Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

“ T here’s never a dull day with Letitia,” laughed Benedict as he and Charles headed to the billiards room for a game. “She’s like the English weather. One minute, sunshine, and the next, storms and showers — but still the only climate I wish to live in. Did you know, she collects antique musical instruments, and she can play them all too?”

“You’ve never been a man for the quiet life, have you?” chuckled Charles, getting out the cues and passing one to his friend. “Now, you’ll never have one. There’ll be string instruments in the drawing room, keyboards in the parlor, and tambourines and bells on the staircases…”

“Wind instruments too, don’t forget. Some say they’re not ladylike, but they’ve never seen Letitia play the serpent.”

The Duke burst out laughing at this earnest remark.

“Please tell me that’s a joke or a honeymoon euphemism! Either way, you must open the game, for I cannot hold my cue straight. What in God’s name is a serpent?”

As Benedict tried to adequately describe the low-pitched wind instrument with its winding S-shaped body and brass mouthpiece, Charles tried and failed to straighten himself up to take his shot. His friend’s sincerity, in combination with his sister-in-law’s eccentricity, was too much for him.

“If you’re that interested, I think Letitia might have it with her. She always carries one or two of her more portable instruments. Up in the highlands of Scotland one day, she produced the most magnificent horn…”

As Benedict launched into an account of Letitia playing the horn at sunrise beside a Scottish loch, Charles put down his cue and closed his eyes, tears of laughter actually trickling down his face. There was no way he could play a game of billiards in the face of such comedic statements.

“God, Benedict, I have missed you!” Charles declared as the story finally came to an end, his friend still struggling to comprehend how funny it had sounded.

“You too, old man,” Benedict assured him in puzzlement.

Apparently taking Charles’s display of hilarity for one of excessive emotion, he clapped the Duke around the shoulders again.

“It’s good to be together again and now both married men to boot. We shall have such fun together, the four of us!”

“Will we?” queried Charles with a smile. “I’m not sure Letitia feels that warmly towards me at the moment.”

“I shouldn’t worry,” Benedict shrugged. “As I said, my wife is like the weather, raining one moment and then bright sunshine. I only take her seriously when she proves what she says. Musical instruments, for example, are her passion, and she’d fill all our houses if I let her. She liked Scotch terriers, when we met one in a park one day, but now, she refers to them as ‘barking rats.’”

“So, I’m like a Scotch terrier, am I?” laughed the Duke. “I’ve never been called that before.”

“Well, not physically, of course,” Benedict said quickly. “More a German Shepherd, I’d say. Do they have green eyes? Some Husky dogs do, I believe, and they’re more your build…”

As Benedict babbled good-naturedly about dogs, Charles thought about his sister-in-law. Unlike Benedict, he suspected Letitia’s dislike might be more serious and deeply rooted. The real question was whether he cared enough to change her opinion of him.

He supposed that Madeline too had held him in low regard until very recently. Charles felt a hint of shame now when he thought about this, having gradually acknowledged that her initial attitude towards him had been, in some ways, justified. His wife no longer disliked him, he felt sure, especially when recalling her gasping in his arms last night, the first step in her seduction well-accomplished.

Madeline was a woman of substance whose regard had mattered to Charles. He had therefore set out to win it, a goal that now seemed within easy striking distance. Frivolous Letitia’s regard had less worth to him in every respect. Justified or not, it might be easiest to let her dislike him rather than cause friction with either Madeline or Benedict.

“Benedict, you sit there at Charles’s right hand, and Letitia can sit beside you. Cecilia, you sit at Charles’s left opposite Benedict, and I’ll sit beside you.”

Charles was aware that Madeline had thought through the seating at the luncheon table thoroughly, putting Cecilia and Letitia at the greatest distance from one another while surrounding Cecilia with familiar and comfortable people. He approved.

“Are you sure?” asked Cecilia, looking to Madeline and then her brother. “You and Charles normally sit beside one another.”

“There’s little choice about that when we are only three,” Madeline laughed, walking Cecilia to her seat and then patting her arm. “Charles and I can survive sitting apart to accommodate our guests this week.”

“Indeed, you survived very well for a whole year, several countries apart as I remember, Madeline. Although that was hardly your choice,” commented Letitia clearly and with a pointed look at the Duke.

Cecilia looked bewildered, and Charles flashed her a reassuring smile, hopefully indicating that she should not set too much store by Letitia’s words.

“Indeed, I did,” Madeline said evenly, carrying the conversation on over this rough patch of road. “And now here we all are together again, gathered at Huntingdon manor to celebrate your marriage, Letitia. Who would have imagined that on my wedding day?”

“I imagined it,” volunteered Benedict. “Although I hadn’t anywhere near plucked up the courage to ask Letitia to be my wife at that point. I’m still amazed that she accepted me.”

They leaned over and embraced one another at the table, regardless of the maids and footman who had now entered to serve the piles of ham, garden vegetables, and fresh bread.

Charles cleared his throat loudly as the footman found himself obstructed in his task by the post-honeymoon couple’s too-public embrace. Benedict looked up and blinked before looking slightly abashed.

“Apologies. I forget where I am sometimes with Letitia.”

“There is nothing to apologize for, Benedict,” said his wife, bright-eyed and silly with wedded bliss. “We’re in love.”

The Duke laughed to see Madeline subtly rolling her eyes at this little speech and sharing his sentiments. Benedict and Letitia were going to require even more careful handling at the house party than planned, having apparently left any sense of propriety behind them in Scotland.

“Imagine if that were a valid excuse by law,” speculated Charles, somewhat facetiously. “A young man who steals fruit excuses himself because he was in love. Or a clerk who has embezzled the company funds or a murderer who kills his rival…”

“I certainly shan’t be doing any of those things,” Benedict assured him. “I don’t have any rivals, do I, Letitia?”

“Not a single one,” she affirmed. “You are the only man for me, Benedict. There could never be another like you. Unlike some husbands I could mention, you have been utterly devoted to me from the moment we met…”

“Serve the soup please, Loxton,” Charles instructed, cutting through Letitia’s sentimental speech to her obvious annoyance. “We don’t want it getting cold. Benedict, I’d welcome your views on our plans for the hunting…”

“I hate hunting,” Letitia said, taking a large mouthful of ham and chewing it appreciatively. “Killing animals for fun has never appealed to me, unlike you, Madeline.”

“I joined the fox hunt for the riding,” Madeline shrugged mildly. “Other things I hunt, I do eat.”

“You shoot?” asked Benedict with a surprise that only increased when Madeline nodded. “So few ladies shoot. I always supposed that guns were too big.”

This was all news to Charles too, a skill not previously advertised by his wife.

“I have my own rifle and pistols of perfectly manageable size and weight,” Madeline explained. “This week’s hunt participants are all gentlemen, so I don’t plan to join those, but if you’re interested, I will show you my firearms separately.”

“Yes, I would like to see ladies’ guns. My own sister might have an interest. She always wanted to shoot mine when we were younger, but Father said it wasn’t safe for her.”

Benedict sounded very interested, and Charles was intrigued himself and planned to join them.

“At least Madeline’s not a bore for guns as she is for horses,” Letitia piped up. This sounded more like a normal, sisterly teasing rather than a dig of the kind she had been aiming at Charles. “Do not ask her any horse questions unless you wish to speak of nothing else for the afternoon.”

“Like asking you about musical instruments, I suppose,” Benedict smiled at his wife, lifting her hand to kiss it. “I like to hear you play, but I’m learning not to ask too many questions.”

“One should always have interests,” returned Letitia. “What about you, Charles? Do you have any particular passions? Or are you equally indifferent to everything and everyone, just as to your own wife?”

Cecilia gasped at this unmistakable rudeness, her face turning pale. Charles thought for one moment that she might actually flee the dining room, and his temper flared at his concern for her mental state.

“Lady Radcliffe,” he barked warningly and saw that he had her full attention and even a little apprehension.

Benedict’s face suddenly looked almost as troubled as Cecilia’s as he finally understood that his wife had gone too far.

“Letitia, that’s enough,” said Madeline’s voice before Charles could say or do anything more. “You’re a guest in Duke Charles’s house, the guest of honor, no less. There’s a certain standard of expected behavior that comes with that role.”

Calm but authoritative, she fixed her sister with a stern look across the table, brooking no protest or dissent.

“For your own sake and mine, Letitia, bear in mind that you do not know Charles. Remember too that he is my husband. If I tell you now that he is a good man and remind you that he is the man with whom I have chosen to spend my life, I trust you will respect my judgment and my wishes.”

For a few moments, Letitia looked utterly disoriented at her older sister’s admonishments.

“But you said…”

“What I said in the past was wrong — and foolish — rooted only in misunderstandings. I should not have spoken to you as I did about a man I barely knew and a situation I understood even less. I have given Charles my apologies already as he has given me his. Now, I suggest that you do the same.”

“Apologize?!”

Letitia seemed shocked by Madeline’s dressing down, especially this final politely worded statement, that was really an order rather than a suggestion.

“Come on, old girl,” Benedict encouraged her, his kindly face distressed and anxious to put everything right again as quickly as possible. “Charles is throwing this whole party for us, remember. It doesn’t do to be so ungrateful.”

“But Madeline, he abandoned you,” Letitia said, once more with a frown on her pretty face.

“It was not as it seemed,” sighed Madeline. “Your loyalty is touching, but if you really care about my happiness, Letitia, you will apologize to Charles and do your best to make this house party work.”

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” Letitia said at last although it was impossible to gauge her sincerity. “I bow to my sister’s greater understanding.”

Charles accepted the apology graciously, receiving a nod of approval from Madeline and glances of relief from Cecilia and Benedict.

As Benedict began a new conversation about picnics, drawing in both Cecilia and Letitia, Charles let his eyes rest on Madeline.

Stately but watchful, she sat slightly apart today in her place at the table. A sense of warmth swept over him as he regarded her, deepening the lust that always seemed to possess him in her presence now. There was so much to learn about Madeline, so many new facets of her personality revealed each day, and so much to teach her, especially in the bedroom.

Charles realized that, for the first time, he was looking forward to their married life.

“Do you understand?” Madeline asked Letitia, flapping her hand slowly to ward off some of the pollen-heavy bees in danger of colliding with humans during their post-luncheon walk in the rose garden.

She had just spent long minutes trying to explain some of the complexity of her relationship with Charles and her newfound respect for him. Regardless of her nodding, Letitia’s questions suggested that she did not understand anything.

“But does your duke love you, Madeline? That’s what I want to know. He hasn’t said that he loves you, has he? Does it not matter to you?”

“Love is a long-term project, Letitia,” Madeline sighed, slightly exasperated with her sibling’s sentimentality. “Love is something we build rather than fall into.”

“Only people who haven’t fallen in love can say that. I fell straight in love with Benedict.”

“No, you didn’t,” Madeline contradicted her with a smile. “He was chasing your attention for months before you realized how much he made you laugh at his silly jokes.”

“They’re not silly!” Letitia said defensively. “Benedict is a very funny man.”

“Yes, funny, kind, and devoted, and perfectly suited to you. You and I are very different people. Can’t you imagine that Charles might suit me, even though he is nothing like Benedict?”

“But does he love you?” Letitia insisted stubbornly, taking them around in a circle.

“I’ve already said…”

“Does he even speak of love when you’re in bed together?” Letitia threw out with a meaningful lift of her eyebrows.

“That is private, Letitia,” Madeline answered rather primly, not wanting to share anything of last night’s wonder and even less to reveal her continued virginity.

“I will take that as a no. You can tell yourself that love doesn’t matter, Madeline or that it will come in time. But it does matter, and it changes everything. I know you think me too sentimental, but I’m right about this.”

“Feeling love is not the same as talking of it,” Madeline said somewhat crossly but then shook her head. “Oh, let us not argue any more, Letitia. I’ve been so looking forward to having you here with me. Can’t we make the most of this and forget all this talk of love and other nonsense? You have Benedict for that now, after all.”

Letitia finally smiled a convincing smile and nodded, allowing Madeline to take her arm.

“That sounds like the older sister that I know and love, even if she judges love to be nonsense. Did I tell you that I found a rather ancient horn in a shop in Edinburgh and took it up to the Highlands with us? You should have heard the way it rang in the glens…”

Madeline retired early to bed but found herself tossing and turning, unable to clear her mind or find any comfortable position.

She had spent the afternoon with Letitia, while Charles passed the rest of his day with Benedict and Cecilia. Dinner with the whole group had been uneventful but still slightly awkward after the clashing at luncheon. Madeline had found no opportunity to speak privately with her husband although their eyes met several times during which she could physically feel his gaze.

Rising from her bed, Madeline lit the candle inside the glass lamp at her bedside. Briefly, she considered ringing for some warm milk and brandy, but she knew it wasn’t really what she wanted.

“Charles,” she sighed aloud to herself.

What she longed for at that moment were the strong arms, knowing mouth, and sensitive fingers of Charles Wraith. What would it be like to fall asleep in those arms or to awaken to kisses from that mouth the next day? The thought made her tingle and throb with longing and frustration. When would Charles finally claim her fully and inexorably as his wife?

Pulling on her dressing gown and slippers, Madeline decided to go downstairs and have a brandy. If Charles and Benedict were still up, they would presumably be in his study or the billiard room, but she could go to the drinks cabinet in the main drawing room or library without disturbing them.

Given the stillness that reigned as she padded along the corridor, it seemed likely everyone had already gone to bed. The clock in the hallway showed a quarter until midnight, and Madeline heard no voices or movement.

Creeping into the drawing room, she went to the cabinet and found the brandy decanter left out empty for cleaning and refilling. She remembered now that it seemed to be Benedict’s drink of choice. Never mind. She had not really wanted brandy anyway. She had wanted Charles.

Madeline briefly imagined having the courage and conviction to go up to her husband’s rooms and invite herself into his bed. Could she do that?

She thought not. She was still too uncertain, both of herself and of whether Charles would welcome her presence.

On impulse, after closing the drawing room door, she turned down the corridor towards the Duke’s study. She might not be brave enough to invite herself into her husband’s bed yet, but she could sit a while in his personal space, peruse a book that he was reading, or see which jackets were hanging there. It felt silly and self-indulgent but also harmless.

Madeline had already reached the study door and laid a hand upon it when she realized that there was a faint light coming from the doorway. Someone was inside, and that had not been part of her plan. She stepped back, intending to creep away again, but then a voice rang out. Charles’s voice.

“Who’s there? Is that you, Benedict?”