Page 106 of The Rogue’s Embrace

As it turned out, the wedding had to wait slightly longer than either Cece or Rupert wanted to. They were more than ready to rush to the nearest church the morning after the May Flowers meeting, but it took several weeks for the most important guest of all to be in adequate health to attend.

"I only wish I'd been able to stand up with you,"

Fergus said with a lopsided smile from his wheelchair at the luncheon after the ceremony.

"You'll be on your feet again in no time, old chap,"

Rupert said, thumping his shoulder.

He instantly regretted the action. Fergus winced sharply through his smile, his mangled face going pale for a moment. Fergus was still swathed in bandages of all descriptions—from the patch of gauze hiding his damaged eye to the splints that held his broken arms still and the bulk of more splits keeping his shattered legs in place under the blanket draped over his lap. Rupert didn't know how his friend had pulled through the first few days or how he managed to keep his smile now. It was as painful for him to see Fergus in a state of near helplessness as it would have been if he'd sustained the injuries himself. But at least his friend was still alive.

"He most certainly will be on his feet soon,"

Lady Tavistock said, sweeping up to the side of Fergus's chair with a smile that was strained around the edges. "I demand a dance no later than midsummer's eve."

Fergus laughed, though even that seemed to bring him pain. "You might have to wait until Christmas, but I promise that dance will be yours, my lady."

"And there's much you can do to support Lady Tavistock and myself in the meantime,"

Cece said, returning to Rupert's side after chatting with some of her father's friends.

She looked positively radiant in her white wedding dress, her hair caught up in a crown of curls dressed with orange blossoms. Rupert noted that all of the May Flowers in attendance wore white orange blossoms as well in solidarity. But as far as he was concerned, his beautiful, formidable wife outshone every flower that God had ever invented. Her face shone with joy and her lips were a deep pink from the numerous kisses they'd stolen whenever they could throughout the day.

"I will do whatever you fine ladies need me to do,"

Fergus said, with far more bravado than a severely-wounded man in a wheelchair might have.

"We are hosting a fundraiser for the Irish Widows Society in two weeks,"

Cece told him, hugging Rupert's arm and glancing up at him with far more adoration than he thought he deserved. "And a week after that, we're staging a march in Hyde Park for better treatment of mothers and children in the workhouses."

"The May Flowers have decided not to hide their radical views any longer,"

Lady Tavistock said.

"Did somebody say radical views?"

Bianca asked, striding over to join their group with an overexcited expression.

Rupert laughed. "Why am I not surprised to see you pop up like a spring daisy when radical views are being expressed?"

Bianca swatted his arm in a playful, sisterly way, but gave most of her attention to Lady Tavistock. "My darling sister, Cece, said you wanted to speak to me, Lady Tavistock?"

She exchanged a giddy grin with Cece, the way the two of them had been doing for the last several days as their family bonds were strengthened.

"Indeed,"

Lady Tavistock said, suddenly taking on a more formal air. "Lady Bianca, I would like to formally invite you to become a member of The May Flowers."

Bianca burst into one of the widest smiles Rupert had ever seen from her, but she didn't look surprised. "Cece told me you might ask,"

she said in a rush. "And yes, of course. I would absolutely adore the chance to be a May Flower."

She clasped her hands in front of her. Rupert waited for her to continue clapping and to jump up and down the way she had as a girl when she'd been given a treat, but miraculously, she restrained herself.

"Perfect,"

Lady Tavistock said. She reached into the large corsage of orange blossoms pinned to her chest, plucked a few as though she'd intended to do so all along, took a long pin from her reticule, then stepped over to pin them to Bianca's bodice.

"This is such an honor,"

Bianca said, blinking rapidly to hold back tears.

Rupert gaped at her. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry."

"Nonsense,"

she said, sniffing. "I cry all the time. I'm rather high-strung, you know,"

she told Lady Tavistock with a laugh.

Rupert hoped Lady Tavistock knew what she was getting herself into, but the woman was all confidence when she said, "We need high spirits and enthusiasm. We need women who aren't afraid to speak their mind and who can face the enemy boldly."

"She can certainly do that."

Rupert turned to find Jack Craig approaching their group. He looked as distinguished as any of the aristocrats at the party, though his suit was of a simpler cut and he wore it with an air of casualness. Bianca beamed at him as though he were Prince Albert returned from the grave and shoved right past Rupert to stand by his side.

"Look, Jack,"

she said, standing before him with shoulders squared and chest thrust out to show off her orange blossoms. At least, that was what Rupert hoped she was showing him.

"Lovely,"

Jack said with a rake's grin, definitely not staring at the flowers. "I bet they're as fragrant as spring and soft to the touch too."

He started to lean toward Bianca, but Rupert cleared his throat. Jack pulled back, acknowledging the warning in Rupert's eyes with far too cheeky a nod. When Bianca whirled to the side to stand next to him, he placed a hand possessively on her back in a gesture that was far too informal for the setting. Rupert's sense of impending disaster flared to life. The trouble was, he liked Jack immensely, and he owed the man an enormous debt.

"Looking alright, O'Shea,"

Jack said to Fergus with shocking informality. "You'll be chasing after the bugger with me in no time."

"Remember where you are,"

Cece whispered as a group of their parent's titled friends walked past.

Jack cleared his throat and stood straighter. He looked every inch the Scotland Yard Chief Inspector as he continued with, "I've done a little more digging, and I think I might have Denbigh cornered."

He focused on a frowning Fergus. "Buster Jones might be on the verge of squealing, now that we have proof of his counterfeiting operation. He says he's got all sorts of information he'll offer in exchange for leniency."

"And will you give it to him?"

Cece asked. "If he helps you prove that Lord Denbigh did this to Lord O'Shea, would you actually let him go?"

Jack looked suddenly uncomfortable. "It's a tricky business, my lady. It all depends on whether the information he gives us is useful and if I have enough men at my disposal to track him once we let him go to nab him if he offends again."

"Policing is a delightful game of intrigue,"

Bianca said, swaying closer to his side and brushing her fingers through his hair as though straightening it.

Again, the feeling of impending dread filled Rupert. Bianca had all the sensuality of their mother, but she had none of the experience and very little of her cunning. He could only hope that his sister had inherited a modicum of their mother's good sense along with everything else.

The orchestra began to play and she practically gasped in excitement and clung to Jack's arm. "A waltz,"

she declared. "Jack, we simply must dance."

"Anything for you, my lady,"

Jack replied, looking and sounding as though he'd made a salacious suggestion instead of offering polite platitudes.

He turned to whisk Bianca out to the center of the ballroom, where several couples were preparing to dance. More than a few sets of eyes followed them, and the stodgier of the wedding guests murmured in horror at the pairing. Jack was far from an aristocrat, after all, and Bianca should never have stooped to set her sights so low.

"How do your parents feel about that pairing?"

Lady Tavistock asked, summing the whole thing up with the politest question possible.

"They'll never allow it,"

Cece answered with a regretful sigh. "Even though they both know how deeply in love Bianca is."

"Love?"

Rupert tried not to scoff. "I'm not sure that's what I'd call it."

"It's love,"

Cece corrected him with absolute certainty. He glanced at her to find her smiling at him. "Believe me, I know what love is."

"And thanks to you, I know now as well."

In spite of the crowd around them, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her lightly. He would have kissed her scandalously, but it seemed a shame to do so with poor Fergus looking on, unable to do the same to Lady Tavistock, which Rupert had a feeling he wanted to do. "Would you care to dance, my adorable wife?"

"Absolutely,"

Cece answered mischievously, glancing past his shoulder. "Is Reese available."

Rupert slapped her hand playfully, then raised it to his lips for a kiss. "Dance with your friend some other time. Right now, it's your husband who wants you."

She laughed and slid easily into his arms. "And I want you,"

she said. "I have a delicious feeling that I always will."

Author's Note

Irish Home Rule was the number one political conundrum of the last decades of the nineteenth century. It consumed hours of debate. It polarized opinions. Spoiler alert: It split the Liberal Party right down the middle, leading to the entire party's eventual demise. Proponents of Home Rule would often filibuster Parliament to the point where no other business could be conducted until their cause was heard.

And what was the cause? After the disastrous 1870s, a time that was starkly reminiscent of the catastrophic famine of the 1840s in Ireland, and the pitiful response by the English government, the Irish had had enough. They wanted independence, and in the meantime, they wanted their own parliament and control of their own affairs. The home rule experiment had worked brilliantly in Canada, and the Irish wanted to duplicate it.

But the British fought tooth and nail against the idea. As you may have been able to tell from this story, part of the resistance was a deeply-held belief that if Parliament and the crown showed any sign of "weakness"

by giving up control of their closest colony, every other part of the Empire would see and rebel. Loyalists genuinely believed that granting the Irish the right to rule themselves would be the first crack in the complete collapse of everything they held dear. The other major factor in refusing to allow the Irish any independence at all was racism, pure and simple. The Irish were viewed by many as inferior animals, incapable of rational thought of self-governance.

The debate raged for decades and wasn't truly settled until the Irish War of Independence, which ended in 1921. But as you will see in the rest of the May Flowers series, The Irish Question impacted almost every aspect of politics and life in the 1880s and beyond.

I hope you've enjoyed Rupert and Cece's story.

Whew! They're together at last! But what kind of trouble will Bianca get into with Jack Craig?

There's no way theirs will be a normal love story. In fact, it's impossible for the daughter of an earl and a man born in a brothel to marry at all. But Bianca isn't about to listen to that!

Will she and Jack find a way to be together? And will that way spell ruin for both of them?

Find out in It's Only a Scandal if You're Caught

And if you'd like to know more about the twisted and complicated love story between Cece's father, Lord Malcolm Campbell, and Rupert's mother, Lady Katya, be sure to check out April Seduction, part of The Silver Foxes of Westminster series!

* * *