CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Vivian glanced at the clock and began to pace. “What could be keeping them?”
“Any number of things.” Freddy patted the seat next to her. “Wearing yourself out with worry won’t help.”
“Very true.” Serena pressed a glass of sherry into Vivian’s trembling hands. “Sherry will help calm you. Robert and Edward are with him.”
A few moments later the sounds of male voices floated in from the hall.
She drank half of the glass in one long draw. “They are back.”
“See.” Freddy smiled, and Vivian knew how lucky she was to be gaining such a wonderful mother-in-law. “Finish your wine and we’ll go. The last thing we want is for them to settle in.”
Rupert strolled into the drawing room, and his gaze went directly to her. Vivian still could not believe her luck; in the morning she would be his wife.
He didn’t bother with the regular greetings, but simply placed her hand on his arm. “It is time to show the world we are betrothed.”
“I agree.”
Edward glanced at her. “How long do you wish to remain?”
“Clara suggested we remain about an hour.”
“Perfect.” Freddy took her husband’s arm. “We have a busy day to-morrow.”
“And an early one,” Serena agreed.
Shortly after they arrived at Lady Jersey’s ball, Rupert bent his head, his breath caressing her ear. “Dance with me in the garden.”
That sounded wonderful, and romantic, and scandalous. “Won’t we shock the other guests?”
“We’re betrothed. We’ll set a new fashion.”
Vivian wasn’t prepared to go that far yet. Perhaps when they were husband and wife she would have the courage. “I’ll meet you out there.”
“As you wish, but the next time we dance in the garden, we’ll go out together.” He glanced at a corridor leading off the ballroom. “Go that way, you’ll find the second room has access to the terrace.” He raised her hand and kissed it. “Don’t be long.”
Vivian gazed after him as he strolled away. A few moments later, she excused herself, found the corridor and the room. Just as Rupert had said, a French window led to the terrace. He was already there when she arrived. The strains of a violin began as he escorted her down the stairs and put his palm on her waist.
Nightingales sang and the scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air. “I think I am falling even more in love with you.”
“I know I’m more in love with you.” His lips grazed her forehead. “Morning can’t come soon enough.”
“Nor for me.”
“It is so wonderful to have Hector home!” Emily gushed.
Cressida had been happy to see her brother as well, but Emily had been gushing so much, Cressida was practically sick with it. “He said he was bringing me a present, but I haven’t seen it yet.”
Emily gave a sly smile. “He will be here shortly, and you shall see it. I promise you’ll be vastly pleased.”
The only thing that vastly pleased her was that Lord Stanstead was finally here, and this might be her only chance to make him marry her. “I’m sure I will. Hector always knows what I like.”
Emily glanced around. “What can be keeping them?”
“Papa is most likely talking about politics to him.”
Lord Stanstead had been talking with that Lady Beresford again, but now he was making his way toward the French doors that made up one wall of the massive ballroom. Cressida prayed with all her might that he would go into the garden. “I must go to the ladies’ retiring room.”
Emily bit her bottom lip, glancing around again. “I should accompany you.”
“I’ll not be long.” Cressida tried for a carefree manner. “You wait for Hector. In any event, Mama is with that group of ladies not far from the corridor.”
“Very well, but do not be long.”
“I won’t.” And perhaps Cressida would have her own surprise when she returned.
Keeping her eye on Lord Stanstead, she skirted groups of ladies and gentlemen until she reached the end of the ballroom. Although he appeared to be in no hurry, stopping and exchanging greetings with his friends, he definitely seemed to be focused on the terrace. She must get there before anyone else met him, or her entire life would be ruined.
Lord Stanstead finally reached the French doors and ambled through them. Now was her chance. Keeping her pace slower than she wanted to, Cressida strolled onto the terrace, but he wasn’t there. A sound drew her gaze to the garden, and she quickened her steps. Just as she was about to descend the stairs, an arm came around her waist, pulling her back.
It had better not be Hector. “Let me go. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life,” a man whose voice she didn’t recognize said.
Whirling around, she was surprised to be facing nothing but a waistcoat and the ends of a neckcloth. She raised her gaze from the gold thread in his waistcoat to the snowy cravat, to a deeply tanned and incredibly stern face. “Who are you, and what right do you have to interfere with me?”
Without a by-your-leave, he turned her around and pointed. In the garden, Lord Stanstead and Lady Beresford were waltzing. “They are betrothed.”
Cressida could have cried with frustration. “You’ve ruined everything!”
An amused smirk appeared on his face. “I doubt that.”
“There you are.” Hector’s voice caught her attention. What was going on? He glanced at the man holding her. “Oh, I see you found her.”
“Indeed I did.” The gentleman’s tone held no humor at all. “Doing exactly what Miss Woolerton thought she was up to. I am not at all sure this was a good idea after all.”
“An infatuation, nothing more. Probably due to the stress of the Season. She has had her queer starts, but in general she is a level-headed girl. You’ll see.”
Cressida closed her eyes, trying to make sense of their conversation. “Are you referring to me?”
“Forgive me, Cressy. I almost forgot you were there,” Hector said in a voice that told her he was more put out with her than sorry, and had not forgot for a moment she was present. “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Kenington.”
Her stomach sank, and a sick feeling rose into her throat. “The gentleman you met up with who has been traveling with you?”
“The very same.” Hector gave her a warning look. “After I showed him the miniature I carry of you and some of your letters, he decided he would very much like to meet you.”
Oh. Dear. God. This must be the “present” her brother had brought back. The Marquis of Kenington. No wonder Papa had been so set against Lord Stanstead, and Mama had not been concerned when he’d not shown Cressida much attention.
Emily had been right. Cressida should have been more careful. She held out her hand. “A pleasure, my lord.”
He dutifully bowed over her hand. “At long last, Miss Banks.”
As they reentered the ballroom and he glanced down at her, disapproval filled his green eyes. “As your brother mentioned, from his description and your letters, I thought I’d be meeting a woman, not a little girl bent on ruining the lives of others for her own pleasure.”
He’d pitched his voice so low only she could hear him. For that she was thankful. Her cheeks burned with shame. No one had ever spoken to her like that. The problem was, despite being warned, she had been heedless and deserved to have a peal rung over her head. “I’m sorry.”
Hector glanced back. “I know you two will have a great deal to discuss.”
“We will indeed,” Lord Kenington responded.
Cressida wanted to go home and hide in her bed. If she ruined this, her parents and brother would never forgive her. She would accept responsibility for her mistake and go on as if it was in the past. “I look forward to our conversations, my lord.”
He glanced down, one black brow rising slowly. “I doubt that very much.”
Rupert took his parents home before driving to Mount Street with Vivian.
“Will you come in and have a glass of brandy or tea?”
His arm snaked around her waist. “I have something to do, but it won’t take long. Wait for me?”
She cupped his cheek in her palm. “Forever.”
A half hour later, Vivian heard the front door open, and rushed into the hall. “Rupert, Nick is here. He told us what happened.” She took his hands, holding them against her face. “I am so proud of you for not calling that dreadful man out.”
They reached the door to the drawing room, but before she could open it, Rupert was kissing her. “I won’t say I didn’t consider it, but it would have harmed your reputation, and I could not have that.”
“Thank you.” She gazed into his eyes and saw all the love she now knew she had been missing, not only in her marriage but her whole life. “He must have been horrible. Even Nick had to dance around what was said.”
“In a few hours it won’t matter.”
Vivian smiled at Rupert, and a peace settled over her. “It doesn’t matter now. If only we didn’t have to wait until morning to wed.”
“Vivian, my love, I need to be with you.”
They couldn’t go to Hill Street, but she did have a wing of this house to herself. Clara had put Silvia and Nick at the opposite end of her wing. The only question was, how scandalized would Clara be if she discovered Rupert in Vivian’s bedchamber? They were going to be married soon. “You must come in for a while; everyone is expecting you. But later, my maid will meet you at the garden gate.”
Concern lurked in his eyes. “Come home with me, where I can keep you safe.”
Oh, she wanted to, but that would upset her cousin. “You know I cannot, and it is not fair to ask it of me.”
“You’re right.” He kissed her forehead. “Promise me you won’t even step outside the house after I leave. Not even with a footman.”
“That I can vow.” She stroked his jaw. The light growth of his beard made it rougher than usual. “The next time I enter the wider world it will be as your wife.”
“Thank you.”
He bent his head to her again, and the door opened. Silvia’s eyes rounded. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you were taking so . . .”
“It’s fine.” Vivian almost laughed at her friend’s expression. “We’ll come in now.”
“Sweetheart.” Nick smirked. “I did suggest you leave them alone.”
This time, Silvia didn’t rise to his bait. “And you were correct.”
As they entered the drawing room, Lady Telford called for more wine. “After what Beresford told us, I am inclined to move the wedding up by an hour or more. Normally your father would have to come here to Telford House in order to discover my whereabouts, but with Tewkesbury”—she raised her lips in a sneer—“around, they might already know. I can’t think they will come before ten o’clock, but one is better safe than sorry.”
“If Mr. Trevor can be here by then, I agree.” Vivian glanced at Rupert. “What do you think?”
“I’ll send a message to my parents and cousins. They wish to attend the ceremony and won’t care what time we have it.”
“Stanstead.” Clara looked more troubled than she had previously. “You should spend the night here. Your valet may bring your clothing over, and I’ll have my housekeeper make up the rooms.”
Vivian showed him to the writing desk, and in short order the notes had been sent by messenger.
“Clara, thank you for being so understanding.”
“I’m merely attempting to keep any fighting that may occur to a minimum.” Her tone was as proper as could be, but her gaze slid to Rupert. “On the other hand, I wouldn’t blame Stanstead at all if he planted someone a well-deserved facer.”
Later that evening, after everyone had gone to bed, Vivian took her bedside candle and walked to Rupert’s chamber.
He was still awake, naked, and so wonderfully handsome. “I was coming to you.”
She placed the candle holder on a table. “I thought you might, but it is easier for me to be wandering around than it is for you.”
Rupert gathered her into his arms. “I missed holding you.”
She leaned against him, giving him her weight, enjoying his strong arms and muscular body. “I know. This will be the last night we must sneak around.”
The palm of his hand stroked her from the nape of her neck to her derrière, sparking a fire down her back.
“Umm.” Vivian teased his lips with her tongue. “Make love to me, my lord.”
“Gladly, my lady.” Holding her hand, Rupert led her to the bed and slowly untied the ribbons of Vivian’s nightgown. Opening the neck, he kissed each bit of her skin as he exposed it. By the time he reached her breasts, she was about to expire with unadulterated lust.
“Rupert, please, I can’t wait.”
“No?” His lips curved. “I thought you might want a sample of what I have planned for you to-morrow.”
“This will kill me.” She lay down on the bed, pulling him on top of her. “Someday I shall learn how to drive you to distraction.”
“You already do.”
Vivian held him tightly as he kissed her again. Wrapping her legs around his slim waist, she urged him to join with her. Before long, she was shuddering with completion, and Rupert plunged more deeply than he ever had before, wringing the most out of her pleasure before collapsing off to her side. For a few minutes, he cuddled her in his arms as their breathing slowed.
“Vivian, how did you know about the Hill Street house?”
She rolled over, lying half on his chest. “I had asked for a list of estates, and it had mistakenly been added.”
“I find that extremely odd. Who were the property agents?”
“Jones.”
“My love. I have a feeling”—his chest rumbled with laughter—“your cousin has been conspiring to help us.”
“I think you may be right. I found it strange that she would put me in a separate wing.”
“And when you didn’t oblige her by taking advantage of it, the house appeared.”
“How . . . how devious of her. Although, I don’t understand why she did it.”
Rupert covered her lips with his, kissing her sweetly. “She reminds me of my grandmother. They were raised in an earthier time. Yet I think she knew you needed to find a gentleman to love you.”