His Wicked Smile Read online

  Cousin Lewis was just ahead of them. “You would have arrived in better style, Cousin, if you’d come in a horseless carriage.”

  Gawain poked Lewis’s arm with his cane. “I was wondering if you were going to sell me one for the Battersea house.”

  “Happy to,” Lewis said with a wink. “Let’s keep me in business in case I come across a lady as irresistible as your princess.”

  Ann seemed to handle the praise well, blushing as Lewis shook Harry’s hand. Footmen and maids came forward to collect coats.

  “How are the machine parts comin’ along?” Harry asked Lewis. “Ye’re mentioned frequently in our dinin’ room these days.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. We can’t keep all the work in Nine Elms.”

  Gawain took Noel while Ann was helped off with her coat. Underneath she wore a rich red dress he’d seen before, but that she had updated with lace cuffs, collar and gold Indian embroidery down the bodice. Her full breasts strained the white neckline, and a dizzying wave of lust came over him. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night he would have her alone in a luxurious suite at Claridge’s.

  Almost alone, at any rate. Noel would be there. Thankfully babies slept most of the time. And once they moved to their new house, Noel would be in the nursery. They would have some actual private moments.

  The party, along with Lewis, was directed into the grand drawing room by the marquess’s butler. Family was arranged, standing and in seats, around one of the vast fireplaces. The room had been redecorated in olive green, which suited his sister’s red hair much better than the former rose-hued scheme. But she was not the formidable one in this room, nor were his sisters, or even his mother. No, that was Sir Bartley Redcake, his father.

  Gawain permitted himself a moment of self-congratulation that he’d given up on pleasing the man years ago in favor of his own interests. Still, a man wanted his choice of wife to be welcomed and approved of by his kin.

  The butler cleared his throat and spoke. “Mrs. Ann Haldene, Gawain Redcake, Lewis Noble, Henry Haldene, Fern Haldene and Noel Redcake.”

  Gawain saw the frowns as the name of his son was pronounced. Grandmother Noble, his mother’s mother, was getting a bit deaf and she said loudly, “Speak up, man!”

  With a sigh, Gawain took Noel from Ann’s arms. He’d hoped Ann could be petted before the baby was discussed, but that was a forlorn dream. He walked toward the armchair to the right of the fireplace, where Grandmother Noble sat in grand style with Uncle Jacob standing to one side.

  “This is my son, Grandmother. Noel. He was born Christmas Day.” As he looked defiantly around the room, he saw his mother pale and his father redden. He placed Noel in his great-grandmother’s arms before she could speak a word of protest.

  But instead of snarling, her face wrinkled into soft motherly appreciation. “You are a little love, my duckling. Two months old, you say?”

  He turned to Ann and smirked. The oldest person in the room hadn’t chastised them.

  “I want to see the baby,” Ellen Redcake, his mother, fluttered. She rose from her seat next to his twin Alys, Lady Hatbrook, and rushed to her mother’s side. Soon, all the ladies in the room took turns holding and cooing over Noel.

  In the interim, Gawain took Ann’s arm and led her to a sofa, then urged Fern to sit beside her. Jenna waited in the wings, ready to rescue the baby and take him to the nursery with the other babies of the household.

  “I like your dress,” Lord Judah said, coming to perch on the armrest of the sofa next to Ann. “Did you learn that embroidery from your mother? It reminds me of fancywork I saw in India.”

  She nodded. “I’ve taught Fern now, too. My wedding dress is decorated in the same style.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely, and that present Gawain brought you will look very well with it.”

  Her face took on an expectant expression, and lost any hint of the nervousness that had been there before. “Present?”

  Fern beamed as Gawain said, “Little Sister here helped me pick it out for you.”

  The girl plucked at her skirt. Ann glanced down. “Yes, my wedding dress is navy blue, just like Fern’s dress tonight. Doesn’t she look pretty?”

  Gawain and Lord Judah both agreed. “Where is Lady Judah this evening?” Gawain asked.

  “She’s terribly ill, actually.”

  “I wonder if she has the same illness as my cousin Jeremy,” Ann said. “He didn’t come down.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but it is definitely not the same thing,” Lord Judah said with a wink.

  Gawain’s hearing perked up. “Some news in the offing?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me,” Lord Judah grinned.

  Gawain looked up to see his father looming over the sofa. The older man cleared his throat. “That’s a handsome lad you have there, son.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Wedding tomorrow.”

  “Couldn’t come soon enough.”

  Sir Bartley nodded. Gawain was relieved that this was all he would say on the subject. After Matilda’s misadventures, how much censure could his father have to offer? Still, this evening could not have gone more smoothly.

  The group circulated for fifteen minutes, greeting Ann and discussing Noel. One person who didn’t speak to them was Hatbrook himself. Gawain finally noticed this and looked around for his brother-in-law. He spotted him on the window-side of the room, standing next to an olive green velvet curtain, seeming lost in thought.

  “I had better approach,” Gawain said, with his chin lifted in the direction of the marquess. He kissed Ann on the cheek and stood, leaving her with Fern and his mother.

  Hatbrook turned when he moved to the man’s side, but said nothing.

  “Missing your sister?” Gawain said after a moment’s contemplation of Hatbrook’s aloof air.

  His cheek clenched. “Yes.”

  “I am somewhat astounded that she and I are now linked in your mind.”

  Hatbrook’s mouth twisted. “You were my hope for her salvation, but that’s lost now.”

  “If she’s anywhere on this earth, we’ll find her. Someday.” Even if he had no further hope of her for himself, he could never forget the enthusiastic and charming girl.

  “Will we find her on this earth or under?” Hatbrook’s usually resonant voice was soft.

  Gawain shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

  Hatbrook folded his arms across his chest and stared out at the rain-soaked stone beyond the windows. “We’ve had a cryptic note from Manfred Cross.”

  “You have?” Gawain could scarcely contain himself from shaking Hatbrook. Had the case broken at last? “When? What did he have to say?”

  “Nothing useful regarding my sister. But one of them is alive, at least.”

  “They aren’t together?”

  “He didn’t say. But Lady Judah insists that the handwriting is indeed her brother’s.”

  “That is excellent news. I shall pursue it next week.”

  “No.” Hatbrook put his hand on Gawain’s arm. “Your part in this is done. We’ll take it from here. Clearly you’ve delayed your happiness too long as it is.”

  “I didn’t know about the baby until January,” Gawain said. “We’re marrying about as soon as it is possible.”

  Hatbrook’s cheeks worked again. “At least I don’t have to feel guilty about that.”

  “You wish you’d let me marry Beth now?” He couldn’t help digging in the knife one last time.

  “I can see you love your Mrs. Haldene, so I don’t feel guilt on your account. But on Beth’s? Yes. Something went very wrong for her, something you might have protected her from. Assuming she’d have agreed to marry you, something that is far from certain.”

  “Let us be done with insults,” Gawain said, holding back his cruel rebuttal for his sister’s sake. “You have released me from this situation.”

  Hatbrook nodded. “I wish you happiness.”

  “Will you come and meet my bride?”
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br />   Hatbrook forced a smile. “Of course.”

  Gawain didn’t expect that he and Ann would be dining at Hatbrook House again. Hatbrook would hold a grudge against him, however subtle. Would she notice or mind? Glancing over at the sofa, he could see she appeared to be in perfect command of herself, gracious and smiling, her head held high, no sign of nerves. Her royal blood coming to her aid, or her experience in greeting many kinds of people at the inn? Either way, she was magnificent. He wished he’d given her the necklace tonight, to set off that slender throat and magnificent bosom.

  But he couldn’t think of her curves and valleys now. His father was approaching with Uncle Jacob.

  Harry met Ann in the cloakroom at Hatbrook House as she was getting dressed to leave after the wedding meal the next day. The family was moving into the drawing room post-wedding celebration, but she and Gawain were going to Claridge’s. Fern would spend the night here in the nursery with the babies and even Harry had been invited to stay on through dinner.

  “Congratulations,” Harry said, holding out his arms.

  She smiled and gave him a one-armed hug.

  “He really is precious,” Harry said, looking down at Noel. “I wish you hadn’t lost your first bairn.”

  She nodded, then kissed Noel’s forehead. “It would have been lovely to have a part of Wells still around.”

  “Yes. Say, that’s quite the necklace Redcake gave you. Interesting choice, given the one Wells died for.”

  “I think Fern picked it out,” Ann said, touching the choker. “He didn’t mean any harm by it and it is lovely.”

  “I agree. ’Tis. Proves the man has money, at any rate.”

  “He wants to display his success like any man would.”

  “You were more than an ornament to my brother.”

  “I hope you realize how much Gawain has done by marrying me. He did not have to.”

  “I suppose he’s honorable enough.”

  Ann took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize you were aware that Wells had my necklace when he died. I had always assumed it was stolen then, but until Fern revealed her knowledge of it to Gawain I wasn’t sure.”

  “He told me about it, Ann. I had some interest in the subject after all, since takin’ on another inn would give me more work.”

  “I see.” Wells’s loyalty to Harry had come between them at times, as Wells had never shown any inclination to keep anything private from his brother. “Who else knew about it?”

  “I don’t know. He told me in private. But I think it’s too bad you had to sell your mother’s things. What do you have left of her, after all?”

  “Her knowledge,” Ann said promptly, keeping the information about her mother’s last gem to herself. “She never minded selling off her jewelry. I remember her pawning a turquoise ring to pay for doctor’s bills one year when Father and I were both sick. It didn’t seem to trouble her, so why should I mourn a necklace when it was buying my family prosperity?”

  “I suppose she didn’t have happy memories of the life that brought her the jewelry, given she almost died on her husband’s funeral pyre.”

  “Childless widows in India had a miserable life. Mother told me that many women in those days were happy to die, rather than to spend their lives in labor to their angry husbands’ families.”

  Harry made a face.

  “Her husband was much older than she though, and she’d fallen in love with my father, so of course she was happy not to die. But she wouldn’t have wanted to stay in the zenana either, in a meaningless existence. I’m glad this society allows remarriage of widows.”

  Harry shook his head without indicating agreement or disagreement, and pulled a fluffy package from his pocket. “This is for you. The ladies of the Gupta family made it for your wedding night.”

  Ann took the package, pleased to be remembered by her patients. She had delivered two children for Mrs. Gupta in her Leeds years. “How kind of them.”

  “And this is from all of us at The Old Hart.” He pulled out another small package, smiling sheepishly. “It’s a French eau de toilette. The ladies chose it.”

  As he set it on top of the Gupta package, she blinked back tears, touched by the remembrances. “I’m sure I will love it.”

  Gawain stepped into the room, a frown making his usual stern face even more forbidding. “Why are you crying? What’s going on here?”

  Ann sniffed. “Harry was just giving me gifts, Gawain. Wedding presents from one of the families I cared for, and from the inn staff.”

  “Ah. Let me take Noel so you can put your cloak on.”

  “Nice necklace, Redcake,” Harry commented.

  “Fern has a good eye. It suits my bride’s wedding gown beautifully.”

  Ann knew she had not glowed so since before Wells had died. Gold embroidery went well with her skin, as did gold jewelry. And who didn’t look beautiful wearing pearls and sapphires? Her new curves made fitting into her clothing more difficult, but she couldn’t help noticing how Gawain’s eyes strayed to the bodices of her dresses far more than Wells’s gaze ever had. Some of her new curves were worth having, despite the cost to the rest of her figure, and the tightness of her stays.

  “Ann and Fern did a beautiful job with their new gowns. All the ladies of my family said so, and my mother was a fiend for making the girls sew. Rose wants to learn your embroidery technique.”

  Ann couldn’t help smiling at that. “I’ll be happy to teach your sister.” She’d been nervous to meet the Redcakes, but they seemed to have taken the revelation of Noel’s birth in stride. They didn’t hide Matilda’s little son either, which made her think their kindness was genuine.

  “Is Noel bundled properly?” Gawain asked. “It isn’t raining, at least. Lewis is going to drive us over to Claridge’s in his horseless buggy.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Perfectly,” Gawain said. “We never would have met if I hadn’t been in one all the way from here to Leeds last year.”

  “We only met because it broke down,” Ann pointed out.

  “He is always making improvements. Come, you don’t want to spend the rest of your wedding day in a cloakroom, do you?”

  Ann blushed. “Of course not. Enjoy the rest of your stay in London, Harry. Will you have time to see us in Battersea before you go?”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow. Best to get back with Jeremy ill.”

  “Happy travels then, Haldene.” Harry shook hands with Gawain, then they all filed out of the cloakroom.

  Ann’s stomach was in her throat for the entire ride to the hotel. She kept Noel tightly clutched to her body, but appreciated that Gawain kept his arms around them both too. Still, she didn’t relax until they entered the lobby of the grand hotel.

  They were greeted with suitable pomp and shown to a penthouse suite. Staff took their minimal luggage to a bedroom while Ann admired the barrel vaulted ceiling and white marble fireplace in the sitting room.

  “Jenna is already here,” Gawain reported, limping toward the fireplace. “She’ll care for Noel tonight. Is he still on a regular feeding schedule?”

  “Yes,” she hesitated, “but I don’t know how he’ll do without me in the same room.”

  “It’s time to make the adjustment,” he said. “He’ll sleep in the nursery from now on. Jenna has agreed to stay with us.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Ann said.

  “You told me he’s already only eating once during the night. I think he’s ready.”

  She stared into the fire. Of course this would be how it would go. She wasn’t marrying a man who could only afford a two-room flat, after all. Besides, the grandeur of Hatbrook House should have made it clear the way she was expected to conduct herself from now on. As a lady of means, the kind of lady who had nursemaids and nannies, who spent her time sewing and doing good deeds. That is what her new husband expected of her, not to be mooning over a healthy infant of ten weeks.

  She glanced at him, and found his gaze h
overing over her bosom again. And then, he might only care about the making of siblings for Noel. Or the activity that led to the making of siblings. A flare of memory, at the thought of that time with him in Leeds, flushed her cheeks. When she’d thought of nothing but satisfying herself, and him. Those simple animal pleasures they had experienced had led to complications, it was true, but also to this moment, when they might be together again. No more waiting. No more dreary flat. She was Mrs. Gawain Redcake now, spending the night at Claridge’s in London. Her parents would have been so proud of her new place in the world.

  “Your eyes have gone distinctly feline,” Gawain observed.

  A waiter rolled in a tray containing an iced bucket with a bottle. “Would you like me to open it, sir?”

  “No, thank you,” Gawain said, and walked the man to the door. “Is everyone out of the suite?”

  “Except your maid,” he said.

  Ann watched Gawain hand the man a coin before he stepped out, pulling the doors closed behind him, with a motherly pang of regret that had nothing to do with her new husband. She handed Noel to Jenna.

  “We’ll be very cozy in the second bedroom, Mrs. Redcake. I had a peek and the fire is lit.”

  “I’ll see you at feeding time then.” She watched the nursemaid leave the room, her child in tow.

  Gawain returned from the foyer and stalked back to her. She noticed his limp had become less obvious now, his presence more commanding, demanding. A wounded leopard, and all the more dangerous for it.

  “You fed Noel just before we left, correct?”

  She nodded.

  He smiled. The purely wicked intent behind those bared teeth made her fingers tingle.

  “Then you are all mine for hours.”

  “I am.” But she’d had a baby since they’d last been together. Was she still what he expected? Could she still lose herself in his embrace?

  He reached for her.