Dorothy Boyle had not suffered such a personal affront since she had discovered her husband's peculiar predilection for his own sex.
Conversely, Bridget Gunning was the happiest of mothers.
The king's decree guaranteed the fame of her daughters, as Londoners began to gather outside their house in Great Marlborough Street
hoping for a glimpse of the beauteous Gunning sisters. Bridget reasoned that where there was _fame_, surely _fortune_ would follow.
Rachel and Orford's engagement party was held in early October, and the wedding date was set for November 15. When Bridget Gunning opened their wedding invitation, she was disappointed to learn that the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire was to be married at Chatsworth, their ancestral home in Derbyshire.
"We are not going to the wedding," she informed Maria and Elizabeth. "We cannot possibly afford to travel to Derbyshire. We'll have to think up some plausible excuse."
To Bridget's delight and her husband's sorrow, fate provided one in the death of Jack Gunning's father. Her delight turned to fury, however, when the will was read and everything was left to her husband's oldest brother. The moment they returned from St. Ives, she gave her husband his orders. "You must make the rounds of the moneylenders and borrow on the strength of your inheritance."
"I've already borrowed on my nonexistent inheritance once," he said dryly, "and repayment is overdue."
"They don't know it's nonexistent. You must borrow from Peter to pay back Paul. Why are you so feckless?"
The couple sniped at each other for hours, and when Lady Charlotte stopped by to invite Elizabeth to go for an afternoon carriage ride in the park, she jumped at the chance to escape from the distressing atmosphere.
"I'm so sorry your grandfather passed away," Charlie murmured.
"I hardly remember him. We went to live in Ireland when I was a little girl, but I know my father mourns him." She changed the subject. "When are you leaving for Derbyshire?"
"We're not." Charlie hesitated, then confided, "We didn't get an invitation, and my mother is absolutely livid at the insult."
"But your mother and the Duke of Devonshire seemed like old friends in Ireland, and Will and his sisters accepted your mother's invitation to Chiswick. What has happened?"
"Mother tries to keep it all from me, but I believe I am to blame for the sudden enmity. The Duchess of Devonshire is not pleased that Will wants to court me."
Elizabeth was shocked. Charlie was the epitome of what every _debutante_ should be. Not only was she exceedingly pretty, sweet, and innocent, she was one of the wealthiest heiresses in England.
"She called me a _baby face_. She obviously thinks I'm far too young to become her son's wife. Will sent me a note, asking me to meet him in the park. I hope you don't mind, Elizabeth?"
"Of course I don't mind, but won't you want to be private?"
Charlie blushed. "We've been private too often, I believe."
Will Cavendish spotted the carriage as soon as it turned in to the park. He had practiced what he would say to Charlie several times. The last thing in the world he wanted was to hurt her. When the driver stopped, he rode alongside. He was relieved to see she had Elizabeth with her rather than her maid. He was urbane enough to know that servants could not always be trusted.
"Hello, Elizabeth." His eyes immediately sought Charlie. "I must apologize for my mother's unforgivable breach of manners in not issuing a wedding invitation to your family. She's lived in the country so long she doesn't realize her rustic, provincial ways are unacceptable in London Society."
"It's all right, Will, I understand. It's Mother who is angry."
"And so am I... I only just learned of it, and I let her know exactly how I felt about such a slight. Please forgive me, love?" _God, it's a damn good thing you have no idea of the vitriol that gushed forth from her when I announced that I was serious about you, Charlie. Her words are still ringing in my ears: "The Burlingtons are a family who attract scandal! Both the earl and the countess are morally bankrupt! For years, the woman has conducted a blatant liaison with the Duke of Grafton, while it is common knowledge that Richard Boyle enjoys a physical relationship with his architect, Kent. We 'II not be tainted by them! "_
When Charlie flushed with pleasure at the endearment, a wave of protectiveness swept over Will. She was so innocent it brought a lump to his throat. "Once this wedding is out of the way, and Father and I return to London, I mean to ask your parents for your hand in marriage. My intentions are completely honorable, Charlie, and my father supports me in this, despite what my mother thinks."
"What does she think, Will?" Charlotte asked softly.
It was his turn to flush. "She thinks you are too young for me, Charlie, but we know better, don't we, love?"
She nodded trustingly.
"Elizabeth, may I give John Campbell a message for you?"
"John will be at the wedding?"
"I expect he and his family will be there."
"_Tell him I miss him. Tell him I want him to come home. Tell him I love him_! 'Tell him ... just tell him ... I remember."
In Scotland, John Campbell could not forget Elizabeth Gunning. Asleep or awake, her image haunted him. All during October and early November he and his captains rode over Argyll, through the craggy Grampian Mountains, recruiting troops for Argyll's Highland regiments. It was a race against time before the snows came to block the mountain passes. There was no lack of eager volunteers who weighed the advantages of regular army pay against eking out a living that often verged on starvation, especially during the long, cruel winter months, fast approaching. So Campbell had the task of selecting the fiercest, fittest, and finest men and sending them to Inveraray for a month's training under his father's exacting eye. After that they would winter in Glasgow with other Highland regiments, where they would complete their training.
Long hours in the saddle riding through the majestic mountains gave John much time for thought and introspection. The magnificent vistas of purple mountains made him realize that all this land would one day belong to him. Invariably, whenever he crossed a wild stream where stags watered, he wished he could share its breathtaking beauty with Elizabeth. He never saw a loch without remembering them naked together in the water. The thought triggered his body's response to her and left him with a hungering ache in his groin that sometimes reached his heart.
Cold rain brought back memories of riding to Sundridge with Beth held captive between his thighs, and at night, if they made a campfire to cook or stay warm, the flames conjured visions of him making love to her with his mouth as they lay before the fire. Before he slept, he always fingered the golden curl that lay in his breast pocket. Once sleep claimed him, his dreams were so sensually erotic he awoke with a savage need that felt like torture.
John knew no other female had ever affected him in this way. He told himself it was likely because he had never previously hesitated to slake his passion and rid himself of his sexual energy before it built into an obsession.
John arrived back home at Inveraray Castle the second week in November, in time to settle a mild dispute between his parents. His mother whisked him into her private sitting room, before his dominant father had a chance to influence his opinion.
Mary Bellenden Campbell handed her son the invitation to the Devonshire wedding being held at Chatsworth. "I have to send my response no later than today, and your father is being stubborn."
John grinned. "When was he ever anything else?"
"Well, that's the pot calling the kettle black! You're every bit as stubborn as your wretched father."
"I'm putty in your hands when you flatter me like that." His arm went about her shoulders. "What is it you want me to do?"
"Persuade him to take me to Chatsworth. You go and tell him you'd like to see your friend William, while I accept this invitation and give it to a courier."
He watched her sit down at her desk and pick up a pen. "You are a devious, manipulative woman, pitting a s
on against his father."
She gave him back his words. "I'm putty in your hands when you flatter me like that. Besides, you pit yourself against him on a regular basis... and against my wishes too," she added.
"First I'm stubborn, then I pit myself against your wishes."
She tapped the invitation with a long, elegant finger. "You know, John, you could have married Rachel Cavendish if you'd played your cards right. I believe she had a _tendre_ for you."
He schooled his face in serious lines. "Do you really think so? The thought of marrying Rachel Cavendish never entered my mind."
His mother's mouth curved in an indulgent smile. "Don't mock me. Has the thought of marrying _anyone_ ever entered your mind?"
"How could it not, when you are forever thrusting potential wives upon me?"
"I wish you would be serious, John. You are not getting any younger ... you'll be twenty-nine, or is it thirty, next birthday? By the time your father was your age, he had given me two sons and planted a daughter beneath my heart. As the heir to Argyll, it is your duty to marry and have children."
"I am aware of all my duties, Mother." His tone told her the discussion was over. He changed the subject. "Pen your acceptance. I'll go and persuade Father."
"Christ Almighty, I'm up to my arse in raw recruits. I've no got time fer muckle nonsense like weddings"--Argyll raised a bristling white brow--"unless it's _yours_!"
"Your saving grace is your sense of humor, Father."
"I'm no jesting. I'm serious."
"That's what makes it so bloody funny. Anyway, you know you'll take her to Chatsworth. Why are you pretending otherwise?"
"Ye think Mary Bellenden has me wrapped round her finger?"
_I know she has_. "An old warhorse like you? Of course not! But it does give you pleasure to indulge her upon occasion."
"Why is she so set on visiting the Duchess of Devonshire?"
"Perhaps because as Duchess of Argyll she will put her in the shade? But more likely it's Chatsworth she enjoys visiting, and weddings hold such an irresistible fascination for women."
"They enjoy watching the condemned mon go to his execution!"
"And you wonder why I'm in no rush to put my neck in the noose?"
*Chapter Fifteen*
On November 15 in the ancient church at Eyam near Chatsworth, most of England's and a few of Scotland's aristocratic families witnessed the nuptials, as Rachel Cavendish became the Countess of Orford. Will acted as best man, then joined his friend John Campbell when the wedding party entered Chatsworth for the lavish reception.
"John, I'm so glad to see you. I desperately need your advice."
"First things first, old man." He reached into his pocket and took out a letter for Elizabeth. "Do you have any message for me?"
"Yes. She said, _Tell him I remember_. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense." John gave him the letter. "Give it to Charlie, and she'll pass it along to Elizabeth."
"I will, but therein lies the trouble. Mother threatens to disown me if I continue to see Charlie. She is adamant that I not even think of marrying Charlotte Boyle. She is being a downright bitch about the whole thing," Will said unhappily.
"How could she possibly object to Lady Charlotte?" John was at a complete loss. Charlie was the best marriage prize in England.
"Well, for one thing, she raves on about Dorothy Boyle being an _adulteress_, for God's sake!"
"Well, ruling out adultery would eliminate almost every matron of the _ton_ with eligible daughters. Perhaps if you give her time, you can overcome her objections."
"If I give her time, she'll come up with more ammunition. She's being a bitch, but she forgets that makes me a son of a bitch! I refuse to let her ride roughshod over me."
"It seems like you don't need my advice at all, Will. It is quite obvious you have already made up your mind."
Will grinned sheepishly. "I have. My brothers and sisters are all on my side in this. They have taken to calling me Guts Cavendish, because I dare stand up to Mother. Thanks for listening. I'd better go and play the dutiful son and propose a toast to the happy couple."
As dusk fell on Chatsworth, John walked outside through the vast gardens, now covered with fallen leaves from the trees, and gazed up at the moon. Subdued and reflective, he unsuccessfully tried to ignore the empty ache inside. The Devonshires' objection to someone as noble and wealthy as Lady Charlotte made him realize the futility of expecting the Argylls to accept someone as utterly unsuitable as Elizabeth Gunning.
Elizabeth jumped at the chance to visit Charlie at Burlington House, hoping with all her heart that John Campbell had sent her a message by way of Will Cavendish. She was relieved that Maria showed no interest in joining her, preferring instead to go for a carriage ride with her latest conquest, Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke. He was a Tory politician, and Elizabeth knew that her sister had chosen him to make George Coventry, who was a Whig, madly jealous--or, more to the point, so he would ask her to become his countess.
Charlie had sent the carriage for her, but when Elizabeth arrived she was surprised when her friend, wrapped in her new fur cape, ran out, spoke to the driver, then climbed in beside her.
"I've asked him to drive us over to Burlington Gardens. They've started doing the interiors, and we can be private over there."
Elizabeth saw the pinched look on Charlie's face and felt apprehensive. _John didn't send me a message, and she needs privacy so she can deliver the bad news_.
They entered the magnificent new house, which smelled of damp plaster, and walked past some workmen doing decorative work on the mouldings. When they reached an empty chamber, Charlie handed her the letter.
"Oh, thank you!" Elizabeth whispered John's name in her heart and went weak at the knees. "Did William bring it?"
Charlie nodded and Beth sat down on a window seat to read it.
Elizabeth:
I dare not put my thoughts down on paper. Suffice it to say that I miss you with all my heart. I wish you were here with me in Scotland, for I know how much you love the countryside. The Highlands are far wilder than Ireland but I feel sure you would appreciate their beauty.
I will try to be back in London by Christmas.
Ne obliviscaris!
John
She sighed. "He misses me, and he'll be home by Christmas."
Charlie gave her a tight little smile then said, "Elizabeth--"
"Yes?"
"Um ... how do you like the house?"
"It's absolutely splendid. I love the sweeping staircase we passed. What color will this room be?"
"Daddy says I may choose the colors ... he hinted that Burlington Gardens would be mine when I marry."
"Oh, how wonderful, Charlie!"
"Yes." She bit her lip. "Elizabeth--"
"You want to tell me something. What is it?"
"I... I think I'm with child!" Charlie blurted, her face chalk white. "What am I going to do?" she whispered.
Elizabeth, stunned, stared at her in disbelief for a moment then took her hand as realization dawned that she spoke the truth. "You're going to marry William, of course."
Charlie nodded eagerly. "You were with me, remember, when he said that once his sister's wedding was out of the way, he intended to ask my parents for my hand in marriage?"
"Of course I remember. Have you told Will?"
Charlie's hand went to her throat. "Oh, I couldn't."
"Of course you can! Will is a man, not a boy. He will take care of everything, Charlie. You love each other, and you already have a house. I don't see any insurmountable problem."
"You're forgetting his mother. She hates me!"
"She doesn't know you. Once she does, she will love you."
Charlie shook her head. "I overheard Mother raging over the Duchess of Devonshire's remarks. She called it 'an accursed match' and a '_mésalliance_.' Mother says she's like a relentless steamroller, determined to destroy everything in her path."
"You are shiveri
ng." Elizabeth took her hands and chafed them. "You are icy cold. The house isn't heated. You can't stay here."
They got back into the waiting carriage for the short ride back to Burlington House. "Can you tell your mother, Charlie?"
"No, no, she would run mad."
Beth understood her reluctance; she would never dare confide anything to her own mother. "Then promise me you will tell Will?"
Charlie nodded miserably.
At Devonshire House, William and his father were having yet another serious discussion about the duchess's opposition to her son's union with Lady Charlotte Boyle.
"I've pointed out to her that you are about to achieve the dynastic marriage of the century, but she won't budge!" He threw down the letter he had just received from Chatsworth. "Read it."
William scanned the pages with a growing disgust. "It's filled with self-pity and self-righteousness. Mother is obsessed over some imagined 'wrong' I will do to her with this 'monstrous marriage' !"
The duke downed another whiskey. "Since I can make no headway with her, I don't suppose I can dissuade you, William?"
"Absolutely not! I am as inflexible as she. I am twenty-eight. I am Marquis of Hartington. I insist on my right to marry as I please. Any other mother would be over the moon at such a brilliant match."
Devonshire raised his glass. "I bow to the inevitable--you have my blessing. Just give your mother time to come round."
William immediately dashed off a note to Charlotte's parents.
The following day the Earl and Countess of Burlington greeted Lord Harrington warmly. Seated in their exquisitely furnished formal drawing room, Dorothy Boyle swallowed her rancor over the Duchess of Devonshire's objections, and when William asked for their daughter's hand in marriage, they both assured him that they welcomed him as a son-in-law.