Chapter Seventeen

T he things Tate Cantrell taught Viv about love had as much to do with erotic delights of the flesh as they did the tenderness of the heart. They required only the intimacy of a great room in their cozy cottage with a fire blazing and baskets of bread, fresh vegetables, and a stout roast of beef delivered now and then.

Tate learned his new wife was adept at cooking in a fireplace. Viv learned that her husband was a fine hand at washing dishes—and at sweeping her up into his arms and taking her to their little bed after lunch, dinner, and sometimes in between.

As when they were young, she beat him at chess. He beat her at cards. “You really are quite awful,” he told her. After that, she rose, hands on her hips, removed every stitch of clothing she wore, and led him, awestruck, to their bed.

“I think we will play cards every day, wife.” He laughed.

To which she rolled over him and teased and fondled him so unmercifully, he was too breathless to make love to her again.

*

With their two weeks gone, they reluctantly left their cottage and returned to London.

There, their life became more regular. Though for another week they did not rouse from their bedroom until well after noon, they set about creating their place in the town. They announced their wedding formally with cards to friends and neighbors. The announcement appeared in the Times . They called upon distant relatives of Tate’s, then made their calls upon Scarlett Hawthorne in her offices in the city, and the Ashleys and Ramseys, each couple at their home.

Their visits were short, meant as courtesy calls only, and so in mid-July, Viv and Tate sent out an invitation to their first dinner party as husband and wife. Lady Ashley had given birth in May and still recovered. Lady Ramsey was great with child and was very selective about which events she attended in Society because she lacked stamina.

Viv liked Augustine, Lady Ashley, and Amber, Lady Ramsey, very much, and took recommendations from them for a modiste and a hatter. Viv had no need for new staff, except for a new cook and a lady’s maid for herself. Augustine had a good suggestion for an agency to hire new servants. Amber proclaimed she was no help at all for a cook.

“I find no one who can please me,” she told Viv with a smile. “I prefer to shoo them out of my kitchen and do it myself. Ram is horrified. So is my mother-in-law and my grandmother-in-law, but we eat well, don’t we, darling?”

The man rolled his large, dark eyes and proclaimed, “I do not argue with my wife, especially when she wants to cook dinner!”

After dinner, Viv had a moment alone with Augustine and Amber when the men retired for brandy.

They sat on either side of Viv on a settee. Augustine took her hand. “We have heard what you faced in Paris. I am glad our Aunt Cecily was helpful to you.”

Amber was more solemn, with tears in her eyes. “I want you to know that it is very difficult for me to speak of what happened in Carmes in any detail. I doubt I ever will be able to. But I want you to be very, very proud of Diane. I know nothing of how your sister died. But I do know how she lived. She was a noble girl, joyous and bright. Irrepressible with her joie de vivre . She lifted everyone’s spirits and demanded fair treatment and humane consideration for all of us. She suffered for that. The guards and the concierge could not allow her to win. They tried to beat it out of her and failed. Time after time, they could not discourage her, and so she was one day taken away for her demand that one young woman receive her own daily bread.”

Viv could not control the sobs that shook her. All three women sat together and cried.

“I thank you both for this,” she said at last. “I am proud of Diane. She was the best of all.”

“You,” said Augustine, “were brave to face Paris and learn what happened to her.”

“I had to. I felt guilty for many years that I had not gotten out of the carriage and chased after her.”

“You could not have done that,” Amber said. “Face it. Tate could not do that. I doubt anyone could do it. René Vaillancourt knew what he was about. Few can defeat him.”

“Ramsey did,” Augustine said with a smile.

“And Ashley,” Amber said around her grin.

“And Tate,” Viv added. Her own husband had bested the beast of Paris.

“Enjoy what you have earned,” Augustine assured her.

“Forgive yourself for failure,” said Amber. “It is a gift we give ourselves recognizing our humanity.”

The weight of Viv’s remorse fell from her shoulders. To hear about Diane from this woman made her heart return to its normal beat.

Viv was done with the past. She had served Diane as only she could, and now she had a good life to lead and an honorable man to love.

Minutes later, the two couples left, and Viv could not wait to get her husband alone.

No sooner was the front door closed than she seized his hand and led him up the stairs at a run. In their suite, she spun, shut the door, and put her arms tightly about his waist.

“I love you, Tate Cantrell.”

He dropped kisses to each corner of her mouth. “I will not tire of the words.”

“And I promise to be a merrier wife.”

“I love you as you are, whatever you feel. Come to me, I am yours. Lean on me, I am yours. Laugh and love with me—”

“I am yours.”

*

On the first of September, Tate and Viv left London for Cantrell Manor in Norfolk. He wanted to get back to his estate and into the old business of working with his tenants. At Heidelberg as a student, he had studied chemistry, and in Germany and France on his journeys, he had studied farming methods. He wished to put what he knew to good use.

Viv had longed to return to Norfolk, to the estate she loved, the tenants who were her friends—and her animals too. She told Tate she planned to finish her book on housekeeping. Young women had to learn efficiencies to find satisfactions in their daily lives. One day she hoped to publish it.

Meanwhile, she rode out often with Tate on horseback to supervise the taming of dykes and the raising of barns. She asked him to have a new plot of land plowed for her near the great house. She had herbs and fresh vegetables to grow. She had brought Fred up to the stables near the main house so that he and she could “talk” every morning. It was a good thing, too. Days after Fred took up his new quarters in the stalls with six horses for company, a fire broke out in the back. The old fellow could be heard for miles around, alerting those in the house to bring their fire buckets. He saved his friends with his diligence. Viv rewarded him with even more hugs for his service and his bravery.

One afternoon, her former suitor George Farland came to pay his respects to the new Countess of Appleby. He stood in the formal parlor, twirling his hat in hand. A handsome fellow with windswept, fair features, he was a swashbuckling hulk of a man. All the young girls in the manor, servants and tenants alike, pined to be favored by the tall blond who resembled the Vikings who had once raided this land.

“Hello, my lady,” he bade her with a small bow of deference.

She took his big hands and led him to the settee. “Never bow to me again, George.”

“Oh, ma’am, ’tis my duty.”

“No. I am Viv to you always. We were friends. I hope we still are.”

“Aye. Course we are. I am honored you received me.”

“I always will, George.”

He took a quick gaze at the room, then frowned at her. “I had to come, Viv. You are the lady of the manor now, but I came to see you.” He examined her then as he always had before. An astute man who saw people’s emotions in their faces and in their stances, he read her as if she were the pages of a new book. “I have to know. All this? Is it…?”

“Yes?”

“Are you happy?”

“Very much so.”

“You married him for…?”

“Love, George. I married him because I love him.”

“I see.” He winced, then delved into her eyes. “And he loves you?”

“He does.”

“He should,” he said like a man who would scold another if he treated a woman badly.

She grinned. “Thank you, George. I want you to be happy. To find a young lady who loves you for the fine gentleman you are.”

“You are kind, Viv. A real lady. I wish you many happy days.”

*

She stood by the window and watched George mount his very fine black stallion.

Behind her, her husband wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped kisses to her temple. “Is he well?”

“He will be.”

“What will that take?” Tate turned her in his arms and smoothed the backs of his fingers over the arch of her cheek.

“When he continues to see you are good to me—and that I love you with all my heart.” She reached up on her toes and brushed her lips across his.

Tate pressed her flush to his virile form. Clearly, he was not thinking of George at the moment. “Hmmm. Shall we find him a nice lass to cuddle up with at night?”

“A few smart girls have that plan already in force.” She wiggled out of his embrace, tossed her head at him, and headed toward the hall. There she stopped and faced him. “At the moment, I have my own plans in mind.”

He sauntered forward, chuckling. “Tending to your garden?”

“Actually,” she said, and cocked a brow at him, “I thought that was your job.”

He swung her up in his arms and headed up the stairs.

After all, they both knew from regular practice that some afternoons were best spent in bed.

THE CHALLENGES CONTINUE…