Page 79 of Lady Dramatic
“See here, Westerven,” Roland said sternly, “I won’t have it. We will take your dog from you and you will say nothing about it. Unless, of course, you would like to meet me on a green at dawn tomorrow to settle the matter.”
Roland gave that challenge a tone of deadly threat. It was important that Lady Valor be convinced that he’d shoot Lord Westerven to pieces if he did not hand over the dog.
“Take it if you like, it will save me a trip. Don’t expect it to amount to much though, I doubt it’ll survive the night.”
Roland picked up the box, helped Lady Valor down to the road, and shut the carriage door. To the coachman, he said, “Be off with you.”
He strode inside with the box. He carried it into the drawing room with Lady Valor close on his heels. The pup did indeed look exceedingly small, but that was due to the breed. In fact, he was a rather roly-poly eight-week-old pug with not a thing wrong with him.
“Is it true that he might not survive the night? What should we do?”
“Send for blankets to keep him warm. Warmth, food, drink, and attention. That is always what’s required to keep a young dog going.”
He picked up the pup, who was really very sturdy, and placed him in Valor’s arms.
Mrs. Right, who well knew of the plan from the duke, said, “There now, I know you will take good care of him, Poppet.”
As Lady Valor scratched under the pug’s chin, she said, “We’ll need the box put in my room. He’ll need to stay with me in the night. That way, I can check on him if he cries.” Lady Valor paused. Then she said, “And he could make me feel better when I have a nightmare about Lord Westerven and the Thames. I will definitely have nightmares about him. Probably forever.”
And that was how Sir Galahad, as he would be named, slipped into the house, allowing Serenity and Nelson to slip out of it.
*
The wedding breakfastwas held in the duke’s house, though Serenity did not allow the duke to hire performers from Astley’s Circus like he had for Felicity’s breakfast. Lady Marchfield was very appreciative of it, since during that particular breakfastshe’d been knocked off her chair by an acrobat, doused with water when the fire-eater set curtains ablaze, and had her ankle grabbed by a fellow walking on his hands.
By comparison, Serenity’s breakfast was positively sedate. That was probably for the best, as the couple were in a high state of feelings after the vows were spoken and any unnecessary excitement might have sent them both over the edge. It was only a few family and friends and there had been no cause to even think about inviting Lord Charles, as he had hightailed it to the continent with nary a look behind him.
The wedding had been done through a special license and as nobody was eager to rise early, it was held in the afternoon in the duke’s drawing room. The curate from the Grosvenor church was brought in to officiate, as the duke thought it might soothe any lingering ideas the fellow might have about reports that his housekeeper had dealings with the devil. While the celebration that followed was called a breakfast, it was rather more an early dinner, which suited everybody.
Afterward, Nelson and Sir Galahad, as the pug pup had been named, said their adieus. It was done in the usual dog manner of sniffing unmentionables, so it was not very prettily done. Valor was in much better spirits as she was wholly consumed with Sir Galahad and feeling exceedingly heroic over saving him from a tragic death in the Thames. Her recounting of her encounter with the evil Lord Westerven had grown by the hour. She’d been overheard at the dining table informing the curate that she’d been forced to retrieve her father’s pistols to make Westerven give up the poor little mite. As she said, “I was prepared to put several holes in the gentleman.” One could not say if that helped the curate’s ideas regarding the state of the duke’s household.
Serenity, her newly-acquired husband, and Nelson walked the two doors down to the marquess’ house amidst cheering andgood luck. He swept her up and carried her over the threshold into his house. Her house too, now.
She giggled over it, as the carrying over the threshold might guard her from evil spirits lurking at the door, and it might also indicate her girlish reluctance over the wedding night and subsequent giving up of her virtue. It was rather ridiculous, as she was ready tothrowher virtue at Thorpe if necessary.
Her married sisters had spared no detail from her regarding what could be expected, though they all concluded with the same piece of advice—do not think ahead, simply allow things to naturally take their course.
Quinn had admitted them to the house and made arrangements for their privacy. Most of the staff had been sent below stairs and given free rein of the wine cellar. The morrow would be time enough to pay homage to their new mistress. He’d arranged things upstairs to account for every convenience the couple might want—trays of cheeses and fruits, rolls, cold meats, bottles of hock, and a fine champagne in a bucket of ice chips. Then, Quinn took Havoc and Nelson, who were thrilled to be reunited, below stairs with him.
Serenity supposed she ought to be nervous to do what she had never done. She had not really thought about doing it, at least not all of it, until her sisters had spelled it out. She found herself not too nervous though. Thorpe felt like safety and she trusted him to lead the way.
And so he did. She supposed it would not surprise anybody that the feelings between them were powerful, almost overpowering, as they were both capable of feeling things more deeply than most. Feelings brought passion, and there was passion to spare between them. If there was happy weeping too, nobody but them would ever know it.
Hours later, as the sun set over the square, they lounged on the window seat together with only a sheet wrapped round them.They admired nature’s final display of the day and thought about what the sunrise would bring.
Thorpe said, “This is where it all began, right where we sit now. It was snowing and I was just here, looking out the window. And you were down there in the snow, looking more glorious than any woman ever has.”
The marquess did not appear at all alarmed when his bride wept buckets over it. He might have done some rapid blinking himself.
On the morrow, they would depart for Scotland. Thorpe owned a rather well-situated fishing lodge on a river there and they would stay a month. They had set the time of departure for eleven, and the duke and her sisters would be there to wave them off. Life had become a pleasant dream and they fell asleep dreaming together.
When they woke would be time enough for Thorpe to wholly take in that Serenity did not, as yet, have a lady’s maid. He would have to do her buttons and help with her hair. She did not know if he’d be any good at it, but she was certain he would not mind it. He’d certainly not minded undoing them, after all.
*
Mrs. Right waswell satisfied with how the season had shaped up. There had been some hiccups, as there always seemed to be. But it had all come right. At least, she understood that things had run their proper course. She could not help sympathizing with Valor over the emptying of sisters from the house. Now, they would return to the Dales with only Winsome, Verity, and Valor. All too soon, Verity would take her place in society and then she would be down to two. She could not feel it any more deeply than if she’d borne these girls herself.
The duke had done a terrific job of cheering her the night before. He’d ordered a case of champagne for the staff and they’d made very merry below stairs. Then, after the girls retired, she’d sat with the duke in the drawing room, each with their brandy. He tried to cheer himself up too, though he always hid his dismay at losing another daughter. They both speculated that his long-dead duchess would be mightily impressed that he’d settled four of the girls so admirably.
