Chapter Twenty-One

S o much had occurred that day already that when they arrived at Braithwaite Castle, Cornelius was surprised to find luncheon was still going on.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," the earl had said gruffly in the carriage. "You have always been honest with me and have done me several favors. I should have continued to trust you. I just care for my sisters so deeply, I cannot bear the thought of anyone taking advantage."

"I could have been more open with you," Cornelius allowed. "And to be frank, until very recently, I wasn't even sure where I stood with Alice."

Alice almost danced into the dining room, where she kissed her mother's cheek soundly and proclaimed, "I am going to be married!" She then dashed back to Cornelius and dragged him forward by the hand. "And here is my betrothed, Mr. Cornelius Vale!"

Cornelius bowed, feeling the heat rise to his face.

The dowager countess's beady eyes regarded him coldly. "Is that so?"

"It is," Braithwaite said, entering with more dignity. "Vale has made an offer, which both Alice and I have accepted."

"We shall see," the dowager said. She signaled to the footmen. "Join us for luncheon."

It was not exactly a comfortable meal for Cornelius, interrogated as he was by Alice's sisters and brothers-in-law. The dowager said nothing, but observed him constantly.

"Don't worry," the young countess murmured beside him. "Gervaise will talk her round. She already likes Roderick, and she has less reason to. For the rest, they only want Alice to be happy."

"I know." And he did. Were his own family not the same, in their less functional, much more secretive way?

"I suppose you have not had time to consider where you will live," Braithwaite said.

"There is a beautiful cottage at Black Hill," Alice said. "A large one, with views to die for, even better than Helen's!"

"It needs a great deal of work," Cornelius said apologetically. "But there is space for us at Black Hill House until it is ready."

The dowager countess laid down her fork with deliberation. "Then the wedding is to be another swift, hole-in-the-corner affair?"

"On the contrary," Cornelius said evenly. "If you and his lordship agree, Alice and I would like to have the banns read and be married in around a month."

"A good compromise between eagerness and good sense," Lady Torridon, the eldest sister, said gravely, although her eyes teased.

"Frances is all about good sense," Alice said sarcastically.

"Or at least eagerness," Lady Tamar said, then jumped as, presumably, her sister kicked her under the table. "Ouch!"

Braithwaite chose to ignore his sisters. "Do you need workmen for your cottage? I can loan you mine and summon anyone else necessary from Blackhaven."

Cornelius's heart leapt, although pride made him demur. "I could not impose."

"Call it a wedding present."

Alice was desperate to visit Helen in town, and no one, even the dowager, objected to Cornelius escorting her. Before they left, however, a note from Felicia reached him, inviting Alice to dinner that evening. And since Helen and Roderick were invited, too, that was also permitted.

Alice then dashed off to change into more suitable evening garb, while one of the Braithwaite carriages was summoned to convey them first to Roderick and Helen's house in Blackhaven, overlooking the sea.

Helen and Roderick were discovered in her studio upstairs. They made a rather delightful vignette. Roderick, more contented than Cornelius had seen him in years, lounged by the window in his shirt sleeves, reading a book spread against his crossed knee. Lady Helen, a paint-strewn smock over her gown, was busy composing a portrait of her husband.

At sight of her sister, Helen let out a squeak, threw down her brush, and rushed to her. "Alice! Is it true? Is it true? And are you coming to dinner at Black Hill, too? Oh dear, have I got paint on your gown?"

Laughing, Alice hugged her back. "Yes, yes, and who cares?"

Roderick stood lazily, putting his coat back on in honor of their visitors, and grinned as he held out his hand to Cornelius. His grip was hard. "I wish you as happy as me. You could not be more so."

In the company of Rod and Helen, Cornelius felt his tensions ease away. He, a mere gentleman steward, was accepted by the Braithwaites. The wonder of marriage to Alice awaited, with all its joys and sorrows, quarrels and reconciliations, excitement and comfort. He, who had thought he would be lonely all his life, had found her.

" It might just have been you, " the vile Atherstone had said. Cornelius believed he understood him. But Cornelius had won her. She was his, as he was hers. An addition to his eccentric family who were surely about to scatter again. And yet they would always be his, too.

He had much food for thought.

Julius's Antonia, Lucy's Eddleston, and Felicia's Bernard were all discovered at Black Hill too, and many toasts were proposed and drunk to the newest happy couple.

"Tell all," Lucy commanded as they all sat down to dinner. "Where did you first meet?"

"At the assembly room ball, of course," Aubrey said. "It's where you all met your match."

Alice smiled and did not dispute it.

Cornelius picked up his wine glass. "Actually, we first met in a bookshop in London, where she learned my best-kept secret."

Alice met his gaze, uncertain but approving.

"What secret?" Felicia demanded.

"I'm afraid I write poetry as Simon Sacheverill."

He couldn't recall ever reducing his family to silence before.

"That makes sense," said Roderick, who had once made fun of him for reading poetry. "Good for you."

"Actually, it's damned good stuff," Julius said with unexpected force. Then he coughed. "Who'd have thought of you, you great lout?"

And everyone was grinning at Cornelius and slapping his back, even his sisters.

"Didn't you know?" the twins asked their siblings in clear surprise, and set everyone laughing again.

"I'm telling you because you're family," Cornelius said, "but I'm still entitled to privacy from the rest of the world if I want it."

"Course you are," Julius said.

Alice took his hand under the table and squeezed. "Of course you are," she agreed, and her eyes shone with pride in him.

"Actually, that reminds me," Julius said, his one eye gleaming with mischief. "With all the excitement, it slipped my mind, but Harmondsworth paid a call on Daubin Senior this morning. He wouldn't tell me exactly what transpired, but I gather he put the fear of the law into Daubin, threatening him with charges of theft and forgery and promising long prison sentences for each. The result is, Daubin's sheep have vanished from the hill, and we have a satisfyingly vast banker's draft by way of compensation for the land he ‘borrowed' in previous seasons."

Cornelius grinned with delight and raised his glass. "To Harmondsworth!"

"And to you for spotting what Daubin was up to in the first place. I've suggested to Barton he might prefer to move nearer his daughter in Lancashire. He got backhanders for his part in it, and he told everyone the fields were let and sold with our knowledge, so his neighbors are going to be very displeased with him."

"Good riddance to the surly, lazy—"

"Also," Julius continued, "apparently young Daubin's volume of poetry is largely plagiarized. Harmondsworth told Daubin Senior that he was encouraging several poets, including Lord Bryon and Simon Sacheverill, to sue. It all makes much more sense now I know you are Sacheverill."

Cornelius flushed. "I gave Harmondsworth the ammunition, but I didn't tell him I was Sacheverill."

"Apparently he extracted Daubin's promise to remove all his son's volumes from circulation. He seemed to doubt that there were many of them."

"To poetry!" Aubrey cried, raising his glass in yet another toast, and Cornelius didn't know whether to laugh or cry. With difficulty, he opted for the former.

"Goodness," Leona said some time later, "you are all married or spoken for now. There are only two of you left!"

"Who's next?" Lawrence demanded, grinning.

"I am on the shelf," Delilah said firmly, and raised her glass to Aubrey. "Here's to you, little brother."

"Shab off," Aubrey said.

*

Four weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Vale stood outside their picturesque cottage and gazed out over the countryside to the sea. The carriage, which had brought them there from the wedding breakfast at the castle, was rumbling off again into the distance. Blackbirds were singing, hens chuntering away, as Alice slipped her hand into his.

"You are distant," she said softly. "Do you regret this?"

His fingers gripped hers. "Dear God, of course not! You have made this the happiest day of my life. And now that we are finally alone, I want very badly to make it the happiest day of yours."

"You already have!" She raised her face to his, and he kissed her, at first with the sweet gentleness she was used to, and then with growing hunger.

"These weeks have passed so quickly," he said. "We have been so busy with the house and with family, there has been so little time for us. You must know that I want you in every way known to man—and probably a few dreamed up only to me!—but if you want to wait, my love, we can do that too. There is no rush. We have the rest of our lives."

Alice closed her eyes with overwhelming relief. She had so feared he was having second thoughts and felt trapped by her.

"Is that all?" she said huskily, and kissed him with all the sensuality she had. "Come," she whispered. "Come."

Hand in hand they walked over the threshold and into their welcoming, deserted home. All work had been completed mere days before the wedding, and there would be no servants in the house until tomorrow. So, with no embarrassment, just growing, breathless excitement, she led Cornelius through the hall to the staircase and along the narrow passage to the big front bedchamber. No one could possibly see in the window, so she did not draw the curtains. Watery sunshine enhanced their view to the sea.

She eased his coat from his shoulders. Under his watchful gaze, she removed his sleeve buttons, increasingly aroused by his labored breath.

She laid the buttons on the dressing table and swallowed before she met his warm, slightly desperate gaze. "I want you to know that my fear of—of intimacy vanished some time ago. Probably when you first kissed me, in fact. I love you and I trust you, and… And oh God, Cornel, please will you kiss me, show me…?"

The rest was lost in his mouth as he ravished hers. Slowly, sweetly, he undressed her and caressed her trembling, naked body to pleasurable, burning need. He laid her on the bed and covered her with his hot, smooth body, whispering endearments and exclamations of delight. With hands and lips, and his whole body, he seemed to worship her until, achingly, she received him into hers and he brought her patiently and tenderly to joy. As she brought him.

"Well," he murmured teasingly some time later as she lay dozing in his arms. "No criticism, my love?"

She smiled, feeling feline and sated. "None," she whispered. "None at all."