Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

" With his golden bow and quiver of arrows slung across his back, Eros flew down from Olympus, his heart guiding him to his beloved Psyche. "

Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses

NOVEMBER 26, 1821

T he weeks had passed at a slow pace, with Madeline recovering her strength one day at a time. A month earlier she had returned to work, but just in the afternoons. Lady Trafford wanted her to take the time to convalesce, so even after so much time, Madeline was still attending to her duties at Bigsby's on a reduced schedule.

She would have protested, but the aches and weakness of her muscles in general attested that the noblewoman was correct to curtail her activities. Her health was returning, but her body needed the time to heal.

Madeline had spent the extra time with Molly, and visiting John to read to him as he made his own slow recovery. Nicholas was filling out, putting on muscle due to eating regular meals and forgoing spirits.

And Simon wrote to her every day. It was strange to correspond with him. Her letters frequently did not arrive with him because he was traveling from estate to estate to inspect their conditions, so the conversation was rather disjointed. He would recount what he had found at the estate he was visiting, and describe the beauty of the mountains and lochs he viewed on his morning rides, and write of how he wished she could one day accompany him to experience the grandeur of the Scottish countryside. Of the seven estates entailed to his titles, Simon had been pleased to discover competent stewards managing estate affairs at four, apparently retainers hired in his grandfather's time. A fifth steward he had deemed uninspired but acceptable. Another, he had decided, would need to be replaced, and she had not heard from him about the seventh yet.

Madeline was hopeful that he would be returning soon, since he had now reached the final stop in his journey, but Simon had not indicated if that was the case. She missed him, wishing she could work longer hours to occupy her mind because, having lost her last iota of patience, she had written a most immodest missive this morning, demanding to know his intentions.

The rules of courtship be damned.

And as soon as she found the courage to post it, she would.

It was a difficult position she was in. On the one hand, she was a successful woman of industry, and on the other, she was a gently-bred woman who followed the rules of polite society. Attempting to reconcile the two required balancing two worlds in opposition.

It did not help that Simon was an important man, now a peer in his own right, and Madeline did not have a clear concept of how they would manage their divergent lives into a single partnership given the unexpected change in his circumstances. All details that, in their past, in a time of childish optimism, they had never discussed. Unifying such complexities would take a great amount of thoughtful planning, adding to her frustration at his prolonged absence which prevented genuine discourse. She yearned for his return so they might frankly discuss a shared future.

"It is cold this evening," remarked her mother as they ate dinner. "You should put on a pelisse if you plan to visit the garden tonight."

Madeline scooped up white soup with her silver spoon. "I do not wish to visit tonight."

Mama raised her face. "Why?"

"Is there a point to doing so? Simon is not here. There is no possibility of an encounter."

Her mother's lips quirked into a smile. "I do not know about that. He seemed to be looking forward to visiting with you when we met this afternoon."

Madeline dropped the spoon, splashing soup so that Henri protested in dismay, "Hey! Watch it, Maddy!"

"Simon is back?"

"He must be. We signed contracts this afternoon."

"Contracts?"

"Indeed. We have been corresponding over terms these past weeks. He was here to sign off on his purchase of stake in Bigsby's."

"Bigsby's! You sold him shares?" Madeline was astounded. Mama had always eschewed investors in her business, preferring to remain independent. She had once had an unpleasant experience with a minor partner who had attempted to oust her from her own business, and had to fight it out in the courts before buying the opportunist out.

"I did. The contracts include clauses to protect your and Henrietta's rights of ownership. I hired the same firm of solicitors that wrote the contracts for Lady Jersey. She retained her ownership in the family bank when she wed."

"Why did you sell him shares?"

Mama shrugged. "It seemed reasonable if he is to join our family. He mentioned you might be interested in managing the artisans if he is to work with me in running the manufactory. We will hold not just a Royal Warrant, but claim nobility within the family, which will be excellent for business."

Madeline jumped to her feet, elation coursing through her veins. "Yes! Yes! I must find him!"

"I am here, fair Psyche." Simon's deep voice interrupted from behind.

Madeline whirled around to find him leaning casually against the doorframe. He looked tall and elegant in a gold brocade waistcoat and black coat, the crisp white linen bright against his sun-kissed skin, his beard freshly trimmed.

"Do you wish to wed?"

Her heart leapt at the sight of him. "Yes! When?"

Simon pulled out a gold timepiece, studying it with mock seriousness. "How about … now? Unless you would prefer to wait?"

The past few weeks flashed through her mind, followed quickly by memories of their decade apart. "Truly? Right now?"

He grinned. "If it pleases you?"

She would like nothing more. Life had thrown so many obstacles in the way that she needed not a second more to tick away. Any future trouble they faced would be as man and wife, if they wed this evening.

Madeline glanced down at her silk dress. "Is this why Miss Moreau dressed me in my best evening gown?"

Her mother grinned across the table. "Of course."

"Have you made some sort of arrangements?"

"Why not collect your pelisse and we shall see?"

Madeline darted, knocking over her chair in her haste as Henri mumbled in complaint. Soon they were in the hall, Simon and a footman assisting them into their outer garments.

"You knew of this?" she asked her twin. Henri gave a knowing smile, indicating her assent. "You kept it a secret?"

"Henri is not good at keeping secrets," laughed their mother. "She was told this afternoon because she had to assist in the arrangements."

"Arrangements?" Madeline was elated at the possibilities.

"You shall see." Henri was smug, clearly pleased to be privy to information that Madeline was not.

Soon they were headed down the path to the hidden garden, with Madeline's arm tucked around Simon's. He felt so good; the muscles rippled beneath her fingertips while the silver moon shone down on them with an air of approval.

Entering the archway, she found people waiting for them along with fragrant hothouse flowers bedecking the ornate urn in the middle. Lord Blackwood was seated in an armchair that had been brought from the house. Nicholas was sitting on the bench next to Molly with his long legs sprawled out, and Lady and Lord Trafford along with Uncle Reggie were admiring the gods peering down at them, lit by lanterns throughout the garden.

Madeline greeted each in turn, until Simon drew her over to meet a rounded vicar in vestments, introducing him as Reverend Stone. He seemed quite jolly as he introduced his smiling wife with a friendly chuckle.

Then they gathered together as Rev. Stone angled his pages to catch light from one of the lanterns, and in their celestial garden, Psyche and Eros were united in matrimony.

In the weeks since his mother's suicide, it had become increasingly clear to him how his malevolent parent had influenced his thoughts, using his guilt over Nicholas's accident to manipulate his decisions until he barely recognized the shadow of the man he had become.

He had sworn to do his duty ever since Nicholas had fallen from the window. The fear that failing to do so might cause some new, terrible event had been ever-present since that night.

But he was finding his footing, the boldness of his youth quietly seeping back, fleshing out his soul and restoring his spirits and energy. The journey to Scotland had helped him sort through his thoughts, and having the irrepressible Trafford as a confidant was certainly aiding the process of his return to himself.

Simon held Madeline's hand as they walked back to his home. It was not proper, but given recent events, he doubted anyone would complain—except perhaps the vicar, which was why they had fallen to the back of the group.

Her hand felt delicate in his grasp, and he was filled with relieved satisfaction that she had accepted his proposal. Despite their long history, he was surprised by how nerve-racking it had been to make the offer to the woman he admired above all others. If she had declined, his world would have shattered. But now, they were here, side by side.

The time for duty had passed and Madeline was now his duty. His obsession. His passion.

"We are wed!" Madeline's voice brimmed with wonder.

It was brilliant to be home. Being away in the north had only made him appreciate what he had waiting for him in London. Once he had confirmed the details of his inheritance and the responsibilities of his titles, he had rushed back, changing horses through the night to reach his beloved Psyche.

As part of his financial planning, he had invested in the manufactory, securing his place as an equal partner rather than a charity case for Eleanor Bigsby. This had been his most fervent wish—to unite with Madeline and guide Bigsby's into a new era. He had worried about making these decisions without consulting her, but he believed they had discussed their dreams enough over the years. Eleanor had even agreed to cancel the negotiation if Madeline was unhappy with the arrangement. Thankfully, she was more than satisfied with the direction their future was taking.

When they reached the house, Nicholas held the door open, his lips twitching as Simon let go of Madeline's hand. They followed their guests into the dining room, the space aglow with the shimmer of glass and silver reflecting the light from oil lamps. Tall candles flickered in a faint draught, cooling the room's heat. He and Mrs. Bigsby had timed their return so that Madeline had not eaten much earlier, ensuring her favorite foods would be enjoyed during their wedding supper.

Meanwhile, Duncan and Simon's valet were moving his belongings into her bedchamber so they could retire to their new home together. It might have been disloyal to admit, but Simon was thrilled to join the Bigsby household, which had been an oasis of peace during his youth. It was a relief to leave the past behind after the nightmarish events that had transpired during his last stay.

Dinner was warm and informal, with Trafford standing mid-meal to raise his glass.

"I propose a toast to new beginnings."

"Hear, hear!" John called out, echoed by Nicholas.

"To my new chum, Simon, who turns out to be an excellent chap, and his bride, Lady Campbell, for her iron stomach." The reference to Madeline's body, a topic typically taboo in mixed company, set off a gale of laughter around the table. Trafford waited for the laughter to subside before continuing, "May they enjoy a long and healthy union!"

"Huzza!"

John stood, and Simon was heartened to see his brother's improved vitality. In the glow of lamps and candlelight, John's complexion looked far healthier than when Simon had left. He lifted his glass.

"I can confirm that my brother Simon is indeed an excellent chap! Mrs. Bigsby, I am heartened that our families have united under such happy circumstances, and I look forward to enjoying your company in the years to come."

Eleanor smiled broadly, giving a nod of acknowledgment as the other guests tittered and sipped their wine.

Madeline's Uncle Reginald rose to speak next. A slim, elderly gentleman with a thick gray mustache, he had an amiable manner. Simon knew he had been instrumental in helping Eleanor establish her business in a male-dominated world.

"It seems just yesterday that young Eleanor arrived in London as a widow with twin babes in her arms. Witnessing my niece's nuptials this evening is a testament to the passage of time, marked by glorious success. All my nieces are impressive pioneers, and I could not be more proud. So, to Madeline and her Lord Campbell, I wish a long and happy marriage!"

The room filled with the clinking of glasses. Simon leaned toward Madeline, pleased to see her smiling face and shining eyes.

"Are you happy, fair Psyche?"

"Ecstatic! But …" Madeline leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What happens next?" She looked up at him, her amber eyes shimmering with shy curiosity. Simon caught the hint in her gaze and knew exactly where her thoughts were drifting.

Grinning, he bent down, his breath warm against her ear. "What would you like to happen next?"

She blushed, and Simon watched in fascination as the color spread up her neck, tinting even the delicate shells of her ears. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and a wave of desire surged through him. His thoughts wandered to later that evening, imagining the moment he would join her in bed. The scent of orange blossoms hung in the air, teasing his senses as he envisioned unveiling her beauty to his hungry gaze.

"Are you … joining me?"

He could not help it; his lips curled into a predatory smile. "My men are working with your Miss Moreau to move my things. We are finally together, fair Psyche, and there will be no more interruptions to our destiny."

Madeline smiled, her bare hand slipping under the table to find his. Simon covered it, stroking his thumb over her soft knuckles.

"I am so grateful I went looking for my mother when I did. What if I had not discovered you lying in the drawing room?"

Madeline grimaced at the reminder of that dreadful day. "She did not account for Lady Trafford's presence, which only proves we were meant to be together. We are Eros and Psyche, are we not?"

Simon chuckled. "I wish we had not followed their path quite so closely. Venus attempting to be rid of you so thoroughly?"

Madeline inhaled deeply, then recited in a dramatic tone, "Even the gods shuddered at the sight of Venus's wrath, for no one could temper the fury of the goddess of love."

"Are you showing off your knowledge of Apulieus?" Simon teased.

Madeline flashed an impudent grin.

Simon stroked his thumb over her knuckles again and cleared his throat. "Love had conquered the god of love himself, and Eros, burning with passion, defied his mother's orders."

She winced playfully. "It has been a trial, but I'm glad we found a happy ending."

"Indeed. We have been victims of my mother's interference. I look forward to living without her shadow looming over us."

"And I …" Madeline hesitated, a fresh blush warming her face. "I look forward to … later this evening."