The Landlocked Baron (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 1) Read online

  She gave a little nod. “I suppose it would have come out at some point.” She looked at him, her face expressionless. “I was born Rosaline Marguerite DeVoreaux.”

  “You are, then, related to the Royal Family?”

  “Distantly.”

  “Good God, woman. Why were you considered a bad match? You outrank just about everyone I know. The DeVoreaux family were alleged to be in the line of succession, as I recall. I don’t understand…”

  She held up her hand. “You forget, my Lord. The scandal that brought down the House DeVoreaux.”

  Edmund thought. And then remembered. He raised his gaze to her face. “You mean…”

  “Yes. The man who killed Prince August van Rillenbach was my brother.”

  Chapter Five

  “Are you quite serious? Is she absolutely serious?” Simon’s head turned from Edmund to Rosaline and back again. “The DeVoreaux? The DeVoreaux?”

  “Yes, I’m serious, and yes, those DeVoreaux.” Rosaline regarded her future brother-in-law with a steady gaze. “We would like your counsel on this matter, Simon. Edmund doesn’t feel the rest of the family need know. For my part, I’m not sure. Thus we ask for your opinion.”

  He was still staring at the two of them as they sat, side by side, on a sofa in the small salon after luncheon. The others had left on their own affairs, but Edmund had asked Simon to give them a moment.

  Rosaline knew he’d imagine it was about the wedding. And in a way, it was. She expanded on the subject to help Simon along. “I suppose the real question is what damage my family’s scandal could potentially carry that would affect the futures of the Ridlingtons.”

  Simon blinked again.

  He really was very handsome, thought Rosaline. Even grappling with a shock like this couldn’t turn his features into anything less pleasant than they already were. He was tall, but not too muscular, and his sunkissed golden brown hair—so like his sister’s—bore no resemblance whatsoever to the Baron’s. Obviously they had taken after their mother, and there was a painting of her in one of the upstairs corridors confirming it. Margaret Prettyjohn Ridlington had been painted as fragile, blonde and smiling a delicate smile. How she had born three Ridlingtons, Rosaline couldn’t begin to imagine.

  “Er, Simon?” Edmund leaned forward and boxed his ear.

  Simon jumped. “Good God.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I do apologize. I’m having a rather hard time absorbing all this.”

  Edmund grinned. “Yes, I understand. It rather took me by surprise as well.”

  “Well if it will settle your minds at all, I am not now, nor have I ever been, in the line of succession to the throne.” Rosaline chuckled. “Perhaps if there was an explosion at a banquet where about nine thousand of London’s leading families were in attendance, I might move closer, but to my knowledge it’s not something that will play any role in my future.”

  Simon swallowed. “Good to know, Lady Rosaline.”

  “But what about the DeVoreaux business?” Edmund leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, watching his brother.

  Simon frowned. “Refresh my memory. There was a scandal, yes? A death? Some European title?”

  She felt Edmund’s gaze turn to her, and nodded. “You’re correct. Prince August von Rillenbach and my brother spent much time together in London. They were young, wealthy and extremely stupid.” She felt her lip curl in disgust as the memories returned. “One such night, after drinking for hours in some hell, they fell into a violent argument over a…” she paused, seeking the right word, “…over a woman of dubious virtue.”

  “Ah, now I remember.” Simon looked sober. “Please, continue.”

  “There was a duel, encouraged by other idiots—the kind of men who can always be found in the entourages of those wealthier than themselves.” She gulped down her distaste. “The result was that Prince von Rillenbach sustained a fatal wound to the chest. He expired several hours later in his own residence, so although the duel was well-known, it could not be completely proven. His reputation was protected to the last. My brother Paul was also injured, though not as severely. He fled the country immediately after the duel, and his absence was pounced upon by the von Rillenbachs as evidence of a plot to kill their son, which had succeeded.”

  Simon sighed. “Such foolishness and what a cost.”

  “Indeed.” Rosaline folded her hands and once again pushed away the recollections of that time.

  “That was quite some time ago,” noted Edmund gently. “I can understand the reaction of Society, given that the Rillenbach side of the story was so tragically dramatic.”

  “So you can also understand why I was considered a poor choice of wife for Lord Frobisher Henry even though he was determined to have me?” She glanced at him.

  “Yes.” Edmund nodded. “But don’t forget, I did meet the man. And in truth? I would consider him a poor choice of husband. His personality was—abrasive, shall we say?”

  “An appropriate word, yes.” She left it at that.

  “So you’re concerned that some of the DeVoreaux scandal might rub off on the Ridlingtons?” Simon gathered his wits and got down to brass tacks. “That if, for example, Letitia received a suitable offer, such a thing would be jeopardized by Lady Rosaline’s family and the scandal?”

  “Exactly.” Rosaline straightened her skirts. “And although I worry about the girls, I also have to consider you and Richard.”

  Simon chuckled at that. “Not me, dear sister-to-be. I do have one question though, if you will permit it…what happened to your brother?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. None of us knew. There were rumors, of course. Europe, France…someone said they saw a man who looked like Paul in Vienna. And then we heard that he might have gone to the Colonies. But I don’t believe any of us ever heard directly from him. I’m not sure if I’d even recognize him if we met today on the street. He was younger than I. And I’m sure you understand that the life of a rich young man differs considerably to that of his marriageable sister.” She rolled her eyes.

  Simon nodded. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Is it that ancient?” asked Edmund.

  “I think so, yes.” Simon nodded. “We’re talking six or seven years ago? Perhaps more? There have been so many scandals since then. When it comes to duels, if you mention the word, everyone begins talking of Canning and Castlereagh’s affair, not some obscure Princeling and a foolish youth distantly related to the House of Hanover.” He grimaced. “I’d be ready to wager there have been so many of those kinds of events that this one would probably not raise an eyebrow.”

  Rosaline let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “That is good to hear, Simon. I thank you for that. I would hate to disappoint this family by bringing the taint of a past scandal to Ridlington. Hearing your words has reassured me.”

  Edmund made a sound suspiciously like a snort. “My dear girl. If you knew half the things our esteemed father got up to, you’d be running a mile from the Ridlingtons. There are probably buried scandals a hell of a lot worse than yours.”

  Simon grinned. “He’s right, you know. Our father was a bastard of the first order.”

  Rosaline clutched her chest. “My goodness. Vicar. Such…such shocking language.” She grinned back. “How on earth did he take the news that you were going to join the church?”

  Simon shrugged. “He stopped speaking to me.”

  “What?”

  She glanced at Edmund who echoed his brother’s shrug. “That’s how he was. If he didn’t care for something? He ignored it. We only spoke to each other once upon my return and once on his deathbed. That was fifteen years or so of silence. Simon had…what…four perhaps?”

  “Yes, something like that.” Simon gazed at Rosaline. “I really didn’t mind, since before that point our conversations had consisted of him yelling his opinions at me and ignoring mine.”

  “You can understand better now why the estate is in such terrible condition,�
�� added Edmund.

  She tried to absorb that information, and failed. “I cannot fathom that kind of behavior.”

  “Which is a good thing.” Edmund leaned over and clasped her hand, a gesture of affection both unanticipated and quite delightful. “So there’s no need to concern ourselves with your past and you may invite Sir James to give you away at our wedding without any hindrance. I’ll look forward to making his acquaintance.”

  Rosaline smiled at him, briefly covering his hand with her own. “Thank you, Edmund. That will be a very pleasant note to write, I can assure you.”

  “I’m glad.”

  His gaze met hers and for a brief moment she felt a shiver of—of something ripple through her veins.

  All of a sudden the idea of being his wife took on an entirely new aura, and to her surprise she felt herself blush.

  *~~*~~*

  Sir James FitzArden turned out to be a handsome gentleman of means and manners, and his dress was immaculate—as Edmund realized when he turned to see the man arm-in-arm with Rosaline, approaching down the aisle of the Ridlington Church. The pews were filled with smiling faces; a marked contrast to the ones of several short weeks before who had come to see the old Baron off.

  This time there were bunches of late autumn Michaelmas daisies, dappling the light with their shades of blues and lavenders, and the ever present mix of brilliant red foliage and sparkling green pine, a perfectly adequate substitute for the bright summer flowers that would have been in place were it June.

  However, it was November, and the air had a chill to it, in spite of the brilliant sunshine that blessed the day.

  Rosaline had elected to carry a bible and a single rust-colored chrysanthemum. Mr. Darden had outdone himself, since there were two more full blooms in her ivory bonnet.

  In that one vivid moment, Edmund suddenly realized he was marrying a beauty.

  Why it hadn’t dawned on him before now, he had no earthly notion, but there she was. Gliding toward him, tall, elegant, her reddish brown hair gleaming in the light pouring through the church windows, and her shapely curves revealed by the sway of her silken skirts around her thighs and ankles. Although modest, her neckline was cut to clearly reveal other curves, womanly ones that made his palms itch to cup them.

  He gulped. This wondrous apparition was about to marry him.

  Oh God.

  Bedding her had never been part of their arrangement, but suddenly it seemed like a very appealing and terrifying idea.

  What if he couldn’t ever give her anything better than her first husband? What if his heart was as shriveled and cold as his father’s? Was sport in bed the only thing he’d want in the way of physical intimacy?

  As if reading his brother’s mind, Simon cleared his throat, drawing Edmund’s attention back to the altar and the ceremony about to begin.

  He felt her arrive at his side, and risked a glance at her face. She was looking serious, even while giving Simon a slight nod of greeting.

  Letitia came up to relieve her of her flower and bible, and they both turned to Simon, somberly dressed for the occasion in his clerical garb and a spotless white fall of lace-trimmed cravat at his neck.

  “Dearly beloved…”

  And so the service began, a short one as both parties had requested. Edmund endowed Rosaline with his worldly goods, such as they were, and she made various promises about loving, honoring and death parting them.

  Most of it was a dull buzz in Edmund’s ears, and twice Rosaline had to ask Simon to repeat his words. They both seemed distracted by—whatever it was that had leaped to life between them.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  “What?” A ripple of laughter filled the church at Edmund’s response.

  Simon sighed and leaned forward. “You are married now. You may kiss the bride.”

  “Oh. I…er…”

  “For Heaven’s sake…” Rosaline moved close, grabbed his face and place a firm kiss on his mouth.

  Cheers and applause erupted followed by laughter and more applause, as Edmund finally came out of his haze and entered into the spirit of the moment. He clasped his new wife close and returned her kiss with one of his own, but this one was slow and lingering and involved more than lips.

  When she moaned, he judged he’d done the thing right, and eased their mouths apart, noting her whimper as they separated. Her cheeks were flushed and as her eyelids rose, he saw the brilliant blue depths darken with what he hoped was desire.

  He hoped that, because it was the same thing he was experiencing. And it was about to completely destroy the fit of his breeches if he didn’t distract himself in a hurry.

  “You’ll need to sign the records,” said Simon. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll get that out of the way.”

  Rosaline’s hand crept to his arm and closed tightly, as if she was hanging on to him for dear life. He recognized nerves when he saw them and put his hand over hers.

  “Come along. Let’s go and sign things. Everything will be all right.”

  She looked at him gratefully. “This is somewhat nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

  “You have no idea.” He managed a grin. “At least we didn’t forget our names.”

  She laughed at that and the tension eased, allowing them to sign the certificates in a relatively legible fashion. Thus formally wed, they made their way out to the assembled crowd, accepted the cheers and laughter, and climbed into the open carriage that would take them the short distance back to Ridlington Chase.

  Edmund had had the foresight to make sure several blankets and a thick shawl were waiting there and they tucked them around their knees against the cool air.

  “Well at least we don’t have to walk.” He settled back. “I think that went well, all things considered?”

  She nodded. “I agree. Although I confess I was a great deal more nervous than I had expected.”

  “You were? Why?”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “I asked you first.”

  She chuckled. “I forgot. You have many siblings.”

  “It shows?” He grinned.

  “Now and again.”

  “But you’re not nervous now?” He held out his hand.

  “No.” She daringly reached for him and placed her palm in his. “See? No nerves at all.”

  He didn’t mention that the little vein in her neck was throbbing rapidly, or that her cheeks were quite rosy. He just sat there, holding her hand, with what was probably a quite absurdly silly grin on his face. And noticing that the day seemed so very bright.

  “Well, Lady Ridlington, here we are. All settled and wed.” He gazed across the fields, cleared now as the harvest was done. “Where do we go from here, do you think?”

  “Somewhere warm.” She shivered a little. “Wedding dresses are lovely but not, I find, ideal for this kind of outdoor trip.”

  He pulled more blanket around her. “It is a very appealing gown, though. My compliments. You look utterly delightful.”

  She blinked. “Goodness, my Lord. Have you been reading books on how to be an ideal husband?”

  “No, of course not. You wound me. I was paying a well-deserved compliment to my lovely wife.”

  Her mouth opened and shut. Then opened again. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Forgive me. I’m not used to compliments, well-deserved or otherwise.”

  “Well perhaps you should rethink that philosophy. I believe in complimenting a job well-done. I have found it encourages productivity and efficiency.”

  “Which would be why your ship never sank?” She shot him a quick grin.

  “Among other reasons, yes.”

  “I assure you I shall attempt to be productive and efficient, my Lord.”

  “Edmund.”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “You do have a hard time with my name, don’t you?”

  “Force of habit.” It was her turn to sigh. “I was not encouraged to use any kind of informal address in the past. And it’s a hard habit to break.”r />
  “I’m thinking you and I must learn to be informal, Rosaline.” He tightened his grip on her hand and raised it to his lips, dropping a quick kiss onto her gloved knuckle. “We will work better together if you can refrain from My-Lording me at every other moment.”

  He watched the color rise to her cheeks, inwardly celebrating that a mere gesture could cause such a response. Then they were at the front door of the Chase and the moment had gone.

  It was time to welcome their guests and enjoy a wedding breakfast.

  Edmund summoned the patience that had made him such an effective Captain. Time would pass and he planned on making sure it did so in the most enjoyable manner. But time would pass. And eventually it would be their wedding night.

  That was something he was awaiting with controlled eagerness, because earlier, just before they had pledged themselves to each other, Edmund had realized something. He very much wanted a real wedding night, and hoped he might be able to seduce his new wife into wanting one as well.

  Chapter Six

  Rosaline was tired.

  Not the exhaustion she’d experienced while at the Fincham’s—that had been the result of draining physical activity for hours on end.

  No, this was the exhaustion of a tense mind in an unusually trying situation. After all, one didn’t get married every day, and especially not to a Baron one had known for barely a month.

  Her first wedding had been hurried, and she’d put that firmly behind her. This one was more like a real wedding in her mind, with music, blessings, smiling faces and sunshine. And a husband who looked at her with something in his eyes that brought up the heat in her body far more effectively than the weak autumn sun.

  She observed him as he welcomed their guests, laughed, shook hands and bowed. His behavior was exemplary and there wasn’t a sign of those two strong brows drawing together in a frown.

  He and James seemed to get on well, she mused. At that moment they were engaged in a conversation that appeared to interest them both, which was a good thing. Edmund was an ex-navy captain, and James had served under Wellington. Rosaline wasn’t sure how the two very different branches of the King’s forces would get on, but it looked as though they were enjoying their exchange.