A Pressing Engagement (A Lady Darby Mystery) Read online

  “Perhaps we should check.”

  I followed her up the stairs and crept into the nursery behind her, pausing just inside the door to scan our surroundings. Alana held aloft a single candle, illuminating the three beds, the toys and tables, a chair and a rocking horse, and in the far corner, wee Jamie’s cradle.

  Six-year-old Philipa sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her unruly hair was already escaping from its braids, forming a halo around her head. “Mama?”

  Alana hushed her. “Go back to sleep.”

  But she simply sat there staring at us, and I wondered if she was completely awake.

  So I risked a question. “Do you know where Earl Grey is?”

  She nodded and began to rub her eyes again with one hand, while she pointed toward the cradle with the other. My heart leapt into my throat as I hurried forward, worried she meant that the rather large feline had climbed into the cradle with little Jamie. But the sweet little cherub was alone, cocooned in his blankets. I breathed easier as I searched around him, wondering where Philipa had been pointing.

  “No. Under,” her too-loud whisper insisted.

  I sank down on my knees to peer under the cradle, and there in the far corner lay Earl Grey, nestled inside a piece of fabric of some kind. His cat eyes blinked back at me innocently, reflecting the light.

  I sat up to speak softly to Alana. “I think we may have found our thief. Can you lower the candle so I can see better? I’m going to try to dislodge him.”

  “No!” Philipa gasped, jumping out of bed.

  We hushed her.

  “You can’t take it,” she replied, dropping to the floor beside me. “It’s his nest.”

  My eyes narrowed in amused suspicion. “And how did he build this nest?”

  She glanced up at me guilelessly. “I helped him.” She cradled her chin in her hands, smiling at the cat. “He needed a place to sleep.”

  “You could have used a blanket,” I said, curious now.

  “No. He wanted these things.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “He was whining for them.”

  I shared a look with Alana. “I see. So you simply took them, without asking permission.”

  Her eyes slid sideways to meet mine, and I arched my eyebrows, demanding an answer. She sat up suddenly. “I know I’m not supposed to go into your room. But that’s where Grey went, and I didn’t want him to get into trouble. So I followed him.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Something about her story didn’t seem right. “Why would he get into trouble?” The children knew the cat spent a great deal of time in my chamber.

  Her eyes strayed to the side, and she hunched her shoulders.

  “Philipa Ruth, answer your aunt,” Alana warned her.

  “Because, because he got sick on the rug twice today.”

  I frowned, recalling that my sister had mentioned him making a mess. At the time, I’d thought nothing of it, but three times in one day combined with his muddled behavior made me worry. “Perhaps he’s ill,” I told my sister, wondering what could be done.

  “It could be something he ate,” Alana suggested, though she didn’t sound certain.

  I saw Philipa’s little body tense.

  “Do you know something? Did the cat eat something strange?”

  She stared up at me through her lashes, and I knew she was hiding something. “Philipa, if he ate something strange, you need to tell us. It could make him very, very ill. You don’t want that, do you?”

  She shook her head, and then glanced over her shoulder. “But I promised Malcolm I wouldn’t tell.”

  “Isn’t Earl Grey’s safety more important?” I tried to reason.

  Philipa considered my words and nodded, before crawling towards the bowl sitting on the floor to the left of the hearth. It was usually filled with water for the cat. Philipa stopped beside it, wrapping her arms around her knees as she regarded us warily. “Malcolm found the bottle outside. Someone forgot it.”

  I picked up the bowl to sniff it, and then shrank backward in shock. “It’s liquor of some kind.” I smelled again. “Champagne?”

  “Did you try any of this?” Alana demanded of her daughter.

  She nodded and screwed up her face. “It didn’t taste very good. Malcolm pretended to like it at first, but then he said it made his nose feel funny.”

  My sister and I shared a look of mutual relief.

  “And the cat?” I asked.

  “Oh, he liked it,” she assured me.

  “I bet he did,” I muttered under my breath, staring across the room at the darkness under the cradle.

  My sister was rightly furious, though she tried to remain calm as she located the bottle of champagne, which was now less than half full, and ushered Philipa back to bed. I wouldn’t want to be in the footmen’s shoes tonight, for I knew that, justified as it was, they were about to receive a severe tongue lashing for their carelessness. Ever conscious of the children, I knew Alana would wait until morning to berate the nursemaids.

  In the meantime, I prodded a drowsy Earl Grey out of his nest and retrieved the contents of his cache, including my mother’s pendant, my glove, and the coil of ribbon. I left him the muslin, deciding Alana would probably not want it back now that it was covered in cat hair. I only hoped cats did not feel the same effects of liquor as humans, or come morning he was going to be a very unhappy feline.

  Chapter 8

  April 16, 1831—9:00 A.M.

  To say my second wedding was everything I’d expected would be inaccurate. It was so much more. More than I could even have imagined.

  All of Alana’s guidance had proved correct, as I should have known it would. From the snowdrops and daffodils in my bouquet and spilling across the surfaces of the tables; to the string quintet playing my favorite piece by Mozart; to my gown, which brought such a light to Gage’s eyes when I entered the drawing room on my brother Trevor’s arm that I flushed, unable to contain all the joy radiating inside me. Later, Gage even admitted to me that he had followed my sister’s advice, wearing his navy blue frockcoat of superfine cloth and charcoal gray trousers. I hardly noticed his clothes, being so focused on his face and the unspoken thoughts shimmering in his eyes.

  Alana stood to my left, blinking back happy tears and sniffling in quite an unladylike fashion. From over Gage’s shoulder, I could see Philip’s warm, steady smile. The room was filled with our friends and family, including several of my aunts, uncles, and cousins; the Marlowes; the Dalmays and Keswicks; Lady Stratford and Lady Bearsden; Mr. Knighton; Bree and Anderley, Gage’s valet; and Gage’s father, standing sedately to the side. I did not fool myself into thinking Lord Gage had accepted me. He was far too proud and obstinate to yield so easily. But I was pleased for Gage’s sake that he had come, whether because of my threats or his own conscience.

  The children were there as well, lined along the far wall with their nursemaids, one of whom cradled wee Jamie in her arms. I nearly laughed at the sight of Philipa holding Earl Grey tight to her body, for the mouser weighed almost as much as she did. Apparently, she had refused to attend without him. I suspected when it came time to move all of my things to my new home, Philipa was not going to want to let me take my cat with me.

  The ceremony was appropriately thoughtful and serious, as the vicar seemed determined to make it. The vicar must be well aware of the rushed affair, and have jumped to the same conclusion as much of the rest of society had. However, contrary to his efforts, or perhaps because of them, I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to giggle. An urge that was not helped by Gage’s laughing eyes, telling me he shared my glee.

  Between the vicar’s droning voice, Alana’s attempts to hide her sniffles, and Gage’s dancing eyes, it was a battle not to give in to my hilarity. A battle I almost lost when Earl Grey began to whine from Philipa’s arms. I was forced to bite my cheek and squeeze
Gage’s fingers more tightly, as I struggled not to let the laughter bubbling up inside me burst forth. I locked my eyes on the intricate folds of Gage’s cravat as hushed voices behind me struggled to quiet the cat or convince Philipa to relinquish him. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one who found the feline’s antics to be humorous, for I heard several titters from the guests. I was surprised to catch even Lord Gage smiling, if briefly.

  When the vicar finally reached the point in the ceremony where he asked us to repeat our vows, my mirth subsided and my focus returned. For a moment it seemed the only people in the room were Gage and I. I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that he was pledging to love and honor me, words that such a short time ago I’d never expected to hear again, let alone believe. Somehow, someway, this man had decided to love me. That realization awed and filled me, making my hands shake as he slid a ring of emeralds and diamonds onto my finger.

  I wasn’t listening when the vicar pronounced us man and wife, too distracted by the look in Gage’s eyes and the weight of his ring on my finger. Until Gage leaned forward to kiss me, and the guests began to clap heartily. I rested my head against his shoulder shyly as we turned toward all of their joyful faces.

  We circled the room to greet them all for the first time as husband and wife, receiving hugs and wishes of good cheer, before sending them downstairs to the lavish wedding breakfast Alana had planned.

  “I see yer wearin’ yer mother’s pendant,” Jock murmured as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “A good choice.”

  I squeezed his arm in gratitude at his understanding, even if he didn’t know precisely why I wasn’t wearing the torc he’d gifted me. “Remind me later. I’ve a tale to tell you.”

  His grin broadened. “I look forward to it.”

  I felt Gage’s already impeccable posture straighten even further as we approached his father, but even Lord Gage seemed resigned to the merry atmosphere of the occasion.

  Gage accepted his father’s proffered hand, shaking it firmly. “Thank you for coming, sir.”

  He nodded before turning to me and leaning forward to buss me lightly on the cheek. As he pulled back, his sharp eyes studied my face. “I shall give you this. You come from a good family.” His gaze drifted over my shoulder toward those still clustered about the drawing room. “Reminds me a bit of my mother’s family, the Roscarrocks. Without the pistols, swords, and smuggled brandy, of course.”

  I wasn’t entirely certain he was offering me a compliment, but I didn’t object.

  His gaze snapped back to mine. “Let’s hope yours prove less troublesome.”

  I glanced at Gage as his father walked away, but he shook his head. “Don’t ask me. I’m flummoxed just by the fact that he came.”

  I merely smiled.

  ***

  Several hours later, I sank back against the squabs with a blissful sigh as Gage’s carriage rounded the corner, and Philip and Alana’s town house and all its well-wishers disappeared from sight. I rolled my head to the side to look at Gage, who watched me with a contented grin of his own.

  His hand settled over mine, turning it over so that his thumb could trace circles in the middle of my palm. “Well, Mrs. Gage.”

  My heart beated faster, hearing him address me so, and from the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew it.

  “How do you feel?”

  I wrapped my fingers briefly around his thumb in a caress. “Happy.”

  “Not disappointed we didn’t wait until August for the grand affair your sister was planning?”

  I smiled softly, knowing he was teasing. “Not at all.”

  He leaned closer so that his mouth hovered next to mine. “Good.” And then he kissed me.

  When the carriage rolled to a stop a few moments later, I was already pleasantly befuddled. A state in which I remained when Gage pulled back, his pale blue eyes twinkling at me as he reached for the carriage door.

  I blinked in surprise that he wished us to get out. “Where are we?”

  Rather than answer, he climbed out of the carriage and then reached for my hand to help me descend. I glanced upward at the classical Georgian façade in front of us, and then left and right, recognizing our surroundings. We were on Albyn Place, just a short walk from Charlotte Square.

  “I don’t understand. I thought we were staying at The George?” A hotel which I knew to be located on the opposite side of New Town.

  Gage responded by taking my arm and guiding me toward the steps in front of me.

  “Did you rent a town house for us?” I lifted my skirts and began to climb, just as the door before us opened. There on the threshold stood a familiar-looking figure.

  “Jeffers? What are you doing here?” I glanced at Gage, who was still urging me upward. “But . . .” I stopped to swallow and gather my words. “I thought you were jesting when you said you were going to steal away Lord Drummond’s butler.”

  After observing Jeffers during our last investigation into the death of Lady Drummond, Gage had suggested we should poach the servant from Lord Drummond’s employ. I had agreed that I found Jeffers’ intelligence and loyalty decided assets, and the fact that he displayed an aversion to Lord Gage didn’t hurt either.

  Gage’s gaze met the butler’s. “I didn’t steal him. I simply offered him an alternative means of employment.”

  Which was the very same thing, I wanted to retort, but for Jeffers standing in front of us.

  “Which I was honored to accept.” The tall, distinguished butler bowed before me and Gage. “My felicitations, my lady.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, still feeling rather like a whirlwind had picked me up, twirled me around and then set me down. I stared through the open door at the warm wood of the entry and the forest green carpet running up the middle of the stairs beyond.

  “Then if Jeffers is here . . .” I turned back to Gage in question, who was grinning broadly at me.

  “Welcome home, Kiera,” he murmured, pressing a hand against my back to urge me inside.

  I was too stunned to object. “Home? Are you saying you bought this town house?” I whirled about, making him stop as we passed from the entry into the central hall.

  He grasped my upper arms, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stared down into my bewildered face. “Consider it my wedding present.”

  My lips parted in astonishment.

  “Now when we’re in Edinburgh, you never need be far from your sister.”

  Happy tears welled in my eyes, and I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my head against his chest above his heart. “Oh, Gage. It’s too much.”

  “No, it’s not,” he calmly assured me. “It’s just enough. For now.”

  I didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so I simply said, “Thank you!”

  He pressed a kiss to my brow and peeled me away from him so he could see my face. “Do you wish to see the rest of the house?”

  So he led me from room to room, through the cozy drawing room, more intimate than Alana’s large space; and the study lined with yawning bookshelves; past the charming little breakfast parlor at the back; and up to the room on the top floor with large windows spanning an entire wall, which would be my art studio. I was so excited and pleased that I completely forgot my nerves. Until he took my hand and guided me into the bedchamber that would be ours.

  It was decorated in shades of blue—my favorite color—and ivory. A pair of robin’s-egg blue upholstered chairs sat positioned before the hearth on my left while a large dressing table with a bench wide enough to seat two stood to my right. From the contents littering the table’s surface, I could tell that Bree had already been here, preparing the space for me. Even my favorite Prussian blue morning dress hung outside the wardrobe, ready for me to put on. My eyes finally strayed to the large four poster bed that dominated the space, its plush coverlet a pattern of cornflower blue and
ivory.

  We had both fallen quiet since we entered the room. I supposed Gage was giving me time to look around and familiarize myself with the space, but the silence only made my stomach tighten in uncertainty and anticipation. “It’s lovely,” I murmured in a voice that sounded more tentative that I’d intended.

  Gage gently took hold of my hands, which I only then realized that I was worrying. “You don’t have to be anxious, you know.” He smiled coaxingly. “It’s only me.”

  “I know. It’s only . . . I’m not sure I know how to do this. I mean, I do,” I stammered. “But . . . you see . . . I don’t. Not properly.” My cheeks burned with the vulnerability of revealing such a truth. I might have been a widow, but nothing about the beginnings of this marriage was in any way similar to my first one. I risked a glance at Gage through my lashes, and my heart fluttered at the tenderness I saw in his eyes.

  He lifted a hand to brush his fingers over my cheek, making my skin tingle under his touch. “Then let me show you,” he said in a voice that had deepened with emotion.

  So I closed my eyes and tilted my face up to his, and let him.

  The rest shall remain only in my memory. Partly because it would surely singe these pages. And partly because such things are simply too precious to me.

  Later, as I lay contentedly in his arms, feeling rather like a cat after it’s lapped up an entire dish of cream, my thoughts slowly began to return to the present. “Gage,” I whispered, and then paused. I lifted my head from where it rested against his chest to see that his eyes were closed.

  One of his eyes slit open to peer at me, I supposed hearing the hesitation in my voice.

  “Should I be calling you Sebastian now? Or something else?”

  A look entered in his eyes then, one of such longing that my breath tightened.

  “No one calls me Sebastian any longer, except my father.” His mouth twisted. “And him only when he’s disappointed in me.” His gaze met mine. “But my mother and grandfather used to call me by my given name. My mother even called me Bastien sometimes for short.”