Reckless Angel (8 page)

“Wine.” The older man seemed to have lost much
of his former assurance under these new circumstances, but he attempted a further bluster. “I've a good marriage arranged for my daughter, sir. Ye'll have to do much to meet the terms. If y'are a Malignant, then ye'll have little to play with, seems to me.”

“And what position have you taken in this war, sir?” Daniel asked smoothly, handing his guest a pewter goblet. “Kept safely out of it, I daresay.”

“I'm for the king,” Sir Gerald said, flushing. “But there's little sense in endangering land and family. I compounded for three hundred pounds in forty-six and I'll not risk more.”

Daniel nodded. “We shall all now be obliged to compound and take the National Covenant. But tell me of this debt. If I assume it for you, then ye'll be as surely rid of it as if Henrietta married your creditor.”

His future father-in-law regarded him slyly. “She's a pretty enough wench, I daresay. Good breeding stock. But she comes with no portion.”

“Why is that?” Daniel sipped his own wine, asking the question almost neutrally. It was unheard of that a maid in Henrietta's social position should have not a penny to her name in the form of dowry.

“I've three other daughters to provide for. This one has been nothing but trouble from the moment of her birth.” Sir Gerald shook his head disgustedly and drained his cup. “If ye want her, then 'tis good riddance. But she'll have nothing from me.”

Daniel smiled wryly. “And I am to take up your bond in payment for your daughter. Is that the manner in which you will have this conducted?”

“Aye, sir, it is,” Sir Gerald affirmed with that same sly look. “'Twas ye who hit upon this, I'll remind ye. 'Tis nothing to me, for I'll have her wed to Sir Reginald once she's been brought to a proper sense of her duty.”

Daniel nodded, keeping hidden his revulsion at this unnatural parent. “Then let us have done with this.” He placed his goblet on the sideboard. “I would speak alone with Henrietta first, then we will draw up the documents before a justice who may perform the mar
riage at the same time.” His eyes skimmed derisively over Sir Gerald's expression. “I assume ye'll not be interested in celebrating your daughter's marriage with any ceremony?”

“Ye assume right, sir.” Sir Gerald refilled his cup, unmoved by the derision in both face and voice. “'Tis a case of good riddance, as I told ye.”

Daniel left the parlor, closing the door behind him with exaggerated quiet. He was seething with a fury greater than he had ever experienced. He was to buy a portionless bride from a brutish lout, who was now presumably smugly congratulating himself on having brought off a veritable master stroke.

The maddening reflection did not encourage a softness as he entered the chamber he shared with Will. Will was lying upon the bed, Henrietta sitting beside him holding a damp cloth to the swelling on his chin. It was clear that they had been in deep discussion by the abrupt silence that fell as he came in. Henrietta looked at him anxiously.

“Let us go into your chamber. We have things to discuss,” Daniel said curtly, holding the door for her.

“Sir, I think you must be regretting an offer you made on impulse.” She began to speak with difficulty, but Will interrupted her.

“Dammit, Harry, do not be so stiff-rumped. I have been telling her these last ten minutes, sir, to accept her good fortune.” He struggled onto one elbow. “The devil of it is, sir, she thinks ye offered for her out of pity and not because you would really wish to.”

“And why would he wish to?” Henrietta demanded, dashing angry tears from her eyes. “
You
do not wish to, and we plighted our troth two years past.”

“'Tis not that I do not wish to,” Will protested, “but I do not think I am ready to wed just yet. If ye would wait until I gain my majority, then maybe…”

“By which time I would be wedded and bedded with some rank dotard!”

Daniel felt his anger run from him. It had not been directed at Harry anyway, and it was certainly unjust
at this point that she should bear the brunt of it. He smiled reassuringly. “Come, child,
I
am ready to wed, and I trust I am neither rank nor a dotard. Surely, 'tis a better fate than any other that offers itself at present.”

Henrietta frowned. “'Tis not that I am ungrateful, but I do not understand why, if 'tis not pity, you would make such an offer.”

Daniel perched on the broad windowsill, deciding that he might as well have this discussion in Will's presence as not. “I have been a widower for four years,” he said. “'Tis lonely and I would have a wife again. My daughters want the care and companionship of a mother. Y'are young, Henrietta, but not too young.” He smiled suddenly. “Did ye not say that you would seek employment as governess?”

“Aye, but you said a man would have had to have escaped Bedlam to employ such a one as I,” she objected.

“And you said I did not know you,” he reminded her quietly. “I know you better now, and would further that knowledge.” His eyes held hers for long minutes and he could read the thoughts reflected in the candid brown depths. “I would not be less than honest with you,” he said finally. “And I would have your honesty in return. Is the thought of marriage with me distasteful to you?”

Henrietta dropped her eyes. A tinge of pink colored her cheekbones as she thought of the puzzling confusion she felt so often in his company, the way her body stirred so strangely when he touched her or smiled at her in a particular fashion. No, the thought of marriage with him was not in the least distasteful to her, and she could learn to be a wife and a mother to his children. It would be up to her to ensure that he did not regret his bargain.

She looked up to meet his steady regard. “'Tis not distasteful to me, sir. I will try to be what you would have me be.”

“Nay,” he said softly, “I would have you be yourself.”

She smiled hesitantly. “But I am a ramshackle hoity creature, sir. Ask Will.”

Will was looking immensely relieved. “'Tis true enough y'are, but my mother says ye need only the right husband and ye'll grow into a proper woman.”

“Your mother said that?” Henrietta's jaw dropped.

“She did,” Will affirmed. “Just as she said I was not the right husband for you.”

Daniel burst out laughing. Henrietta's expression was a picture of indignation, Will's of complete confidence as if he had just quoted the oracle. “Y'are the most absurd pair of children,” Daniel declared. “Will, we shall need ye as witness. Are you well enough to rise?”

“'Tis to be done now?” Henrietta asked, startled.

“There seems little point in procrastination,” Daniel said gently.

“No, I suppose not.” A wistful look fleetingly crossed her face, then she shook her head in brisk dismissal. “My father will wish to return home without delay.”

Daniel had not missed the wistfulness and could guess at its cause. A maid was entitled to dream of a grand and glorious wedding, with fife and drum, feasting and congratulation. Although Parliament accepted as legal no marriage that was not performed by a justice of the peace and had outlawed church ceremonies and all celebration, such ceremonies and celebrations were still clandestinely conducted. But this one would be a hasty, hole-in-the-corner affair—a father ridding himself of an undutiful daughter with the minimum of expense and fuss.

“Make yourself ready then,” was all Daniel said, however. “I will find the direction of the nearest justice.”

The landlord furnished the information that Justice Hazlemere was to be found at the sign of the quill on Boulder Lane, but two steps away. They dined first, an
awkward party since no one seemed to know what conversational topics were appropriate in the circumstances. Henrietta played with her food, although Will's appetite seemed not impaired by his bruised chin. Sir Gerald consumed enormous quantities of a meal that would not be charged to his account, and Daniel gloomily contemplated the prospect of being saddled with a considerable debt at a time when he was bound to face crippling fines imposed by Parliament for his support of the lost Royalist cause.

At the sign of the quill, he assumed the debt of five hundred pounds owed by Sir Gerald Ashby of Thame in the county of Oxfordshire to Sir Reginald Trant of Steeple Aston in the same county.

Justice Hazlemere was a dour man with a pinched face and watery eyes. He performed his duties with expressionless efficiency. Clasping the Directory, the set of rules for public worship compiled and ratified by Parliament, he inquired of Sir Daniel Drummond if he intended to marry Henrietta Ashby. On being told that Sir Daniel did indeed intend such a thing, the justice turned to Henrietta.

“Do ye, Mistress Ashby, intend marrying Daniel Drummond, Baronet?”

Henrietta swallowed, cleared her throat, moistened her lips. “Yes,” she said.

“Then,” said the justice, “I pronounce you man and wife. You may pay my clerk five shillings and he will draw up the parchment witnessed and attested by me that y'are properly married in the eyes of the church and the law.”

And thus it was that on the twenty-seventh day of September, 1648, Henrietta Ashby became Henrietta, Lady Drummond, wife of Sir Daniel Drummond, Baronet, of Glebe Park in the village of Cranston in the county of Kent.

“I
think perhaps I will seek my bed.” Will yawned deeply and stretched.

“But 'tis early yet,” protested Henrietta, replacing the draughtsmen on the backgammon board. “Let us play another game.”

Will looked awkward. He glanced across the parlor to where Sir Daniel sat beside the fire, a book upon his knees. For a man on his wedding night, he seemed very relaxed to Will. And Henrietta was behaving as if nothing momentous had occurred in her life. It seemed to Will that the burden of recognizing this marriage as fact had fallen to him, and he did not know quite how to deal with it. Playing backgammon with the bride as the night grew late did not strike him as appropriate.

“Nay,” he said, getting to his feet. “'Tis late, and I'm awearied. You should be too.” A pointed stare accompanied the latter declaration.

Henrietta frowned. “I do not feel particularly weary. I expect 'tis because I lay long abed this morning.”

“Well, I am going to bed,” Will said firmly. “So I'll bid ye good-night. Good night, sir.”

“But you will see him in a minute—” began Henrietta, then stopped, a fiery blush mounting to the roots of her hair. She lowered her eyes to the board and became very busy with the pieces.

“Good night, Will,” Daniel said calmly. The door closed on Will and he shut his book with some deliberation, watching Henrietta, who still sat absorbed with
the draughtsmen. Her head was bent, exposing the delicate, vulnerable column of her neck above the deep lawn collar and white neckerchief of her dark blue gown.

“Henrietta?”

“Yes.” She turned her head to look at him, her eyes very large.

“I think you should perhaps follow Will's example. We will have a long ride tomorrow and must make an early start.” He smiled gently.

Her tongue moistened suddenly dry lips, but she rose obediently.

“I will come to you in a little while,” he said. A jerky nod was the only sign she gave of having heard him as she hastened from the room.

Daniel stared into the fire for long moments. It was his duty to consummate this marriage, but he was not ready to father children on that slight body, not after what successive pregnancies had done to Nan. She had been sixteen when he married her and was dead at twenty-one, worn out with the carrying and delivering of children. He would not permit that to happen to Henrietta. In a year perhaps she would conceive an heir, but until then he would have to take certain precautionary measures—measures that had not occurred to the lustily eager young man he had been.

How much did she know about her conjugal duties? Nan had been completely ignorant, and he had been not much better. But they had learned together, after the first few fumbling awkwardnesses. He smiled in reminiscence. At least he could bring Henrietta the benefits of his experience and hopefully ensure that the loss of her virginity would not be unnecessarily painful.

Henrietta was trembling as if in the grip of an ague as she undressed and released her hair from its braided coronet. It fell down her back in a shining, corn silk-colored cascade, rippling beneath the strokes of her brush as she tried to achieve equilibrium with the accustomed rituals of bedtime. But questions roiled in
her anxious brain. This was not, after all, an ordinary bedtime and the accustomed rituals were perhaps not appropriate. Should she take off her smock and get into bed naked? Should she put on her nightcap? Should she blow out the candle? When would he come? Would he still be dressed, or would he come to her in his shirt?

Deciding on compromise, she kept her smock on but left her nightcap off, then climbed onto the high feather mattress, pulled the sheet up to her chin, and sat gazing at the door with apprehensive eyes.

Daniel came in carrying a candle that he set on the mantel before turning to the bed. “Oh, you poor little elf,” he said impulsively as she offered a tremulous smile that did nothing to disguise her apprehension. “There is nothing to fear.” He came and sat on the bed, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face, allowing the silken tresses to slip slowly through his fingers. “Why are you afeard?”

“I am not,” she denied, but her eyes belied the denial.

“What do you know of this business?” he asked, still playing with her hair. “Has your stepmother spoken to you?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “She has never said anything to me, and Will was always so uncomfortable if I tried to ask him…and there wasn't anyone else to ask.”

Daniel smiled to himself at the thought of poor Will trying to deal with Henrietta's eager questions. He was fairly certain she would have shown none of her present hesitancy when it came to discussing such matters with her hapless young friend.

Catching her chin, he tilted her face, saying teasingly, “It is not like you to be out of countenance, Harry. Why do you not ask me your questions?”

Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth in the manner she had of denoting perplexity. “I don't know how to say it. Perhaps you could just show me what happens.”

Daniel scratched his head in frowning silence for a minute while she continued to regard him anxiously. Then he nodded. “Very well, perhaps that is the best way.” Taking the sheet, he drew it slowly away from her. The big brown eyes remained riveted to his face as he began to unlace her smock before pushing it gently off her shoulders.

He inhaled sharply at the two angry red weals across her shoulders where Sir Gerald's whip had cut. “Why did you not move when he struck you?”

“Because he was going to beat Will,” Henrietta replied, adding reassuringly in case he should feel the need to stop this initiation, “it is only a little sore now.”

Daniel's lips twitched, but he nodded gravely before sliding the smock to her waist. She was still looking into his face as he cupped the small, perfect breasts in the palms of his hands.

“Are…are they pleasing?” she whispered in a voice that did not sound like her own.

“Oh, yes.” Smiling, he bent his head to graze her nipples with his lips. Henrietta gasped at the strange sensation as the crowns of her breasts hardened, tingled, setting up a chain of reaction elsewhere in her body that was as disturbing as it was delicious. He moved his hands to span the narrow, girlish waist, his lips trailing upward to press into the hollow of her throat, to stroke the line of her jaw before finding her mouth.

Her head fell back, her lips parted as his tongue pushed gently within, and at last her eyes closed. She was too busy trying to separate and define the myriad sensations engulfing her to respond to the kiss, and Daniel drew back to look down at her rapt face, eyes tightly closed, mouth still opened slightly as if she simply waited for his return. He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and she opened her eyes.

“That was not at all like kissing Will.”

“Am I to take that as a compliment, elf?” The black eyes sparkled with enjoyment rather than passion, but
then passion had not been on his agenda. He had had passion with Nan and did not expect to find it again, particularly not with this odd, indomitable creature, who was sometimes an exasperating little girl, sometimes a reckless and courageous hoyden, sometimes a thoughtful young woman, but always refreshingly honest in her reactions, straightforward in her attitudes to life and events around her.

“Was that not a good thing to say?” She looked discomfited. “I liked kissing Will, but of course I will not be doing so again. And I liked kissing you very much.”

“Well, I am glad you will not be doing so again, and I am complimented,” he said solemnly. “But it is not customary to talk of one man to another when it comes to lovemaking.”

“Then I will not do so again. But I did not know. It never arose with Will because I had never kissed anyone else.”

Matters seemed to be drifting off course a trifle, reflected Daniel. Conversation played havoc with sensuality. “Lie down,” he instructed, running his fingertips lightly over her arms, feeling her skin quiver beneath the delicate caress.

The air was cool on her bared skin as he slipped the smock out from under her, lifting her with an intimate palm that shocked her so that for a second her body went rigid. A flush seemed to creep over her entire body as his eyes roamed slowly over her, lying so still and so naked on the bed.

“There is no need to be uncomfortable,” he said quietly, his hands following his eyes. He had seen her naked before, but on that occasion had not permitted himself the luxury of acknowledging the woman's body. Now he could do so, and it was an entrancing, lean little body, narrow hipped and long legged, her skin soft and creamy, the silken triangle at the apex of her thighs as fair as the tresses massed upon the pillow.

He kissed her belly, nuzzled her navel, feeling her skin mist, bedewed with a faint sheen of perspiration,
as she half protested these attentions yet yielded to the wild turmoil of sensation. “You are very beautiful, Henrietta,” he said, looking into her eyes as he parted her thighs.

She resisted the pressure of his hands spreading her wide, her head shaking in vigorous negative although she could find no words. But the inexorable trespass continued and with a shuddering sigh she gave in, allowing herself to be tossed hither and thither by weird and wonderful feelings that in her soul she thought should be shameful, yet they were not and she could not have cared if they were.

When at last he removed his own clothes and came down onto the bed with her, the feel of his skin against hers, the strange roughness of it so unlike anything she had before experienced, brought her to vibrant awareness of his physical presence. She inhaled deeply of the scent of him, felt his hair tickle her cheek, the hair of his chest slightly abrasive against her breasts, the hard throb of him against her thigh. He took the bolster and slipped it beneath her bottom, angling her body to facilitate his entrance into the tight virgin portal. She bit her lip hard, her whole body seeming to tighten against him as she looked up into his face, feeling him now as an alien presence, a stranger who would invade and possess her. His eyes were open, as if he was seeing into some other world, and he pressed ever deeper within, refusing to acknowledge her resistance. Then he looked down at her, at her fearful face, saw her confused anger at this invasion, and he lowered his head to kiss her eyelids, gentling her with nonsense murmurs, concentrating now on her so that the anger and fear left her.

For a moment he had forgotten her youth and inexperience as he reveled once more in the glory of being within a woman. For four years he had been chaste, as if by such denial he could atone for the responsibility he bore for Nan's death, and only now did he realize what a sacrifice that denial had been. It required every effort of control to delay his own satisfaction and bring
all the skill he possessed to the fore, so that the girl lying so still beneath him began to relax, began to make little sounds of perplexed pleasure as she entered the realm of womanhood.

He withdrew from her body the instant before his own pleasure peaked, and Henrietta, whose education in these matters was but barely begun, thought nothing of it. She lay, feeling strangely limp, accepting the heaviness of the body upon hers, now accepting the body itself, the physical presence in all its sensory reality, that had so frightened her with its unfamiliar and invincible power.

Daniel rolled away from her, propped himself on an elbow, and dropped a kiss on her brow. A smile trembled on her lips, but she said nothing because she could think of nothing that seemed appropriate. A shyness now filled her, as if, despite the intimacy they had just shared, again she was in the company of a stranger. But Daniel Drummond had not been a stranger from the first moment she had become aware of him as a person after the battlefield at Preston. It was a paradox beyond unraveling.

Daniel read something of this confusion in her face and with quiet wisdom decided that sleep was her best medicine. He lay down, sliding an arm beneath her. Henrietta rolled into his embrace and was instantly asleep. Once he was sure he would not disturb her, he gently disengaged himself and slid out of bed, snuffing the candles and building up the fire before returning to bed in the flickering firelight.

Henrietta woke once in the night. She lay disoriented in the darkness and the befuddlement of new waking. Her nakedness surprised her for a minute, as did the presence of a bedfellow when she knew she had been granted the luxury of a bed to herself since they arrived in London. Her body in its private places didn't feel as usual either, sticky and a little sore. She touched herself and remembered. Looking up into the shadowy darkness, she twisted the heavy gold ring on her finger. It was Daniel's signet ring, all that could be
produced in the haste and imperative of her wedding. Her father had ridden off immediately, without even reentering the Red Lion to drink to the health of the bride and groom. In the morning Will would leave, and she would go naked into her new life—as naked as she now was.

Kent…she had never been to Kent. The garden of England they called it. Orchards and pleasant rolling countryside…and two little girls…motherless little girls who were about to be faced with a stepmother. Etched into her soul was every memory of the day when Lady Mary Ashby had arrived at Sir Gerald's side to be introduced to the terrified, grieving child who Henrietta knew still existed within herself. Her own mother had been dead but six months when her father brought home his bride and her three children. And Henrietta had loathed them all upon sight in instinctive reaction to a bone-deep recognition that she herself was despised and distrusted. She had put frogs in her stepbrothers' bed and laughed merrily at their screams of repulsion. Boys were not supposed to be frightened of frogs. She expected Marie, her stepsister, to be timid and would not have teased her, except that Marie delighted in telling tales. It had become clear to Henrietta that she might as well be punished for offenses she had committed as for those she had not. So it had continued for ten years and more.