Midnight Marriage: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Series) by Lucinda Brant Page A
Authors: Lucinda Brant
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carriage set to.
“You mustn’t mind our resident Methodist,” she said conversationally. “She barely acknowledges my existence, yet her pride won’t allow her to ignore me because I am a Cavendish. And Cavendishs do not lurk in shadows with men of unknown social consequence.” She frowned. “I hope she won’t mention this to Mary…”
“I think you will find that Lady Reigate has a pressing London engagement and must quit Bath immediately.”
Deb put up her brows. “How do you know her ladyship by name? I did not tell you.”
All the coldness went out of Julian’s voice. He grinned and chided Deb under the chin. “You may have found me in the forest but I am not a mushroom.”
“Oh! Yes, how silly of me!” Deb said, flustered. She looked at him from under her long dark lashes, saying hesitantly, “I expect you know Lady Reigate from London and she—”
“—has two daughters of marriageable age,” he interrupted and smiled to himself when she nodded and looked anywhere but up at him. He drew her closer. “But I have no desire to kiss them.”
This pleased Deb more than she cared to acknowledge. Still, doubt lingered. “Tomorrow you will regret—”
“Never. When I return I am going to take you for a carriage ride.”
“And after that?”
“Ah, that depends on how you conduct yourself.”
She plucked a stray hair from the lapel of his embroidered waistcoat. “And if I fail to conduct myself…?”
He chuckled and lightly kissed her forehead. “Then we shall dispense with the formalities and ride straight into our future.” He made her a bow, slightly stiff in its execution. “Now, Miss Cavendish, if you would permit me to propose—No, that sounds stuffy. Deb, will you—will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Ah! There you are, Miss Cavendish,” hailed a voice from the portico.
Mr. Thesiger came lightly down the steps carrying Deb’s cloak over one arm.
Immediately, Deb stepped into the light without giving her injured duelist a response and met Robert Thesiger half way, eager that he should not find her conversing with a stranger in the shadows. She had no wish to answer questions, nor did she want to deal with Robert Thesiger’s disappointment and censure at what would be seen by all, even the most free thinking residents of Bath, as most unladylike behavior. She was so flustered at such an awkward circumstance that she sighed her relief when Lady Mary followed Robert Thesiger out under the portico and hailed her with a wave of her fan. “There’s Lady Mary. I must go to her.”
Robert Thesiger placed the cloak about her shoulders, while he continued to peer into the darkness of the narrow lane. He was certain he had detected a large shape move off and knew his eyes had not deceived him when there was the sound of footfall on the uneven cobbles disappearing down the laneway.
“My dear Miss Cavendish, you’re shivering,” he purred, making a mental note to question the linkboys for a description of the stranger in Miss Cavendish’s company. “I’d never forgive myself if you were to catch cold. Allow me to escort you to Lady Mary’s carriage.”
Before she had gathered her wits she found herself beside Lady Mary, with Robert Thesiger ushering up the rear. A fleeting glance over her shoulder confirmed that her injured duelist had indeed vanished into the night, just as magically as he had appeared at her side in the Octagon room. With a sinking feeling, she wondered what tomorrow would bring, if indeed her injured duelist would ever return to Bath to take her for the promised carriage ride.
F IVE
T HE D UKE OF R OXTON signed his name to the document and handed it to his secretary to fix the ink with a wash of sand. That being the last order of business, his Grace put the quill in the silver Standish and waved away the hovering secretary, who stood by his chair holding a Malacca headed cane and with a supportive arm ready to assist him to his feet.
The
“You mustn’t mind our resident Methodist,” she said conversationally. “She barely acknowledges my existence, yet her pride won’t allow her to ignore me because I am a Cavendish. And Cavendishs do not lurk in shadows with men of unknown social consequence.” She frowned. “I hope she won’t mention this to Mary…”
“I think you will find that Lady Reigate has a pressing London engagement and must quit Bath immediately.”
Deb put up her brows. “How do you know her ladyship by name? I did not tell you.”
All the coldness went out of Julian’s voice. He grinned and chided Deb under the chin. “You may have found me in the forest but I am not a mushroom.”
“Oh! Yes, how silly of me!” Deb said, flustered. She looked at him from under her long dark lashes, saying hesitantly, “I expect you know Lady Reigate from London and she—”
“—has two daughters of marriageable age,” he interrupted and smiled to himself when she nodded and looked anywhere but up at him. He drew her closer. “But I have no desire to kiss them.”
This pleased Deb more than she cared to acknowledge. Still, doubt lingered. “Tomorrow you will regret—”
“Never. When I return I am going to take you for a carriage ride.”
“And after that?”
“Ah, that depends on how you conduct yourself.”
She plucked a stray hair from the lapel of his embroidered waistcoat. “And if I fail to conduct myself…?”
He chuckled and lightly kissed her forehead. “Then we shall dispense with the formalities and ride straight into our future.” He made her a bow, slightly stiff in its execution. “Now, Miss Cavendish, if you would permit me to propose—No, that sounds stuffy. Deb, will you—will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Ah! There you are, Miss Cavendish,” hailed a voice from the portico.
Mr. Thesiger came lightly down the steps carrying Deb’s cloak over one arm.
Immediately, Deb stepped into the light without giving her injured duelist a response and met Robert Thesiger half way, eager that he should not find her conversing with a stranger in the shadows. She had no wish to answer questions, nor did she want to deal with Robert Thesiger’s disappointment and censure at what would be seen by all, even the most free thinking residents of Bath, as most unladylike behavior. She was so flustered at such an awkward circumstance that she sighed her relief when Lady Mary followed Robert Thesiger out under the portico and hailed her with a wave of her fan. “There’s Lady Mary. I must go to her.”
Robert Thesiger placed the cloak about her shoulders, while he continued to peer into the darkness of the narrow lane. He was certain he had detected a large shape move off and knew his eyes had not deceived him when there was the sound of footfall on the uneven cobbles disappearing down the laneway.
“My dear Miss Cavendish, you’re shivering,” he purred, making a mental note to question the linkboys for a description of the stranger in Miss Cavendish’s company. “I’d never forgive myself if you were to catch cold. Allow me to escort you to Lady Mary’s carriage.”
Before she had gathered her wits she found herself beside Lady Mary, with Robert Thesiger ushering up the rear. A fleeting glance over her shoulder confirmed that her injured duelist had indeed vanished into the night, just as magically as he had appeared at her side in the Octagon room. With a sinking feeling, she wondered what tomorrow would bring, if indeed her injured duelist would ever return to Bath to take her for the promised carriage ride.
F IVE
T HE D UKE OF R OXTON signed his name to the document and handed it to his secretary to fix the ink with a wash of sand. That being the last order of business, his Grace put the quill in the silver Standish and waved away the hovering secretary, who stood by his chair holding a Malacca headed cane and with a supportive arm ready to assist him to his feet.
The
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