The Bridegroom (29 page)

“Thank goodness for that,” Reggie said.

“We can discuss this all morning, or we can go on a picnic. Which is it to be?” Mick asked.

“Let me get Carlisle and tell Terrence to have the groom prepare the gig for us,” Reggie said, dropping her sister’s hands and turning for the drawing room door. “We will join you shortly.”

Reggie looked at Carlisle with entirely new eyes when she reentered the dining room. She had never much considered the difference in their ages, since it was commonplace for a man to be from fifteen to twenty years older than the young miss he married. Now she realized Carlisle had done a world of living—and loving—in the twelve years that separated their ages.

She had never felt jealous before, Reggie realized, because she had never cared enough about any particular man to want him for herself. She had known for a long time that she enjoyed Carlisle’s company. She had known she craved his body. But her feelings went much deeper than that.

I am impossibly, completely, and totally in love with him
.

The thought was startling—and dismaying—when she considered what it might mean if Carlisle refused to give up his quest for vengeance against her father. What if she was forced to choose between them? Would it come to that?

While loving a man was new to her, Reggie was only beginning to realize that her husband had loved before, courted before, married before, even been a father before. She could believe in happily ever after because she had never lost a first love … a spouse … a beloved child.

Reggie tried to imagine how she would feel if Carlisle were suddenly gone from her life.

It hurt to breathe. Dear God. Did she care that much? Despite everything? What if their marriage floundered, and he left her? Or she was forced to leave him? How
did one go on? How did one live with the awful grief of such a loss?

“Well, my dear, will we be riding pigs this morning? Or rowing in a bog?” Carlisle asked.

“You will be glad to hear the promised ‘ride on a pig’ is a picnic, and ‘rowing in a bog’ is rowing in a boat.”

Carlisle raised a brow. “Who has invited us to share such entertainments?”

“My family.”

Carlisle cocked his head and eyed her intently. “Your entire family?”

“Everyone except my father,” she said. “He had estate business that could not wait.”

“I see,” Carlisle said. “Where are they now?”

“Waiting for us to join them. I asked Terrence to have the groom prepare the gig for us. Mick says he has taken care of everything else. All we need bring is ourselves. Will you come?”

“I would not miss it,” Carlisle replied.

Reggie grabbed a woolen shawl in case a chill moved in from the sea and a parasol in case the sun got too warm.

When Reggie and Carlisle joined the rest of the party in front of the castle, she realized Mick had not exaggerated. Not one, but two wagons waited behind the landau transporting her stepmother and siblings. One was piled high with tables and chairs and numerous baskets, which she supposed held cutlery and glasses and linen and mounds of food. The other held two small rowboats.

While Reggie had been to a great many picnics on the outskirts of London where such elaborate preparations
had been made, this was the first time she could remember it being done for a country picnic. Then she realized Mick knew the sad state of disrepair in which Castle Carlisle had been only a week past. Apparently uncertain whether she would have tables or chairs or even foodstuffs, he had left nothing to chance.

When Reggie saw how much baggage Mick had brought, she insisted that Terrence and George join the party, to be of whatever assistance they could to Kitt’s servants, and they climbed on the second wagon.

“Come and be introduced to my stepmother,” Reggie said, taking Carlisle’s hand and leading him to the landau.

“The duchess and I have already met,” Carlisle replied. “But I am looking forward to seeing her again.”

Reggie noticed that Carlisle did not mention he had previously
courted
her stepmother, but she was not willing to risk an argument that might cause their picnic to be postponed or interrupted entirely.

“You are looking wonderful, Kitt,” Reggie said, as she stood beside the landau. She reached up to take her stepmother’s hand and gripped it tightly. “And Meg is beautiful,” she said, eyeing the baby sleeping in the crook of Kitt’s arm. “I am so very happy for you.”

She met Kitt’s eyes, knowing they would never speak of the three babies who had not lived to be born, but wanting her stepmother to know that she understood why Kitt must cherish Meg all the more.

She stepped back alongside Carlisle and said, “May I present my husband, Clay Bannister, Earl of Carlisle.”

“You are looking well, my lord,” Kitt said, as she and Carlisle exchanged nods.

“And you, Your Grace,” Carlisle replied formally.

Reggie was watching for any signs of romantic interest, but all she saw was a guarded look from Kitt that was even less cordial than the formal greetings they had exchanged.

And then Carlisle said, “You are still very beautiful.”

“And very much married,” her stepmother replied. “My husband was sorry he could not be here.”

Reggie held her breath. She could not believe Kitt had mentioned Papa under the circumstances.

Whatever cordiality Carlisle might have felt toward her stepmother was extinguished like a burning candle whipped by a chilly wind. His features hardened, and his eyes turned a cold, obsidian black that Reggie thought must reflect the darkness in his soul.

“Come,” Reggie said. “Let us join my family—”

“It is not a family I have any desire to join,” Carlisle said.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Kitt replied in even tones that denied the flare of temper Reggie saw in her stepmother’s eyes.

“Damned scoundrel,” Reggie heard Mick mutter under his breath.

“Please,” Becky whispered, begging him to control his anger.

Reggie could feel the situation spiraling out of control. Any moment, polite courtesies would become hurled epithets and any chance of a rapprochement with her father would need to include her stepmother as well.

“When are we going to eat?” eleven-year-old Gareth blurted.

That mundane question broke the tension and focused every eye on her brother.

“We have only another mile or so to travel,” Kitt reassured him.

“But how long before we get there?” the boy asked plaintively. “I’m starving!”

Reggie reached out to ruffle Gareth’s black curls and said, “And I can see why. You are growing like a weed!”

Gareth grinned. “Papa says I will probably grow up to be as tall as he is.”

“I can easily believe it,” Reggie said. Though in fact, Gareth was rather small for his age. Seeing the look on Carlisle’s face, she quickly changed the subject away from her father. “How do you like having a baby sister?”

Gareth wrinkled his nose like a schoolboy facing a bowl of cold gruel. “All she does is cry and eat and sleep.”

Reggie laughed. “Soon enough she will be tagging along behind you begging to do everything you do.” She turned back to her stepmother, and said, “I want very much to hold Meg, but I think it might be better to wait until she wakes up. And if we don’t get on the road soon, it seems Gareth will die of hunger.”

Reggie slipped her arm through Carlisle’s and urged him toward the gig in which they were traveling, partly to make sure he did not argue further and partly to make certain that he did not turn around and walk back inside.
She could feel the tension in his arm and see a muscle working in his jaw.

“Please, my lord,” she said quietly. “Do not spoil the day.”

“Perhaps you would rather go without me.” he suggested.

She gripped his arm tightly. “I love my family, and I love—” She cut herself off abruptly. She had been about to say
I love you
. She did not dare put that much power in his hands. She had spoken the words on her wedding day, but she had not repeated them since. And would not, until she was certain her feelings were returned. “—the sea,” she said instead. “But neither would be as much fun, if you are not there.”

“Very well, my dear. You win. We will picnic by the sea.”

She had not realized a contest was in progress, but she did not stop to relish her triumph. She hurried toward the gig and climbed in without waiting for his help.

Mick mounted his horse and signaled the coachman to start the landau. Reggie and Carlisle followed in the gig, and the two overloaded wagons brought up the rear. As they were pulling away, Cam MacTavish hopped onto the last wagon.

Reggie opened her mouth to call out that he needn’t come, but she was certain George and Terrence would appreciate the help unloading the boats, and if the picnic got dull, MacTavish could liven it up with one of his stories.

“Where are we going?” Reggie asked Mick, once they were on the road.

“Down to the sea,” Mick said. “Where you and Becky and I used to go. Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Not more than a mile farther down the road, the cliff declined gradually until it became a grassy verge nearly at sea level. After picnicking on the grass, a gentle climb down would lead them to an inlet where they could boat in a small bay where the water was nearly smooth, because the waves broke against a rocky reef that nearly enclosed it.

“I can hardly wait,” Reggie said. “Will you come boating with me, my lord?” she asked Carlisle.

“I am at your service, my dear,” he said.

Reggie raised a brow. “Do you mean you are willing to do whatever I wish for the rest of the afternoon?”

“I am,” he replied.

“Then I want you to be nice to Mick and to Becky and to my brother, Gareth. And most especially, I want you to be on your best, most courteous behavior with my stepmother. Will you promise to do that?”

Carlisle wore a grimace exactly like the one she had just seen on Gareth’s face, but he said, “Very well. I promise.”

Reggie rewarded him with a smile, then scooted closer along the torn leather seat of the gig and twined her arm with his. “Oh, this is going to be a wonderful day. I just know it!”

She ignored the ticklish worm of foreboding, inching its way down her spine.

After what could only be deemed a shaky start, Reggie did her best to keep herself between Carlisle and her family, thus ensuring a pleasant time at the picnic for everybody.

While Kitt’s servants set up the tables with Mick’s help, and Carlisle supervised the unloading of the boats by her three men and helped carry the boats down to the shore, Reggie managed to find out what few details Becky knew about Penrith’s defection. When Reggie had heard it all, she could not help but think her sister was better off without him.

“Now tell me about you and Carlisle,” Becky said. “Whyever did you agree to marry him on such short notice?”

“He did not give me much choice,” Reggie said.

“Are you saying you were forced?” Becky asked, aghast.

Reggie told Becky the details of her kidnapping, her marriage, and the ruins she had found when she arrived
at Castle Carlisle. “I cannot say I am mistreated,” Reggie finished, “but I cannot honestly say I have my husband’s love. Though I am still hoping for happily ever after.”

Becky shook her head. “It does not exist.”

“It must,” Reggie said.

“Only in fairy tales,” Becky said as she glanced longingly at Mick.

Lily had not come along on the picnic, since she had a bit of a stomachache, so Reggie did her best to play matchmaker and threw Becky often into Mick’s path. Mick seemed more than happy to be caught there. He helped fill Becky’s plate and sat beside her while she nibbled at it. Neither seemed hungry, though their eyes devoured each other.

Reggie sat beside Carlisle on a blanket and let him feed her choice morsels of his chicken, pretending for her family that all was right with her world. His eyes focused intently on her mouth, and her body squeezed up like a drawstring as she tasted his fingertips with her lips, even sucking the tip of one briefly inside her mouth.

She glanced around surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed her indiscretion, but Becky and Mick were entranced with each other, Kitt’s eyes were centered on Meg, and the servants were all busy. And then she met her brother’s gaze.

His lips curved in a crooked grin. And he winked.

Flustered, Reggie crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him.

Carlisle snickered.

Reggie blushed.

Gareth turned away and concentrated on the chicken leg he was gnawing to the bone.

The instant Meg was awake, Reggie was there to hold her newborn sister. “I am surprised Papa would allow you to make such a journey with her, after what happened when you—” Reggie cut herself off, suddenly remembering that Mick believed Carlisle to be responsible for the carriage accident that had injured her stepmother. “I was only thinking that newborns are so fragile,” Reggie said.

Kitt opened the blanket more completely so that Reggie could see the baby’s ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. “Your papa wanted you to meet your sister,” she said simply.