Chapter Nineteen

B lessing stared down at the open book in her hands, oblivious to its contents. It was a sham to keep others from interrupting her thoughts. Particularly Thorne, who had grown more fractious with each passing moment as the entire household waited for Montagne's messenger to appear at the front door.

After much wheedling, cajoling, and unabashed begging to her maid to help her find out as much as possible from the other servants, Blessing had discovered that Thorne's favorite footman, the young Mr. Donnelly, had discovered Montagne's whereabouts and reported it to Ravenglass. She struggled with her resentment about not being given that information. Crafty devils—Thorne and his dear old friend had better realize she never gave up that easily.

She'd had a word with Mr. Donnelly and felt a tad guilty about tricking him into revealing everything by having him relay his observations to Thorne while she eavesdropped on the other side of the sitting room door. The footman hadn't seemed to think it odd that Ravenglass might not have adequately informed the master of the house. Perhaps Donnelly felt Thorne preferred to hear the details from the horse's mouth.

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that it had worked, and she now knew that Montagne held Lady Myrtlebourne prisoner in Seven Dials—a place so rough and dangerous that even Blessing dared not go there. The footman reported that the murderous countess had shrieked obscenities from the depths of a squalid room above a gin palace. He had only known it to be Lady Myrtlebourne because Montagne had shouted back at her from the door, calling her by name when he told her he'd silence her by hanging her from the window if she didn't quiet herself.

"Essie?"

"Sorry?" Blessing jerked her focus back to the present and looked over at Thorne. "Forgive me. I was so engrossed in my book, I failed to hear what you said. Are you ready to return to bed? You have been in your chair for quite a while."

He arched a brow at her. "Why did you insist Donnelly speak with me?"

"Donnelly?" she repeated, scrambling to think of a convincing lie even though she hated telling Thorne an untruth.

"Essie."

"I do not like it when you say my name that way."

"That is because you know you are caught." He flinched as he shifted in the seat, then deepened his scowl. "I forbid you to go to Seven Dials."

"I would never."

"Oh, no?" His brows knotted over his narrowed eyes. "Then why were you listening at the door the entire time Donnelly spoke with me?"

"How dare you ask me such a thing!"

"The hem of your skirt was caught in the door. I saw it." He pointed at her. "What are you up to?"

She hiked her chin higher. "I am merely enjoying my book of poetry."

"You are not."

"What?"

He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, then let it drop to his lap and nodded at her book. "Do you make it a habit of reading your poetry while holding the book upside down?"

Bloody hell. She was well and truly caught, but that did not mean she would surrender and confess her plans. Thorne needed a distraction. "Send for the vicar."

He stared at her as though she had sprouted horns. "Beg pardon?"

"Send for the vicar." She dropped the infernal book into her lap and folded her hands atop it. "We have the special license. Send for the vicar so we can marry within the hour."

His dubious scowl conveyed a firm disbelief in her anxiousness to marry. "Marry within the hour without your entire family in attendance?"

"Do you wish to marry me or my family?"

"Fine." His smugness shouted his decision to call her bluff. He rang the bell from the table beside him. When Cadwick appeared at the sitting room door, Thorne never took his eyes from hers. "Fetch the vicar with the greatest of haste. My lady love wishes for us to marry before the hour is out."

Blessing swallowed hard. Perhaps she had gotten a bit carried away, but there was no going back now. Besides, they had planned to marry anyway. In fact, would have already been married if Thorne hadn't been shot. She stiffened her spine and nodded. "Yes, Cadwick," she said, "do hurry."

The butler pondered them both for a long moment, then bowed and disappeared.

Thorne's self-satisfied grin made her yearn to growl at him, but instead she returned his smile. "You might as well speak your mind," she told him. "Your eyes are dancing with accusations."

"Accusations of what, my treasure?"

"Accusations that my wish to marry you this very day is false."

"Do you not wish to marry me before the hour is out, as you so strongly asserted?"

"Of course I wish to marry you, or I would not have said it." Much to her dismay, her voice appeared to be getting squeakier with the strain of concealing her plotting. "I also wish to protect you from that bloody fool!"

"We agreed that I would handle the bloody fool, and you would handle remaining safe." He reached for the bell. "I shall inform Cadwick we no longer need the vicar."

She chucked her book at the bell and knocked it out of his reach. "We are marrying as soon as the vicar arrives."

He threw back his head and laughed, then held out both hands. "Come here, my lovely—yet stubborn—treasure. Tell me what you planned to do with whatever information you discovered about Montagne."

After recovering the book and the bell and returning them to the table, she took his hands and squeezed them. "I intended to hire a person."

"Hire a person?" He tugged her closer, guiding her to his good leg. "Since we are marrying today, I think it quite appropriate for you to sit on my lap."

She snatched her hands away and pulled up a chair beside him. "I do not wish to reopen the wound on your leg—and it would not be appropriate for me to sit on your lap until we are married."

"Then tell me about this person you intended to hire while we wait for the vicar."

"Montagne must be stopped, and if we are honest, I believe we both know there is only one way to do that." She stared down at her hands, ashamed for even thinking of such a horrible thing. That madman had corrupted her, dragged her down to his level by making her consider murder as the only possible solution. She bit her lip and lifted her gaze to Thorne's. "But now that I ponder my plan a bit more, I realize that the likelihood of my carrying it through is very low." She sadly shook her head and whispered, "I would protect you with my life, but I do not think I can take the life of another." She gave an awkward shrug. "Unless, of course, I was cornered and forced to fight my way out to save us."

He took her hand and pressed tender kisses across her knuckles. "Let us hope it never comes to that, my love—and that is why I shall remedy the situation with Montagne. Agreed?"

"Agreed…I suppose."

"So, no more schemes, plots, or sneaking about?"

She couldn't help but scowl at him. "You ask a great deal of me, my lord."

He lifted a brow, his amused yet stern sincerity disarming. "Please?"

"Fine," she agreed with a resigned sigh. "I shall strive to behave, but I want it duly noted that I do so under protest."

"Duly noted, my love." He tugged her closer and kissed her cheek, then held her there and breathed into her ear, "Tonight, you will join me in my bed—never to leave it again."

That familiar hot fluttering that took her over whenever they kissed came to life and raged through her. Their marriage bed. The thought of what that meant made her wet her lips and try to breathe through the rapid pounding of her heart. "Uhm…but your injuries." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and almost cringed while eyeing him. "We will not be able to…uhm… Will we?" She knew so little and hadn't had the time nor the courage to ask Lady Roslynn for any motherly guidance on the delicate subject.

He grew quite serious, staring into her eyes with such intensity that she found herself delightfully trapped in his gaze. "We will do what we can…as we can, my treasure. At least we will be together—as we should be."

"The vicar, my lord. Mr. Darbley," Cadwick announced from the doorway.

"My goodness." Blessing hurried to stand and put a more appropriate bit of space between herself and Thorne. She nodded at the doddering old man while trying to put all his laughable eccentricities from the pulpit out of her mind. He should have employed a curate years ago to take over his parish but insisted that his work for the Almighty was far from finished. "How kind of you to come so quickly, Mr. Darbley."

"I happened to be at the next house over offering the dowager countess words of comfort in her mourning. I had just stepped outside when your footman informed me the matter here was quite urgent." The vicar squinted around the room, nudged his smudged spectacles higher upon his nose, and then peered around again. "I am not too late, am I? Where is the ailing babe?" He patted his waistcoat pocket and gave them all a compassionate shake of his head. "I always carry a vial of holy water in case none has been obtained for the christening."

Blessing glanced at Thorne, who appeared to be holding his breath to keep from laughing. "There is no christening, Mr. Darbley," she said. "We wish for you to marry us." She motioned at Thorne. "We have the special license." A horrifying thought occurred to her. "Were you supposed to christen an unwell child today? Did someone speak to you about coming to their home to minister to them?"

The absent-minded gentleman frowned while thoughtfully wringing his hands. "Oh dear." He slowly shook his head. "No. No… Come to think of it, the hasty christening was days ago." He tapped his chin and nodded faster. "Yes. Days ago, and the little mite is much better now. I am certain of it." He toddled toward her, wobbling back and forth as if one of his legs was shorter than the other. He took her hand and patted it. "I get a bit confused when rushed, you see." He tapped his temple. "Or when I am thirsty. Might there be time for tea before the ceremony? I fear the dowager was too overset to order refreshments."

"Of course," Thorne said, before jangling the bell from the table beside him.

Cadwick appeared at the door so quickly that Blessing felt certain the butler had been standing in the hall.

"Yes, my lord?"

"A proper tea, Cadwick," Thorne said. "And do be good enough to fetch Ladies Serendipity and Fortuity along with my mother. After all, we shall need witnesses." He motioned to a nearby settee. "Have a seat, Mr. Darbley. Our tea shall arrive presently."

"Thank you, my lord." The vicar bowed and availed himself of the seat, then cocked his head to one side while staring at Thorne's bath chair.

"I was shot in the leg," Thorne told the man, the humor in his tone unmistakable. "But I am completely on the mend."

Mr. Darbley leaned toward him and cocked his head to a more pronounced angle. "Did you say shot , my lord?"

"I did."

The vicar shook his head. "I thought the war had ended."

Blessing looked away so the man couldn't see her close her eyes in disbelief.

"You are marrying today?" Serendipity exploded into the room with Fortuity close behind her.

"This very hour?" Fortuity said, hurrying around her to reach Blessing first.

Blessing lifted her chin and smiled. "Yes."

"What about Chance?" Serendipity asked.

"And the rest of the flock?" Fortuity added.

"The entire church does not need to witness the ceremony," Mr. Darbley said. He held up two fingers. "We merely need two witnesses."

"I meant…" Fortuity shot Blessing an exasperated look. "I meant the rest of our sisters. Mama and Papa always referred to us as the flock."

"Ahh…" Mr. Darbley acted as if he understood, but it was clear by his strained smile that he had not. The vicar had obviously forgotten about the size of the Broadmere family even though they had always filled two entire pews whenever Mama and Papa herded them all to church. In fact, the forgetful vicar had christened each and every one of them.

Serendipity seated herself beside Blessing and scooped up her hand. "Why the hurry to marry without the entire family here?" she whispered. After leaning forward and stealing a glance at Thorne, she lowered her voice even more. "Did something… inappropriate happen?"

Blessing glared at her, wondering if Serendipity had misplaced her good sense somewhere in her dressing room. "Thorne and I would already be married if not for the accident. I am tired of waiting," she lied. "I thought it best to merely get on with it."

"None will care except Felicity," Fortuity said. "You know she had her heart set on helping Cook with your wedding luncheon."

"Felicity can feed us all at a later date." Blessing turned to Thorne. "Should I check on that tea? It should be here by now."

"That is probably why Mother is not here," he said, just as Lady Roslynn charged through the door with her large black and white cat cradled in her arms.

"Hera wished to attend." She settled in on the settee beside the vicar and politely nodded. "Good afternoon, Mr. Darbley."

The vicar eyed the cat while edging farther away. "Good afternoon, Lady Roslynn."

Cadwick and Donnelly the footman appeared bearing trays filled with a proper tea.

"Do serve Mr. Darbley first," Thorne told them. "Extreme thirst troubles the poor man and affects his memory."

Blessing held her breath to keep from hissing with a very unladylike snicker. Both servants remained expressionless as they poured the man a cup of tea and served it to him with a small plate filled with a sampling of cakes and delicate sandwiches.

The vicar took a sip, then frowned down into the teacup. "No brandy?"

Thorne arched a brow but, admirably, did not snort with laughter. "Cadwick—get the man some brandy. By the way, where has Ravenglass got to?"

"While waiting for…" Cadwick trailed off. He glanced at the vicar, then cleared his throat. "While watching for the post , Lord Ravenglass became tired of waiting and decided to go in search of it."

Blessing locked eyes with Thorne. Ravenglass had gone to Seven Dials? Alone? "Should we not wait for his return?" she asked Thorne. "After all, he is your closest friend."

"Bloody hell," Thorne growled under his breath.

"Beg pardon?" The vicar leaned forward while balancing his brandy-laced tea in his hands.

Thorne ignored the man and blew out a frustrated snort. "No. There is no certainty as to how long he might be gone. If he has not returned by the time the vicar has finished enjoying his tea, we will marry without him." He cast a grim glance around the room. "We have plenty of witnesses."

A great deal more contented than when he arrived, the vicar smacked his lips and held out his cup. "Perhaps just a few drops more, if you do not mind?"

The butler looked to Thorne, who nodded at the brandy bottle on the table among the platters of teacakes.

"Ah yes," the vicar purred as the servant filled his cup. "Nothing warms the soul quite as nicely as a good blackcurrant brandy."

"Indeed," Blessing said. She bit her tongue to keep from reminding Mr. Darbley about a cleric's more usual enthusiasm for God's word over the benefits of brandy. Now she understood the probable origin of the vicar's forgetfulness.

The man drained his cup, set it aside, then pushed up from his seat. He steadied himself after stumbling sideways before chuckling and pulling his prayer book and holy water from inside his coat. "Are we ready for the christening now?"

"Wedding," Blessing snapped.

"Essie!" Serendipity hissed.

"Ah, yes." With trembling hands, Mr. Darbley paged through this small book. "Wedding—not christening." He hiccupped. "My goodness, do forgive me."

"Might we get on with it, man?" Thorne reached over and took hold of Blessing's hand.

Mr. Darbley frowned down at his book while slowly flipping through the pages. "We could, my lord, but I cannot seem to locate the proper text."

"I, Blessing Isolde Iris Abarough, do hereby take Thorne Knightwood to be my lawful husband," Blessing said in a loud voice that caused the vicar to jump. "I shall stay at his side in sickness and health, good days and bad, and will always honor this day's vows because I love him and want this union more than anything."

Before Mr. Darbley could comment, Thorne squeezed her hand and smiled. "And I, Thorne Alexander Knightwood, do hereby take Blessing Isolde Iris Abarough to be my beloved wife. Through sickness and health, good days and bad, I shall honor her body, mind, and soul and spend the rest of my days making her happy."

"Well, then." The vicar shrugged and stuffed his prayer book back inside his coat. "By the power vested in me by Almighty God and the Church of England, I hereby proclaim you man and wife, Lord and Lady Knightwood. Let no man put asunder what God Himself hath joined."

"Donnelly," Thorne said, "please escort the vicar back to the vicarage and ensure today is properly recorded. You may take whatever carriage you wish."

"Yes, my lord." The young footman moved to Mr. Darbley's side and politely turned the teetering man toward the door. "Come, vicar. Time to go."

"But I thought I might have more tea," the cleric sputtered as he toddled toward the door. "Is it all gone?"

"I am afraid so, Mr. Darbley." Blessing rose and herded the man into a faster pace. "Thank you so much for today."

He waved a shaking hand as he and the footman exited. "My pleasure, my lady," he called back. "My pleasure."

"Well, that explains a great deal about his sermon where he mentioned Jonah riding the whale like a horse because he hoped to catch up with Noah and his ark and give him the pair of unicorns he had forgotten." Lady Roslynn shook her head while idly stroking the sleeping cat on her lap. "I do hope the union is valid."

"The union is valid," Thorne assured his mother while offering Blessing a grin. "All of you witnessed it, heard our vows, and I sent Donnelly to ensure it is correctly recorded."

"It will be an amusing tale to tell our children someday," Blessing said.

"Indeed, it will, my love," Thorne agreed in a tone that made her shiver with heat rather than cold.

Lady Roslynn rocked her way to her feet, then deposited her cat in Thorne's lap. "I must tell Cook to prepare a proper celebratory dinner." Then she went still and gave him and Blessing a sad smile. "You two are even more united than before. I pray that helps with this unsavory battle in which you find yourselves."

"I pray so too, my lady," Blessing said. "And I pray Ravenglass makes it back to us safely."

Thorne reached for her. "Come to me, my wife. Let us seal this union with a kiss."

Wife. She never thought that word would thrill her as much as it did coming from Thorne's lips. Hurrying to him, she framed his face between her hands and kissed him with her heart and soul. When she lifted her mouth from his, he caught hold of her and held her there, keeping her from straightening and stepping away.

Staring up into her eyes, he whispered, "I love you, my treasure."

"I am glad, my lord, because it seems that I love you too."

*

Propped up in the bed in a mound of pillows piled against the headboard, Thorne watched the door that connected his bedroom to Blessing's. Not wishing to call attention to his wounds, he had lessened the bandages on his left shoulder and right thigh to the smallest wrappings possible.

A mirthless laugh huffed free of him. He really should thank Montagne at his first opportunity. Somehow, the man had managed to shoot him with enough accuracy for the bullets to pass through his flesh without shattering any bone. Even the physician had marveled at such luck.

Everything still hurt like hell, but he was getting stronger—due in large part to his forcing himself to his feet at every opportunity. But even so, he was in no condition to make love to his beautiful new wife the way he wished to the first time she came to him.

The door slowly opened, and she peeped into the room as if fearing he might be asleep. He smiled at that notion. He had never been more alert in his life.

She slipped inside with her long blonde braid draped down the front of one shoulder, wide-eyed, and her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her appearance a breathtaking mix of inexperienced virgin and emerging seductress. Her soft white nightdress, sheer enough to tease him with tempting shadows of her alluring form, was open at the throat. She eased toward him, her bare feet soundless on the thick Turkish rug covering the floor.

Without a word, he pulled back the covers on her side of the bed and waited.

Still biting her lip, she slipped beneath them, pulled them up to her neck, and then propped her fisted hands atop her chest. "Uhm…I suppose you are quite weary. Seeing as how you stayed upright in your chair most of the day."

Mindful of his wounded leg, he slid closer to her and propped himself onto his right side. He smiled down at her as he tugged one of the ties of her neckline out from under the firmly tucked counterpane and sheets. "I am not weary in the least."

"No?"

"No."

"But you are still quite sore—and…and you are still wearing your bandages."

"Yes. I am sore, but not so sore as to be unable to enjoy our first of many nights together." He tugged the other tie of her neckline out from under the covers as well. "I do regret, however, that I am not quite able to remove your nightdress."

"Oh." She lay there for a long moment, then stole another nervous glance at him. "Shall I remove it, then?"

"That would give me a great deal of pleasure and prove most helpful. But do so only if you wish to, Blessing. The choice is always yours—I want you to know that."

"All right, then," she said with a breathlessness that made him ache for her even more. Rather than get back out of the bed as he expected her to do, she reached under the covers and wriggled and squirmed until she had her nightwear bunched up around her neck and could slip it off over her head. With amazing quickness, she yanked it off, then clenched the covers up to her chin as she flung it to the floor.

"There now." She gave him a nervous smile. "That's done."

He leaned over and kissed her shoulder, smiling against the warm satin of her skin as she nervously twitched against his lips. "I know you have seen me bare as the day I was born, my lady."

"Yes. Yes, I have. I had to in order to wash all the blood away." She squeaked as he kissed her shoulder again. "And I thought you would rest easier without nightclothes bunching up around you and making uncomfortable lumps and bumps."

"Most thoughtful of you." He nibbled along her collarbone as he slid a hand underneath the covers and stroked his fingertips ever so lightly around her breast.

"That is your left hand," she said, her voice hitting a high raspiness.

"Yes."

"It does not hurt your shoulder to use it?"

"Only a little, my love, and your beauty makes it ever so easy to ignore the bothersome pain."

"Thorne?"

Her use of his name made him pause, lift his head, and look her in the eyes. "What is it, Essie?"

"I do not wish you to hurt yourself," she whispered.

He caressed her cheek. "As much as I wish to, these damnable injuries make me unable to love you tonight as I would like to." He grazed his thumb across the fullness of her bottom lip, plump and reddened from her nervous chewing of it. "But I can give you some pleasure that I believe you will enjoy—if you will allow it."

"And it will not hurt you?"

"No."

Her frown gave him pause.

"What troubles you, Essie?"

"What about you? What about your enjoyment? Do men not need to achieve their pleasure to keep them from falling ill?"

While he wanted to ask her where she had gotten such an idea, he decided not to out of fear of embarrassing her. "I will not fall ill. I promise."

From the look in her eyes, the way they gleamed in the candlelight, she appeared to make a decision. "Go ahead, then. As long as it does not hurt you and make you fall ill."

"Might I uncover you, then, my lady?"

Her eyes widened even more, and she wet her lips. "I suppose…uhm… Yes, you may."

Ever so gently, he folded back the counterpane and bedsheets and failed at stifling a groan.

"Are you all right?" She rolled toward him and touched his chest, her face filled with concern.

"I am more than all right, my love," he said, his voice now raspy with desire as he nuzzled kisses along her jaw and down the satiny curve of her neck. "Your beauty—you are indeed a blessing to me." He allowed his fingers to travel lower, stroking the wonderful softness of her dips and curves.

She thrilled him with hesitant kisses along his throat and collarbone. When he shuddered, she paused and asked, "Do you enjoy that, or should I stop?"

"I enjoy everything about you, my treasure."

She pulled back and arched a brow at him, her eyes flashing with a teasing gleam. "What about when I am fractious?"

"I enjoy the wittiness with which you snap at those around you."

"And when I am sulky?"

He leaned in for a kiss and gently sucked on her bottom lip. "I adore the way your bottom lip pokes out like you're an adorable child denied its treats."

She huffed with a soft laugh. "You possess quite the silver tongue, my love."

"My love," he repeated, his heart swelling with an all-consuming fire he had never known before meeting her. "I believe that is the first time you have ever said that to me."

She combed her fingers into his hair and looked into his eyes with a lazy smile. "I do love you—so very much."

"Then lie back and allow me to give you as much pleasure as my broken body will allow until I have healed—because I love you very much as well."

She rolled to her back but kept her fingers laced in his hair as he lowered his head and set to the task of showing his beloved bride how much he loved her.

Her breathless squeaks as he caressed and tasted her glorious breasts made him ache to join with her, but his infernal leg would never allow it. Not yet. So he worked his way lower, determined to take her to the ecstasy she deserved.

As he eased her thighs farther apart and dipped a finger into her warm wetness, she gasped and fisted a hand in his hair. He breathed her in, reveling in her mouth-watering scent of lilacs mixed with a woman filled with desire. With the tip of his tongue, he teased her with flicking nibbles and tastes while sliding a finger in and out, then adding another as he deepened the thrusts.

"Oh my—I never dreamed of such." She moved her hips and clutched his head with both hands now, bucking and arching as he closed his mouth over the nubbin of her sex and sucked with the same rhythm of his fingers working deep inside her.

She was so close. Her louder cries and the pull of her hot sweetness around his fingers urged him for more. He laved her with his tongue, then sucked harder while pumping faster.

She jerked upward, arching her back and holding in place while clutching him against her. Her groans exploded into shrieks as she spasmed and trembled. Then she sagged and slid back down to the bed, gasping as she went limp. "I never knew," she admitted to him with a breathlessness that made him proud. "Dear heavens, I never knew."

"I am glad," he said as he kissed his way back up her wondrous body, the flush of her satisfaction shading her ivory skin with a most becoming rosiness. "It pleases me to be the one to introduce you to such pleasure."

"Pleasure?" With her eyes still closed, she huffed and flipped a hand at his silliness. "That was bliss, my love. Pure bliss."

He leaned over her and kissed both her breasts, her long, slender throat, and then savored her sweet lips. "Pure bliss indeed, my love."

She opened her eyes and treated him to another of her seductively lazy smiles. "But what about your bliss?"

"Tonight, my bliss is found in yours. When I am stronger and healed a bit more, we shall find our bliss together and never wish to emerge from this bedchamber ever again."

With a serious thoughtfulness that made him wonder what she was thinking, she touched his cheek. "I am glad I decided to marry you. But…"

His heart lurched. "But?"

Her fair brows drew together over her lovely eyes. "I still wish to be me."

"I am afraid I do not understand."

"Well…we probably should have spoken about this before we married, but the right time to broach the subject never seemed to arise. The person I was before—the one who studied the stars and avoided attending every party and ball of the Season is who I wish to be."

She curled closer and snuggled against him, resting her head on his good shoulder and making it exceedingly difficult for him to think straight. "I want to take care of you and learn from Seri and your mother about the most effective way to run a household, but I do not wish to waste our time with lavish entertainments just so those of the ton can gossip about us."

"What about babies?" he hazarded to ask, almost dreading the answer. As one of the older Broadmere siblings, he feared she might not wish for many—if any—children. He also wondered if he had not sated her properly. Should she not still be floating in the warm lull of physical completeness? "Blessing?"

A soft, snoring sigh answered him.

"Blessing?" he repeated quietly, then kissed the top of her head.

She barely shifted and nuzzled her head more comfortably in the dip of his shoulder.

Thorne smiled. He had indeed done proper by her. Praise God Almighty. He allowed himself a deep sigh and decided that Blessing could be whoever or whatever she wished, as long as she did it at his side.