The Muse (15 page)

He put the blanket on the ground in front of the crypt where her parents rested, and asked, “Is this all right, my darling?”

Imogene dropped down on the blanket as if being pressed from above with an immense weight.  She looked so haunted he had to look away for a moment.  Graham stood back then and gave her the privacy she needed.  This was something he understood, very well.

Many, many long minutes and a river of tears later, Graham saw when Imogene put her hand out to him.  He came to her on the blanket, and held her as she said her final goodbye.  And then it was done.  On the ride back she allowed him to hold her again in the carriage.  She was quiet for most of the trip and he left her to her thoughts, but toward the end she looked up at him and said, “I made my peace.”

“I am glad,
chérie,
I only wanted to give you the chance to come home—”

She silenced him with two fingers to his lips.  “It was good you brought me here today…to do this.”  She returned to her position of resting against his chest and settled back into quiet.

Holding his arms around her soft weight, he thought about his own demons.  He’d be facing much the same when he brought her home to Gavandon in a few weeks.  Would Imogene still love him if she knew?  Would she rest so trustingly in his arms as she was right at this moment, if the truth about his secret were known?  Speculation on the outcome was easy to figure.  Imogene would turn away from him.  She would not love him or want him anymore.  And that fear drove him to secure her.  Whatever it took, whatever must be leveraged, Imogene would be his.  No other option was tolerable.  The idea of losing her love, for any reason, quite simply…terrified him.  She must never know.

“MISS Byron-Cole, I finally have the honor of meeting you.  My friend has kept you quite secreted away in his plans for you.  He was quite right to do it, your beauty and charm reasons enough for him to keep you all for himself.”

“Gravelle, are you trying to charm my fiancée on the night before she weds me?  What kind of a friend are you anyway?” Graham glared at his friend even though it was apparent he was joking.

Imogene was having a wonderful time on the eve of her wedding.  The Hargreaves, her dear friend, Jocelyn, her uncle and cousins, as well as Colin, had all arrived for the nuptials in the morning.  Family and friends were in full support this evening at Brentwood along with some new faces.  A Mr. Clive Gravelle was one of them.  Very amusing, with as easy a manner as Graham had, but without the somberness.

“Thank you, Mr. Gravelle.  I hope in the future, when we know one another better, you can feel free to share some of the memories you have of Graham.  He’s told me that you’ve known each other since childhood, with your parents being close friends and neighbours in Warwickshire.  I should love to know some little thing of what he was like as a boy.”

“By all means.  I must have a veritable trunk-full of stories about his boyhood exploits.  For all his outward seriousness there lies a mischievous bent to our Rothvale here.”  Gravelle replied with a nod and a rakish twinkle to his eyes.

“How wonderful, Mr. Gravelle.  I look forward to a very long and reminiscent conversation with you then.”  She looked over at Graham.

Graham rolled his eyes. “Gravelle, you are such a loyal friend.  It’s so heartwarming to have one’s true friends in support.  Have I thanked you for putting me up in Town this past week?”  He directed a menacing glare at his friend but all knew it was in jest and that he was truly grateful to have such a good friend with him on this day.

Mr. Gravelle then focused his attentions on her cousin, Cariss.  “Miss Wilton, have you enjoyed your stay in Town?”

“Yes.  Thank you, Mr. Gravelle.  It has been a very busy time with preparing for the wedding and the diversions of London.  I fear it shall be quite a drear winter, now all of the doings will be at an end.  I will miss Imogene dreadfully when she is gone.”

“Perhaps you will be soon for a visit to Gavandon, Miss Wilton?” Gravelle suggested with a charming smile.  Imogene was not unaware of Mr. Gravelle’s very watchful interest in her cousin and wondered what Cari thought of him.  She would have to ask her later.

Imogene replied, “In response to your suggestion, I hope Cari may be able to join us in the spring at Gavandon.  We are working to arrange it.  Are you at home in Warwickshire, Mr. Gravelle?”

“Yes.  Kelldale Park is but three miles from Gavandon.  I split the year between there and Town.  I daresay we will all cross paths again soon when we are north.”

Graham spoke up, “True that, Gravelle.  We must make it so.”

Imogene loved seeing Graham with his friends and losing some of his reserve.  He was smiling more now and that pleased her too.  She hoped his apparent happiness was because of her.

She wanted to be the reason.

And soft adorings from their loves receive

Upon the honeyed middle of the night.

John Keats   ~ ‘The Eve of St .Agnes’, 1820

ST. MARTIN
-in-the-Fields’ shining whiteness was a beacon today—accepting and confirming the vows of the couple inside, hearing their promise to love, honor, cherish, protect and obey.  Graham was in awe of the experience.  When he knelt beside Imogene and the priest put their hands together, covered them with his own, and spoke the words, Graham knew them…truly.

As Imogene signed her maiden name for the last time on the marriage document, he finally allowed himself to indulge in a sliver of relief.  She now belonged to him lawfully and spiritually.  Until death chose to part them in this earthly life.

They stood on the steps and took their moment together while the trilling bells of St. Martin’s went ringing out into the city of London.

THE man watched from across the street, knowing he must not be seen.  He hung in the shadow, but still had a clear view of them.  The bride was lovely, and what do you know?  Very familiar in her looks. 
God!
  He thought this might work out even better than he had imagined, cheered that the satisfaction of getting what he deserved was going to be made all the sweeter for the sport in it.  He licked his lips as he slithered down into the bowels of the old metropolis.  Thinking the same thought over and over, as he made his way, “I have you over a barrel.  One way or another, you’re going to give me what I want.”

A wedding breakfast at Brentwood followed the ceremony at St. Martin’s, although it was well past noon before it got underway.

Graham admired his wife in her elegant wedding clothes.  The dress was done in ivory satin with bold, vertical stripes in blue-grey, a faux waistcoat bodice and a long jacket with a slight train.  Her hair was up with some of it left to tumble down her back, and she wore the magnificent pearl choker from her mother she’d worn to the ball the night they’d met.  Utterly mouthwatering.

It took some time to say their goodbyes to their many guests.  He sensed Imogene growing a bit emotional saying farewell to her family, especially Cariss, but they parted with promises of a visit in spring.  She gave a special farewell to her friend Jocelyn Charleston, both agreeing to write and hoping to see each other again when Jocelyn might come to her sister Mina at Everfell.

Gravelle was the last to leave, and it was late in the afternoon when all had departed.

“They have all gone.  I think Colin is still about, but I imagine he’ll make himself scarce.” 
He’d bloody better be scarce.
  “We’ll not see him again before he leaves.  We are finally alone,
Mrs. Everley
.”  He pulled her into his arms and linked his hands at her back, letting the full flush of her against his body wash over him.

“I love for you to call me Mrs. Everley.  I know we can only say it when we are alone together, but I do love the sound of it.”

“What?  You don’t wish to be called Lady Rothvale?  You’ve earned it.  You are a baroness now.  I’ll have to call you Lady Rothvale sometimes.  In any case, you must accustom yourself to it for that is what everyone else will call you.  There’s nothing for it.  Sorry,
chérie
.”  He grinned down at her.

“I know, and it is an honor, but I love ‘missus’ when you say it to me,” she said, while smoothing over the lapel of his new blue-grey jacket made to match the colour of the stripes in her dress to perfection.

“Well, I’ll be sure to say it to you all of the time then.”  He glanced down at her, her eyes focusing intently on his jacket lapel until it lost her consideration, replaced by his pocket handkerchief for some fidgeting attentions.  “I think Mr. Gravelle was quite taken with Cariss.  He stared at her ever so much.”  She finally lifted her eyes up to meet his.

Graham would say his new bride was a bit nervous if he had to guess, but he supposed it was natural for her to feel that way.  So, he forced a calm response and just held her loosely, content to just have her alone with him.  “Well, your cousin Cariss is lovely despite being so young, and he could not do better than her, but
she
might do better than him,” he said with a smirk.  “No, I jest.  For all of Gravelle’s triviality, he is solid loyal—a good man.  Knows horses better than anyone and a
very
successful man of business—a sharp fencer too.  They could be well matched I suppose,” Graham said thoughtfully as he pondered the possibility of the two together.

“Can we stay like this forever?  It has been so very difficult to look at you all day and not be able to touch you.”

Her comment got his attention as well as his cock’s.

“Really?  I cannot imagine whatever you mean,
chérie
.”

She frowned at his teasing, her luscious bottom lip jutting out a little.

“All right, you’ve caught me in an enormous lie, Mrs. Everley.  I thought I would die if they did not all leave this house.”

Her frown transformed into a beautiful smile, and he couldn’t wait anymore to have a little taste of his bride.

He kissed her first, softly and slowly, a finger under her chin, holding her to his lips before moving back to assess her from head to toe.  “You are always beautiful to me, but today you are beyond description, and this dress—quite remarkable in colour and design, very modern.  I know there will be mention of you and your dress in the columns tomorrow.  I shall clip it out and save it for a keepsake.  You choose the loveliest clothes.  I have always thought so.  Such a vision today when your uncle walked you into the church.”

“
You
were my vision today, Graham.  You were…ah…very handsome, as you always are.”  She blushed up at him.  “I was nervous at first but as soon as I could see your eyes upon me, I felt a calmness wrap ’round me and I knew everything would be well.”

He brought her back into his arms and held her, saying nothing, preferring to simply indulge in his favourite activity of looking at her and close enough to touch.  In truth, he was trying to bend his mind around the fact she was now his wife.

Graham made a decision about how their evening would progress.

“I must write some letters of correspondence.  Would you like to join me in the study?  Maybe you could write in your journal for a time?  Mark the occasion?”

“All right.  I’ll just go and get my journal, and meet you in your study.”

He watched her go, unable to tell from her reply what her thoughts were on his suggestion. 
Christ!  It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon.  I cannot just carry her upstairs and bed her right now.  No.  I am not doing that.  I want everything to be perfect.

Graham stood when she returned to his study, leading her to a writing table he had situated just across from his desk.  “If you sit here, I may be able to look at you whenever I wish and I will be very, very content.”

“It is your intention to work on your correspondence or to look at me?”

“Both.  But since it is the first time I have tried it, I am not sure of how successful I will be,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the temple.

He helped her get settled first, then went to his own desk and sat down to write.  Graham had very strong self-control.  It was a reflex, honed by his life experiences.  When he made a decision, he almost always carried it through, avoiding distraction by focusing unwavering concentration on the task at hand.  But today was different.  He could look at her and control himself, but the mental images of the coming night, beginning to bombard his thoughts, were more difficult to suppress.

He wondered if Imogene had similar thoughts as him.  Probably not, he decided.  Sitting across from him, she appeared very unfocused, and Graham had to work doubly hard to keep from laughing at her distractibility.  She was so utterly charming; he could watch her unendingly and never grow tired.

Fidgeting and sighing, she rolled her neck over the top of her shoulder, the effect pushing her breasts upward in her bodice.

This last move of hers was so tempting he actually felt his mouth start to water. 
Christ Almighty, this utter torture.  How am I going to make it through dinner?

Imogene stood up abruptly.

Graham leapt up out of his chair, looking inquiringly and trying to ignore the pain at the place where his cock met his balls.

“I feel so hot, I think I need some water,” she blurted, moving toward the door.

“Don’t go,
chérie
.  Please stay.  I’ll ring for some.”  He pulled the cord that rang the bell and went to her, putting his hand to her forehead, and then replacing it with his lips.  She seemed to relax instantly at his touch.  “You do not feel feverish to me.”
  You’re hot?  I don’t think you can know the true meaning of that.  Christ! 
“Let us sit here while we wait for your refreshment to come.”  He led her to a couch and caressed her hand.

She blinked at him.  “I fear I am not in the mood for writing in my journal just now.”

“No?”

“Not at all.”  She closed her eyes, shrugging one shoulder up to her ear and stretching her neck.

“What would you wish to do,
chérie
?” he asked in anticipation, hardly able to stand the vision of her as she stretched, without pouncing on her.  Oh, how he wanted to pounce.  He wanted to peel that gorgeous dress off her slowly, and touch every inch of her beautiful body.  He wanted to kiss her and touch her in places—his thoughts were cut off abruptly by her words.

“I think I should like to recline here and drink my water and look at you while you write.”

She is wickedly clever.  How did she just do that?  How did she turn everything around like that?

The door opened then and the water was delivered and poured.  Imogene relaxed back onto the cushions and took a sip.  “You may return to your correspondence, my love; I do not wish to keep you from it.”

Graham narrowed his eyes a little but did not leave the couch.  She took another sip.  This time a small drop remained on her lip.  She licked it off with her tongue and rubbed her lips together, her eyes resting on him.  Graham’s carefully mastered self-control evaporated at that instant and he lunged for her.  Water and glass tumbling onto the carpet was of little consequence.