Chapter 19

NINETEEN

It was morning before they reached Highwood Abbey. They'd spent the night in her cottage, the two of them tangled together in that narrow bed. It had been glorious. Magical. All the things she could have possibly wished for had been surpassed. Patient. Thorough. Skilled. She was not so naive as to think that the marriage bed was always a pleasant experience for women. She'd heard far too many terrible stories from women whose husband's were brutes at worst and inept at best. But Demond had been neither. In truth, she'd never dreamed it could be what he had shared with her.

When she felt his hand brushing her hair, she sighed. It was all she could do not to lean into that simple caress. "I'm certain I look a mess. You appear to be much more adept at getting a woman undressed than the other way around."

He grinned at her. "I'm a passable ladies' maid, but my skills with hair dressing are decidedly lacking. You do appear a bit… mussed."

That was putting it mildly. "Your sister will be scandalized."

"Hardly. My sister and Thomas were married for several years. And by all accounts had a very ‘healthy' marriage."

Belladonna's brow furrowed slightly. "She misses him terribly, doesn't she? I confess that I did not know him well. I saw him in the village from time to time and he was always a pleasant gentleman. Unfailingly polite and kind to me when others were not."

"That certainly sounds like Thomas. I sometimes think he died simply because he was too good to be part of this world… but you should tell Edwina that. It would make her happy to hear it, I think."

She would do that, Belladonna decided. Knowing that others remembered him fondly might be a comfort to her. "I am afraid your sister may not be thrilled with our marriage."

"Oh, I think she is. I think that when Edwina realizes how happy you have made me, that she will be nothing short of ecstatic."

His comment about happiness gave her pause. Because she realized she was happy, as well. And it wasn't simply carnal pleasure. It was him. His openness, his willingness to accept her just as she was. And all of the things she'd sworn to herself just prior to their wedding, that she would protect him by guarding her heart—all that had simply fallen by the wayside. There was no denying, not to herself at any rate, that she was half in love with him already. She might have been half in love with him from their first kiss, if not their first meeting.

"I am so very frightened," she admitted, her voice soft and low within the confines of the carriage. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. I fear I would not have the same strength that your sister does in mourning her husband."

"Then nothing will happen to me. Because I will never cause you a moment's pain," he insisted.

A shiver of uneasiness raced along her spine. Not a premonition in the true sense of the word, but certainly a feeling of foreboding came over her. "Do not. Do not tempt fate by promising things that are not within the realm of your control."

His smile faded somewhat. "I vow to you, Belladonna, that nothing this side of Heaven or Hell will take me from you. Curses and crazed vicars be damned."

She longed to believe that. Desperately. But there was no chance to discuss it further. The carriage halted before Highwood Abbey and he alighted first, before reaching in to help her down.

Then it was a whirlwind of introductions. The house's staff all knew who she was. Everyone in Highgate knew who she was, after all. But to their credit, they were all unfailingly polite and respectful. Not a one of them made some strange superstitious hand gesture to ward off the evil eye after having been forced to interact with her.

When they joined Mrs. Hollander in the drawing room, Edwina appeared poised but far from relaxed. "Welcome home, Desmond. And Belladonna," she said. "I do hope it is all right that I call you that. And you must call me Edwina. Or Win, as Desmond does."

"Edwina," Belladonna said. "And I would be very pleased for you to call me by my given name. We are to be family, after all. I haven't had a family in a very long time."

Edwina smiled. "It is a good thing to have family. And I hope that you and Desmond will fill this house with children as it should be."

Bella's pulse quickened. She hadn't even considered it. Of course she ought to have. She, better than most women, knew precisely how babies were made, after all. A blush stole into her cheeks as she considered just how likely a possibility it was given their endeavors of the previous evening. And the morning.

"I'm quite certain that we shall do our best, Edwina," Desmond replied drolly.

"Belladonna, if you'd like, I can go over the household accounts with you tomorrow morning and we can begin transitioning the house into your capable hands."

"My hands are not at all capable, Edwina. Not of running a house like this," Bella admitted. "I know that Desmond said you wished to move into town, but I would be ever so grateful if you could find it in your heart to remain here for a bit longer. I would hate to make a mess of everything you've accomplished here."

Edwina smiled. "I shall stay as long as you like. But you must be honest with me and tell me when you wish for me to go. It is no easy thing to be a newly married woman sharing authority over your house with another."

Bella felt that was an easy enough promise to make thought it would never be kept. She couldn't imagine ever feeling capable of running a house like Highwood Abbey. Edwina Hollander could stay there as long as she liked.

That afternoon, Desmond went into the village alone. He'd told Belladonna that he was going out for a ride as he didn't want her to worry. But what he truly wanted, more than anything, was to see Stalker's face when he got a look at him—alive and well.

His first stop was the local inn. He made a great production of telling everyone there that he was going to visit the reverend. After all, if something did happen to him, he wanted it to be well known what his destination had been. After having insured that his whereabouts would be a mystery to no one, Desmond made his way to the church. Much to his dismay, it was empty. So he tried his luck at the vicarage. But it wasn't Reverend Lynden Stalker who answered the door. It was a woman who looked to be so beaten down and broken by life that she could barely lift her head.

"Mrs. Stalker?"

"Yes, sir. May I help you?"

"I am looking for your husband," Desmond said. "I need to speak with him about a somewhat urgent but altogether unpleasant topic."

"He isn't home. He's gone to Wellsingham to minister to the poor," she said.

"Wellsingham has its own vicar," Desmond said. "Why would he need to go there to minister to the poor?"

She did look up then. And while her posture might have indicated she was a woman well trodden by life, the fire blazing in her eyes told another story altogether. "I do not ask my husband such questions, sir. He'd not be inclined to answer them if I did."

Throwing caution to the wind, he confessed. "Mrs. Stalker, I have every reason to believe that your husband attempted to end my life the other day. As I believe he intends to make an attempt on the life of my new bride, Belladonna, formerly Goodwynne, Crane."

Her indrawn breath was not shock so much as recognition. "Come in, Mr. Crane. There is much to discuss."