Heron House
T he fun, in many ways, had already begun.
The Duke of Baxter had arrived, much to the excitement of the entire household, and it was a large household.
Heron House, unlike most other London homes of great people, was full to the brim. Now, there was always room for more, but in this house, there were most of Cymbeline’s aunts and uncles, her grandmother, and many, many cousins, as well as adopted cousins. There were also in-laws.
And there were always people coming and going, like dancing masters, theater teachers, and fighting fellows.
Yes, it was a marvelous place to live and grow up. It was an epicenter of culture and thought, where many were always moving. But surprisingly, quite often, in the evenings, the Briarwoods would simply sit at home and enjoy each other.
Cymbeline could not wait to see what the Duke of Baxter was like in the Briarwoods’ natural habitat.
He was currently in his rooms, which were adjacent to her own. She had not missed the fact that her darling grandmama had arranged it so. She felt herself blush.
Cymbeline knew what Briarwoods did. She knew the circumstances of more than one of her aunt’s and uncle’s rather close relationships occurring right underneath their family’s noses before they were married.
Often, the family put them together on purpose! As she was certain her grandmother had done so now with herself and Baxter.
But despite her grandmother’s actions, her family did not seem so very certain that she and the Duke of Baxter would wed.
Perhaps her grandmama knew something they did not.
Generally, her grandmama knew many things that others did not, but this evening Cymbeline could not wait to see him , and to see what he would do when so surrounded.
Many people did not know what to make of the family, but she had a rather sneaking suspicion that the Duke of Baxter would be able to handle her family with aplomb. And once she was certain of that, saying yes to him would be far easier.
So, she crossed to the door that separated their chambers, lifted her knuckles, and wrapped firmly at the door. There was a long pause.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Napoleon,” she called through the panel.
“Don’t say that. I’ve no interest in short Frenchmen.”
“Apparently, it’s a myth,” she called back. “He’s not that short. It’s just English propaganda in the cartoons.”
The door opened, revealing his muscled frame clad in elegant clothes, with candle glow silhouetting him. His shirt was open at the neck, his cravat gone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up past quite impressive forearms.
“And how do you know that?” he prompted.
“Because I know the cartoonist,” she teased, bouncing on her toes. “And as far as I understand, the emperor is of average height, though not of average intelligence or average ability to do damage to the world.”
“Well said.”
“Thank you,” she replied, bouncing on her toes again and placing her hands behind her back, lest she reach for him. Her whole body ached for his. It was most alarming and delicious at once. “Now, are you ready to go down for the evening?”
He stared at her for a moment, then he smiled and asked, “Where are we going? Whose party is it this evening?”
She blinked. “Oh, there is no party. We’re going to go downstairs, have a light supper, and I’m sure someone will wish to entertain us, either on the pianoforte or perhaps a scene will be done. You may be asked to read Shakespeare.”
His brows drew together. “And this is how the Briarwoods live?”
She stared at him, confused. “Yes.”
“How can you bear to stay at home?” he exclaimed.
“Well, we like each other, so we spend a great deal of time with each other.”
“Doing what?” he asked, stunned.
“Well, I just told you.”
“But surely…” He looked back over his shoulder, then gazed down at her. “Don’t you wish to go out with me?” he queried softly.
“Why would I wish to go out with you when I could stay here instead?”
His eyes crackled with a slow burn of heat at that. “It depends on what you wish to do,” he replied, his voice rough now with the promise of something sinful. “But I am under your family’s roof, and I have just arrived, so I don’t think—”
“Oh, they’ve put your room next to mine, so I know exactly what they’re trying to do.”
“Who is they ?” he asked suddenly, as if he feared they might jump out and take him to task.
“If I’m quite transparent with you,” she began, “ they really is Grandmama. She is the one who runs this house, like a goddess from on high. Though my Aunt Mercy does quite a lot. But if Grandmama thinks that our rooms should be side by side, then they should be. She wants to know if we are compatible.”
“Compatible?” he echoed.
“Yes, in every way.”
His eyebrows rose. “The Dowager Duchess wishes to find out if—”
“Yes, because if we are not, then we can both cry off, and there’s no scandal.”
He let out a bleat of a sound. “How can this not be scandalous? And surely, your male relatives are going to bury me in the field your father mentioned.”
“No,” she laughed. “Because I’ve already heard the rumor that the family has chosen to tell everyone about why you are here.
Our family will know the truth, but everyone else will be told that my uncle, the duke, invited you to stay so that the two of you can work on a particularly important bill.
You both need to see if you can get some stodgy laws on the ports amended, so that far less harm is done in the colonies, you see.
And that will allow us to be together here. ”
He cleared his throat. “I see. And you’re comfortable with that lie?”
“I am,” she said. “Unless, of course, you wish to tell everyone the truth, which is that you are going to be with me, cheek by jowl, all of the time, and that you could be turned down by a lady like me.”
He laughed. “I could never bear the scandal of such a thing,” he teased.
“That’s what I thought, so we’ll just go ahead with my family’s excuse, if you don’t mind. Besides, you and my uncle might very well solve the problems of the world under this roof. You two seem to have the capability.”
“Thank you for your confidence,” he said, giving her a bow with the flourish of a hand. “But I cannot stay here this evening.”
“Why not? It’s a perfectly wonderful house, don’t you think? Is it not beautiful to you?” She frowned. “Are you one of those silly people who think modern houses are the way to do things? Because if you are, I can tell you right now that we should not wed.”
A loud laugh boomed from him. “No, I do not think modern houses are the way to do things. I still like my house in the country. We did not tear it to bits and pieces to put in some French monstrosity. Lots of dark wood, don’t you know. I hope you like a good castle.”
“Oh, I do,” she assured swiftly. “Castles make me very excited about being alive. You see, because what I do is go up to the parapet. The wind sweeps my gown, and I pretend that I’m a lady warrior of old, ready to wage a battle against an army storming my keep.”
He gave her a strange look before his lips parted and he leaned down towards her. “I’d like to storm your keep.”
Heat blossomed at her bosom and then traveled lower. Much lower. “That is a really shocking thing to say, Your Grace,” she replied playfully.
“I’m glad. I was hoping to be a bit shocking. I think you need to be shocked.”
“I’m surrounded by my family. It is extremely hard to shock me.”
“And yet, I think,” he said, “you are without experience.”
“Is it so very obvious?” she asked, feeling nervous for the first time in his presence.
He nodded softly.
“Well, I have a great deal of theoretical knowledge,” she said, “it is true, but nothing tried out yet.”
“Aren’t they concerned that you might try it out with me?” he asked abruptly. “I still can’t believe your grandmother has chosen to put my room next to yours. Is this a test? Am I to resist? Surely, that’s what this is.”
“No,” she rushed, understanding his confusion.
“My family doesn’t really put store in such things, as long as no one blatantly finds out about the activity.
That did happen to my Aunt Hermia, and she was forced to wed.
But if you and I would, well, have an affair, it really wouldn’t be a problem, as long as no one found out. ”
His eyes widened, and he leaned against the doorframe, a decidedly delicious action.
She tried not to swoon from the way his muscles rippled and moved under his clothes, and she babbled on, “My aunt, Lady Juliet, had an affair with her husband before they were married. Everyone in the house knew that they were going to get married except the two of them, you see.”
“And your family is full of a great many of these stories?” he prompted.
“Oh, yes,” she affirmed, surprised at the way her cheeks were heating, wondering if she was going to have an affair with him. “Isn’t yours?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m an only child.”
“Oh, dear, how sad for you.” She nibbled her lower lip. “Well, I suppose I am an only child, but I have so many cousins that it feels as if I’ve had brothers and sisters all my life.”
“I can see that,” he said softly, his gaze tracing slowly over her. “Speaking of which, aren’t your cousins going to try to do me in if your father does not?”
“No, no, I’ve spoken with them.”
“You’ve spoken with them?” he queried.
She cleared her throat. She’d prepared an answer to this question, since she’d been certain he would ask.
“Yes, I’ve told them that if they interfere with you, or try to kill you, then I shall have to tell all society about the silly things they did when they were little boys.
I know everything about them, you see. They used to play sprites. ”
“Sprites?” he queried, amused.
“Yes, in plays. They’re very excellent fairies. And I told them that if they bother you, I will force them to put on a play in public with the parts of Mustardseed, Peaseblossom, and the rest from A Midsummer Night’s Dream .”
His lips twitched. “My, you really have planned all of this.”
Oh, how she wanted him. Wanted him in a way that seemed to steal her reason. So she did not think before she blurted, “Yes, so I really think the only solution at present is that you kiss me now, and then we go downstairs.”
His eyes darkened with desire. “Oh, I will kiss you happily,” he said, “but we will not go downstairs after.”
“Will we not?”
“No, because then I shall just be tempted to bring you back up again. If I kiss you, we will go to the theater. Would that please you?”
She gasped. He knew her well. And she loved feeling as if he had chosen something specifically to please her. But there was a part of her that wondered why he was trying to leave when he had only just gotten there.
But she wouldn’t let that thought take root. No, he was simply excited by life, as was she. And she rather liked his enthusiasm.
“Well then?” she prompted.
“What?” he said, sliding his hand to her waist, pulling her in close to him.
She could scarce breathe as she realized he was going to kiss her. And as much as she wished it, she was fraught with nerves. What if their kiss wasn’t good? What if he didn’t like kissing her?
She licked her lips, barely able to put two thoughts together as his hand brushed her hip.
“What play are we to see? My Aunt Juliet is currently in Hamlet . She’s playing Gertrude.
She hates the fact that she never got to play Hamlet, but she said Gertrude is a decent part, as long as one doesn’t ruin it by getting too silly and maudlin. You have to find the depth.”
“I see,” he replied, leaning in and slowly caressing the curls away from the curve of her neck.
The feel of his hand upon her bare skin was shocking and so tempting she knew she could never say no to his touch. “Have you never contemplated Hamlet before?” she asked, though she had no idea why she asked it.
“It’s my favorite,” he said, bowing his head and pressing a soft kiss to the curve of her neck. “If I’m honest, I can read it like a novel, and I agree with your aunt. Gertrude is a remarkable figure, but I don’t want to talk about her.”
“You don’t?” she breathed, her body arching towards him as if she was a vine twining round a statue of carved stone. But he was no cold statue. He was warm and living and made of flesh and bone.
“I want to kiss you,” he said.
“Then you’d better do it,” she whispered, “before I start quoting Hamlet . That would certainly put a damper on the mood.”
He pulled her further into his arms without more urging and did as she suggested.
Baxter kissed her softly, passionately, like a man who was not afraid that he was going to lose. Like a man who never ever lost and always got what he wanted.
He was a force to be reckoned with. He was a power beyond anything she’d known, and she was accustomed to being around powerful people. He was like an intoxicating spell, wafting over her, convincing her to do whatever he wished.
And in that kiss, the way his mouth moved over hers, the way his hands roved her body, a part of her brain longed to throw all silliness aside and shove away this idea that they spend this time together to get to know each other before they truly agreed on the wedding.
Yes, she should just shove that aside and tell him that they should elope right now to Gretna Green, and that she would happily be his duchess.
How did he do that?
How did he seize all reason from her? Yes, he was like a Pied Piper leading her along to his song. And in that moment, she knew that he was dangerous because he might be able to lead her away from herself if she was not careful.