Chelynne Read online

  Welby Manor was nearly perfect for her. The only imperfection was the lack of love she had from her aunt Eleanor. And of course Harry. But Chelynne had Stella’s love and did not crave any more maternal devotion than that. She had long ago accepted Eleanor’s cool attitude toward her. The woman was always cross and insulting except when she came into contact with someone of a higher social station, and then she was unnaturally flattering and pretentious. Sheldon seemed to have a hard time controlling Eleanor’s actions, but when it came to the treatment of Chelynne, Lord Mondeloy found the limit to his tolerance. Eleanor was not allowed to abuse his young niece, not even with a harsh word.

  Harry was much worse. His hostility and jealousy were open. He and Chelynne had been squabbling for years whenever they were in the same house. In deference to her uncle, Chelynne avoided that contact, keeping herself as far from her cousin as she could.

  On her way to her room she saw the tall straight back of a servant as he carried a tray toward the stairs. She stopped and cleared her throat. He turned, looked her over, and a slow smile spread across his face. “So good to have you home, my lady,” he said with a slight bow.

  “You’re looking fit, Gordon,” she replied.

  “No longer a little girl,” he commented. “A woman now. Was your journey pleasant?”

  “Not nearly swift enough.”

  “Is that for my mother?” came a voice. The butler nodded to the young man just descending the stairs.

  “Aye, sir. I’m taking it to her now.”

  “Then do it! What’re you waiting for?”

  Gordon, tall and broad with a bit of gray at his temples, nodded again. “Just a word of welcome to my lady Chelynne, sir.”

  “Ah yes, her royal highness.” Harry bowed. “Come home for tidings of the match of the century.”

  Chelynne stiffened. Raising her chin, she passed Gordon and maneuvered her way past Harry on the stair. “Nice to see you again, Gordon.”

  “We’ve sorely missed your laughter here, my lady,” the butler murmured as she passed.

  “So the pauper princess shall wed a viscount. You certainly don’t look like countess material to me,” Harry sneered.

  Chelynne turned slowly on the stair, looking down at her cousin with a malicious smile on her lips. “Have you wedding plans, Harry?”

  He ground his teeth and his superior smile faded. “I haven’t found the woman worthy,” he baited her.

  “Well,” she said, looking over his pudgy frame with open contempt. “Should I chance to meet some fair damsel with as much to hang over her bodice as you pour over your belt, I shall bring her to you posthaste.”

  The young man stiffened with indignation. His paunchy gut was a sore spot Chelynne was aware of. She lifted her chin and walked up the stairs, struggling to keep in her laughter. Gordon was on her heels, delivering a snack to Lady Eleanor. As he passed her at the top of the stairs he murmured, “It’ll be nice to have someone around to keep him in check.”

  “I shall do my best,” she returned with a smile.

  “Very good, madam,” he said as he hastened to his task.

  Chelynne spent the remainder of the afternoon in her bedroom. She had many thoughts on the subject of marriage. She had never thought not to marry, but her first experience with love had dawned only the summer before.

  It had been Sheldon’s decision to send her to other families for her training. Her education was primary and the summer before she was sent to Lord Stelanthope for his wife to take charge of some of her instruction in etiquette and court manners. In her free time, which was not much, she was allowed to ride. It didn’t take her long to learn how to quickly lose the groom who attended her on her rides, and she had quite a reputation for her mischief. Before she left she had acquired a reputation for a few other indiscretions as well.

  She met a young gardener who worked daily on the manor lawns. He was twenty years old and magnificently handsome. Her young body had barely bloomed with the first flushes of womanhood, physical maturity a thing still happening within her supple young form. Reuben coerced her into a kiss. Though reluctant, she found the joining of two mouths pleasing; the sensation of their lips meeting, touching, tasting, and blending brought the first blushing yearnings of womanhood to her. Soon they became very expert at handling this pleasure. It gave her shivers to think of it even now.

  She gave up losing the groom on her rides for sport and started dodging him so she could meet Reuben and spend more time alone with him. She was reprimanded by Lady Stelanthope on this misbehavior and sought other means of meeting him. She slipped out at night to be with him, alone in the manor gardens.

  Reuben had long since passed pubescent experimenting, but Chelynne was not aware of his emotional maturity. She was shockingly aware of his physical attractions in a way she couldn’t understand. There was something about a simple man bent to physical chores that was so much more appealing than the mincing gallants. Reuben was muscled and lean, extremely handsome and masculine.

  The pastime of kissing graduated to touching and his hands brought the most marvelous sensations when he sought out her breasts. Intoxicating delight spiraled through her at the first touch, left her weak and dizzy when they parted, and aching for their next encounter.

  Neither of them was satisfied and the true trial came. Chelynne honestly never expected it and she was stunned by the possibility. He wanted her in a hungry way that was most difficult to refuse. He wanted to enter her and be a part of her. He became reckless with desire, begging to marry her and steal her away with him to any corner of the earth. She found it frighteningly impossible to accept and twice as impossible to refuse. It became torturous to be with him and torturous to be away from him.

  She thought it a major crisis in her life when she returned to her bedroom one night, disheveled from her appointment with Reuben, to find Lady Stelanthope waiting for her. She was put through grueling examinations to confirm her virginity and sent home to Sheldon. The only saving grace was that the baroness did not give an unsavory explanation to Lord Mondeloy. She reported that they were due at

  Hampton Court

  to attend the king and queen and could not take Chelynne with them. Chelynne was simultaneously saved and destroyed.

  Now at sixteen years she would be married to one of those mincing and delicate lords. Sheldon thought her distaste with the consummation was from fear. It was in truth repugnance. She couldn’t stand the thought of long cold fingers trying to titillate her. She wondered if she could bear her own wedding night. As for being ready, she was never more ready for anything. The spark had been ignited and the flame hid in waiting.

  “You’re a moody one, miss,” Stella remarked some time later.

  “Aye, I’ve a lot on my mind,” she sighed. “Uncle Sheldon will have me married!”

  “Good, good. And when shall we know the groom?”

  “Good Lord, Stella! I didn’t say I was about to have dinner. I said I’m going to be married!”

  “Aye, lass, and the time is ripe.”

  “Ripe? How can you say that? Just this morn you accused me of being the foulest-tempered infant you’ve ever tended.”

  Stella chuckled at the reminder. “For the most part you are that,” she sighed. “It’ll take a strong hand to calm you down.”

  “And that’s what I have to look forward to?”

  “That and a great deal more. Look at yourself, miss. You’ve a woman’s body right enough and that’s what interests his lordship now. He has to see ye wed ‘fore ye spoil yourself.”

  “Oh! What a thing to say!”

  “‘Tis truth.” The old woman shrugged. “You’ve heard it before now.”

  Chelynne fingered the gold coin that hung around her neck. “Was she very much like me?” she asked.

  “Who now?” Stella questioned without looking up from her chore of sorting through Chelynne’s things and arranging the room.

  “My mother.”

  “Ah, a great deal as I r
emember her. She was lovely and sweet.”

  “Undo this dress, Stella. I’ll have to get ready for dinner. Was she in love with my father?”

  “I guess only she could tell ye that. She was a good wife to him.”

  “But he was much older, wasn’t he?”

  “Aye, he was. But a powerful strong man. Much like your uncle, say ten, maybe twenty years ago. Had a fine handsome face for a man of fifty years. Never looked it, he seemed younger. Your uncle was but five and thirty then and they seemed the same in age.”

  “But was she happy?”

  “Never did I know a brighter lass when you grew and swelled in her belly. Her eyes were brighter than the sky. Pale blue her eyes were, with golden bits of sunlight in ‘em. Ah, she’d sparkle and shine.”

  “And this is all I have of her,” Chelynne sighed wistfully, touching the gold coin.

  “ ‘Twas a gift from the king. When the times were poor and the king himself had to beg a meal and borrow to eat, my Madelynne wouldn’t have that gold used. Aye, all her jewels went to the king’s cause, but that piece she saved. She’d have starved ‘fore she’d part with it. She held that very piece while she birthed ye, believing it brought her luck. It’s brought you luck enough,” she finished with a sharp nod.

  The days that followed were busy for Chelynne and allowed little time for worry about her upcoming marriage. She took Carmel for long rides. Tailors were brought to Welby Manor to sew for her and turned out a full wardrobe to be ready for her wedding. She dallied long hours in the gardens around the manor house and took refreshments with the servants she had known since childhood. She accompanied Sheldon when he went into Welbering to look at the records, visit the shops, and collect the tax.

  Nervous tension mounted again for Chelynne when word came from the earl of Bryant informing Lord Mondeloy of his visit. He included in that message that his son would not accompany him but was due in London port sometime in June after making what should be his last voyage to the West Indies.

  Lady Mondeloy made her presence felt in Welby Manor in a way that added considerably to Chelynne’s anxiety. She hurried her huge form around the mansion with a perpetual scowl on her face. She worked the servants with no less cruelty than a slave driver and the gardeners labored long hours to meet with her approval. New items of clothing were sewn for herself and her son, though both were already exceedingly well garbed. Furniture was recovered, walls painted and covered with fresh draperies, and brass and silver shined to a high gloss. Every pane of glass was cleaned until it glistened on a daily basis, though the earl would not arrive for some time to come.

  Chelynne moved through this madhouse in a daze. She had never known her aunt to display such energy. She sent out invitations to members of the town she had scarcely met and had many an unused room readied for this grand visit. She intended to flaunt the occasion to the hilt, even though Sheldon had informed her that the earl was ailing and would not appreciate her efforts.

  Three days before the expected time of arrival, a gilded barouche sped up the long drive to Welby Manor. Workmen were about the ballroom adding finishing touches to the floor and gardeners were manicuring the lawns. Painters were busy in many rooms and Eleanor was lying on her daybed indulging in a midmorning repast. Chelynne was using this time to ride about the grounds. Garbed in only a simple patterned skirt and linen bodice, she watched from the back of the mare as this retinue approached.

  She held her breath as the man in the coach stepped out into the light of day. She almost gasped at the sight of him. He was small of stature and his legs bowed. He was done all in silk from his toes to the delicate froth of ruffles that seemed to choke him about the neck. Even from her distance she could see the jewels that adorned him, stuck in his cravat, just below his knees and on his fingers and shoes. He wore a monstrous wig and his hat sported a loud pink feather. He stood in indecision for a moment, there being no one there to greet him, and then he looked around.

  When he turned in Chelynne’s direction she could plainly see a long thin nose and high forehead. She swallowed hard. What more could she expect but that her groom be a younger version of his father. She knew at once what she would have for a lifetime mate. She could almost feel his long thin fingers as he pulled away at her clothing and his shrill voice as he commanded her...like Harry. Oh God, it would be like Harry!

  Lord Mondeloy stepped out onto the landing and bowed, then extended his hand to the earl. Chelynne dug a determined heel into Camel’s side and with a strangled cry she sped away, never noticing that the earl shielded his eyes from the sun to watch her hurried flight. With brown hair flying wildly she floated atop the mare’s back, her intention to find the most distant corner of her uncle’s land and escape, for a while at least, the very idea of her predicament.

  The earl of Bryant stepped into the house with his servants in tow toting his parcels and holding open doors.

  “You’ve arrived early, my lord,” Sheldon said once they were inside the huge manor. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”

  “It was. I’m sure our business can be concluded without much effort.” He looked around to see the many servants and workmen and asked, “Have I set upon you at an inconvenient time?”

  “Preparations for your arrival, sir,” he replied.

  “Have you a bed, a desk and a chair that are not being repaired?”

  “At your disposal, my lord,” Mondeloy replied with a smile. There broke upon the face of the older man a similar smile. There was communication. These two men happened to like each other and they agreed on many subjects.

  “Good, that is all I have need of, my lord. When will the young woman be introduced?”

  “She’s riding and I bid you have patience until she joins us for tea. I would have her at her best appearance for you.”

  The earl thought for a moment of the young woman he had spied a few minutes ago. She was a lovely, fresh thing, full round breasts, thick flouncing hair, a face pleasant to look upon. “I rather liked her as I saw her earlier,” he said thoughtfully.

  “She’s a willful sprite, my lord,” Mondeloy smiled.

  “Good,” the man retorted, stamping his cane once for emphasis. “Then I’ll see my rooms and have a rest before I meet her. Call me early so we have some time together before I make her acquaintance.”

  A long while later Chelynne sought out her bedroom from the back stairs. Perspiring as no woman of quality should, she gave away her hard ride to Stella at once. Stella waited for Chelynne with a tapping foot and a frown of discontent, glaring her down for her mischief. Stella did not speak, she merely pointed to the steaming tub and the gown laid out for her mistress. With a little pout Chelynne began stripping off the simple dress.

  Much activity could be felt about the upstairs of the manor as Lady Eleanor, caught unaware by the earl’s untimely arrival, hurriedly had herself prepared to meet him. For all the pains she took with her appearance and selection of jewels, one would suspect she was the intended bride.

  Chelynne was pensive and quiet as she was groomed and dressed. A pleasant green was the color of her gown and the style was modest, as befitted a young virgin. The sleeves flared from her shoulders and tightened about her wrists. A bit of gold braid hugged her hips and slipped dreamily under her bodice. No other adornments or jewels were added. Chelynne was superbly figured for her small size, and heavy jewels would only draw the eyes away from her appealing youth and vitality. Stella, who had made the choice, showed a cunning in this that was rare for a woman never married.

  Readied, perfumed and only lightly painted, Chelynne rose to posture before the mirror. She would have preferred to be homely. Perhaps then the earl would find the fault and refuse the contract. As if reading her thoughts, Stella lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her eyes. “Your uncle has been good and generous with you all your life and there was no one to order him so. Think hard on your manner, for should you shame him now, ‘twould be his darkest hour. I pray you think too, h
is work is not done ‘till he sees you wed, and a country squire can be as dangly and bumbling as any viscount. Take care you do not push him to those ends and give him another like Harry.”

  The words were full of meaning for Chelynne and she nodded her head in assent, only too aware of her situation. This was her uncle’s choice and out of her hands. She loved him true and would not bring disgrace on him now.

  As she tapped lightly on the drawing room doors she sucked in her breath and bolstered her resolve. The earl, Lord Mondeloy and Harry were seated and a young maid had only just begun to serve their tea. She curtsied and the earl and her uncle rose immediately to receive her. Harry rose, but he was a bit reluctant and slow. The earl was transfixed, his eyes glued to her in delighted appraisal. At last he shook his head and laughed lightly. “I found your appearance so striking astride I almost feared meeting you in person...in your finery. You have not disappointed me, my dear.”

  “You’re overkind, my lord,” she murmured, pinkening a little.

  “Ah, blush is so desirable on a youth. I will pray that you do not lose it too soon.”

  He led her to a chair, one strategically lined up so he could look easily at her from his. She tried with her best effort to be relaxed and self-confident, but inside her nerves were wild and her stomach jumped. She sipped at her tea and thankfully the cup did not rattle and nothing spilled. She could not partake of the pastries being offered, for her stomach would never have tolerated food.

  The men spoke lightly of politics and Harry appeared bored. He slumped slightly in his chair and huffed a few times. He answered his father with a frown or insolent sneer, but the earl was uninterested.

  When Chelynne was beginning to wonder if she could endure much more of this chitchat, Lady Eleanor swirled into the room. The earl was taken aback by her size and heavy raiment. Jewels glittered under her double chin and loaded down her hands. Her bulky form and the heavy folds of fabric that fell gracelessly from her huge hips threatened to spill over furniture as she turned. She was much larger than the earl, larger than anyone in the room. Chelynne had never seen such a sight.