ONLY A FEW of the azalea bushes were still in bloom as the end of May approached, but after being arrayed in their vivid fuchsia, snowy white, and deep magenta hues, the city and countryside lost much of its splendor when the blossoms finally wilted. The same held true with the gardens around Beau’s house. On a morning near the middle of the month, Sterling Kendall arrived at the Birmingham residence bearing boxes upon boxes of seedlings he had started as well as shrubs and several flowering trees with their roots carefully bound. With the younger man’s full approval, the professor spent several days transforming what had been a pleasant enough area into a garden that promised to be spectacular. After mulching around the tender plants, Sterling instructed his niece on their care, advising that such work was not only nourishment for the spirit but also provided, he was wont to suspect, useful lessons in nurturing a child.
Although Cerynise approached the task as an apprehensive novice, she soon realized the joy to be found in horticulture. It was an unexpected thrill to see a profusion of flowers bursting forth after weeks of careful tending. The garden soon became one of her favorite places in which to work and relax. When she wasn’t painting in the study, she could often be found outside, tilling the beds, trimming away spent blooms, or trying to capture the beauty of the flowers on canvas before their color faded. It gave her an equal sense of satisfaction to create extravagant bouquets for the house, and soon the rooms that the couple were most wont to use bore the rewards of her work. Even Beau began to take an interest and, when he had time, would join her in her endeavors in the garden. New wrought iron furniture was purchased and placed in cozy settings beneath trees, in the gazebo where they frequently took breakfast and lunch, and here and there alongside the brick paths. At times, the two laughed and cavorted like puckish children, throwing dirt or sprinkling each other with watering cans until one or the other gave chase. But with Cerynise’s growing girth, it was usually Beau who caught her and swooped her up in his arms amid her gleeful squeals.
As dirty and muddy as they sometimes got in their frolicking, it was not long before a small, white, brick-based shed was built in the garden area. It had a separate compartment for washing and another for dressing. Latticework extended vertically above the flat roof, masking from normal view a large, lidded, rectangular copper box which, after being fully exposed to the sun for several hours, heated the water it contained. The bottom portion of the box was perforated, but to control the flow of water, another sheet of copper could be raised or lowered by a lever attached to a pull chain. Once it was completely down, more water could be added and saved for another day. The contraption provided the couple with a warm rain shower of sorts, allowing them to freshen up after doffing their dirty work clothes. Clean clothes, soap and towels were always on hand, and though they delighted in showering off together, Beau was inclined to slip outside in the morning and indulge himself in a morning cleansing before he dressed for work. Though it was much easier than filling the tub in the dressing room upstairs, the water was not always warm at that early hour. Nevertheless he found it refreshing.
Beau was now managing the shipping company and warehouses which his uncle owned. In that capacity, he also directed the unloading of company ships. He excelled at his work, but as yet he had refused to accept a full partnership, avoiding the commitments that would tie him down to land when he had every intention of making another voyage.
Stephen Oaks had returned from his northerly venture along the coast, having made a considerable profit on the cargo he had taken with him. From his trip, he had gleaned much needed machinery for the area of Charleston, proving himself a shrewd merchant as well as a competent sea captain. More recently he had been prone to visit his captain’s residence on a regular basis, not so much to talk about business with Beau but to pay court to Bridget who, from Cerynise’s viewpoint, was falling head over heels in love with the man. In her free time the maid could often be seen strolling arm in arm along the street with the future captain of the Audacious.
Cleveland McGeorge had set about to prove that he could sell Cerynise’s paintings even with her name on them. It had taken him a while, but he had been successful on three different occasions, selling two to New York gentlemen and the last and best of the three to Martha Devonshire. Thereafter he had had inquiries from almost every wealthy family in the Charleston area. It gave him great satisfaction to create a demand for them and stir up competition among the interested parties by telling them that they would have to wait their turn, for in truth, Cerynise couldn’t paint fast enough to appease everyone now seeking to buy one of her paintings.
The portrait of Heather and her daughters was coming along very nicely. Soon the faces would be done, which was always the most challenging part. Filling in the gowns and hair would be fairly easy, and Cerynise had all hopes of finishing the painting well in time for Heather’s birthday in July.
Cerynise had come to the realization that she had never been happier in her life. She was married to the man whom she had always adored, and with each passing day it seemed their love for each other deepened. They were looking forward to the arrival of their first child with great enthusiasm, and they began to make lists of acceptable names for both genders. The room beyond their bathing chamber was soon designated as the new nursery, and although it was mostly furnished with new pieces, Beau’s own cradle was brought to them from the attic at Harthaven, where it had been stored for at least a score of years.
Any moment in which Cerynise and Beau found themselves alone together was greatly enhanced by their growing love for one another. They enjoyed being secluded and were wont to make much of those interludes in the privacy of their home. Their courtship equaled or even surpassed what fabled lovers from Shaksperean, Chaucerian, and a whole host of other bygone tales had supposedly luxuriated in and was as close to an adventure in paradise as anyone could imagine. Still, they were inundated with invitations from nearly the whole social block of Charlestonians. Cerynise left Beau with the task of choosing which engagements they should accept and those they’d have to graciously refuse. An elegantly penned note from Martha Devonshire was among those they responded to with a visit. Beau hadn’t been at all sure how the evening would turn out, for he hadn’t been around the woman that much to speak of, but after no more than a few moments in the elder’s presence, Cerynise had taken to Martha as quickly as she had Lydia Winthrop years ago. To their delight, they found the normally reserved lady had a marvelously dry wit that even had Beau holding his sides with laughter.
On Saturdays and weekdays, Beau usually came home to have lunch with Cerynise a little before noon, but if an appointment had been scheduled near the time he was supposed to return, he’d arrive as much as a half hour early just so he could spend the same amount of time with her and not be late for his meeting. Whether they dined in the garden or at the long, imposing table in the dining room, they sat close together, laughing and talking about numerous things. Cerynise was always anxious to hear what he had been doing at the shipping company or what interesting character he might have met. Beau willingly appeased her curiosity, sparing her the more boring details, and at times would even discuss some small annoyance that he had had to deal with, for his wife had a way of easing his irritation with gentle, judicious reasoning when nobody else could. After the meal, they would either wander in the garden together or retire to the privacy of the study until he had to return to work.
One morning near the end of June, shortly before noon, Cerynise was cutting flowers for the house when the creaking of the garden gate drew her attention. Curious to see who was arriving by way of the street, she faced the portal just as a harsh male voice rasped “Kill!” In the next instant a huge black dog came bounding through the entrance. Immediately the gate slammed shut behind him.
Never in her life had Cerynise seen the likes of such a dog. Not only was the beast tall enough to reach almost to her waist, but it was solidly built with a chest as broad as a large oaken bucket. He had a massive, square head and eyes that gleamed like yellow fire. For a moment, Cerynise stood frozen with prickling horror, staring into that fierce gaze. Then the animal’s hackles rose on end, and his fangs were slowly bared in a low, growling snarl as a whitish drool dribbled from his muzzle.
Cerynise’s heart leapt into her throat as the beast began moving forward menacingly, watching her every movement as she backed cautiously away. The word Kill! had shattered any illusion about his reason for being there. The dog intended to dispense with her in a most brutal fashion. Unless this was some kind of prank it was an imminent possibility. Indeed, she was afraid that she was looking death fully in the face, but this one was black with brown markings.
Cerynise searched behind her for the closest haven and caught sight of the bathhouse. As she neared it, her throat constricted with fear, for the dog seemed to be advancing upon her faster than she was progressing. Even if she managed to reach the shed in time, she wasn’t at all sure the structure could withstand an assault from such an enormous brute.
Her mind flew in a frantic search for a swifter and surer escape. The servants were upstairs cleaning the front bedrooms. If she screamed, she had serious doubts that they would be able to hear her. Philippe had gone to the market to buy fruit for lunch, and though he had said he’d be back shortly, he hadn’t had nearly enough time to return. Cerynise didn’t know the exact time, but she guessed it was too soon to hope that Beau would come strolling in, yet she prayed fervently that this was one of those days when he’d arrive home early.
Cerynise calculated her chances for gaining the safety of the house. Even if she started running, she couldn’t hope to reach it in time, for the dog would surely quicken his pace. With his long legs it wouldn’t take any time at all before he attacked her. Indeed, the chances of her effectively bringing about her own deliverance seemed beyond her capability.
“Nice dog,” she cajoled fearfully, willing to try anything.
Much to her alarm, the sound of her voice seemed to incite the animal. He started barking furiously. Frantically she peered through the open slats of the board fence, hoping to spy its owner and demand his help or at least a reason for this attack, if by some strange fluke the order to kill had been meant for someone else. If, on the other hand, this was some kind of prank, she wasn’t feeling the least bit amused. To be exact, she was frightened nigh out of her wits. Yet her sweeping search found no one; the culprit was either hiding and awaiting her death or had already left.
Suddenly the barking ceased, to be replaced by a throaty growling, which Cerynise found infinitely more intimidating. His fangs showing in an evil grin and his yellow eyes feeding almost hungrily upon her movements, the dog crouched lower to the ground, preparing to launch himself upon her. In a panic she whirled and fled toward the bathhouse. Even so, she was hampered by her bulk. Hearing his huge paws thumping against the brick path behind her and coming ever closer, she screamed in dread of the animal sinking his teeth into her flesh. She careened around a tree and threw a quick glance over her shoulder just in time to see the animal plow headlong into the same sturdy trunk she had just rounded.
The dog was momentarily upended and dazed, giving her time to lengthen the distance between them, but he quickly twisted around and got his legs beneath him. Her feet flew, propelled by fear, but as fast as she raced, she could hear the hound loping behind her once again, swiftly closing the space between them. She shrieked in terror, knowing that any moment she’d be taken down and possibly killed. Then, to her overwhelming relief, she espied Beau charging out of the house with a poker in his hand. He raced past her, and the vicious snarling was swiftly turned to surprised yelps punctuated by a repetitive thudding of the iron bar. Cerynise winced at the gruesome sounds, for it seemed she could actually hear the grating of metal scraping against bone. The yelps and pitiful whines rapidly dwindled until Cerynise could hear nothing behind her but the movements of her husband as he dragged the animal out of sight. A moment later she heard Beau striding hurriedly back to her by way of the brick walk. Trembling to the marrow of her being, she faced him and saw that he still clasped the now-bloody poker in his hand. His shirt and arms were bespeckled with red, but to her he looked as resplendent as a knight in shining armor.
“Are you all right?” Beau questioned worriedly as he halted before her, not daring to touch her with all the gore on his hands.
“Ye—” Her voice faltered before she could get so simple an answer out, and she responded with a dazed nod before she collapsed against him in relief, not caring how bloodstained he was.
Beau tossed aside the poker and, holding his hands carefully away from her, clasped her close within his arms. For a long moment Cerynise could do nothing more than sob and cling to him until the worst of her terror began to subside. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, she began to dab at her eyes and took a long, deep breath that seemed inclined to catch in her throat.
“How did that beast get in here, anyway?” Beau asked when she had recovered enough to talk.
“Someone…let him in…through the gate,” she explained haltingly. “I couldn’t see who it was…but I heard the man give the dog a command to kill.”
Beau jerked back enough to search her face. “Kill you? Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I remember that part distinctly. Whoever the man was, he held the gate open just long enough to let the dog in. He wasn’t taking any chances on being seen. If not for you, that beast would have killed me.”
“Stay here, my pet,” Beau bade, gently easing her back into a wrought iron chair behind her. “I’m going to have a look at the gate. I won’t be long.”
He strode across the lawn to the portal and, stepping through it, looked up and down the street. As he might have suspected, there was no sign of the scoundrel. Beau searched closer around the garden entrance, finding nothing of any great significance except a large shoe print left in a small worn patch of rain-softened dirt where the grass had been killed back by constant passage through the gate. Only that morning they had had a light sprinkling, which left Beau no other choice but to believe that the footprint was fresh. He had seen that same kind of impression many times before, for it was exactly like those made by the canvas shoes of common sailors. The idea that a seaman was to blame led Beau to wonder if the attack on Cerynise had been intended as a way to take revenge on him for some unknown offense, for he couldn’t imagine any deed that would have devastated him more than the murder of his wife.
Beau closed the wooden barrier to test the degree of ease with which the lock could be unlatched from outside. The gate was primarily used by servants, who, on their days off, came and went through this particular portal rather than traipsing through the house. The portal was tall enough for him to rest his chin squarely on its top. Thus, in order for someone to unlatch it from the street side and still keep his head down so as to remain hidden, it would have required a man of his height to be able to unfasten the lock on the inside without aid, for the latch was too far down for a shorter man to reach it without stepping onto the wooden block which was available nearby. To reach it himself, Beau had to step into that same bald area of dirt where the footprint had been left.
A tall sailor, Beau mentally concluded, and one who was now lacking a dog. Moon was in the Charleston area, and Beau knew the old tar was acquainted with many of the seamen in the area. He had certainly been around longer than anyone in his profession. Perhaps the ancient cabin boy would be able to supply him with names of sailors who fit that particular description. If Moon could come up with such a list, selecting the ones who held a grudge against him would be fairly easy, Beau concluded, for he didn’t think he had that many enemies.
Beau returned to Cerynise and, after lifting her in his arms, carried her upstairs to their dressing room. As she doffed her bloodstained gown, he stripped his outer clothes, washed and donned fresh apparel. Then he led her to the bed with an exhortation to rest while he went and had a talk with the servants. Upon meeting Cooper in the hallway, he sent the young houseman out to bury the dog beyond the servants’ privy and to put a padlock on the gate. Then Beau searched out Jasper and found him in an upper-story bedroom where he was industriously cleaning the ceiling.
“It seems that someone may be trying to kill Mrs. Birmingham,” Beau surmised, drawing a shocked gasp from the man as he stepped away from the ladder.
“The madam, sir?” The servant looked appalled. “Why, it’s hard for me to imagine such a dastardly thing, sir. Who would want to harm the madam?”
“I don’t know, Jasper, but someone let a dog into the backyard after giving the animal instructions to kill. Mrs. Birmingham is quite sure about what she heard, and she was the only one in the garden at the time. It distresses me to think what I might have found had I come home at my regular time. If this was truly an attempt on her life, and I certainly have no reason to believe otherwise with the evidence I’ve seen, I must set up safeguards to insure that Mrs. Birmingham is protected at all times. From now on, during my absence, your first duty must be to watch over your mistress. If you see any strangers loitering around the house, in the road or anyplace else nearby, I wish to be informed posthaste, even if you have to send Cooper or someone else to fetch me home from the warehouse. I rather suspect that the blackguard is about my height, a seaman or at least garbed as one. From the impression he left in the mud near the gate, I would be inclined to say that his feet are larger than mine, which may indicate that he’s taller, but not necessarily. I want you to keep an eye out for anyone looking even remotely suspicious. We can’t take any chances.”
“You can count on me, sir.”
“You can also warn the other servants what to look for, but they must be discreet,” Beau continued. “I don’t want them prattling about this to anyone outside the house and possibly alerting the brigand.”
“I will guarantee their discretion, sir. You needn’t worry.”
“Thank you, Jasper,” Beau replied, and heaved a laborious sigh. “I doubt that mere words could adequately express what I’d suffer if something happened to my wife.…”
A faint smile softened the butler’s normally stiff visage. “Perhaps not, sir, but your love for the madam has been made significantly more evident to us by your tender care of her. In my mind, that is proof of far greater value than mere words. I shan’t disappoint you, sir. I once shamed myself by allowing Mr. Winthrop to throw the madam out into the cold rain. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed a similar occurrence to happen, much less something of a more serious nature.”
Beau nodded, unable to find further words to speak, and returned to the bedroom. Upon espying the empty bed, he crossed to the dressing room, where he found his wife sitting before her dressing table smoothing her hair. She had garbed herself in a fresh gown and was looking beautifully unaffected by what she had just experienced. He stated the obvious. “You’re not resting.”
“I’m going down to have lunch with you,” Cerynise informed him in a way that brooked no argument. “After you leave, I’ll come back and rest.”
Beau approved of her plan well enough to offer his arm. “Philippe should be back by now, madam. When I came home, I passed him on his way to the market. He told me that he was going to get you some fruit.” He grinned down at her. “It seems you’ve been craving more of it lately.”
“Philippe pampers me too much. And so do you, sir.”
Affectionately Beau caressed her distended stomach. “We both relish doing so, my pet, so let us have our pleasure.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured with a loving smile, and yielded her brow to the doting kiss he placed upon it.
Several days later Beau walked home after work with a short, bald-headed companion. He ushered the man into the study, where Cerynise was filling in the background for the portrait of his mother and sisters, painting highlights and shadows to depict folds in a silken drapery, the soft sheen of which nearly amazed him with its realism. As she turned with a smile to welcome him, she caught sight of the wiry sailor and clapped her hands together in glee.
“Moon! My goodness, what are you doing here?”
The old tar had politely doffed his cap and now used it to punctuate his statements, first by indicating Beau. “Well, missy…yer husband…that is, Cap’n Birmingham here, wants me ta watch around this here house for a while just ta see if’n I can spy the toad what tried ta do ye hurt. I’ve been around a long time an’ met a goodly number o’ seamen, but I knows nary a one what’s got a dog as mean as that there beasty the cap’n described. If’n I’m right, though, that brute might’ve been the one what was stolen only a few days ago from a couple o’ English gents. They matched him for blood sport with other dogs. The animal kilt e’er one he fought, an’ when he weren’t fightin’, his owners kept a muzzle on him ta make sure he didn’t take a bite out o’ none o’ them. I knows for a fact they’d set off his temper by lettin’ him go a day or two without food, which in me mind should’ve made him weaker. Not Hannibal. Whene’er they’d throw meat ta the other dog an’ turn Hannibal loose, it became a savage fight to the death.”
“How gruesome.” Cerynise shuddered. If it was truly the same one, then the poor animal had been sorely abused.
“Moon will be staying in the servants’ quarters for a while,” Beau informed her. “I’ve told him to watch over you in the garden while you’re out there so Jasper can keep an eye out from the house.”
Cerynise didn’t really like the idea of the men having to watch over her. “I can’t imagine the brigand trying anything like that again, Beau. He’d be a fool to. He’ll surely get caught the next time.”
“The sod may try to do something far worse, my pet, and I want to be ready for him when he does,” Beau stated. “So oblige me by letting Moon look after you.”
Cerynise moaned in petulant tones. “I hope the scoundrel is found ere the baby decides to come. Otherwise, Moon might get in the way.”
Hurriedly setting her teacup aside, Heather left her chair and ran to pull the study door back for Cerynise, who was struggling to carry in a framed canvas which, only a moment ago, she had gone to fetch. The painting seemed far too immense for a woman to maneuver, especially one due to give birth in a month’s time. “My goodness, dear, you’re going to hurt yourself. Let me take that.”
“Just help me get it through the door,” Cerynise urged, huffing a bit from the exertion of her feat. “And don’t look! I want this to be a surprise.”
Together they wrestled the massive piece through the opening, and then with a sigh of relief, Cerynise braced the bottom of the frame against the Oriental rug that carpeted the room. “Now, Mama Heather, I’d like for you to take a chair beside Beau’s desk. The light from the window will display the painting better from that angle.” As she waited for her mother-in-law to take the indicated seat, she explained, “Beau selected the frames for both your portrait and this painting, and as I’m sure you’ll agree, his choices are superb.”
Heather’s brows lifted in surprise. “But I thought this was the portrait.…”
“Oh, no, this is a different one entirely. I’ll bring your portrait in after you see this one. I just thought you might enjoy looking at your birthday gift first.”
Heather waited eagerly as the framed piece was slowly turned, and then she caught her breath, overwhelmed by the girl’s generosity. It was a portrait of Beau, lovingly painted and quite true to character. “Oh, Cerynise! It’s magnificent! But how could you dare part with it?”
Cerynise smiled, pleased to bring such delight to the woman who had proven to be as good a friend as any she had ever known. “I have the real Beau with me daily and can paint another one for myself.”
“Bless you, child,” Heather said fondly, struggling with a wealth of tears as she came forward to embrace the girl. “I don’t know when I’ve ever been more pleased with a gift. Of course, you and Beau must come out now and help us decide where to hang the portraits. And then, I want to commission you to paint one of Brandon…if he will sit still long enough to let you.”
Cerynise cast a dubious glance down at her protruding belly. “I’m afraid that project will have to wait until after the baby is born, Mama Heather. As round as I am now, I have a hard time reaching the canvas, and with another month to go, I know ’twill be nigh impossible.”
A glow of amusement replaced the tears in Heather’s eyes. “Oh, it will be such fun having a grandchild. I can assure you that everyone at Harthaven is thoroughly excited at the prospect of having a baby in the family again. Hatti is nearly beside herself at the prospect of another generation of Birminghams being born in the family.”
Cerynise looked at her mother-in-law hesitantly. “Beau has been wondering if Hatti will be wanting to assist me during the birth. I’m afraid he’s worried that she’s getting too old. I’ve been seeing a doctor who lives down the road a piece, and I guess if it won’t offend Hatti too much, I’d like for him to help in the delivery. He seems quite knowledgeable, and from what I’ve heard from some of the women who drop in for tea, he tends most of Charleston’s elite.…” She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug as she added, “Though I’m not sure that fact verifies his abilities very much.”
“By all means, Cerynise, you do what you’re most comfortable with,” Heather urged with gentle understanding. “That’s important to your well-being. Besides, Hatti realizes that she’s not getting around very well anymore and can’t take charge like she used to, but I’m sure she’d like nothing better than to be on hand when our grandchild is born, if only as a witness. And as for that, I think Brandon and I would like to be here, too…if that’s all right with you.”
“Oh, of course! You must! Beau will expect it.” Cerynise laughed gaily. “We shall plan on having houseguests that last week.…”
“And let us all hope there’ll be no delays,” Heather interjected with a chuckle.
“Now,” Cerynise said, pressing her hands together, “the moment you’ve been waiting for has arrived. The portrait of you and your daughters is finished, and this time, I think I’ll have Jasper bring it in for me. Would you like more tea in the meantime?”
Heather waved away the idea. “I may have another cup after the painting is fetched, but definitely not now, dear. You haven’t allowed us to see the portrait at all, remember, and my curiosity is nearly eating me up.”
After another moment of suspenseful waiting, Heather was presented with a second portrait, and all she could do was stare at it in awe, feeling much honored by the beautiful likeness of herself sitting between her two daughters. Cautiously she asked, “Do I really look like that? Or are you trying to be kind, dear child?”
Cerynise smiled, totally charmed by her mother-in-law’s lack of vanity when, in truth, the woman had every right to be proud of her looks. “It’s the way I see you…and the way Beau sees you. It’s also the way Papa Brandon sees you. He said as much when he gave final approval to the painting. In all, I think it’s a fair likeness of you and your daughters. They’re just as beautiful, you know.”
During all of her visits to acquaintances’ residences in Charleston and the surrounding area, Heather couldn’t remember ever having seen a more exquisite likeness of individuals than this portrait that Cerynise had painted. “I have no doubt that you’ll be in high demand once visitors to our home view this painting and the one of Beau. Truly, Cerynise, there’s no question that your talent far exceeds other artists in the area.”
“I’m thrilled that you think so, but frankly, Mama Heather, I don’t know that I’ll have much time…or even the desire to paint that much after the baby comes.” Cerynise smiled as she picked up the teapot and stepped near her guest to pour her another cupful. “I’m sure I’ll be quite enchanted with having a little one to care for.”
Heather laid a hand over the cup, forestalling Cerynise’s effort to fill it. “I’ve changed my mind about the tea, my dear. How would you like to accompany me to Madame Feroux’s? I’m having some new gowns made for fall, and I would greatly enjoy your company while I’m there. Sometimes that woman’s incessant chatter wears on me. I’m sure you can understand since you’ve been there yourself. It would help tremendously if I’m fortified by a calmer companion.”
Cerynise looked suddenly distressed. “I fear Moon would have to accompany us, Mama Heather.” Then she pressed her hands alongside her belly worriedly. “And what will Madame Feroux think of me coming into her shop so late in my pregnancy?”
“You’re looking absolutely beautiful, my dear,” Heather rejoined with fervor, “and since you’re Beau’s wife, Madame Feroux will be eager to hear all of the details so she’ll have something more to talk about. But tell me, dear, why must Moon accompany us?”
Cerynise lifted her shoulders briefly. “Beau is afraid something will happen to me and has given both Jasper and Moon the task of guarding me.”
Heather raised an eyebrow wonderingly. She suffered no uncertainty that Beau and Cerynise were blissfully happy, but she hadn’t realized her son was so possessive of his wife that he would set guards to spying on her. She didn’t want to pry…well, perhaps not much. “How long has Beau had these other men observing you?”
“Since the incident in the garden last month.”
“What incident?”
Cerynise didn’t want to worry the woman, but she had to talk to someone, and she thought Heather would understand. “I was cutting flowers in the garden when a man opened the back gate. He let in a monstrous dog and gave it a command to kill. The next thing I knew, the animal was snarling viciously and coming after me. Beau arrived home just in time to save me from being attacked. He killed the dog, and ever since then he refuses to let me out of his sight unless Jasper or Moon is watching after me. I know Beau is genuinely concerned, and heaven knows, the incident left me shaking for a whole week. But can you imagine having Moon and Jasper constantly underfoot?”
“I hadn’t heard about the dog,” Heather said, clearly worried. “Did the man get away?”
“Yes, that’s why Beau is so anxious about my safety.” Cerynise heaved a forlorn sigh. “Frankly, I’m beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own home, and although I keep telling myself that’s not really the case, I always have someone standing guard, especially when I venture out to the garden. Why, I can’t even go to the privy without Moon or Jasper being close by. It’s terribly embarrassing, considering how often I have to go now.”
“Would you like to come and stay at Harthaven until the man is caught?”
Cerynise shook her head and smiled. “Thank you for the invitation, Mama Heather, but I think I’d miss Beau too much if I did.”
It was an unusually fine day, sunny but not too warm for July. The gentle breezes wafting in through the interior shutters that shaded the windows were heavily scented with the delectable fragrance of the tiny blossoms covering the sweet olive tree growing just outside. The drone of bees hovering over the profusion of flowers could be heard amid the soft, gentle cooing of doves. It was a day for strolling hand in hand with a beau or a husband, and if a walk took a couple in the direction of a secluded bower, then it was to be expected. It was definitely not a day for moping about.
“If you’re willing to go with me, my dear, then Moon can sit beside my driver and escort us to the door of the shop. Would that suffice?”
“That should be enough.” Cerynise smiled with more enthusiasm. “I think I’d enjoy an outing immensely.”
“’Twill do you good, my dear.” Heather rose from her chair. “And you look delightful as you are, so if you’d like, we can leave now.”
“Let me fetch Moon. No doubt Philippe will be relieved to have the man out of his kitchen. His temper has been sorely tested by the old sailor, who swears his French cuisine will be the death of him. Poor man, I think his stomach has been soured by all those sea victuals and hardtack he has been eating for most of his life.”
Heather laughed. “Perhaps Moon needs an outing for Philippe’s sake.”
Beau had concluded his day’s work at the warehouse and was just leaving when, from an upper-story window, he espied a familiar carriage pulling into the shipping yard. He recognized Moon sitting atop the conveyance and quickly concluded that his wife had been out and about with his mother. He hastened to lock up the safe and fetch his coat and top hat before taking his leave by way of the back stairs. By the time he descended, Cerynise was already out of the carriage and making her way across the yard toward him. She paused to await the passage of two six-in-hands that Beau determined were returning unusually late after unloading their cargo at another dock. The wagons were now empty and the teamsters, having finished their labor for the day, were no doubt anxious to tend the needs of the draft horses and leave for home. Beau waved to the men and then glanced down the street for some sign of the third one which had left the warehouse at the same time as the other two.
“Where’s Charlie?” he called to the second teamster.
“He’ll be comin’ any moment now, Cap’n,” the driver yelled back above the noisy rattling of his large dray. “He lost a wheel on the dock, an’ we had ta stop an’ help him. That’s why we’re so late.”
Cerynise moved around the last wagon and, with a bright smile, hurried to meet her husband. “We thought we’d give you a ride home if you’re acceptable to the idea.”
“How can I resist such a winsome invitation?” Beau countered, his eyes glowing above a grin. He gallantly offered an arm and was in the process of escorting her back to the carriage when he remembered that he had left some important papers lying atop his desk.
Cerynise looked up at him as he stopped abruptly. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve got to go back to my office for a moment to get something, my pet.”
“I’ll wait for you,” she eagerly volunteered.
He winked at her affectionately. “I won’t be long.”
As he left her, Cerynise tilted her bonneted head away from the late afternoon sun that now hovered above the rooftops of the tall warehouses across the street and readjusted her lace shawl around her shoulders, self-consciously trying as much as possible to conceal her rounded shape. The rumble of wheels and thudding hooves drew a brief glance from her, and she moved nearer the warehouse to give the third driver plenty of room to maneuver his six-in-hand and wagon toward the stables.
Barely an instant later, the energetic footfalls on the back stairs of the warehouse drew Cerynise’s attention, and she turned to find her husband descending the last few steps. Beau tossed her a grin before opening his coat and sliding the papers inside an inner pocket, freeing his hands for the joyful honor of esquiring his wife back to his parents’ coach.
When Beau lifted his head again, he noticed an elongated shadow of a man stretching across a portion of the cobblestone drive that separated him from Cerynise. He looked around, hoping to find a friend, but his hackles rose in sudden apprehension. Though a large floppy-brimmed hat shaded the fellow’s face, his hulking form seemed distressingly familiar. Beau quickened his step, hoping to cut the man off before he reached Cerynise, but his haste seemed to provoke a similar response from the stranger, who sprinted toward her suddenly. As Beau raced forward, he cried out a warning to his wife, but in the next instant the man slammed his bulk into Cerynise, sending her reeling with a scream into the path of the oncoming team.
A startled shout erupted from Moon, who immediately began scrambling down from his perch. Treading on the heels of his cry, a higher-pitched scream was wrenched from Heather who clasped a quivering hand to her throat and watched in horror as her son hurled himself toward his falling wife. It seemed an impossible feat, and yet he swooped his arms around Cerynise in midair, enfolding her burdened form as he twisted. He lit on his back on the cobblestones, willingly accepting the brunt of their combined weights. Without pause, he rolled up on his knees and elbows and continued turning over and over, his large body protectively encompassing hers with limbs extended in a kneeling position as he exerted every measure of strength he was capable of mustering to protect Cerynise and their baby from harm.
Though the driver had slammed a booted foot against the wooden brake and sawed frantically on the reins to bring the steeds to a halt, the massive hooves thudded down upon the stones a hairsbreadth from Beau’s still-turning form. When the couple finally rolled to safety, a fair amount of pandemonium erupted. With a curse Moon launched himself into action and struck out after the now-fleeing stranger at an amazing fleet-footed run. The two drivers raced from the stables while the third finally brought his draft horses to a standstill. He leapt down from his lofty seat just as Heather stumbled from the doorway of the carriage and ran on trembling legs toward her family.
“Are you hurt?” she demanded in a tone that approached panic. She was shaking uncontrollably, and though she tried to see what injuries they might have sustained, worried tears blurred her vision. “Oh, please, tell me you’re both all right!”
“I think we are,” Beau replied a bit uncertainly as he searched his wife’s face for any visible signs of pain. Cerynise was too anxious about him to be concerned about herself. Even as he lifted himself off her and sat back upon his heels, she followed to examine his hands, arms and legs. It seemed only his clothing was beyond repair. His trousers were torn at the knees, which were now bloody, and his coat was badly frayed across the back and at the elbows.
“Yer pardon, Cap’n,” the driver apologized in a shaky tone. “I just couldn’t get me horses halted in time.” He handed Beau his smashed top hat and the lace shawl that Cerynise had lost in their tumbling roll. The latter was now torn and blackened by hoof and wheel marks. “I was sure I had kilt ye both.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Charlie,” Beau assured the skinner.
“I saw that awful man push her!” Heather exclaimed in outrage.
“Aye, we all saw it,” the first driver declared. “He’d have kilt her if’n it hadn’t been for the cap’n.”
Even after her initial examination, the fierce set of Beau’s features made Cerynise fear that he was still in pain. She pressed an unsteady hand to his breast and searched his face worriedly, seeing the muscles snapping rigidly in his lean cheeks. Only then did she realize that she was seeing a depth of rage that she had never known existed. The fierceness of it unmistakably diminished anything she had previously seen.
“Let’s go home,” she pleaded shakily, her eyes delving into those dark green depths.
The seething rage in Beau’s face ebbed until a tense smile tugged at his lips. “Aye, my love. Let’s go home…where you’ll be safe.”
Several hours later, Beau sat in his study, turning over the events of the day in his mind as he stared fixedly at the top of his desk. His mother, who had been clearly distraught by the attempt on Cerynise’s life, had been taken home by her driver. Cerynise was in their bedroom upstairs, sleeping beneath Bridget’s watchful eye. From all outward appearances, his wife had managed to come through the incident like a trooper, yet her sudden lethargy convinced Beau that inwardly she was frightened. He had called the servants together and, after explaining what had happened, had informed them that effective immediately there would be someone on watch in the house at all times. Moon was the first to volunteer, declaring himself too vexed to sleep anyway.
Though for a few moments Beau had considered taking his wife to Harthaven, he had promptly decided that the plantation was not the safest place for her. In addition to all of the outbuildings, it was surrounded by literally miles of land that offered innumerable hiding places for the rapscallion to sequester himself. The main house itself had no fewer than a dozen entrances and far too many places for easy concealment. No, their house in Charleston could be defended much more easily until he could find the gutter-licking scum responsible and put an end to his miserable life. Nothing short of that solution would assuage his doubts that Cerynise was entirely safe from the knave.
Too bad he had let the man off so lightly on the Audacious.
When Moon had returned to the house bruised and bloody after trying unsuccessfully to stop the man from escaping, the old tar had reported that he had gotten a good look at the culprit during their brief scuffle. It was none other than Redmond Wilson, the same man who had taken an ax to the Audacious until Beau had disarmed him. In addition to the precautions Beau had set in force in the house itself, he also sent Stephen Oaks out with several crew members to prowl the streets for Wilson. If the renegade went into a tavern, visited a brothel, or so much as found a place to lay his head, Beau was confident that he would soon know about it.
Absently Beau rubbed his shoulder, feeling a painful twinge in the muscles there. At the time, he had hardly noticed the deep bruise he had inflicted upon himself when he dove across the cobblestones to save his wife from being trampled beneath the six-in-hand. But then, any harm to himself was insignificant when he compared it to the pain he would have suffered if Cerynise and their child had been harmed or killed. Such a loss would be similar to having his own heart ripped from his chest.
Thinking of what had almost been taken from him filled Beau with a sudden, insatiable need to hold his wife within his arms and feel the steady rhythm of her heart against his own. Purposefully he strode from the study and ascended the stairs. Bridget rose as soon as he entered the darkened bedroom. It was Cerynise’s wont to leave the draperies open on moonlit nights, and by the dim glow shining through the windows, he readily discerned the maid’s distress. The worry in her eyes readily conveyed the fact that she was desperately afraid for her mistress. Nothing was said. There was no need, for they shared a common fear.
Bridget left with a muted “Good night,” and Beau quietly closed the door behind her. He crossed to the four-poster and, for a long moment, stood gazing down upon the delicate features of his wife. A shaft of silver light streaming across the bed illumined her face. She seemed untroubled by dreams and, to him, as innocent as an angel. How could any man in his right mind want to harm her? he wondered morosely. The idea was ludicrous and yet, all too true.
Doffing his clothes, Beau left them hanging on the silent butler in the dressing room. When he slipped underneath the top-sheet, he snuggled close to Cerynise and laid a hand upon the rounded mound of her stomach. In a moment he was rewarded by a movement of his child, and with a heart swelling with relief, he pressed his lips into his wife’s fragrant hair. A soft, contented sigh slipped from her lips as she nestled her head beneath his chin and stroked a hand over his hardened chest.
“I love you,” she murmured drowsily.
His voice was fraught with emotion as he answered her in kind. “And I love you, madam…truly, deeply, and forever.”