Chapter Two
December 21, 1816
A violent jostle wrenched Mark from a naughty dream involving his delectable wife, specifically her sumptuous bosom, amid which he loved to bury his face, and a healthy portion of warm cherry compote, which he preferred to lick from her nipples. No matter how much time passed, it always surprised him that his desire for his lady never faded. And it was not that his love had diminished, because she was his life. But, despite the fact that she routinely filled his bed, he could not get enough of her.
Rubbing his eyes, he sat upright in the squabs and pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, which Amanda gave him when he dueled with that clown Clarendon to restore her honor. After inhaling the subtle scent of jasmine, which she favored, he invoked a treasured image of his wife. A jarring noise tore him from his licentious reverie and he frowned at Frederick, who rattled the roof of the coach. With a yawn, he kicked his friend’s boot and groaned as Frederick stirred.
“Did I disturb you?” Maitland wrinkled his nose and sniffled. “Was I snoring?”
“Did you disturb me, and were you snoring? Oh, no.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Brother, you were not calling just one hog. You summoned an entire passel. Really, it is a blessing you never married, else your wife would permanently banish you to your study.”
“But I am not so encumbered, so I am free to make as much noise as I please.” For a ghost of an instant, a hint of sadness invested Frederick’s expression, but he quickly recovered his wit. “And I follow my own orders, not those of an angry bride.”
“You know, that reminds me of something.” Mark snapped his fingers. “Were you not engaged to a distant cousin or some such?”
“A momentary lapse of sanity.” Frederick winced and peered out the window. “The snow is getting worse.”
“As long as the lanes are navigable, and we can continue our journey, the weather concerns me not.” Although Mark would have much preferred to snuggle beneath the covers with Amanda. Again, he assessed his friend and noted the change in his appearance. Equal in height, they were often mistaken for kin in their prime, but now Frederick sported a gotch gut and a double chin. “So tell me why you never took a wife, because you are a good man, and do not deflect the question.”
“I suppose you might say that war got in the way.” Frederick scratched his cheek. “And we are not all for the altar. Some of us prefer the easy friendships and superficial entanglements of a skilled courtesan.”
“But you did not always sing that tune.” Mark folded his arms. “As I recall, on a night we shared the watch aboard the Seahorse, when we were naught but midshipmen on patrol in the Baltic, you lamented the long separation from your special lady. What was her name? Anne? Alice?”
“Abigail.” Frederick pointed for emphasis. “And I was young and foolish then. Not so, anymore.”
“I will grant you the young part,” Mark replied with a chortle. “As to the rest—”
Another forceful jolt thrust them both to the floor, and then the entire rig pitched and heaved, as the team screamed in protest.
“Bloody hell.” They swerved, and Frederick clung to the bench. “Hold hard, Mark, because I think we are going to founder.”
In that moment, Mark clutched the edge of his seat, as an anchor, and hunched on the floor, in the event they rolled. In silence, he uttered a prayer and pictured his family, as his life flashed before his eyes.
Amanda shimmered as an ethereal creature, gowned in indigo velvet, with her black hair piled in curls atop her head, as he first saw her in the Northcote’s ballroom, more than thirty years ago. Cara and Sabrina, his daughters, smiled and curtseyed. And then there was Horatio, his son named for his longtime commander Vice Admiral Nelson.
Gritting his teeth, he rudely plunged into the present. The coach listed sharply, lurched upright with an unholy crack, and keeled to the left, and he feared they might topple, but the driver brought them safely to a halt.
“Well, that was close.” As he gathered his wits, he crawled to the squabs and settled his coat. Then he noted the pronounced droop of the rig. “But I wager we broke a wheel. Still, ours is not to worry, given I had a spare tied with our trunks.”
As if on cue, the coachman opened the door.
“Admiral Douglas, my apologies, sir.” He doffed his hat. “Despite my best efforts to temper our speed, due to the poor road conditions, it appears we broke the axle, and we cannot proceed at this time.”
“Please, tell me you are joking.” Mark jumped from the coach and surveyed the damage. Squatting, he frowned. “And we lost a rear wheel and several spokes from another.” Standing, he shook his head. “Well, this is a fine mess. Now we will never make it home in time for Christmastide, and Amanda may never forgive me.”
“Belay that.” Frederick slid on the ice and splayed his arms for balance. “Why don’t we take a couple of horses and ride to the nearest town for assistance? We can leave your man here, in the event someone comes along.”
“That would be an excellent suggestion, were it not for the fact that the Shires are draft horses and not trained for riding, thus you may break your neck if you attempt to mount one.” Mark huffed in frustration, glanced from side to side, and consulted his pocket watch. Since they ventured forth that morning, and exited London’s environs via the toll gate more than four hours ago, they had spied nary a soul on the turnpike, so it seemed unlikely that aid would arrive anytime soon. “Given my experience based on countless trips home, I know there is a town nearby. It is Dartford, I believe.”
“Are you suggesting we continue on foot?” Frederick asked in a sharp tone. “You must be out of your mind, because we will freeze to death before we make it anywhere.”
“Then you had better don your greatcoat, hat, and gloves.” Mark collected his warm outerwear. “Because we are walking.”
In the study, Amanda tallied her ledger and savored the quiet calm of her husband’s sanctuary. Somewhere in the house, a burst of laughter startled her, and her hand shook, as she almost knocked over the inkwell. “Blast.” She covered her mouth, as if someone might have witnessed her momentary breach in polite decorum. “Oh.”
Then she laughed at herself, because she had engaged in far more questionable behavior in that room, which had seen almost as much action as the four-poster she shared with her seaman. How many times had Mark made a mess of the blotter, when she initiated various trysts at his desk? She smiled. Too many to count, a fact of which she was rather proud. “My darling, how I miss you.”
After closing the journal, she pushed back the chair and stood. At the front window, she searched the graveled drive for any sign of Mark and almost shrieked with excitement when she noted an approaching coach. But then she realized there were six more equipages in the small caravan, and her sails deflated.
With a stiff upper lip to mask her disappointment, she strolled into the hall. In the foyer, she checked her appearance in the wall mirror and smoothed a few stray tendrils. Nabbing her pelisse, she peered over her shoulder, just as Hamilton approached.
“It appears the Duke and Duchess of Rylan, the Duke and Duchess of Weston, the Earl and Countess of Lockwood, and Captain Collingwood and Lady Alex, along with their children, are just arrived.” And that meant she would know little peace, because the ducal duo manifested the heart and soul of the Brethren of the Coast, the famed Nautionnier Knights descended from the Order of the Knights Templar, the warriors of the Crusades. When Blake and Damian were in residence, mayhem ensued, and she would have it no other way. “Did you remember to house them as far apart as possible, as I would not have a repeat of our last family gathering?”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler’s expression implied even the household staff recalled the unusual contest between the fiercely competitive friends, more like brothers, wherein they attempted to determine which husband could better satisfy his bride, based on the effuse exultation articulated mid-coitus, and no one got any sleep for days. After summoning the footmen, he set wide the double doors. “We are ready, and I have refreshments set up in the drawing room.”
“Hamilton, I know not why I question you, when you are always reliable.” Amanda descended the entrance stairs, as an army of liveried footman assisted her guests. “Blake and Lenore, it is wonderful to see you.”
“Lady Amanda, we wish you a Happy Christmas.” Blake kissed her cheek. “And we would share our felicitous news. Lenore is expecting our second child.”
“I am not surprised, and I daresay your mother is thrilled.” Of course, that was a predictable outcome of the ducal rivalry, she laughed. “Do come inside and warm yourself by the fire.” To Lenore, Amanda said, “And there is plenty of hot tea and scones. But where is Sarah?”
“Thank you, Lady Amanda.” Lenore dipped her chin.
“Mama travels with Dirk’s mother and Dirk and Rebecca.” Blake slipped an arm about Lenore’s shoulders and nuzzled her temple. “They were waiting on Dalton and Daphne, and their children, in Maidstone, that they might continue the journey together.”
Just then, Damian and Lucilla neared.
“Lady Amanda, we bid you Happy Christmas.” Damian rested a palm to Lucilla’s belly and grinned. “And we impart the joyous news of my impending heir.”
“Damian.” Lucy pouted. “I thought we were going to delay until dinner to share our good fortune.”
“Forgive me, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. “But I could not wait.”
“You, too?” Puffing his chest, Blake smirked. “Lenore and I expect our second child.”
“Indeed.” Damian thrust his chin. “I should have known you could not do anything without me, so I suppose you have me to thank.”
“Now, see here—”
“Blake, if you are going to spend the holiday arguing with Damian, you may share his room.” Lenore reached for and grasped Lucy’s hand. “And my sister can bunk with me.”
“I concur.” Lucy stomped a foot. “And my darling Damian, if you crow about that audacious wager one more time, you may sleep in the stables, because I am tired of hearing about it. You did not get me with child on your own, as I had something to do with it, too.”
“Now, sweetheart, don’t be angry with me, as I am uncontrollably excited about the addition to our family.” Damian whispered in her ear, and she blushed. Amanda could only imagine what he said. “What say we retire to our accommodation for a hot bath?”
“That sounds lovely.” When Lucy turned toward the house, Damian glanced at his chief antagonist and stuck out his tongue, to wit Blake responded in kind.
“Stop it.” Lenore swatted at Blake. “Whatever am I to do with you?”
“I am only too happy to offer suggestions.” Blake waggled his brows. “Let us go inside before you catch a cold.”
Shaking her head, Amanda laughed and greeted her other guests. “Jason and Alex, I am so relieved you made it.”
“As are we.” Jason gazed heavenward. “The roads were treacherous, and it was dreadfully slow going. Has the Admiral arrived from London?”
“Not yet, but I expect him at any moment.” Given Jason’s ominous warning, she shivered but not from the cold. “Please, go inside and get settled.” To Trevor and Caroline, she waved a greeting, as they helped their nanny corral their five children.
Once everyone entered the residence, and a small compliment of nannies rustled the next generation of Brethren upstairs, Amanda loomed in the doorway, staring up the drive.
“Is everything all right, my lady?” As she retreated into the foyer, the butler closed the oak panels and set the bolt.
“I am not sure.” Rubbing the back of her neck, she mulled the empty peg where Mark hung his outwear, and gooseflesh covered her from top to toe. For some reason she could not explain, she struggled with a dark sense of foreboding. Something was wrong, and no one would convince her otherwise. “Station a footman at the door, until the Admiral arrives, and wake me, no matter the hour.”