Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante Page 16

  ‘Lady Pendennys.’ Lilya bit her lip, nerves warring with excitement.

  Philippa came to stand with her, looking at them both in the mirror. ‘You’ll be splendid. Beldon will be a good husband to you and you are not indifferent to him. You will find your way together. Now, you’ll really be family although we’ve never thought of you as less.’

  ‘You’ve all been so good to me.’ Lilya sniffed, tears threatening at Philippa’s kind words.

  ‘No tears,’ Philippa said briskly, glancing about until she found what she was looking for. ‘There it is.’ She picked up a small box. ‘My pearls. I wore them the day I married Val and I’d like you to have them to wear today.’

  ‘Oh, Philippa, I couldn’t…’ Lilya began.

  Philippa smiled. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, a silver sixpence in your shoe. It’s a wedding rhyme,’ she explained. ‘You have Val’s mother’s dress, so that’s something old, my pearls are something borrowed. It’s all for good luck, really.’

  ‘Sometimes I feel I can use all the luck I can get.’ Lilya laughed, looking about the room. ‘Hmm, something new and something blue?’

  ‘Your bouquet!’ Philippa chimed in. ‘It will have blue forget-me-nots in it. Now for something new—the sixpence will be easy.’

  They rummaged through Lilya’s things and came up with a new handkerchief that had never been used. ‘This is what happens when you don’t plan your trousseau,’ Philippa scolded with a laugh.

  ‘There.’ Lilya tucked the small handkerchief into her glove. Later, she could wrap it around her bouquet and hold it during the ceremony. ‘Now I have all the luck possible.’ She sobered a bit, standing still to let the maids arrange the long gossamer veil on her head. ‘I hope Beldon doesn’t regret this.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, why would he?’ Philippa sobered, too. ‘You needn’t worry on that account. You’re not still worried about the diamond, are you? Beldon will not let that stand between you. It’s been two weeks and there’s been no sign of…’ Philippa paused here, unwilling to speak the name. ‘Agyros,’ she said at last with a sigh. ‘Perhaps he is persuaded you didn’t have it.’

  ‘Beldon loves this place, Philippa. These last days, I’ve had a chance to see him here. Pendennys is his soul. He’s spent his adult life making this place what it is. He’d told me about your father. But I’d not really understood how much this place meant to Beldon until we arrived. This is all he’s ever wanted.’

  Lilya whispered her greatest fear. ‘What if he has to choose? What if marrying me forces him to choose?’

  ‘He won’t have to choose, just as you didn’t have to choose the diamond or a happy marriage. Sometimes we only think we have to choose.’ Philippa squeezed her hand, bringing back the earlier gaiety. ‘It’s time to go and I know Constantine is in the carriage waiting. Take one last look at Lilya Stefanov. When you come back you’ll be Lady Pendennys, for ever.’

  Lilya smiled at the woman in the mirror. She hoped it would be that easy. Perhaps as Lady Pendennys she could work out who she might have been if she hadn’t been the keeper.

  An open carriage waited for her in the drive, Constantine already aboard for the short trip to the church. He was dressed in a dark suit and his black hair combed for the occasion. He looked like a very mature ten-year-old. He looked, Lilya realised, like their father and she wondered that she hadn’t seen the resemblance sooner: the dark hair, the hazel-green eyes and the sharp Stefanov nose that gave their faces their regal look. Constantine was growing up, no longer the baby she’d raised since that terrible night in Negush. She’d been no older than Constantine was now when the diamond and he had both been put into her care. Constantine, of course, was thrilled she was marrying Beldon. He adored Valerian’s friend and the fact that his sister wouldn’t be living too far away.

  Lilya got into the carriage, sparing a final thought for those who weren’t with her on this most special day: her brother Alexei, her mother, her aunt, her father. They’d want her to be happy today. They wouldn’t want her to dwell on what might have been.

  Beldon would understand the need to take a moment and honour them. His parents weren’t here either. He’d been a good son. If it had been his choice, he’d have wanted his parents to see him wed and bring the next generation to Pendennys. On her walk this morning, she’d seen a fresh posy of flowers at the cemetery where they’d stopped the day before. Some time during the busy excitement, he, too, had found time to make his peace with the past just as she was doing right now.

  She squeezed Constantine’s hand as Philippa settled into the seat beside her and they were off to church beneath the clear blue sky of a Cornwall summer day.

  The road to the church was lined with well-wishers and all those who couldn’t fit into the little chapel. They would all be welcomed at the wedding breakfast afterwards, the doors of Pendennys flung open for all to share in the occasion. Beldon was a well-liked man and everyone was eager to share in his happiness.

  At the chapel, Lilya was helped down from the carriage, a hush falling over those standing nearest the door, a whisper rippling through the crowd. ‘The bride, the bride is here.’ Philippa slipped past her with Constantine to take her place up front as a witness. Valerian waited inside to escort her up the aisle. ‘Be sure to look around and note the decorations,’ Val whispered. ‘You’ll want to remember this day in all its detail for the rest of your life.’

  Lilya did her best to take in the flower garlands that draped the pews, but she could not do it justice. Her eyes were for the man who waited for her at the end of her walk. Broad-shouldered and tall, the sun sparking his chestnut hair into deep rich honeyed hues, Beldon Stratten waited for her, ready to bind his life with hers.

  The service passed in solemn awe, Beldon’s grip firm on her hands, and she was glad for his strength. At last, Beldon kissed her, sealing their union, and she welcomed it until Valerian coughed discreetly in suggestion that the union was sealed quite well enough for now. Lilya stifled a giggle, but she could not stifle the smile that spread across her face. Euphoric relief swamped her. Tension ebbed from her. It was well and truly done now. What God has joined together let no man tear asunder. A gold band glinted on her hand in reminder of that. She wanted to laugh and dance and sing. Everyone else did, too; weddings brought out the best in people and the crowds of people following the carriage to Pendennys were merry. Beldon threw the customary coins for the children and there was much joking and jostling as children scrambled for the pennies.

  Pendennys was ready for them, white canopies dotting the lawn ready for guests. Tables groaned with all nature of Cornish delicacies conjured up miraculously with only a few days’ notice. To Lilya’s delight, there were fiddlers, too. There would be dancing—not the dancing found in London’s ballrooms, but good hearty country dancing.

  It was a day of days. Lilya danced with Beldon and with Val and then Beldon again until his arm began to ache. It was easy to forget he’d been injured almost three weeks ago.

  When they weren’t dancing, Beldon took her hand and wound their way through the tables to visit with the guests. Beldon knew them all by name and history. He talked agriculture with the farmers and ore with the miners.

  But even with the entertainment and the plentiful food, the guests demonstrated uncommonly good sense and began making their farewells as late afternoon came on. It was time for the married couple to be on their own, and themselves as well. Lilya had no doubt many of them would go home and spend the evening remembering wedding days past.

  ‘You’re blushing,’ Beldon said quietly in her ear.

  ‘I was thinking how these happy people will go home and perhaps do a little recalling of their own weddings.’

  Beldon arched an eyebrow. ‘Or anticipating future weddings.’

  She tilted her head up to consider the man beside her. ‘Well, who can blame them? It’s a marvellous thing what a man and a woman can do together.�
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  ‘I take it you’re ready to go inside, Lady Pendennys.’ Beldon laughed.

  ‘More than ready,’ Lilya answered softly.

  Someone had paid special attention to his bedchamber. Candles had been freshly lit against the early shadows of evening. A small fire had been laid, the covers of the bed turned back and sprinkled with rose petals. Champagne was chilling, waiting in an ice bucket. A small table had been set up with cold slices of meat and bread and a bowl of fresh strawberries. His banyan and Lilya’s things had been laid out. Someone had guessed rightly they wouldn’t want the assistance of a valet or maid tonight, but also that the night was young and they’d be hungry before it was over.

  Beldon expertly worked the cork of the champagne until it gave a soft pop. He poured two glasses and handed one to Lilya. ‘A toast, my dear, to the best day of our lives, and many more to come.’

  He drank, his eyes never leaving Lilya’s face. Marriage agreed with her already. Her eyes glowed, dark coals lit with an appreciation of life. He’d seen her start to relax, start to believe in the peace he could offer her during the past weeks. Whatever he could or couldn’t give her, he would give her peace. He owed her that.

  He was acutely aware she had not sought marriage. She had not sought him. And yet here she was. He had no illusions as to why she’d married him. But it didn’t have to stay that way. There was no reason they couldn’t grow into a companionable marriage. Goodness knew their bed sport was headed in the right direction. And she already had his admiration. She’d raised her brother, being no more than a child herself; she’d crossed Europe on her own. His wife was a woman of uncommon courage. If she could come so far on her own, she could certainly muster the courage to build a real marriage here with him.

  ‘I have something for you.’ Beldon went to a drawer and pulled out a long green velvet case. ‘This is your official wedding present,’ he announced with a flourish, taking her glass from her so she could sit and open the box.

  ‘Oh, my. They’re beautiful.’ Lilya’s face was a study of awe. ‘Are these the family jewels? Shouldn’t they be Philippa’s?’

  ‘No, Philippa has her own and the St Just jewellery, too,’ Beldon assured her.

  But even amid her protests, Beldon could see that she liked them. The Pendennys emeralds were exquisite. She held up a diamond-and-emerald parure to catch the firelight. ‘This is magnificently cut.’

  ‘Here, try it on.’ Beldon gently set it on her head and stepped back. She was a queen in it, regal and commanding. He would have chosen this piece of jewellery for her even if it hadn’t been in the family vault. There were other pieces, too, and she held each one up, admiring them in turn.

  ‘Thank you, Beldon.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Some of the pieces are older and they’re a bit heavy. We can have them reset in something more fashionable the next time we’re in London, or perhaps a jeweller in Truro could do the work.’

  ‘I am in no hurry.’ Lilya set aside the last of the jewels. ‘Come, help me with my gown.’ She turned, presenting her back to him.

  Beldon gave a hearty laugh. ‘It’s a good thing we retired early. There’s enough buttons here to keep me busy all night. Good Lord, this would frustrate any groom.’

  Or tantalise, Beldon soon amended, his fingers adroitly handling the little silk-covered buttons than ran the length of her back—Lilya’s delectable back. He spread the fabric apart, revealing the smooth expanse of skin, and laid a trail of kisses down the length of her spine. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you in London.’ He heard the huskiness of his own voice, low and primal already. This woman could arouse him instantly and to limitless depths.

  He pushed the gown off her shoulders and down to her hips, making short work of the undergarments beneath, his lips at her bare shoulder. ‘I didn’t recognise you at first in London. I couldn’t see your face, but I saw an elegant woman with great poise and I wondered why this woman hadn’t been on my list. How could I have missed such a stunning creature?’ His list, his stupid list, seemed a long time ago in a foolish lifetime. How could he ever have thought he’d be happy with a Lady Eleanor Braithmore?

  ‘All because of my back?’ Lilya leaned against him, careful of his dratted shoulder.

  ‘For starters.’ Beldon placed a kiss at the base of her neck, noting how her pulse jumped at the sweet contact, her breasts filled his hands and he languidly caressed a nipple into readiness. ‘It didn’t take long to realise you were far more than a sum of your beauty, Lilya.’ He was aware she’d shifted her hips ever so slightly and the dress slid over the slim curves of her hips to the floor, leaving her naked to his gaze.

  Lilya turned in his arms, her breasts pressed against his shirted chest. She was going to tease him, he could see it in her eyes. ‘I thought you said it was my back you loved.’

  ‘I wanted to seduce you by candlelight. Your back conjured up all nature of erotic fantasies.’ Beldon waltzed her to the bed until her knees hit the frame and she fell back on to the rose petals.

  He stepped away to give her a full view as he undressed. Perhaps not the most graceful undressing with one stiff arm, but the intent was there. Tonight he was her man entirely. Beldon shrugged out of his shirt and kicked off his trousers, sliding beneath the cool sheets with her. She was ready for him, meeting him with legs parted, intuitively knowing that on this night, he would do the seducing. Tonight, he needed to do the possessing, to join with other males in the ageless ritual of taking one’s bride.

  He rose above her, bracing his arm with a pillow, ignoring the strain. He took her mouth in a fierce kiss and plunged into her welcome depths, letting her legs close about him, holding him as her hips rose to match the cadence of his body. Lilya gasped beneath him, her pleasure nearly reached. He surged once more, his body gathering for a final release as he brought them to completion, pouring his seed, pouring his soul into this woman with the realisation that, on his wedding night, he was falling in love with his bride, the one thing above all else he’d sworn not to do.

  Above all else, he would retrieve that diamond or die trying. The latest letter from the Filiki confirmed all other suspects had turned up nothing. Lilya had the diamond. It was what Christoph had wished for. He would be the one to return triumphant. But the Filiki had also noted their disappointment with his slow progress after the promises he’d made them earlier in May. May seemed ages ago now. May had been a month of promise. He’d found Lilya. He’d put his courtship gambit in motion. Then Beldon Strat ten had emerged and obliterated his plans in one fell evening of discovery.

  Now it was July. Lilya and that dratted Pendennys had slipped through his fingers. They were married. The London newspapers had announced two weeks ago that Baron Pendennys had married Lilya Stefanov. It was a small consolation that he knew where she was, where she’d been all along. There was no mention of a wedding trip. Lulling her into complacency hadn’t been a bad idea. Unaware was unprepared. But it did come with some trade-offs. Now he’d have to go to Pendennys’s territory and play the invader. In London there’d been a sense of neutrality.

  Well, best be done with it. He would take a few days to plan and make travel arrangements. Even if she didn’t have the diamond, he had unfinished business with them. This was personal now. Pendennys and she had made him look like a foolish suitor.

  He stood and stretched. This time was for keeps.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The fashionable world would have found it odd that Beldon had not whisked his bride away on a six-month wedding trip to the south of Italy or to some other destination, but Lilya was perfectly happy to stay ensconced at Pendennys and wile away the rest of the summer.

  They might be at home, but that did not put a dampener on the early high spirits of their marriage. While being home meant there was the business of running the house and the estate, there was still plenty of time for picnics and long rides. No one expected them to entertain yet, so they had t
heir lives to themselves, with time to work out the companionship of daily living.

  ‘When do you suppose we have to give our first dinner party?’ Lilya picked idly at grass stems, sitting with her skirts tucked about her on their picnic blanket.

  Beldon lay back on the blanket, hands tucked behind his head, looking up at the sky. ‘Not until the autumn. I think we could put it off until October.’ He looked over at her, those eyes of his dancing. ‘You’re not tired of me already, are you? Ready to get back to the social whirl?’ he teased.

  Lilya rolled her eyes and smiled. ‘Hardly.’ She flung her arms wide. ‘I could never tire of this or of you.’ She shrugged. ‘People have been very good to leave us to ourselves. I know people are trying hard not to impose. I wonder how long they’ll be patient before we’ll need to fully take up our duties. I will miss having you to myself when they do.’ She’d enjoyed this time alone with him more than she could ever express in words.