Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles) (14 page)

Not only was no one there to greet them, but Lucinda

could not see a stick of furniture in any direction.

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"Well, what do you think?" Roddy wished to know.

"Of what?" Lucinda asked, feeling more confused than

ever.

"This home."

Lucinda looked around. "Roddy, it's beautiful, but I'm still

not sure what--"

"Have I ever told you that I love you, Lucinda? I mean,

really told you how I felt? I'm not sure that I have."

Lucinda was so dumbfounded by his words that she could

only stare at him while he paced around and spoke.

"It's taken me forever to gain the courage to ask you about

us, and I'm still nervous. It helped to buy this place, but I'm still

uncertain."

"Uncertain over what?" Lucinda asked, wondering if she

had heard him correctly about the purchase of the mansion.

"Uncertain if you'll take me seriously when I ask you... to

be my wife. I'm sure you've noticed a change in me. That was

to help you see where my intentions were headed. Then I

found this house and thought it would be the clincher.

"Now, I still have time to back out of the deal, but if you like

it, it will be ours after we're married."

Roddy stopped then. Lucinda's eyes were swimming with

tears.

"I've loved you for so long, Roddy," she whispered

"As I have you." His voice was just as soft. "Now, what's

it to be, Cinda. You have two questions to answer--yes or

no to my proposal, sloppy as it was, and yes or no to the

house?"

Roddy paused then and took a deep breath. "Please let the

first one be yes, Cinda."

"Oh, Roddy. I don't care where we live."

Roddy's chest heaved with relief for just an instant, and

then he was there, standing before her, his arms reaching to

hold her close. Lucinda's eyes closed when she felt his arms,

and then his lips pressed against her cheek before they met

; own. Lucinda's heart pounded. She was going to marry her

st friend; she was going to be Roddy's wife.

Stacy's second train ride was vastly different from her I first. Then she'd ridden in crowded conditions with the Binks

'and ate the food Hettie had sent with her. Now she was

experiencing a whole new world with her husband They ate

in a private car, had a private sleeping compartment, and not

once did she grow cold or have to clean up after herself. It was

her first taste of life as a duchess, and although Stacy tried to

take it in stride, she knew that she often looked like a child at a

circus.

Tanner seemed greatly amused by her response, but also

touched. He was as tender a husband as Stacy could have

dreamed of, and it seemed that she loved him a little more

with each passing hour. By the time they arrived at the train

station in Middlesbrough, Stacy was floating on a cloud of

adoration.

i Price hired a coach as soon as they disembarked. Within

minutes they were on their way to Morgan.

"Tanner," Stacy spoke when the coach was underway. "My

grandfather is not a wealthy man.",

Tanner looked at his wife's face and felt the familiar

squeezing sensation around his heart. She was infinitely precious

to him. He knew very well that Andrew Daniels was

without substantial means and had already spoken with Price

on the matter. All concerned were to see to it that Stacy was

not made uncomfortable in any way.

"Tanner, did you hear me?" Stacy spoke again when he

remained silent for so long.

"Yes. Does it bother you that your grandfather isn't a

wealthy man?"

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"It doesn't bother me; I grew up that way. I just don't want

you to be, well, inconvenienced"

"Will we have a bed?"

"Of course." Stacy blinked at him in surprise.

"And food to eat?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall be quite comfortable."

Stacy nodded, tucked her arm within Tanner's, and laid

her head on his shoulder with a sigh of contentment--a

contentment that wavered as soon as Stacy and Tanner were

alone in her bedroom. She watched him take in their modest

surroundings, finishing with the small bed.

"I'm sorry, Tanner. I wish the bed were bigger."

"Oh, I don't know," Tanner said calmly. "It means I'll need

to snuggle very close to my wife tonight."

"You mean you really don't mind?"

"Will you mind my snuggling close?" Tanner asked with a

raised brow.

Stacy laughed She darted around a chair and pointed at

him.

"That was not a challenge."

"Challenge or not, this should be an interesting game,"

Tanner countered as he began to stalk her. Just as Tanner was

about to catch Stacy, a knock sounded on the door.

Tanner looked rather perturbed over the disturbance, but

Stacy claimed victory as she ran to answer it.

"Your grandfather is awake now and would like to see

you," Peters told her as soon as she opened the door.

Stacy's heart swelled with pleasure. She had felt crushed

an hour ago when they'd arrived and been told that her

grandfather was sleeping. She had begged them not to disturb

him, but her desire to see him now was so intense that she

ached inside. Unfortunately, Tanner wanted her attention

right now also. Hesitantly she answered, unaware of Tanner's

approach from behind her.

"Peters, please tell my grandfather that I'll be down in a

short while."

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"Make that a few moments," Tanner cut in. Stacy swung

around in surprise. "Lady Stacy and I will be down in a few

minutes."

Peters nodded, and Tanner shut the door on his departure.

"Are you certain, Tanner?" Stacy immediately began. "I

can tell Peters that--"

Tanner silenced her with a kiss.

"We'll go downstairs and see your grandfather. I'm looking

forward to meeting him."

Stacy sighed, and her hand came up to stroke his cheek.

"Thank you, Tanner."

Tanner sighed also, but for another reason. He was not

used to putting his wants aside for others, but the look on

Stacy's face when she'd found her grandfather asleep caused

him to feel unusual compassion.

Tanner kissed Stacy again before taking her hand and

holding it all the way downstairs, releasing her only when

Stacy saw her grandfather and moved to hug him.

"Oh, Papa," was all Stacy could say as he held her. She

always thought him a big man, and he was tall, but after

Tanner'ssolid strength he seemed very thin, almost gaunt. Not

that this mattered to Stacy. She was so content to be with her

grandfather for the first time in months that for the moment

nothing else really mattered.

"Good morning, your Grace," Peters greeted Tanner the

next morning.

"Good morning. Have you seen my wife?" Tanner had

wakened to an empty bed and no sign of Stacy or Rayna. Price

had no information as he dressed, so as soon as he was decent,

he'd made his way downstairs.

"Yes, my lord," Peters answered. "Lady Stacy and her

grandfather have gone fishing. Would you like your breakfast

now, my lord, or directions to the pond?"

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Tanner, an expert at hiding his feelings, was struggling for

the first time in years to keep his mouth closed The man said

his wife had gone fishing. Fishing. His statuesque, lovely bride

was sitting on the banks of a pond, fishing. The idea was

inconceivable.

These riotous thoughts invaded Tanner's mind for only

seconds before he noticed Peters' patient stance, reminding

him that he'd been offered breakfast. He was hungry, but his

curiosity over his wife's fishing won the battle.

"I'll take those directions to the pond," Tanner said softly

and listened intently as Peters spoke. Feeling like a vagabond,

Tanner reached for several biscuits, eating as he walked

toward the pond He believed that his wife really was fishing,

but the novelty of the idea forced a need in him to see for

himself.

"Now that's five to my one," Stacy said with a sigh as

Andrew brought in another fish. "I must have lost my touch."

"Indeed. It's the life of the idle rich that you now lead"

Stacy laughed in delight at the image his words portrayed,

but then she grew very serious.

"It does take a little getting used to."

"I imagine it does. It must also make it hard to come here

with all of our worn surroundings."

"Now that's where you're wrong," Stacy told him sweetly.

"Morgan will always be in my heart, old furniture and all."

"I'm thinking of leaving it to Noel and Elena."

"I think that's very wise, but I hope you're not in any big

hurry to leave us." Stacy's voice had been light, but Andrew did

not reply.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Stacy asked

now, her voice fearful.

"It's nothing you don't already know. I just don't know

what I'll have to live for if I lose my eyes completely."

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"Oh, Papa," Stacy's voice was soft with pain. "I won't tell

you I understand because I'm sure I don't, but please know

how much I need you. If you can't keep going for yourself,

then keep going for me. I can't stand the thought of your being

gone."

Andrew took his gaze from the pond and stared intently at

'Stacy's tear-filled eyes. He was surprised to see those tears; he

could hardly remember her ever crying. In fact the tears did

I not spill but sat pooled in her great blue eyes. Only one

thought came to the old man. Was there a sweeter woman in

all of England? Andrew was sure there was not. After a moment

he reached and patted the hand she'd lain on his arm.

"Worry not, my dear. I shall keep on, if for no one else,

| then for you."

Stacy hugged his arm and brushed a quick hand across her

eyes. They fished in silence until Stacy felt a mighty tug on her

line. She stood with a shout, as did Andrew to watch as she

worked the line and brought in the biggest catch of the day.

This was the scene upon which Tanner walked. He stood

transfixed as he watched his wife laugh and unhook a good-sized

trout from her line. Before he was noticed, he had time

to take in the whole scene.

Andrew was bundled from head to foot, but Stacy was

wearing only a dress, a dress that had been patched many

times over and was too tight across her bosom. He wondered

how many years she'd had it. Her hair was also coming down

around her face, and there was a smear of mud under one eye.

"Oh, Tanner," Stacy suddenly spoke, and Andrew turned.

'I didn't hear you come up."

Tanner hated the uncertainty he heard in her voice. His

own voice was meant to soothe as he smiled and came forward

"So when do we eat this catch, for breakfast or lunch?"

"Well..." Stacy began, still looking uncomfortable with a

fish in her hand and a look of stark vulnerability on her face.

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"We'll eat them for lunch," Andrew interjected, not noticing

Stacy's hesitancy, or choosing to ignore it. "Why don't you

run ahead to the kitchen, Stacy, and see that Mercy gets these."

"Yes, Papa," Stacy answered and moved to obey him, but

Tanner caught her hand when she would have passed by him

in silent embarrassment. He stood staring into her eyes. Stacy

glanced over to see that her grandfather had begun to fish

again, his back to them, so she spoke softly for Tanner's ears

alone.

"You must be wondering what kind of woman you married"

"As a matter of fact I am."

Stacy looked crushed.

"I'm probably going to need the next 50 years to decide

which woman I like better--the woman who has a wardrobe

full of silks and satins and usually smells of flowers, or the

adorable urchin before me, whose cotton dress looks like a

rag and who smells of fish."

"You're really not angry or ashamed of me?"

"I'm furious and my reputation is shot." Tanner's tone was

dry.

Stacy chuckled low in her throat and went on her way.

Tanner sent her off with a smack to her backside and then

joined the older man on the banks. Stacy's pole was nearby,

but Tanner did not reach for it. Fishing held no interest for

him.

"You don't fish?" It was the first time Andrew had talked

with Tanner alone. Tanner genuinely liked his wife's grandfather

and answered easily.

"No, sir, I don't."

"How about hunting?"

"Yes, I hunt. Do you?"

"Not with my eyes growing so unpredictable. My younger

cousin, Noel, hunts. If you've a mind to be here awhile, you

could go with him. He'd know all the best areas."

They were silent as Andrew pulled in another fish. Tanner

watched him for a time, but then his gaze strayed across the

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pond to the beautiful area beyond. While Tanner studied the

scape, Andrew, whose eyes were clear that day, studied Tanner.

There was plenty of temptation at a time like this to give

speeches, but Andrew knew they would do no good. Either

Tanner was going to take good care of Stacy or he wasn't, and

Andrew sincerely doubted that anything he said would make a

difference.

What he'd seen so far looked good, but Stacy had been

raised in a different world, and her level of trust was very high,

even when it ought not to be. As a duke, Tanner was certainly

used to having his own way, and Stacy was a people pleaser.

The old man shrugged mentally. It was out of his hands. As

much as he'd like to wring a promise out of this young duke

that his granddaughter would be well cared for, he knew

better than to even try.

As it was, Tanner began to speak, cutting into Andrew's

musings. He extended an invitation to Winslow, if ever Andrew

wanted to make the trip, and then proceeded to tell him of the

house and grounds. By the time they returned to Morgan for

breakfast the older man was feeling much better about this

young man.

In the next ten days that they visited, Andrew was given a

measure of peace concerning Stacy's happiness. It wasn't

anything specific, but Tanner proved repeatedly in the little

things he said and did that he cared deeply for his new wife.

Because Andrew didn't know when Stacy would come

again, the goodbyes at the end of their visit were harder than

the ones in the spring had been. But from what he could tell,

he believed Tanner was going to do right by Stacy. Beyond that

Andrew could only hope.

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standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, Stacy

was pleased that Tanner had warned her before they arrived.

This room, the suite actually, was as massive as everything

else at Winslow.

On one end were Stacy's spacious sitting room and large

dressing room. From Stacy's tour, she knew that Tanner's

sitting and dressing rooms were of the same size. Centered

between these four smaller rooms was the bedroom itself.

The master bedroom was a room in which all the furniture

played court to the huge bed that stood against the main

wall. The headboard was over six feet high with pillared

columns on the two corners. It was ornately carved in a rich

cherry wood and inlaid with mahogany and ash. Large windows

with beautiful smokey-gray hangings looked out over

the perfectly manicured acres of Winslow.

If she leaned very close to the glass she could see the other

wings, which housed dozens of rooms: bedrooms, private

sitting rooms, small dining areas, a multitiered library, a music

room, studies, lovely galleries, servants' quarters, and more

than Stacy could keep track of.

The kitchen was at the rear of Winslow, off the first floor.

Although Stacy had only gained a peek, her impression of hundreds

of square feet of floor space and gleaming pots hanging

and tables spread out was permanently stamped in her mind.

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thoughts spun as she remembered the large number of

Itehen staff alone. How would she manage all of this?

Stacy shook her head as the direction of her thoughts

itened to overwhelm her, and was relieved to see Rayna

me to the edge of the room.

"I have your correspondence here, my lady."

"Oh," Stacy spoke with surprise, not having expected this.

['Thank you, Rayna." She took the letters and glanced through

jthem.

"I believe your aunt has been in touch with you," Rayna

spoke respectfully. "She wrote to me also. If after you read

your letter, my lady, and like the idea--my answer is yes. If

there is nothing else, I'll continue your unpacking."

Stacy nodded, feeling confused as Rayna walked away, but

she swiftly turned her attention back to the small pile of

letters in her hand. After walking into her sitting room, she

made herself comfortable in a chair and began to read. The

first letter was from Lucinda. Stacy's eyes widened on two

occasions, first when she wrote that Rayna could stay with her

if the situation was suitable, and then again when Lucinda told

of her upcoming marriage to Roddy.

Stacy's eyes slid shut in rapture at the latter news. They

were so perfect for each other, and Stacy knew they loved one

another deeply. A small smile played around the corners of

her mouth when she considered the fact that she had probably

helped things along when she'd talked with Roddy in the

carriage. Stacy chuckled softly over how much fun it was to be

a matchmaker.

The next letter was from a woman named Chelsea Gallagher,

a neighbor apparently, and one whom Stacy hadn't

met. She wrote to welcome Stacy to the area and to offer her

congratulations. Chelsea also expressed her wish to meet

Stacy soon.

Stacy pondered for a time as to whether she had seen this

woman at a social gathering or at the wedding and decided

that she simply couldn't recall. With a resigned shrug she

opened the last note--it was from Sunny Hawkesbury. Sunny

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wrote to ask if she and her sister-in-law, Chelsea Gallagher,