June Calvin (21 page)

She let out a long sigh. “No, it was magnificent.”

“Yet only a few minutes before, you tensed as if you wanted to escape.”

“I . . . I guess I was waiting for it to hurt.”

“As it did when Seymour kissed you?”

She hung her head. “Yes.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No, but . . .”

“The act you fear will not hurt you nor disgust you, when you let me love you as you deserve.”

Deborah wasn’t exactly sure what Harwood meant, but nestled in his arms, with the pleasant glow of his kiss still warming her, she found that she trusted him to know what he was talking about. She snuggled closer to him. “I love you, Justin.”

“Dee! My darling Dee!” Harwood hugged her to him, tears standing in his eyes at her declaration. “I love you, too. I shall never hurt you, my darling.”

“I know you won’t.”

They sat thus, holding one another, savoring the moment, for a very long time. But, gradually, the duke could tell from Deborah’s posture that her mood had changed. Once again she grew tense, and her shoulders shook. Her head dropped down so that he could not see her face.

“Are you crying, dearest?”

She lifted tear-filled eyes to him. “I just remembered. I can’t marry you. Not that you’ve asked me, but . . .”

He put her away a little bit and gave her a gentle shake. “Of course you’ll marry me! And soon.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t give you an heir. After Jenny was born, I almost died. The doctors said the fever had quite destroyed any hope of children. And indeed, in spite of Seymour’s determined efforts, there was never . . .”

Suppressing the profitless lurch of fury at her dead husband, Harwood shifted her closer and kissed her forehead. “My love, I have a nephew who is fully twelve years old, and another who is ten. An heir and a spare, thanks to my brother. He sends Andrew to me for a part of every summer and holiday, that I might train him in his future duties. The boy would doubtless be quite aggrieved to be replaced.”

Hope lit Deborah’s features. “Then we can . . . ?”

“We can, and we will, and that quickly. I may preach caution to our children, but you and I are going to cast it to the winds. As soon as you can organize a wedding to your liking . . .”

“Tomorrow?”

His kiss was her answer.

Epilogue

“I don’t see how they can do this to us!” Deborah waved a perfumed letter about indignantly.

“What is it, Dee?” Harwood looked up in puzzlement from the perusal of his own mail.

“This morning I’ve had two letters, one from Sarah and Alex, and one from Jennifer and John.”

“I noticed. Bad news?” A worried frown crossed his brow as the duke rose and started toward his wife.

“No, wonderful news. But really! What shall I do?”

There were tears in Deborah’s eyes. Harwood took her in his arms. “What is going on?”

“They both write me that they are expecting a child.”

Harwood’s eyes lit up. “Both!”

“Both,” Deborah wailed.

“But I thought you would be pleased. Do you dread being a grandmother so much?” Harwood’s voice spoke more of amusement than irritation because of his wife’s paradoxical reaction.

“Don’t be a goose. I’m thrilled to tears for both of them. After all, it’s been three years, and we’d begun to worry.”

“So?”

“But how shall I go to London to be with Jennifer, and to Hampshire to be with Sarah, all in the same month?”

“They’re both due in the same month?” Harwood laughed gleefully. “The minxes! But that is easily solved, love.” The duke grinned at Deborah. Sliding his hands up under her arms, he swung her in an exuberant circle.

“We shall simply insist that they all come here to stay for the last months of their pregnancies.”

“Do you think they will?” Deborah’s brow cleared. She clung to her husband joyfully.

“Of course. Where better to have the newest additions to the family born than at the family seat?”

“I’m sure John won’t mind. He will want Jennifer out of London’s unhealthy air anyway. Thank goodness Parliament will be in recess then, so he won’t be missing any important votes. Even with a baby on the way, it would be hard for him to pry Jennifer away from politics with unfinished business on hand. But Alexander? He’s so involved with improving Sarah’s dower estates, I wonder if we can tear him away?”

“
We
can’t, but he’ll do anything to please Sarah, you know, and she’ll insist on being with us, I am sure.”

***

The last day of August, 1822, was clear and hot, even in the early morning, as a happy family party made its way to the chapel of Harwood Court.

Along with the duke’s brother, his wife, and hopeful family of two girls and two boys, the party included Mrs. Augustus Warner, John’s mother; and Lord and Lady Cornwall, their son and two daughters, and the older daughter’s new husband. Also present were the Marquess of Hanley’s large family.

John’s sour-tempered mother had an uncharacteristic smile upon her face this morning as she beheld her only grandchild.

The duke had never cut Vincent or Winnie, but he had not sought their company out, either, so the Cornwalls’ smiles reflected their sense of good fortune at having been invited to this family gathering.

The marquess and marchioness were by now grandparents for the third time, yet their smiles were no less broad than the other members of the party.

“This is surely the noisiest christening on record,” Deborah whispered into her husband’s ear as they took their places around the baptistry.

“Justin Colby Meade seems in unusually good voice today.” The duke looked fondly across the baptistry at his daughter and grandson, his glance encompassing Alexander, who was fussing with the baby’s lace-edged blanket.

Next to them newly made knight Sir John Warner took his red-faced son from his lady wife, who looked to be tiring.

“Stanton MacTavish Warner,” Jennifer whispered warningly to her son as she handed him over to his father, “you do not have to try to outdo Justin at loud crying. There’ll be time enough for rivalry in the years ahead!”

Keep reading for a special excerpt from another Regency Romance eBook by June Calvin

THE JILTING OF BARON PELHAM

Available now from InterMix

Lord Montgomery Derwent Villars, fourth Baron Pelham, strode along Bond Street, his spirits in strong contrast to the unexpectedly sunny April weather. It had been but two days since the light of his life, Lady Elspeth Howard, had broken their engagement, and Pelham was blue-deviled.

He could not keep himself from thinking of Elspeth. Everywhere he looked his eyes unconsciously sought her guinea gold hair, her lush figure. When a blonde came into view, he immediately compared her to Elspeth, and turned away, disappointed, for who could equal his pocket-Venus with the green eyes?

Suddenly, as if his aching recollection of her charms had conjured her, she appeared not far down the street from him in a spanking red curricle expertly driven by Donald Endicott, Viscount Whitham. She was leaning toward Whitham, dimples showing at either side of her small, perfectly shaped mouth as she laughed at some witticism.

Lord Pelham doubled his fists in anger and turned hastily away. He wouldn’t be caught staring at the happy pair. He looked around frantically for a friend to speak to, or a shop to enter, just as Miss Davida Gresham emerged from a mantuamaker directly into his path. She was ladened with packages and laughing back at her similarly burdened maid.

He scarcely knew the young woman, only having met her once. But far better to be seen conversing with her than staring at his former fiancée like a moonstruck calf.

“Good day to you, Miss Gresham. You look as if you could use some help.” Lord Pelham gave her his most charming smile as he began to remove packages from her hands.

Davida Gresham felt her heart give a little kick and then run wild for an instant. She barely knew Lord Pelham, but had admired the handsome nobleman from afar. To find those cobalt blue eyes gazing into hers was startling but thrilling.

A slight sideward flicker of his eyes directed her attention to a flashy curricle just drawing abreast of them. In a second she took in Viscount Whitham’s superior smirk and the surprised look on Lady Elspeth’s face as she saw Lord Pelham with Davida. The baron’s studied lack of awareness of his former fiancée was touchingly obvious. Davida went into action.

“Oh, Lord Pelham,” she simpered, drawing near him and smiling her most coquettish smile. “You are too kind and all that is gallant.” She laid both hands on his arm and walked down the street, chattering away, leaving her surprised maid sputtering, “But miss, the carriage is this way!”

Pelham was discomposed by this effusiveness, for above all things he hated being toad-eaten. He had not thought the Greshams were bad
ton
, although they were obscure country gentry, known to him only through their friendship with their neighbor, the Duke of Harwood. Just as he was beginning to squirm, wondering how to discourage the familiarity he had so impulsively encouraged a few minutes ago, Miss Gresham looked over her shoulder and then stopped abruptly.

Her eyes were twinkling with merriment. “I think your objective is accomplished, my lord. Lady Elspeth stared at us for as long as she could without tumbling backward out of the curricle. She should be turning quite green by now.”

“Green?” Pelham felt vaguely disoriented.

“It
was
your intention to make her jealous by paying attention to someone else, wasn’t it? Good strategy, as my father would say, to go on the offensive. Don’t let her be the only one to flaunt her beaus.”

Davida had begun gently pulling Pelham in the other direction. “My carriage is this way, my lord.”

Relief and admiration for Miss Gresham’s quick perception flooded Pelham.
So she has been flirting with me to help make Elspeth jealous.
He laughed, beguiled by her sparkling blue eyes, which were filled with flecks of gold.

Something of a connoisseur of female beauty, he quickly approved of her clear fair skin, high coloring, and pert nose. She had a heart-shaped face surrounded by a cloud of short ebony curls barely restrained by a fetching bonnet.

“I thank you for your help, Miss Gresham. As you obviously guessed, I didn’t want Lady Elspeth to see me mooning after her like a lovesick hafling.”

“Very glad to help, my lord. And after all, it can’t hurt my consequences to be squired by Lord Pelham on Bond Street, can it?” There was a gently mocking note to her voice as Davida handed packages in to her maid, who had preceded her into the carriage. Clearly she had not been unaware of Lord Pelham’s disdain when he had thought her behavior encroaching.

When she had retrieved all of her packages, Davida reached out a dainty gloved hand and, suddenly serious, said, “I wish you luck, Lord Pelham. I think you want her back.”

“Am I so obviously wearing my heart on my sleeve?” Pelham was serious now, too. Somehow he felt he could trust this frank, open-mannered girl.

“You have the right of it, though. I do hope to win her back. Perhaps you have a good idea. I should try to make her jealous. Lord knows she makes me so.” He sighed deeply.

Davida smiled wistfully at him. She wished this handsome auburn-haired young man were sighing for her. She entered her carriage and raised her hand in farewell as he stepped away from the door.

Before she could give John Coachman the office to start, Pelham suddenly jumped back to the side of the carriage. “I say, Miss Gresham, would you help me again? Perhaps you would go driving with me in the park this afternoon? Or tomorrow, if you have plans today?”

Davida had plans, of course, but her parents would declare her mad if she passed up a chance to go driving at the fashionable hour with this top-of-the trees young baron. Their afternoon call on Lady Abernathy would quickly be eliminated from Davida’s duties.

“If you will call this afternoon, Lord Pelham, you will save me a very tedious visit with an elderly friend of my grandmama’s.”

“Excellent!” Pelham thumped the carriage door. “You’re a great gun, Miss Gresham! I’ll call for you around four-thirty.”

Elated, Lord Pelham watched Miss Gresham’s carriage pull away. Making Elspeth jealous might be just the thing. As an extremely eligible bachelor, he would normally have to be very careful about paying attention to a marriageable young girl such as Davida Gresham, so as not to give rise to unwarranted expectations. A fellow could even find himself trapped into an unwanted marriage that way! But since Miss Gresham had suggested the idea and shown herself willing to go along with a mild deception, he felt hopeful for the first time since Elspeth had jilted him. She loved him, he was sure. Seeing him paying close attention to another girl was just the thing to bring her to heel.

Jauntily, Pelham turned his steps toward home. He would change clothes and make sure his team and equipment were groomed properly. He wanted to look bang-up to the mark this afternoon.

Davida tripped up the steps of their Brooks Street residence with unladylike haste. Her parents would be in alt to learn of her appointment to drive out with Lord Pelham.

“Peters, where are my parents?” she demanded of their short, stout butler as she dashed through the entryway.

“In the drawing room, miss.”

“Tell Cook we will require tea a little early, and some of her best cakes, please.” Davida flung herself into the room her mother had redecorated in the fashionable Egyptian motif when they rented the house for the season.

“Mama, Papa, you’ll never guess. I’m to go driving with Lord Pelham.”

Her father thrust aside his paper instantly, and her mother’s hand stayed above the tambour frame, her mouth in a round “oh.”

“Papa, it’s the most famous thing.” Davida quickly narrated her encounter with Lord Pelham for her parents.

“Well, now, well, now,” her father murmured, his face flushed with pleasure. “Clever puss. Hooked him, you have. Now you must reel him in.”

“No, Papa, you don’t understand.” Davida knew her father was ambitious for her. The second son of a small landholder, he had been knighted on the field of battle at Saratoga. The death of his older brother had turned him into a reluctant but determined farmer. After successfully courting her mother, the granddaughter of the Earl of Westbury, he had added farm after farm to his original holdings. Now a man of means, he had hopes of a title for his daughter, and perhaps someday a baronetcy or better for his son. And certainly Davida’s younger brother, Peter, was a very promising young man, currently distinguishing himself at Harrow. A successful political career might well be possible for him.

Davida frankly thought her father’s expectations for her were too high. After several weeks of seeking acceptance among the
haute ton
, she was well aware that titles, with or without fortunes, rarely wed any but those already possessing either one or both. Davida knew herself to be pretty but not a diamond of the first water, and her dowry was merely respectable.

Moreover, she was finding it difficult to gain entrée into the exclusive levels where she might meet the kind of suitors her father wished for her.

Her mother’s exalted bloodlines were of little help in introducing Davida to society, as Lady Elizabeth had been the only child of parents who had both died young. The earldom had died out with her grandfather’s death, and such connections as Lady Elizabeth had through the Westburys tended to be very elderly people who could offer her daughter little help in the Prince Regent’s fast-paced society.

Davida herself would gladly settle for a personable, respectable young man of moderate fortune, but her father was absolutely sure that his darling daughter would marry a lord. He had in fact already run off several promising suitors because they didn’t meet his high expectations.

“Understand, Papa, Lord Pelham is not interested in me. He hopes to renew his suit for Lady Elspeth.” Not wishing him to be disappointed, nor to misjudge Lord Pelham’s intentions, Davida hastened to correct his misapprehension.

“But, Davida,” her mother interjected, “he’s asked you to go driving.”

“After I pointed out that he could make Lady Elspeth jealous by paying attention to me.”

“He could have made her jealous with any other female, but you have gained his attention,” her father asserted confidently. “He cannot but admire you, once he comes to know you!”

Davida laughed a little nervously. She would do Lord Pelham a great disservice if she raised false expectations in her father. “What I hope is, being seen in his company will help me get noticed. I can assist him with Lady Elspeth, and he can introduce me to his friends. He is well acquainted with the very best people, you know.”

“I thought our connection with the Harwoods would have done the trick,” her father mumbled.

“Dear Sarah has done her best, but with the duke playing least in sight . . . and while her aunt Helen is very well regarded, she is not very active in the
ton
.”

“Yes, yes. I see.” Her father frowned. “But you don’t want to make an enemy of Lady Elspeth, either. She is on the best of terms with the patronesses of Almack’s.”

“Oh, Papa.” Davida sank into a chaise. “You must give that up. I’ll never be invited to Almack’s.”

“Now, Davida, don’t say so. You are as well bred and as pretty as many another girl who goes there every week.” Her mother set aside her embroidery to approach her daughter. “And am I not the granddaughter of an earl?”

Her father growled low in his throat. “But I am a mere country squire, Elizabeth. Doubtless I am holding the girl back.”

“Never say so, Papa.” Davida leaned forward and took her father’s hands. “You are a hero and a fine gentleman. The patronesses are terrible snobs. Everyone says so. And if they don’t want to know you, I don’t want to know them!”

Her father’s eyes looked suspiciously moist as he patted her cheeks. “And you are a minx. But a pretty one. That shade of blue suits you.”

“I’m so glad you were wearing your prettiest walking dress when you encountered Lord Pelham.” Suddenly an alarmed look suffused her mother’s countenance. “But you can’t wear the same dress for the most important carriage ride of your life!”

Not for the first time since coming to London, Davida felt a sense of panic arising within her. The season might seem like fun and frivolity to many, but to a young girl who must select a husband, these few weeks were of utmost importance, and great seriousness of purpose necessarily underlay her many social activities.

She took herself firmly in hand. She had no wish to disappoint her parents, nor to lock herself into a miserable marriage, so she must keep her wits about her.

“I had thought to wear the yellow carriage dress, Mother.”

“We must go upstairs at once and survey your wardrobe.” Taking her willing daughter’s hand, Lady Elizabeth led the girl from the room as they pondered exactly how Davida should dress for this most significant occasion.

***

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