Devil in Spring

Obviously theirs had been no ordinary courtship, and the need for an expedient wedding was obvious. But as tempting as the idea of an elopement had been, Gabriel had rejected the idea. With all the newness and uncertainty Pandora faced, she had needed the comfort of her loved ones and familiar surroundings on her wedding day. When Devon and Kathleen had offered the use of the chapel at their estate, Gabriel had agreed immediately.

It had made sense to have the wedding ceremony in Hampshire, and spend their honeymoon at the Isle of Wight, just off the southern coast. Often referred to as “the garden of England,” the small island was flourishing with gardens, woodlands, tidy coastal villages, and an assortment of inns and luxurious hotels.

But as they approached the island, its charms appeared to be lost on his impatient bride.

“I don’t need a honeymoon,” Pandora said, glowering at the picturesque town rising steeply from the water. “My board game has to be stocked in stores in time for the Christmas holiday.”

“Anyone else in our circumstances would honeymoon for at least a month,” Gabriel pointed out. “I’ve only asked for a week.”

“But there won’t be anything to do.”

“I’ll try to keep you entertained,” Gabriel said dryly. He moved to stand at her back, his hands gripping the rail on either side of hers. “Spending a few days together will help us ease into our new life. Marriage will be a considerable change, especially for you.” He lowered his mouth close to her ear. “You’ll be living in an unfamiliar house, with an unfamiliar man—who’ll be doing very unfamiliar things to your body.”

“Where will you be?” Pandora asked, and barely restrained a yelp as he nipped at her earlobe.

“If you change your mind midway through the honeymoon,” he told her, “we can go back to London. We’ll board a steamer bound for Portsmouth Harbour Station, ride a direct train line to Waterloo station, and reach our front doorstep in no more than three hours.”

The statement seemed to mollify her. As the steamer continued the crossing, Pandora tugged off her left glove to admire her wedding ring, as she’d already done a dozen times that day. Gabriel had chosen a loose sapphire from the collection of Challon family jewels, and had it set in a gold and diamond ring mounting. The Ceylon sapphire, cut and polished into a smooth dome, was a rare stone that gleamed with a twelve-ray star instead of six. To his satisfaction, Pandora seemed inordinately pleased by the ring, and was fascinated by the way the star seemed to move across the surface of the sapphire. The effect, called asterism, was especially noticeable in sunlight.

“What causes the star?” Pandora asked, as she tilted her hand this way and that.

Gabriel tucked a kiss behind the soft lobe of her ear. “A few tiny imperfections,” he murmured, “that make it all the more beautiful.”

She turned and nestled against his chest.

Their wedding had been a three-day affair, attended by the Challons, Ravenels, and a limited number of close friends, including Lord and Lady Berwick. To Gabriel’s regret, there had been no time for his younger brother Raphael to return from his business trip to America in time for the ceremony. Raphael had sent a telegram, however, and promised to celebrate with them when he returned home later in the spring.

As Pandora had taken Gabriel on a private tour around her family’s estate, Gabriel had begun to comprehend exactly how secluded she and her sisters had been for most of their lives. Eversby Priory was a world unto itself. The rambling Jacobean manor, set among ancient forests and remote green hills, had been largely unchanged for two centuries. Devon had begun making much-needed improvements to the estate ever since inheriting the earldom, but it would take time to fully renovate the house. They had installed modern plumbing only two years ago. Before then, they had used chamber pots and outdoor privies, leading Pandora to tell Gabriel with mock gravity, “I’m barely housebroken.”

The festivities had provided an opportunity for Gabriel to meet the two Ravenels he hadn’t yet encountered: Devon’s younger brother West, and Pandora’s older sister, Lady Helen. Gabriel had taken an instant liking to West, a charming rogue with a sharp wit and an irreverent manner. As the manager of Eversby Priory’s farms and tenants, West seemed to have a thorough grasp of all their issues and concerns.

Lady Helen, who had been accompanied by her husband, Mr. Rhys Winterborne, was far more reserved than the twins. Instead of Pandora’s raw and radiant energy, or Cassandra’s effervescent charm, she possessed a quality of sweet, patient gravity. With her silver-blonde hair and willowy slenderness, Helen seemed as ethereal as a figure from a painting by Bougereau.

Few people would have envisioned a match between such a delicate creature and a man like Rhys Winterborne, a big, black-haired Welshman whose father had been a grocer. Now the owner of the largest department store in England, Winterborne was a man of considerable financial power, known for his forceful and decisive nature. Since his marriage, however, Winterborne seemed to have become far more relaxed and content, smiling with an ease Gabriel hadn’t seen in him before.

Gabriel had met Winterborne several times over the past four years, at the biannual board meetings of a hydraulic equipment manufacturing company. Winterborne had shown himself to be a pragmatic and decent man, with remarkable intuition and shrewdness in business matters. Gabriel liked the Welshman, for all that he lacked polish, but they moved in very different social circles and had never encountered each other outside of business meetings.