm to the far end of the veranda, where a huge live oak allowed only mottled moonlight to pass through its rustling leaves, which left the area swathed in deep shadows. The chill of the evening soon elicited a shiver from Cerynise, motivating Beau to open his coat invitingly. Bracing his legs apart, he pulled her close against him as he leaned back against the white facade and folded his arms around her shoulders.
Cerynise sighed dreamily. “Little did I imagine when I was a girl hopelessly smitten with you that I would actually be standing on this very porch someday, married to you and with your child growing within me. Though I nurtured the fantasy of being your wife for many years, my love, it finally seemed so outlandish that I forced myself not to think of it anymore. Being so far away, I had serious doubts that I would ever see you again. Alistair will probably never know how great a favor he did me by throwing me out of the Winthrop house when he did.”
Beau chuckled softly. “I’d almost be of a mind to show my gratitude with a kiss instead of a fist in the face.”
“Kiss me instead,” Cerynise whispered warmly, lifting her face expectantly.
He indulged her request well beyond a simple husbandly peck, and soon she was straining up close against him with her arms locked about his neck, returning the favor. It was a thoroughly passionate kiss, one that stroked across their senses and awakened familiar fires. His left arm was tightly clasped about her waist, allowing his right hand to move over her back with the freedom he was wont to enjoy, caressing her hip through the soft layering of her gown and underwear, dipping into the tempting crevice and following its path downward until his hand was firmly clasped between her buttocks.
A feminine clearing of a throat ended their kiss abruptly. Cerynise would have stepped away in acute embarrassment, but Beau had the presence of mind to keep her close against him. It was certainly no time for his wife to desert him.
Trying to identify the woman who approached, they peered into the shadows enveloping the porch. Finally the specks of light converged sufficiently to illuminate the smirk on Germaine’s face.
“Well, it’s certainly evident you two can’t leave each other alone.” Though her words belied the fact, she had been titillated by the display, for it only affirmed in her mind that Beau’s appetites were nigh as vast as her own.
“That’s the benefit of being married. We don’t have to,” Beau returned casually.
“Really, Beau, you should consider how you might embarrass other people,” Germaine chided. “Such wanton displays should be reserved for bedrooms, not open verandas where anyone may pass.”
“Strange, I can usually hear when someone is coming toward me, especially on a wood floor, but I didn’t notice even the lightest sound of shoes scraping against the porch.” Beau’s gaze descended curiously to her hem, which swept the floor. The open study door indicated the area from whence she had emerged, and the way she was holding her arms behind her back led him to believe that she was keeping something carefully out of sight. “Which leaves me, of course, to believe that you’re not wearing any shoes at the moment.”
Germaine laughed, clasping both shoes in one hand, and casually swept her free hand before her to make light of his conjecture. “I don’t go around spying on people, Beau, and even if I did, that wouldn’t excuse your lewdness. I’ll have to complain to your mother about your actions. It’s certainly not safe for an innocent young girl to meander around Harthaven. Why, she’d be shocked out of her senses by such coarseness.”
Beau was now able to face the woman and did so, leaving an arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, for he was reluctant to have her flee and leave him alone with the woman. “I’m sorry if we offended your tender sensibilities, Germaine, but I find it hard to believe that you’re shocked. In fact, if there’s an innocent among us, I’m inclined to think that it’s my wife.”
Germaine’s dark eyes glittered dangerously in the dappled light. “What do you mean by that?”
Beau cocked his head thoughtfully aslant. “Do you really want me to tell you?”
“If you’re going to insult me, I’d like you to explain why you think you have the right,” she insisted unwisely, “because I’ve never done anything that I would be ashamed of.”
“Not even skinny-dipping with Jessie Ferguson last summer…?”
Germaine’s jaw dropped in astonishment. There was only one way he could have known about that! That clod Jessie! He just didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut! “That’s an outrageous lie, Beau Birmingham! I would never—”
“Oh, then it must be another Germaine Hollingsworth who likes to cavort naked with her escorts. You see, Jessie isn’t the first one who has boasted of his conquest. Let’s see, his ride happened beneath a sycamore tree. And then there was Frank Lester. She rode him in his father’s stable. In fact, from what I hear, there have been quite a number of men in her life, and it seems that this other Germaine Hollingsworth usually initiates the seductions and will do absolutely anything when she gets heated up. Word has gotten around that the difference between her and the ones who do it for a living is that she does it for free and enjoys it more.”
Germaine sneered caustically. “From what I hear you’ve visited those bawdy women often enough.”
“Well, at least I’ve never pretended to be a Goody-Two-Faced.”
Germaine’s chin lifted in haughty arrogance. “Obviously some other woman has been going around using my name for devious purposes, but she’d best be warned because I’m a fair shot with my father’s rifle, and anybody spreading such gibberish about me is in danger of being mistaken for a rat. In fact, Beau Birmingham, you may be taking your life in your hands if you try to tarnish my reputation with all that nonsense you’ve just babbled.”
Beau smiled blandly. “You’d be surprised at the reputation you have, Germaine. All the studs in the area know where you live. That’s why you’re so popular with the men. I’m just surprised that you haven’t gotten caught yet.”
“You mean like your simpleton wife?” Germaine sneered in disdain and fixed a cold glower upon Cerynise. “I’m sure the other Germaine can tell you a name of a woman who’ll take care of you in an afternoon’s time, and no one will be the wiser.”
“My wife probably doesn’t even know what you’re talking about, Germaine, but we’re not interested in your offer. In fact, we’re thrilled that we’re going to have a child. Thank you for nothing.”
Germaine’s lips curled in contempt as she stepped to the outer edge of the porch and leaned against a column to slip on her shoes. Then, smoothing her skirts down, she assumed an air of ladylike grace and strolled back to the French doors through which she had slipped some moments earlier.
Cerynise finally let her breath out in a relieved sigh. “I have a feeling Germaine doesn’t like you much anymore.”
Beau’s eyebrows flicked upward briefly. “I doubt that she liked me all that well before. It was probably the lure of being able to call herself a Birmingham and the idea of spending my money that interested her far more. After being spoiled by her parents, it must be difficult for her to imagine herself marrying a man of meager means.”
“Not even if that man were you?” Cerynise came back into his arms. “Poor Germaine. How foolish for a woman to set her heart on riches when a man like you is far more valuable. But then, I’m sure there is no duplicate for Beauregard Birmingham.”
Beau leaned down to savor the fragrance of her hair. “You’re prejudiced, madam.”
“Aye, terribly,” she agreed, snuggling against him. “Now kiss me again before we have to go in.”