Chapter 17
Immediately upon their arrival at the Donet house, Freddie shared the news from Paris. In any other instance, to speak of death at a wedding breakfast would be bad ton, but Robespierre’s execution and the possible end of the Terror were received with joy, buoying everyone’s spirits.
Richard was elated at the pronouncement of Robespierre’s demise. “I imagine Pitt is celebrating at this very moment.”
Freddie’s brother and his wife had made the crossing without incident and were delighted with Guernsey’s more temperate weather. London, they said, had been especially cold this summer.
When the excitement settled, the adults took their places at the dining room table laden with a multitude of flowers. Filled with light, the room needed no candles.
In the center of the table beneath the crystal chandelier stood a fruited bride cake on a silver pedestal. Soaked in brandy, Freddie had witnessed the cook covering it with white sugar frosting. Surrounding the cake were platters of eggs, ham and asparagus served in the French style, set upon the table for the guests to partake as they would.
Ormer casserole, a specialty of Guernsey, was placed at both ends of the table. The shellfish, called abalone in the rest of Europe, was considered a delicacy.
Oranges, berries and brioches accompanied the meal as well as chocolate and tea.
Richard got to his feet, looking every inch the British earl. “A toast to the bride and groom,” he said, raising his glass of champagne.
The guests lifted their glasses into the air and drank of the sparkling wine.
Donet was next to rise from his seat. “The champagne is the drink of the Bourbons, appropriate for this celebration, I think. And this particular wine comes from my cellar in Saintonge, which my quartermaster and friend, M’sieur Bequel, retrieved at the outset of the revolution. I am glad I saved it for such an occasion as this.” He lifted his glass. “Let us drink to the happy couple and to peace between England and France when champagne will again flow freely.”
“Hear, hear!” said Philippe d’Auvergne. He had come from Jersey to be with them and had been engaged in an intense conversation with Giles about the situation in Brittany.
From across the table, Émile Bequel saluted Freddie. “Ye’ve done well, Mr. West. And now ye’re well spliced to the very end.”
“So we are,” said Freddie. He turned to Zoé and, with champagne in hand, said in a quiet voice, “To my beautiful bride, my wife, my love.”
“À mon héros,” said Zoé, tapping her glass to his. “You will always be my hero.”
She had given him a gold band for his wedding ring that he would proudly wear the rest of his life. “I’m glad you like the lavender stone of your ring, Pigeon.”
“Oh, I do. How did you know I love that color? It’s not as if I have worn it much since the revolution began.”
“I have my sources,” he said with a wry smile. “Not to be revealed.”
In one corner of the room, the children had their own table but frequently jumped up to seek out an adult. Once they had chocolate, however, Jack began giving his own toasts. “To your new parents, Pax!”
“Well,” whispered Freddie to Zoé, “since Pax is smiling and I hear no objection, perhaps he has decided.”
“Possibly,” she replied, “but Pax has grown close to Jack and Isabeau and he doesn’t yet know we will be making our home on the other side of the island.”
“Where are you to honeymoon?” asked Annie sitting on Freddie’s other side.
He smiled at the thought of their destination. “Our own private oasis on the west side of Guernsey.”
“You shall have to see our new home before you return to England,” offered Zoé.
“I expect we’ll be here for at least a week,” Annie said, glancing at Richard, who was absorbed in a conversation with Donet.
“We might be ready for guests by then,” Freddie said. He had told his sister of the home he’d acquired with Zoé’s dowry but, as yet, he’d not invited anyone to see it, save for Zoé, of course. Even he had yet to sleep in the house. He wanted to share his first night there with his bride.
Once the food had been eaten and the cake cut, Freddie nudged his bride. “Are you ready to leave, Pigeon?”
At her nod, he stood and thanked the guests for coming. “We’ll see you all in a week!”
Pax rushed forward to hug Freddie and, with wide eyes, looked up at him. “You promise to return?”
“Aye, I promise.”
It took them nearly an hour to reach St Saviour’s but they had not been in a hurry. Zoé was glad for the time with him away from everyone else. So often others surrounded them in France, on the ship and even in Guernsey.
Like the first time he had brought her to see the house, Freddie drove a one-horse chaise he called a cabriolet.
“The buggy is the only vehicle that fits these narrow country roads,” he told her. “’Sides, I can drive the cabriolet myself so we can be alone.”
Freddie had kept her entertained with stories of his smuggling days with Joanna that had ended when they’d encountered the fierce Captain Jean Donet one night off the West Sussex coast.
“Was it very frightening?”
“Zack Barlow and I thought so. I was seventeen and Donet was about to be attacked by a revenue cutter. My sister was still aboard his ship when he sailed away. I didn’t see her for months and, by then, she had married him!”
It was afternoon when they arrived at Perelle Bay. The turquoise waters were as beautiful as she remembered them, the house equally as lovely.
Nothing had changed since the first time she’d been there except that now there were servants. First, Freddie introduced her to the stable boy who led the horse and buggy away. Inside the house, she met a young footman, who promptly carried their small pieces of luggage upstairs, a housemaid, and a couple in their middle years. Timothy and Martha O’Brien, Freddie explained, would act as housekeeper, cook and butler.
“If ye need anything, madame,” said Mrs. O’Brien, “just let me know. Yer bed’s been turned down and the chamber already attended to when we arrived a few hours ago.”
Zoé wondered what the woman meant by that last comment but decided not to ask. She would see it soon enough. “Thank you, but I think we’ll be fine for today.”
The housekeeper curtsied and shuffled her husband and the maid out of the room. The footman remained by the door.
“We may need additional servants as we go along, Pigeon, but for now, with our voyages to France, a skeletal crew seemed best. The O’Briens live nearby, so only the footman, stable boy and maid will stay the night.
“In other words,” she teased, “we’re practically alone.”
He returned her a sheepish look. “Well, yes, as much as is possible.” He offered her his hand. “Shall we adjourn to our chamber, Mrs. West?”
The day had already been full of excitement and Zoé did not want to retire so late she would immediately fall asleep. Besides, Freddie was looking at her in that way that made her knees weak. She placed her hand in his. “Oui, Mr. West.”
When he opened the door, Zoé paused on the threshold, surprised at what she saw. “Oh. Did you do all this?”
The red bedcover had been sprinkled with white rose petals, perfuming the air. On the pedestal table between the two wing chairs in front of one window looking out on the bay, a tray set with fruit, cheese and bread rested next to a bottle of wine and two glasses. In the fireplace, a fire had been laid, ready to light.
Freddie put his arms around her waist and leaned over her shoulder. “No, but I think I know who did.”
“Your sister?”
“Aye, Jo’s the only one who knew where our home is located.”
“Now that I think of it, she may have enlisted Isabeau’s help,” suggested Zoé. “The girl has been giggling overmuch these last few days.”
Zoé turned in Freddie’s arms and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I think it was sweet of them to do that for us. It will make our wedding night that much more special.”
He kissed her, taking up where he’d left off at the church. Raising his head, his brandy-colored eyes had turned dark. “If you say so, Pigeon, but as for me, all I need is you.”
Why she should suddenly feel shy, Zoé had no idea. After all, she had been the one to suggest he make love to her the first time she had come to this room. But that was before Tante Joanna had told her what to expect. “Perhaps a glass of wine and some cheese?” she asked.
He chuckled and walked toward the small table. “Of course.” He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. She drank it down betraying her nerves then took a seat in one of the wing chairs. He sat in the other. “You have nothing to fear, Pigeon. I love you and I will be gentle.”
“I know,” she said, feeling like the biggest fool. “It’s just that what your sister told me sounded… painful.”
“Ah, so I have Jo to thank for this sudden reticence on your part.”
“She was only trying to help.”
He pushed out of the chair and came to stand in front of her. “Forget what she told you. I will teach you all you need to know, Pigeon.” He reached for her arms and gently pulled her up. “Allow me to act the lady’s maid, as I did in Rennes. Only this time, we’ll be taking off our clothes.”
She turned her back to him and kicked off her shoes. He loosened her laces. The stays she wore beneath her gown were not much of an obstacle and he adroitly removed them. “You seem to know what you’re doing,” she said, noticing he had draped her clothing on one of the chairs.
“Recall I grew up with two sisters, Joanna, who you know, and Matilda, whom you’ve not yet met as she lives in London. Growing up at The Harrows, it was impossible not to hear their conversations about a woman’s frippery and all they wore underneath it. And then there were my youthful dalliances.”
“Which we won’t discuss,” she said.
“Which we won’t discuss,” he repeated.
Once she was down to her shift, stockings and garters, she faced him, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Your turn.”
He smiled and pulled off his boots. His frock coat followed to be tossed on a chair. Then he untied his cravat and began to unbutton his waistcoat.
“Allow me,” she said, gaining confidence. “I am good with buttons.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet you are.”
She took her time, teasing him with each button. His intense gaze told her he was not enjoying the pace. “Oh, very well,” she said, finishing the last button. “Kiss me, Freddie, and make me forget everything but you.”
“Gladly.” He quickly unbuttoned his waistcoat, removed his shirt and drew her against his bare chest, slanting his mouth over hers. The kiss that followed awakened every fiber of her being and set her heart pounding. His warm skin under her palms heated her blood and his muscles flexing beneath her touch reminded her this man was now hers.
Eagerly, she opened her mouth to his probing tongue, experiencing the same ache in her woman’s center she had the last time he’d kissed her in this room.
He pulled back and stared into her eyes. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he lifted her into his arms and set her on the huge bed. “We’ve plenty of room.” She opened her arms to him and he followed her down to sink into the soft feather bed, half of him covering her.
“I have dreamed of this day, Zoé, for a very long time. We still wear too many clothes. I want to see you naked.”
“All right.” She wouldn’t have called what she felt just then fear but she did worry for what he would think of her body. With his eyes staring into hers, he lifted her shift over her head. She closed her eyes not wanting to see his disappointment.
“You are as beautiful as I imagined, Pigeon, even more so. Your breasts are perfect; your skin glows as if lit from within.”
She opened her eyes and nearly drowned in the longing and the love she saw on his face. “Now will you make love to me?”
“As my lady desires,” he said, grinning.
Her aunt had told her there might be little if any pain if her husband took time to prepare her. She had been right about that. By the time Freddie joined their bodies, she was half out of her mind with wanting him.
She awoke at dawn’s light, hungry and a bit sore from their night of lovemaking. Nibbling on cheese and berries, she curled up in a chair and watched him sleep. His auburn hair caught the sun’s first rays. She had always loved its color and imagined it threaded with gray. She would love him then at least as much as she did now, of that she was certain. How wonderful that she had married her best friend.
“Pigeon?” came his throaty voice from the bed as his hand reached out and found her gone.
“I’m just having a bit of food. Are you hungry?”
“For you. Come back to bed.”
“Is that my husband’s command?”
He rose on one elbow, trying to frown. “No, ’tis the wish of the man who loves you beyond reason.”
She was certain he was teasing her but with his bare chest rising just above the sheet, he was quite irresistible. The thought of cuddling into his warm body, of hearing again how he’d waited for her for so long, was too enticing. Freddie made her feel precious.
“In that case, the woman who loves you is coming with breakfast.” She picked up the tray and walked toward him and her destiny. Reaching the bed, she set the tray on the bedcover. “Did you want to eat now or later?”
“Later,” he said, pulling her onto the bed. “Much later.”