Chapter Sixteen

E ven though she was all warm and fluttery about becoming Thorne's wife, a part of her mourned what she would soon leave behind. Blessing trailed her fingers along the cool smoothness of the brass tube of her telescope, sadly smiling at her blurry reflection on it. This was her last private time in her precious observatory, the most priceless and thoughtful gift she had ever received from Papa.

She swallowed hard against the risk of tears and reminded herself that if she indulged in a weeping spell now, her nose would still be red as a raspberry at half past eleven, when she and Thorne exchanged their vows.

"Exchange our vows," she repeated aloud, making that delightfully fluttery feeling shift to a feverish pounding that sent her in search of a sheet of notepaper to use as a fan. She wanted… Oh my , what did she want? She tried to remember everything she'd read in Serendipity's scandalous books, but they had been heavy on innuendo and light on intricate details that would have been extremely helpful right now. Mama had always promised to have the wedding night talk with her daughters whenever such a talk would be relevant. Sadly, consumption had denied her the ability to keep that promise.

"Essie—what are you doing in here? It's not even dawn," Serendipity called from the doorway. "And in your nightdress and dressing gown, no less? You should still be abed. Today is a big day."

Blessing shrugged, not quite sure how to make her sister understand. "Saying goodbye, I suppose."

"Goodbye? To whom?"

"Memories. Ghosts. Things that will never be the same after today." She moved to the wall of windows and stared out at the fading stars and the hint of a pale glow creeping across the horizon.

The light scuffle of footsteps across the worn Persian rug warned her that Serendipity was joining her. She soon found herself enveloped in a sisterly hug from behind.

"You will always have your memories," Serendipity whispered as she tightened her arms around Blessing's shoulders. "And the ghosts, too. Mama and Papa will always be with us."

"But it will never be the same."

Serendipity shifted with a heavy sigh. "No. It will not." She stepped back and turned Blessing to face her. "But then, life never is. The one constant in this world is change, remember?"

"You sound like Mama."

"Thank you." Serendipity gave her a sad smile. "Someday, I hope to be just as wise and kind and able to see the good in things as her."

Blessing returned her sad smile. "I would say you have quite a good start on those things, sister. Better than the rest of us, in fact."

"Oh, I am not so certain about that." Serendipity turned toward the door and firmly steered them across the room. "I am proud of you, by the way."

"Thank you. But what for?" Blessing knew her sister was trying to distract her from realizing they were headed back upstairs to their beds.

"For being brave enough to trust your heart and give your Lord Knightwood a chance. I do believe he loves you."

"Bravery had nothing to do with it. It was fear."

"Fear?"

"Fear of hearing about his death because of some ridiculous duel. Fear of never seeing him again. Fear of discovering what the world would be like without him in it." Blessing slowly shook her head as they climbed the stairs. "It almost suffocated me—that fear."

"And yet you faced it and overcame it."

"I suppose."

"You suppose?" Serendipity gave her a teasing shake. "You should be impressed when I impart such words of wisdom."

"Oh, I am, dear sister. Trust me. I am."

They laughed together as they crossed the sitting room and tiptoed into the bedchamber.

"I am not asleep, and what have you two been into without me?" Fortuity sat up in her bed, her hair a laughable mop of tangles that made her scowl less effective. "Out with it. I want to know everything."

Blessing went to her and tugged on her knotted curls. "How many times must we remind you to braid your hair and wear a cap to keep it from becoming a ratty bird's nest?"

Fortuity pushed her hand away. "I fell asleep whilst writing." She twisted around, searching the bedclothes until she came up with several sheets of parchment and her pencil. "Thank goodness the graphite didn't mark the sheets again. Mrs. Flackney's looks are most scathing when the laundress tattles on me." She squinted at the window. "Now, what is going on? Is something amiss? First light is barely upon us."

"I couldn't sleep," Blessing said as she perched on the end of the bed. She tapped her temple. "Too much going on in here for me to close my eyes." She allowed herself a heavy sigh. "So, I went to my observatory, and Seri came down to drag me back up here."

"I hardly dragged you," Serendipity said as she made herself comfortable on the other side of the bed. "She said she was saying goodbye," she told Fortuity.

"Goodbye to whom?" Fortuity asked.

"To everything I have known up to this point in my life." Blessing turned so she could gaze out the window as the sun slowly rose. The sky and all it held always helped her center herself and find a bit of peace. "You know I do not handle change well, and that is all that we have had for over a year now."

"The one constant in life is—"

Blessing stopped Fortuity before she could finish. "Yes, yes. I know. Serendipity already quoted Mama quite effectively, thank you."

"You sound as though you are having second thoughts about marrying." Fortuity nudged her shoulder. "Are you?"

"No. I want to marry Thorne, and I am most excited to start that chapter of my life. But…" Blessing didn't know how to explain the churning mess of contradictory emotions knotted in the center of her chest. "It is complicated."

"It is normal," Serendipity said. "Or, at least, I think it is. I am sure all brides go through this." She fetched a comb from the night table and set to untangling Fortuity's hair. "At least you know your husband and agreed to marry him because you love him," she told Blessing. "Imagine all those poor girls bargained off to marry someone they have never even met."

"And think of the ones promised to men old enough to be their grandfathers." Fortuity flinched and snatched the comb away from Serendipity.

"Yes, I am well aware of my good fortune," Blessing told them both. "And I do indeed love Thorne—but so many things will change."

"Indeed, they will." Fortuity nodded. "You will not have to wonder which sister stole your best stockings, ruined your favorite reticule, or lost your place in the book you were reading."

"Nor will you have to hurry to the breakfast buffet out of fear that your brother and sisters have snatched up all the warmest scones and hot chocolate, and left the cover off the coddled eggs, and allowed them to grow cold." Serendipity unbraided her hair and combed her fingers through the curly tresses. "You also will not have to wait for more water to be brought up because your sisters beat you to it and used it all."

"What else?" Fortuity frowned and tapped her chin. "Oh yes! And never again will you ruin your fresh stockings when you step in a warm, wet spot on the rug where one of Gracie's pups has piddled because she failed to get the poor thing to the door fast enough." She leaned closer to Blessing. "Unless you have dogs in the house. Then you might still have that particular problem."

Blessing laughed, the knot of nervousness in her middle loosening tremendously. "Cats. Remember Lady Roslynn's cats?"

Fortuity nodded. "Ah, that's right. Cats." She shrugged. "You should be fine, then." As she continued combing out her snarled hair, she glanced at the wardrobe. "Why is your gown not hanging at the ready? Have you still not decided?"

Blessing stared at the wardrobe, wishing the thing would come to life and say, Here. Wear this. "I am not wearing Madame Couire's silvery-white creation that I wore to our ball. It would be awful of me to remind Thorne of the evening that I refused him."

Serendipity nodded her agreement, but Fortuity narrowed her eyes. "But if you wore it, it would negate that refusal as you became his wife. It might remedy that bad memory for him and replace it with a joyful one."

"No." Blessing frowned at the wardrobe, then smiled as the solution came to her. "I shall wear the gown I wore the first night we met. The pale blue satin with the sheer overlay of deep blue flowers."

"A lovely choice." Serendipity rose from the bed and stretched while gazing out the window. "Since it appears there shall be no more sleeping, shall I ring for Meggie and ask her to draw you a bath?"

"I suppose so." Blessing drew up her feet and hugged her knees, rocking herself like she used to do as a child. She wanted to marry Thorne, really, she did, but she was so afraid. She knew nothing about running a household. When Mama had passed, Serendipity had taken up that task. What if she was a disappointment to him? What if she disappointed him in her wifely responsibilities? "Do none of your books go into detail about what is expected of me tonight when we…?"

Serendipity paused on her way to the bellpull and stared at her. "When you…" She fluttered a hand as if trying to help Blessing finish her sentence.

"Good heavens, Seri." Fortuity rolled off the bed, yanked open the bottom drawer of her night table, and started rummaging through it. "Sometimes the thickness of your head utterly amazes me. Essie's worried about what to do tonight." She glanced over her shoulder at their eldest sister. "In bed ."

"Exactly." Relief that at least Fortuity understood her nervousness somewhat eased the tension in Blessing's shoulders. "I know about the kisses. Those are divine and so…so…"

"So easy to naturally manage?" Fortuity finished for her. She straightened from the drawer while paging through the book in her hands.

"Yes." Blessing squinted at the title but couldn't make it out. "Which one is that, and does it go into detail?"

"That is not one of mine," Serendipity said as she rejoined them on the bed.

"No," Fortuity said. "It is one of mine. Mrs. Mortimore highly recommended it."

"That book shop is most questionable, and you know it." Serendipity scowled at her, then glanced at the bedroom door. "But hurry. Meggie will come to fetch Essie for her bath any minute. You know how efficient she is."

Blessing scooted closer, leaning forward and hugging her knees even tighter. "Read it, Tutie. Do not leave out a single word."

Fortuity came to a certain page and sat straighter as though surprised. She turned the book and showed it to Blessing. "Here is a picture entitled most common copulation. "

Blessing squinted at the drawing of a nude woman spread-eagled on a bed with a nude man jammed between her thighs. The woman had her head turned as if staring off into the distance, and the man was arched back as though stricken with some sort of spasm that affected his entire body. "She looks bored, and he appears to be in pain."

Serendipity turned the book so she could study it. "That does not look very pleasurable at all, does it?"

Blessing pulled the book closer and peered at the paragraph beneath the illustration. "What does it say? Is the woman just supposed to lie there and not move? It looks as though she is bearing it until the man has finished with whatever he's doing, I suppose?"

Serendipity sat back as though dubious about the whole thing. "That cannot be accurate."

"How would you know?" Blessing asked, wondering what erotic secrets her eldest sister had kept from her.

Serendipity clamped her mouth tightly shut and looked away.

"Out with it, Seri." Blessing poked her shoulder. "What have you done?"

"I have not done anything." Serendipity jutted her chin higher, then cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders as if ridding herself of a weighty burden. "I sort of…came upon something. Quite by accident."

"And you didn't tell us?" Blessing said with a gasp before poking her sister again. "You secretive little minx. Share! Right now. Especially if it is something I need to know in order to keep from disappointing my future husband!"

Serendipity resettled herself and primly clasped her hands in her lap. "It was before Mama died. At our country house. I had gone to the stables to saddle Locket for our morning ride, and I heard what I thought was someone in sheer agony." She cleared her throat again and stared down at her hands. "It turned out to be Tom—the one who always helped Papa choose and train the new horses—and Alice the milkmaid."

"And?" Blessing wished her sister would get on with it. This information could prove to be crucial to her and Thorne's happiness. "What do you mean, it turned out to be them?" She shook her head. "They're married now and still work at our estate. Surely it was not anything dire?"

Serendipity fixed her with a stern glare. "That depends on your definition of ‘dire.'"

"Well, get on with it, then." Blessing poked her again.

"Stop poking and I will."

"Fine." Blessing sat on her hands to keep from nettling her sister into spewing the rest of her tale rather than eking the story out one painfully slow dribble at a time.

"I followed the…uhm…sounds of anguish to one of the stalls at the far corner of the stable." Serendipity clutched her throat and wet her lips as if suddenly growing quite disturbed. "They were both in a state of undress." She paused and blinked hard. "Complete undress, actually. In an impassioned embrace. Up against the back of the stall with Alice's legs wrapped around Tom's waist, him holding her wrists against the wall over her head and rutting into her with thrusts so hard that I thought the boards behind them would surely snap in two." She visibly swallowed hard. "Alice did not in any way appear to be bored. Her expression conveyed a state of extreme bliss, as did her shouts to Almighty God."

"And what about Tom?" Fortuity asked in a rapt whisper.

"Growled and roared like a wild beast." Serendipity pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. "His words were not intelligible, but he seemed most pleased as well."

"So, we should do the act standing up, pressed against a wall?" Blessing said as she snatched up Fortuity's book and fanned herself with it. The room had become unbearably warm. "That would ensure us both the greatest amount of pleasure?"

"It would seem so," Serendipity answered.

Blessing nodded and fanned herself faster. "Thank you, sister. That was most helpful." She glanced at the bedroom door and frowned. "I think I shall tell Meggie to let the bathwater cool some before I enjoy it. Heated water presently holds no attraction."

"I understand completely," Serendipity said. "I believe I shall enjoy a cooler bath this morning as well."

"Me too," Fortuity agreed.

*

"Lord Ravenglass awaits in the parlor, my lord," Cadwick announced from the doorway. "Shall I see that he is served a refreshment while you finish dressing?"

Thorne tilted his chin higher to aid his valet in tying his cravat. "Send him up, Cadwick. Lyles is nearly done with me."

"Very good, my lord."

The butler disappeared, and soon thereafter, Viscount Ravenglass stepped into the dressing room with a wide grin and a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Ready to be leg-shackled, old boy?"

"More than you will ever know." Thorne turned from eyeing himself in the mahogany cheval mirror. He straightened his white waistcoat as his valet brushed even the slightest evidence of lint from his best black tailcoat. He winked at his friend. "Come to make sure I am not late?"

"Come to make sure you do not miss the appointment completely."

Thorne found himself suddenly filled with a somberness beyond measure. "Trust me, old friend, if the past few days without my precious treasure have taught me anything, it is that I cannot imagine a life without her. I would not miss our vows for anything in the world."

Ravenglass shifted to one side, attempting to dodge the fluffy white feline entranced with the buckle on his polished black shoe. "Does your lady love enjoy the company of cats as much as your mother?"

"Gads, I hope so. The place is overrun with them." Thorne tugged on the pristine white cuffs of his shirt to pull them out past the sleeves of his black coat. "I have yet to convince Mother they would all be much happier in the stable, where they could spend their days chasing mice rather than tripping the servants."

"Indeed." Ravenglass frowned down at his pant leg, then bent to pick off several strands of cat hair before shooing the kitten away. "Why is it the white felines always rub on the black trousers and the black felines shed their fur on the light pantaloons?"

"The sly things conspire against us, old boy." Thorne shook his head. "They can be most endearing but never make the mistake of presuming you can control the wily little furies."

"Sounds like women." Ravenglass chuckled.

With a laugh, Thorne motioned for his friend to precede him out into the hallway. "I shan't agree or disagree on that count. Someone might overhear and report me either to my wife or my mother—both of which could prove disastrous." His wife. Gads, he liked the sound of that.

As they reached the main floor, he turned into the parlor. Ravenglass followed, watching the floor as he walked and deftly sidestepped a pair of kittens intent on tripping him. "Where is your mother, by the way? I thought to give you both a ride to the Broadmere residence."

"Already there." Thorne headed to the liquor cabinet. While he was anxious to make Blessing his wife, a drink to settle his nerves would not go unappreciated. "She wanted to help with whatever might be needed, since it has not been all that long since the Broadmeres lost their parents." He held up a bottle of port and waited for Ravenglass's nod before pouring them both a generous glass.

As he passed the front window, he paused and frowned. "That hackney, there. Pulled extremely close to yours, did it not?"

Ravenglass joined him at the window. "How odd. I believe that to be the same one that was parked on the other side of the street when I arrived. That is most definitely the same driver, without a doubt. Rather strange for one to tarry so long in this part of Mayfair, wouldn't you say? I know they come and go, but how often do they come and sit?"

"Probably a physician attending to one of my neighbors." Thorne sipped his drink while noting that every window of the hired carriage had its black shades drawn and tightly fastened down even though the day was bright and clear. Not a rain cloud as far as the eye could see. He shrugged away the observation and turned from the window. "As much as I hate to sully this day with mention of the man's name, do we yet have confirmation that Lord Montagne—pardon me, the new Earl of Myrtlebourne—has, in fact, taken our advice and left London?"

"According to my contacts, the man is crossing the channel as we speak." Ravenglass meandered around the parlor as he sipped his port. "Lady Myrtlebourne has been sentenced to hang with the next lot due to the gallows." He snorted out a hearty burst of air as though trying to clear his nostrils of a terrible stench. "I find it most disturbing that Montagne does not face a similar fate. Why did the Broadmeres not unleash their solicitor and have the man hauled away?"

"While I cannot say for certain, I believe they feared Montagne would bribe his way to freedom, and then become even more of a problem when they no longer had anything to hold over him. Theirs was a well-played bluff, and thankfully, it worked." Thorne hated that Constance, Lady Myrtlebourne, would pay the ultimate price whereas Montagne had gone free. But the memory of her cruel haughtiness to anyone she deemed beneath her assuaged his conscience somewhat. He rolled his shoulders to rid himself of the dark subject. "I never should have brought up the unpleasantness on this glorious day. Nothing but joyful topics from this moment on—agreed?"

"Most definitely." Ravenglass set his empty glass aside and pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket. "We best be off, old friend. Better to arrive early than late."

Cadwick appeared with Thorne's hat and gloves as if he had stood in the hallway with his ear pressed to the parlor door. "Mrs. Hartcastle asked me to assure you that the new lady of the house shall find her rooms in good order, and that Lady Roslynn herself inspected them and approved."

"Good." Thorne tugged on his gloves. "And is my mother happy with her new rooms adjacent to the gardens?"

"Yes, my lord." The butler's expressionless face somehow became stonier. "Lady Roslynn is quite overjoyed, and informed me that her cats are pleased as well."

"Well, we would never want the cats unhappy, now would we, Cadwick?" Thorne couldn't resist goading the man, knowing he despised the felines.

"No, my lord," the butler replied with a dullness in his tone that made his feelings quite clear. "We would not."

Thorne struggled not to laugh as he headed down the hallway and out the front door. As he stepped outside, he donned his hat before skipping down the steps. "A glorious day," he told Ravenglass while casting a smile at all creation.

"Indeed, it is, old friend. Indeed, it is."

"Knightwood!" someone bellowed in an oddly deep voice that sounded almost contrived.

Thorne turned toward the shout. Gunfire exploded, and he found himself knocked back off his feet with his left shoulder ablaze with excruciating fire. His hand clutched to it, blood streaming through his fingers, he tried to roll and stand as the street in front of his home erupted into chaos. Horses screamed. Carriages rattled and people shouted. Another shot went off, hitting him in the back of his right leg, high in the thigh. It knocked him forward, enraging him even more.

The hackney driver split the air with a sharp whistle then slapped the reins, and the vehicle careened out of sight.

Deafened by an unholy roaring that he came to realize was the sound of his own blood pounding through his body, Thorne fought Ravenglass as his friend tried to help him. "Get me in your carriage. We have to catch that bastard!" he growled. "It has to be Montagne. We cannot let him near Blessing."

"You are in no condition to catch anyone." Ravenglass caught hold of him by the front of his jacket and dragged him up the steps and into his home. "Fetch the physician! At once!" he shouted as he continued dragging Thorne down the hallway toward the kitchens. "The constable, the watchman—and fetch the runners as well! This is bloody Mayfair, for heaven's sake, not Seven Dials."

Through all of this, Thorne fought to free himself, grappling with his friend. The physical agony ripping through him was nothing compared to the terror in his heart. He had to get to Blessing, had to protect her—or if he could not, then Ravenglass should. "Leave me and get to the Broadmeres! They must be warned."

"I shall send word to them as soon as we get you on the table. We must slow the bleeding until the physician arrives."

Thorne clenched his teeth and pushed up with his good leg, groaning from deep in his gut, both from frustration and pain. "Now, send word. Now! It could already be too late."

"I can go, my lord." Donnelly, the footman and messenger Thorne had sent to the Broadmere residence once before, stepped up to the kitchen worktable, tensed as though ready to take off like a shot.

"Yes. Go." Thorne gripped the edges of the table as Ravenglass tightened a rag around his upper thigh in a makeshift tourniquet, and Cook pressed more rags against his bloody shoulder. "Run, man!" he roared after the footman, fighting to lift his head and watch the lad shoot out the door. "Run like you have never run before."