Heiress in Red Silk, Hunter, Madeline [good beach reads TXT] 📗

“We should do it then, before one of us realizes we are insane.”

Chapter Nineteen

They married a week later, in a quiet ceremony at St. George’s. Rosamund wore a cream dress she had ordered upon her return from Paris.

Attendance was sparse. Minerva, Chase, and Hollinburgh were there, along with Rosamund’s maid, Jenny. No one else from Kevin’s family came, not even his father.

When Rosamund turned after saying the vows, she saw Beatrice at the back of the church. She had worried that her friend would not like this marriage, but Beatrice gave a little wave and a smile before immediately slipping out. Rosamund wondered if Kevin had noticed her.

Rosamund’s only regret was that Lily could not be with her. She had written with the news, however, and received a response in which her sister expressed excitement for her. Lily probably was relieved that her older sister had not ended up a fallen woman.

Minerva hosted the wedding breakfast out in her garden. The weather held, and a lot of joy and good wishes surrounded that table. Finally, she and Kevin rode back to her house to start this marriage they had chosen.

She was up in her chamber when Kevin entered. Jenny slipped out at once.

He took her in his arms and gave her a much better kiss than the discreet one after the ceremony. “So here we are.”

“Do you feel strange? I do.”

“Most strange. Forever is a long time.”

“I was thinking the same thing during the ceremony.”

Jenny had started undressing her. Now Kevin turned her around to complete the task of unfastening her dress. “I saw one of the women from Mrs. Darling’s house at the church. Did you invite her?”

“She never would have come if I hadn’t.” She suddenly realized why he had asked. “She was not there for you, if you were worried that she was.”

His fingers stilled on her back, then continued. “Then you know about that.”

“I do. She and I remain friends.”

“I thought they only bought bonnets from you.”

“She was very kind to me when I was there. She was probably the only friend I had in London at the time.”

“I will not be seeing her again, in case you wondered. Even if I ever break my promise to you, it will not be with her.”

He slid down the dress. She stepped out and faced him. “I know. She would not have you now, even if you did go there. She may be a whore, but she understands friendship.” She looked down at his fingers unlacing her half stays. “She gave you the highest recommendation, though. She said you knew what you were about.”

He gave her a charming half smile. “Did she now? How generous.”

“Of course, I already knew that.”

“Actually, you don’t know the half of it, darling.” The stays fell to the floor.

“Perhaps you should be another of my tutors and teach me at least half of it.”

His fingertips skimmed over her freed breasts, drawing lines on the chemise that covered them still. “That is a splendid idea. Today we will have lesson one.”

* * *

The caller was announced ten days later. After breakfast, Kevin had gone to the small study attached to the library. A footman later interrupted to deliver a card. Annoyed that he had been disturbed on the first day he could concentrate in over a week, Kevin set aside the sketches he was toying with and went up to the drawing room.

Rosamund was there, along with the man whose card he held, Mr. Theodore Lovelace.

The man’s back was to him, but he garnered what he could from that view. Ginger-haired. Big. He had the looks of a laborer to him, with his broad shoulders and thick form. One visible hand showed calluses and scars. His coats were of high quality, however.

“Here he is,” Rosamund said. “This is Mr. Kevin Radnor, whom you asked to see.”

Kevin positioned himself to welcome Mr. Lovelace and get a full view. Rough-hewn. Craggy face. Gray eyes. But a smile broke out, and those eyes twinkled as he stood to make a greeting.

“Mr. Lovelace has a mutual friend with us,” Rosamund said.

“Who might that be?”

Lovelace beamed. “Mr. Forestier. In Paris.”

“Forestier? Are you saying he gave you my name?”

“He did indeed, sir.”

“How do you know him?”

“Met him, I did. Was in Paris myself. It was a holiday, but men talk, and his name was mentioned as someone with good knowledge of machines and such. That’s my trade. I’ve a factory in Shropshire and a smaller works out farther on the Thames here.”

“What kinds of machines?”

“All kinds. I’ve a knack with them. Some we make for others. Some I devise myself. I’ve a new one I’m making, to be used in textile factories, but it has a little problem, and I called on Forestier to see if he might have some solution.”

“How did my name enter the conversation?”

“He said you were a man with similar interests and such. He said you might have an idea for the problem, what with your experience.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew a long paper. “I’ve a drawing here that—”

“Did Forestier say anything else about me?”

Lovelace blanched at the tone of that question. Rosamund sent Kevin a disapproving look. Kevin forced some control over his suspicions and tried a more congenial voice. “I’m just curious what he said that convinced you to seek me out.”

Lovelace smiled again. “He said you were an inventor, so you might think of the way a solution required.”

“That is all?”

“Well, he might’ve said that perhaps we could do some business together. What with your inventions and my foundry works.”

Kevin barely saw Lovelace now, his head had gone so hot. “Among the machines you make, do you construct engines?”

The man misunderstood. He grinned. “I do at that. Here I mostly make the molds for the casting of iron, as required for them and other machines. Shropshire is where I make the engines whole.”

Kevin thought his mind would explode. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. Good day.”