Page 52

Nine months later…

Crispin was on his way to another family wedding. The last.

He galloped Mercury up the beech-lined drive to Chaumbers, first heading to the stable to leave the horse with George. Then, for old time’s sake, he sneaked into the house through the back door.

From several steps away, he heard Cook and Mrs. Clay in the kitchen arguing good-naturedly.

He’d sent Mrs. Clay to Chaumbers in a post-chaise the week before.

She was to be in charge of preparing Crispin’s meals, even his plate at the wedding breakfast. That was a potential cause for friction, but Cook had no reason to feel put out.

There was more than enough for her to do.

In addition to all the Taverstons, Hazard, and Alice, the Stirlings had been invited with their brood.

Crispin had also sent Gerald with Mrs. Clay, which meant he’d been a week without a valet. No real hardship, but he was in great need of a decent shave.

He walked into the kitchen. The two cooks barely looked up.

“Can someone direct me to Lady Bodwell?” he asked pleasantly.

With a one-shouldered shrug to indicate she was unimpressed with his comings and goings, Cook answered, “She was down at the Carrolls’ cottage. Maybe she’s back.”

“Oh.” He turned to go find her. He hadn’t seen the love of his life since the christening in July, and even then, it had been difficult to steal private moments.

Peters came out of the pantry with a large box. “Major? You’re here. The earl asked that I send you to his office the moment you arrived.”

“Do you have to tell him you saw me?”

“We all saw you,” Cook said. “Get on with you.”

Civilian life was absurd. He was reduced to taking orders from the servants.

Brimful of good humor, he went upstairs to see what Jasper wanted.

The office door was open, so he didn’t bother to knock.

Jasper was half-standing, his hip resting on his desk, talking to Vanessa, who was seated on a new two-person couch.

It held two persons. Vanessa cradled the babe christened Isabel in her arms. “Belle” appeared to be sleeping, so he tiptoed in, blew his sister-in-law and niece a kiss, and shook Jasper’s hand.

Crispin was still heir to the earldom, but no one worried any longer that the status would last. Belle had been born at nine months, hale and whole. Vanessa was still glowing. And Jasper was more contented than Crispin had ever seen him.

Alice had been delivered of her babe at Crispin’s Binnings cottage on New Year’s Eve.

Lucy . Haz could not have feigned so genuine a delight.

He doted on his girl and headed off any suggestion that a boy would have been preferable with the calm statement that “We are just getting started. Alice has promised three of each. The order does not matter.”

It was funny, to Crispin, how, where there was no concern about succession, Georgiana and Olivia had popped out sons with no trouble. Of course, he would never say such a thing aloud.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked Jasper quietly.

“Yes. I have a wedding present for you.”

“Another one?”

“Spitfire was not a wedding present. She was an investment.”

Spitfire was a gorgeous silvery-gray thoroughbred that Jasper had stumbled upon at Tattersall’s.

She was fast, but her trainer said she was not fast enough to win, so her owner was selling her as a broodmare.

Jasper made her a gift to Crispin’s enterprise, insisting only that he be given the first foal.

For a while, Crispin had been calling his brother Rumpelstiltskin, but the joke had grown old.

Winner was in foal now. Spitfire would be next.

“So what have you?” Crispin asked, resigned to being the recipient of Jasper’s boundless generosity.

Vanessa stood and practically plunked Belle into Crispin’s arms. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the room. Jasper said nothing more.

Then Camellia entered, smiling madly, still dressed in unrelieved black—that would end tonight.

It had been a year and one day since Manfred’s death.

Crispin would have rushed to embrace her, no matter that Jasper was watching, except that he had a baby in his arms.

“Camellia,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “I intended to find you first.”

“Belle’s charms outstrip mine.” Camellia laughed. “I want to see this.”

“See what?”

She tilted her head toward the door. Vanessa returned with Adam in tow.

“Adam! Good God!” He felt a warm rush of affection. “Come for the wedding? Who found you?”

“I did,” Vanessa said. “At an apothecary in London.”

Adam made a perfunctory bow. “Congratulations, Major. I think the colonel would be very pleased.”

“That is debatable. But thank you.”

“And there is my present,” Jasper said. “Actually, it’s probably more of a present for Benjamin.”

“What is?” Crispin could not guess what he meant.

“You should have your own steward. Benjamin has too many balls in the air, and frankly, I need his focus on Chaumbers. It was one thing when you just wanted a little advice now and then—”

“Oh, lud.” Crispin winced. “Jasp, I’m sorry.

” He’d encroached increasingly upon Benjamin’s time.

He was perfectly capable of spending money without help, but not keeping track of it.

He hadn’t even realized his brother-in-law was doing so until Benjamin had opened an account book and shown him his expenses. “I’ll find someone to hire.”

“I already have.” Jasper swept his hand to indicate Adam. “A man of many talents.”

“I need work,” Adam said. “Mr. Carroll has shown me your books. I can add and subtract.” His lips curled. “Mostly subtract.”

Crispin glanced sidelong at Jasper. His brother was shrewd.

Adam could no doubt perform the functions of a steward—Crispin’s estate was comparatively small—but he would also be keeping an eye on his health.

Strangely, he was grateful, not annoyed.

Or maybe not strangely. His family’s concern had helped keep him alive.

And now, life felt more precious than ever.

“Welcome to the fold, Adam,” Crispin said.

He gave Belle back to Vanessa in order to shake the man’s hand.

“Now, if you will all excuse us, I have a few details to go over with my bride-to-be.” The wedding was not for three days, and he was not going to wait.

“Camellia, are you in the guest wing?” She nodded.

“Good.” No one would hear them even if they were loud.

*

Camellia wore red. She thought it accentuated the strangeness of her looks, but Crispin admired her in red and that was all that mattered.

The little church in Iversley had an ancient appeal, with pew benches smoothed by long use and stained glass windows that looked medieval.

When the organist struck up a march, Marianne proceeded down the aisle.

Then Philip escorted Camellia, after having practically insisted he would give her away.

She might rather have asked Hazard, who had grown on her.

Crispin waited at the end of a long red carpet. His smile lit the room. Jasper stood beside him. Camellia didn’t care how many people swore the earl was the handsomer—they were all wrong.

Philip deposited her beside Crispin, then stepped away.

As the rector began to speak, Camellia sent quick thoughts heavenward. A thank you to Manfred for the kindness that had shielded her. A hope that he was happily reunited with Elizabeth. And a prayer for the souls of both of her Nevilles.

Crispin touched her hand. When she slid a glance at him, he slipped her a rolled bit of paper. He was better at stealth than his brother. The rector droned on, so she unrolled it, her eyes cast modestly downward.

Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore, my love was infinite, if spring makes it more.

It was John Donne, not Crispin Taverston. But he’d admitted he could not write his own.

“…is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding—”

Crispin tapped her wrist and sneaked her another tiny scroll.

Come live with me, and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove

“First,” the rector intoned, “it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy name.”

A third bit of paper tickled her palm, and she closed her fingers around it. He must have them stuffed up his sleeve, but she had no such convenient place to hide them.

“Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.”

She felt a smile playing about her lips and an inappropriate heat crawling up her neck.

I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.

She snorted. Still Donne. Though that one sounded like it could have been Crispin. The rector halted, scowling. Crispin’s eyes widened. Then he flushed and bowed his head, a picture of contrition. After an uncomfortable moment, Jasper said in an authoritative tone, “Proceed.”

It was good to have an earl in the family.

The ceremony was lengthy, but before she’d worried the paper in her palm into powder, she was pronounced Major Crispin Taverston’s wife.

They left the church into a blizzard of rice and seeds thrown by the locals in Iversley Village. Ducking and laughing, they climbed into their carriage to return to Chaumbers for the wedding breakfast.

“Have you any more poetry hidden on your person?” she asked, settling onto the bench.

Crispin grinned. “You are welcome to look.”

“I can’t make a thorough search,” she said with a regretful pout. “It won’t take more than a few minutes to get back to Chaumbers by coach.”

His grin broadened. He called through the window, “Dan! Take the long route home. By way of Crofton.” Then he drew the curtain closed.