The Devil May Care Page 25

  Chapter 29

  "Wherein declarations are made."

  Milly blinked as the world swam back into focus. A pair of terrified blue eyes looked back at her and she wondered what had upset Beau so very badly.

  "What is it?" she said, fighting to sit up right. "What's wrong?"

  "What's wrong?" he demanded, half laughing and sounding incredulous. "What's wrong is you just scared me half to death, love. Oh my God." He pulled her against him, his arms holding her so tight she felt faint.

  "Are you alright?" she asked, frowning and reaching out to touch his face.

  He nodded but said nothing, and Milly squeaked as he stood and lifted her with him.

  "I can walk! I'm quite alright," she hissed at him, suddenly horribly aware of the sea of curious faces looking at them.

  "The devil you can," he muttered, with a tone that didn't sound like one she could talk round.

  "You're making a scene!" she protested, burying her face against his chest and wanting to die. Oh God he must hate her for this surely? How much more humiliating could her first public engagement be?

  "Love, I did that when I knocked your bloody cousin senseless. I see no reason to stop now." He illustrated this by pressing his lips against hers in full view of everyone. "I love you, Milly, so do stop being such a goosecap and let me look after you."

  She blinked at him, completely bereft of speech as he'd said it loud enough for those closest to them to have heard every word.

  He loved her. He loved her!

  She stared up at him, too astonished to protest any further as he carried her through the throng and out to their carriage which had been drawn up outside the doors. He somehow manoeuvred them inside and sat down, keeping Milly in his lap.

  Suddenly it was quiet and dark as the door closed on them and the carriage moved forward. Only the sound of hooves on gravel and the roll of wheels punctuated the silence between them.

  She could just make out his profile as the moonlight slanted through the window, but before she could speak he buried his face in her neck and let out a breath. His big shoulders were tense and she ran her hands over them, realising that he'd spoken the truth, he'd been truly afraid for her.

  "I'm sorry I frightened you and made such a scene," she said, stroking his beautiful hair.

  He made a slightly desperate sound against her neck which might have been a laugh but she wasn't sure.

  "Did ... did you mean it?" she asked, hardly daring to hear the answer. Perhaps it had just been the stress of the moment after all. Perhaps he regretted saying it now?

  He lifted his head and slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her. His lips were at once soft and demanding and she sank into him with perfect accord, wanting nothing more than this.

  "I meant it," he said, his mouth still close to hers as he pulled away. "I love you and I don't want to be your bloody friend, Milly, do you understand? I'm your husband, whether you like it or not."

  She caught her breath and knew she had to say it now. All the things that she had been afraid to tell him. It had to be now.

  "I-I won't share you, Beau," she said, her voice defiant. It was too much, she knew that, too much to ask of a man like him.

  "I don't want anyone else," he snapped, sounding like a man on the edge. "Only you. There won't be any others, love, I swear it. Never again." His voice was harsh and he put his hand to her face, his eyes glinting in the darkness. "There's been no one else since we married. I don't know what Mrs Hadley said to you but ... I went to her house, that much is true, but I never touched her." He paused and took a breath, his words full of emotion. "I've never loved anyone before, Milly, but I love you, with all my heart. Only you."

  Milly gasped. She hadn't believed it possible, it was ... it was ... But her fragile happiness dissolved as she remembered what else there was to consider. He had been afraid tonight. She had seen that terror in his eyes and yet really, tonight had been a mild attack. What if she hadn't woken up? What if it had been their child laying there and not her?

  He was watching her, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

  "Beau," she said, her voice heavy with sorrow and started with surprise as he put his hands to her face.

  "Don't say it," he begged, "please, love, don't say it."

  "But ... you have to understand, Beau," she began, totally nonplussed as he took one of her hands, holding it tight and refusing to let her speak.

  "I understand that I'm not the kind of man you'd choose if you'd ever been given a choice," he said, sounding desperate. "But please give me a chance."

  "Beau, what are you talking about?" she demanded, completely at a loss as to why he looked so upset.

  He stared at her and took a breath. "Even ... even if you don't love me. Tell me you'll give me time, you'll give me a chance to make you happy."

  Milly blinked. It had never crossed her mind that Beau might have doubts about her, that he could possibly believe that she had ever been anything but besotted with him.

  "B-but I do love you, Beau," she stammered, bewildered by the way his breath caught and the intense look in his eyes.

  "Say it again," he demanded, as though he didn't believe her.

  She reached out and put her hand to his face, smiling at he turned into it and kissed her palm.

  "I love you, Beau. I always have. Surely you knew that?"

  He shook his head, laughing and pulling her against him. "I didn't. I didn't know."

  He kissed her again and for a moment she allowed herself to revel in the feel of his arms around her, the extraordinary knowledge that this dazzling man was hers. Plain little Millicent Sparrow had somehow captured the heart of the handsomest man in the ton. It was too far-fetched, she thought feeling dazed. And then she remembered why it was very far from perfect.

  She pushed away from him, breaking the kiss and hating herself for the wary look that returned to his eyes.

  "Beau ..." she began, feeling her throat grow tight.

  "Milly, please don't. I don't know what you're going to say but anything that begins with that tone can't be good and I just want us to be together, love. Isn't that enough?"

  "Yes," she said, but pushing him back as he ducked his head to kiss her again. "But tonight must show you something," she insisted, determined that he listen to her. "I'm not fit to be a proper wife to you, can't you see that?"

  He stared at her, the look on his face so incredulous it might have been funny if she hadn't been so serious.

  "What the devil do you mean by that?"

  "M-my illness," she stammered, forcing the words out. "There is every chance I could pass it on to our children, Beau and ... and I couldn't stand it. What if we lost one, what if they were sick and we lost one like you lost Edward? I'd never forgive myself! I can't give you children, you see so ... so ... I'm no good to you!" She dissolved into incoherent tears but he must have understood enough of it to see how useless it was. The name would die out unless he married again.

  Beau sat back against the squabs and let out a sigh. "Oh God, Milly, you frightened me," he said, closing his eyes. "For a moment I thought you were going to find a real reason you couldn't love me."

  "Beau!" she exclaimed. "That is a reason, think of what it means!"

  To her shock he grabbed hold of her and gave her a hard shake.

  "Stop it!" he said, his voice so fierce she quailed a little. "I'll never have you speak so again. Not fit to be my wife indeed. I never heard such fustian in all my life." He sounded truly angry but he couldn't really have thought about it. Tentatively she tried again.

  "But I-I c-can't give you an heir," she said through her sobs.

  He sighed and pulled her head so that it rested on his shoulder, his arms closing around her.

  "When was the last time you had an episode like tonight, love?" he asked, his voice gentler now.

  Milly sniffed and cast her mind back, trying to remember.

  "The night at Vauxhall Garden's," she said, looking up to see him noddi
ng at her.

  "Before we were married," he said, stroking her face with the back of his hand. "And that night, like this one, you were frightened and upset. We've rowed, you and I, since we've been together. I've made you mad as fire, Milly, but nothing happened, and I mean to make damn sure that nothing ever frightens you again."

  "B-but, Beau," she protested, deeply touched by his words but still so very afraid. "A child, a child is so fragile ..."

  He placed a finger to her lips. "Edward survived to be eight years old and he had far more to contend with than just the fits, love. He lived in a violent, cruel home where he was belittled and made to feel worthless." He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her mouth. "Milly, just think how different it will be for our children. They will be so loved. I won't ever let them think they are anything other than the centre of our world, and they'd have the best care, the very best doctors. I promise you that."

  Hot tears coursed down her face but could do nothing to check them. She was too happy, and too afraid.

  "B-but ..." she sobbed, helpless against the look he was giving her, so full of love that she could hardly believe it was real.

  "But nothing," he said, his voice firm. He took her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over his heart. "Damn it, little bird, can't you feel my poor heart thundering? Are you trying to kill me? Because I'd rather die than live without you."

  She gasped, quite unable to believe he meant it. "Now you're ... you're being ridiculous ..."

  "No, I'm not, love. I'm telling you the truth," he said, sounding frustrated. "I can't force you to give me children but I won't have them with anyone else. It's you or no one, do you understand?" he was almost shouting now, his eyes more serious than she'd ever seen them. "I love you and I want us to have a life together. Perhaps that life will have challenges, perhaps our children will turn us both grey with worrying about them, but I for one want to try, Milly. I'm not afraid to try with you, and you're brave enough for both of us, love. I know you are."

  She stared back at him, overwhelmed and overjoyed and could do nothing but make a little, shuddering sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

  "I ... I don't know what to say."

  He sighed and kissed her cheek. "Say yes, love."

  "Y-yes, Beau."

  "You could tell me you love me again too," he added, grinning at her.

  She did laugh then and laid her head back on his shoulder. "What and risk you getting blasé about it? I think not."

  "Cruel, cruel woman," he whispered against her mouth, kissing her deeply.

  He drew back again, staring at her with a glittering look in his eyes. "Oh, well that's not fair," she protested. "How am I supposed to keep from saying it if you kiss me like that?"

  Naturally he repeated the process until she was breathless, only pausing to trail kisses down her neck.

  "Oh, alright, I give in," she sighed. "I love you. I love you, I love ..."

  But she didn't get to speak at all from that point until the carriage drew up outside the doors of Ware.

  There were exclamations from the staff as Beau carried her indoors and Milly was touched by their obvious concern. How strange, she thought, that she had left the house only hours ago and now, she was returning home. Because this was their home, hers and Beau's, and she would do everything she could to ensure it was a happy one.

  "How are you feeling?" Beau asked as he carried her up the stairs.

  "I'm fine," she replied, looking back at him with a smile.

  He raised one eyebrow and she laughed.

  "Oh, alright, I feel like I've been hit by the mail coach if you want the truth, and I've never been happier," she added, grinning at him in the most absurd fashion.

  He sighed and shook his head. "Well damn, wife, I suppose you'll be expecting me to give you the night off?"

  Her face fell and then she blushed as he chuckled at her. "Don't look so disappointed, minx. You'll make up for it tomorrow, I assure you.

  She laughed and hid her face against his chest as he carried her to his room, instructed the staff they were not to be disturbed in the morning, and kicked the door shut against his indignant valet.

  Chapter 30

  "Wherein the future is as golden as the present."

  King's Street. Pall Mall.

  London.

  September 18th.

  Dearest Milly,

  I hope I will not cause you trouble by writing to you at home. You will note I have used my plainest notepaper and it isn't even scented!

  I had to write and tell you that My Lady's Secret is a huge success! Mr Priestly tells me that he cannot keep up with the demand and the orders are backlogged already. He said that you had plans to expand the range with perfumes and soap if everything went well, and darling, now is the time. You must come to town as soon as you are able to.

  It has been the funniest thing, watching the women speculating about who the lady was and what exactly her secret is. Of course I had the greatest enjoyment in enlightening them. I confess, though, that astonishing price you set was so high I did have my doubts but I can see you are far wiser than I, Milly. The more expensive it is the more they want it!

  Milly, Milly, come and see me soon. We have so much to talk about and so many plans to make. We're going to be rich, darling!

  From your dear friend, affectionately yours,

  D x

  PS. I have a meeting with Mr Priestly at the premises on Friday. It is probably too short notice for you but it would be wonderful if you could be there. I don't think he approves of me in the least.

  Milly frowned, annoyed that Mr Priestly should have treated her friend with anything less that respect. That Dollie mentioned it at all meant that he must have been downright rude to her. Well perhaps Dollie did have a scandalous reputation and maybe she'd earned it, but she was also a woman who knew how to run a business in a man's world, and that at least should command his respect.

  She folded the letter away, tucking it into her reticule. It had come that morning and she'd seen Beau's curious expression as Rexom had handed it to her, though he'd said nothing and she hadn't explained. She felt guilty about that but she knew he would be furious about her friendship with Dollie. When she was certain that the sales of My Lady's Secret weren't just a one off novelty she would reveal the truth to him. Hopefully the success of her business would help him get over the fact she'd been less than truthful with him.

  Getting him to go back to town would be difficult, though. To be perfectly honest she didn't want to go either.

  The past few weeks had been a golden idyll. Almost too perfect to be real. The weather had been glorious, with the summer refusing to let go and give way to autumn. The grounds of Ware had never looked lovelier according to Beau who had fully approved all of her plans for updating the gardens. This was perhaps rather generous of him as some parts had been stripped back to bare earth, but it was true that the whole place seemed to have been given new life.

  The work to the inside of the house was coming along apace with Beau's study the next room to be decorated. She'd been keeping a tight rein on the budget, well aware that their finances were precarious yet. But she'd loved helping him choose the colours and wall hangings and was pleased that all mementos of his father had been banished to the attic. Milly had taken particular delight in removing the man's disapproving portrait.

  One day, hopefully soon, when she was sure they were financially secure, she was going to commission one of London's top portrait artists to try and capture her gorgeous husband's countenance on canvas. She doubted it was possible but she wanted that glorious face to always have pride of place at Ware. So that their children and any that came after would know who it was who had given them back their pride and honour.

  Plans for Edward Stafford's School for Boys were also afoot, and Beau had taken the boys down to see the spot he had chosen for it. Close to the village it would also educate any disadvantaged local boys, while also providing an orphanage f
or as many of those like Jimmy and his friends as was possible.

  Picking up her parasol, Milly headed out into the warmth of the late afternoon. Hopefully she could meet up with them as they walked back to the house.

  She had made it almost as far as the first lake when she heard shouts and shrieks of laughter coming from the water. Curious to see what was going on she walked down the path that followed the stream until she came out upon the lake.

  Scattered over the grass was an assortment of clothing, mostly boy's, but with a few garments that looked very familiar. Smothering a laugh, she ducked quickly behind the bushes that edged the lake and watched as her elegant husband stood waist deep in the water and instructed the boys on how to swim.

  Jimmy, Fred and silent Charlie, seemed to have the hang of it and were doggy paddling furiously around the shallower edge of the water. The younger boys were looking rather less sanguine and in fact Beau had picked little Robbie up. Milly felt her heart squeeze with emotion at seeing the gaunt little boy's arms so tight about his neck.

  "Come on, Robbie," Beau said, smiling at the little boy. "It's your turn now. I promise I won't let you go under."

  The boy shook his head and clung tighter still.

  "Eddie, you stay at the edge there," Beau instructed as he turned back to Robbie. "Now then, young man, there's nothing to be frightened of. Just hold on."

  Beau waded out a little farther and ducked them both up to their necks in the water. Robbie squealed with shock as the other boys laughed.

  "Hey, are you going to let them laugh at us like that?" Beau demanded. Robbie looked puzzled and then grinned as Beau winked at him. As one they turned and began splashing the older boys who spluttered and got to their feet, only too happy to retaliate.

  Milly clutched at her sides, laughing fit to burst as they all ran into the shallows, chasing each other and kicking at the water. Jimmy, clearly deciding greater punishment was required, pulled a big clump of pond weed and launched it across the lake. His aim was spot on and the other boys all stilled in stupefied horror as they looked at the Duke of Ware with green slime dripping over his face and covering much of his golden hair.