Page 44 of Weave me a Rope
“Hardly headlong,” Cordelia objected. “Only after careful thought and doing what I can for our protection.” She waved a hand to indicate Marsh.
“My men and I will do our absolute best to protect you and Miss Milton, my lord,” Marsh assured Spen.
“If things go wrong,” Spen told him, “Get Miss Milton out of here.”
“If things go right,” Cordelia corrected him, “we will win everything.”
Spen had to smile. “I did not know I was marrying a gambler,” he teased.
Cordelia was not amused. “I am not a gambler,” she insisted. “But no one succeeds in any enterprise without taking risks. My uncle taught me to measure the risks against the benefits and to take all possible precautions. The risk of losing you is everything to me, Spen. Next to that, nothing else matters.”
Spen’s thoughts of the morning returned as he hugged her for that sentiment. Cordelia might be nearly three years younger than he was, but in many ways, she was so much older. So much more the adult. Though his was supposedly the advantaged class, it was the plucky determination and actions of the so-called lower class that had not only kept him alive but also full of hope. And of course, the best of it was easy to find in the woman he loved. “Just remember when you weigh those risks that you are everything to me, too, my love. Putting yourself in danger is not acceptable to me.”
She rested her cheek on his chest and patted his back. “Danger is part of life, Spen. Did you expect me to leave you to your fate and bear your child without you?”
He was slow to parse that sentence. He had kissed the top of her head and started a reply when he realized what she had just said. “Wait. What did you say? Cordelia, my child?” He held her away from him so he could look down at her abdomen. Awe filled him as he moved one of his hands to lay it gently over her belly, moved beyond words at the thought of his baby, his and Cordelia’s, cradled within.
His beloved blushed and slid her hands to cover his. “You are pleased?” she asked. She looked anxious.
“Thrilled beyond words,” he told her, hugging her to him again. “And also, even more upset than ever you are here instead of safe under your uncle’s care.”
“We will win.” Cordelia made it a fervent prayer rather than a promise, and Spen could only hope God was listening.
“We must win,” he agreed, wishing their audience would go away so he could take his darling to bed and worship her body until she understood just how thrilled he was.
But they didn’t disappear. Marsh was studiously staring at the plaster cornices. Miss Faversham was both blushing and frowning. Heaven alone knew what she thought of Cordelia’s revelation. “It is time to return to our room, Miss Milton,” she said. “Our meal will be served soon, and we do not want the staff gossiping about how long you have been in Lord Spenhurst’s room.”
She was correct, though Spen didn’t like it. Cordelia clearly thought so, too, for she said, “I will return, my love.”
“Not this afternoon,” Miss Faversham fussed. “I need to bleach your hair, Miss Milton. We will not be able to carry off this masquerade if you are obliged to wear a spinster’s cap in front of the earl. Now come along like a good girl.”
Cordelia bristled, and Spen was about to rebuke Miss Faversham for her condescending attitude when Cordelia spoke. “Would you excuse me a moment, Spen? Miss Faversham, a private word, if you would.”
She beckoned the woman to the far corner of the chamber and spoke for a minute or two. Miss Faversham blushed as she spoke in response, just a few words.
“I will return this afternoon,” Cordelia repeated to Spen.
“I will read those papers you brought me. The reports on the marriage agreement, and the financial dealings of the marquess and the earl.” He kissed the top of Cordelia’s head. “Just a short time more,” he told her, “and we shall be man and wife, and free of all this intrigue.”
Miss Faversham stared at him. Spen returned her look. “You have the honor to be the temporary companion of my affianced bride and the mother of my child, Miss Faversham. The future Marchioness of Deerhaven is my partner in every way and has my respect and my confidence.”
Miss Faversham’s eyes dropped first.
Marsh opened the door for the two ladies and closed it after they had left the room. “I wonder what Miss Milton said to the besom,” he commented.
Spen’s keen ears had served him again. “She told the lady she is a grown woman and has had sole charge of her own business for the past three years. She said she understood Miss Faversham was accustomed to supporting a young lady who was childlike in her understanding, and Lady Daphne’s affection forMiss Faversham was evidence she had performed her duties with affection and understanding. However, if Miss Faversham ever has the temerity to again admonish her as if she was a child, Miss Faversham and Miss Milton were going to have a serious falling out.” He might not have remembered every word, but that was the sense of it. “She also told Miss Faversham that, if the woman could not be trusted, she would be locked in her room and guarded while we confront the earl and the marquess.”
The head guard pressed his lips together and nodded. “Quite a woman, your Miss Milton,” he noted.
That she was. And with her at Spen’s side, he was almost prepared to believe they could pull this off.
Chapter Eighteen
Cordelia had togive Miss Faversham credit. She was not one to bear a grudge. Indeed, once they were safely in the suite of rooms assigned to them, she made a very handsome apology. She explained, “I have been with Lady Daphne since she was eight years old, and I suppose I am just not accustomed to independent young ladies. I promise I can be trusted, Miss Milton. Though I suppose I would say that even if I weren’t.”
“You are worried about her,” Cordelia surmised. “Gracie, John, and Fielder will look after her, I promise.”
“I console myself she has a happy nature,” Miss Faversham said. “She no doubt will be pleased to see me when we are reunited, but I do not expect her to think of me while we are apart.” She sighed. “Although I suppose the earl will dismiss me when this is over. And what will become of my poor lady, I do not know, though it cannot be worse than the earl intended for her.”
