Ripe for Pleasure

CHAPTER 36   



Leo spread the rubbing of the statue’s engraving across the floor and shooed Pen away from it. He’d brought it with him from town, but he was damned if he could make it out. The dog huffed at him and crossed the room to throw herself down at Viola’s feet.

Viola absently rubbed the dog with her foot as she paged through the cache of letters. They’d been making a detailed study of them together during the run-up to the wedding, but so far they’d come up with nothing new. She set the last one aside and turned to her notes. “So we know Mr. Black, owner of Dyrham, fled to America with the money your grandfather gave him for the property. He would hardly have needed it if he’d had the prince’s treasure.”


“And we know Mr. Connall, owner of number twelve at the time, was adamant about leaving it hidden and holding it in trust. We also know he died shortly afterward, and the house was sold to pay his bills. So his widow must not have known about the treasure either.”

Viola blew out her breath, setting her fringe dancing. “And then there’s Mr. Thaddeus, purported guardian of the money. Do you think he could have taken it?”

“Well, if he did, we’ll never find it. But from the tone of the comments about him, I’d wager he wasn’t the type to abscond with what was clearly a sacred trust. Did you find anything that sheds any light on where the money might have been hidden?”

She shook her head and tossed her notes down atop the pile of letters. “No, and it’s quite irritating, too.” She stretched and wandered across the room. She stopped behind him, hands on his back, chin resting on his shoulder as she peered over it. “Any luck with the inscription?”

“Well, I’ve ascertained that it’s in Latin. Not that it was a large strain upon my mental capacity to do so. I think the first word is either sp   s or spe   , but the last one is hopelessly degraded.”

“What did you say?” She stiffened, raising her head to study the inscription more closely.

“That the first word is hope.”

She shook her head, as though trying to clear her thoughts. “No, the other bit: hopelessly. Hopeless. Sp   s, spem, spe   , sp   .” She ran off the declensions as though responding to a don. She circled the paper on the floor, then stopped and shook her hands out. “I can almost see it. It’s maddening. I know it means something…”

Leo nodded, well acquainted with the sensation of knowing you had the answer but being unable to quite get hold of it. “It will come to you later.”

She laughed and nodded. “In the middle of the night.”

“Or while riding, or in the bath.”

“At whatever moment is most inconvenient. Yes, that’s how my mind works as well.” Viola shrugged. “No point torturing ourselves over it. Shall we go for one last ride before our friends and family descend upon us?”

“You mean before we throw the foxes among the hens? By all means, let’s. Run up and change, and I’ll have the horses saddled.”

Leo wandered slowly out to the stable block and stood throwing a stick for Pen while Meteor and Oleander were saddled. Viola came running down the path as the girths were being checked, skirts pinned under her elbow.

Leo tossed her up into the saddle, letting his hands linger on her hip and legs as he helped settle her in. “You know, the idea of your friends, my friends, and my family sharing the same roof for even a single night makes me quake with horror and anticipation.”

She smiled, eyes filled with glee. “Afraid our wedding breakfast will turn into a bacchanal?”

“The breakfast? No.” He swung up onto Meteor and brought the grain-high horse under control. “The night previous…” He let the comment hang as he imagined his friends pursuing hers through the corridors of the house while his parents shut themselves in their room and died of laughter. It was just the sort of thing his mother would appreciate as a very good joke.

“As long as there are no duels, and no one mistakes your sister for one of my friends—which surely isn’t possible, as your friends all know your sister, correct?—I think we should be fine.”

“We’re exceptionally lucky that Augusta is breeding and not feeling up to the trip.”

“Aren’t we though.” Viola tossed him a sly grin over her shoulder. “But I can’t help wishing we’d got to see your brother force her into the church.”

“You are a monster. Do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been called worse, by you if memory serves.” She winked, and Oleander shot out of the stable yard, shoes ringing on stone like bells.

The scent of orange blossoms filled Viola’s head as she stood before the altar. Only the first few pews were filled, Leo’s family in the fore, their friends forming a slightly raucous crew behind them.

The spangled net shivered as she took a deep breath. She felt oddly overdressed in the gown the duchess had chosen for her. Like an impostor.

Lord Leonidas kept a firm grip on her hand as they said their vows, as though he knew she might bolt. He held her gaze, his own sincere, both eyes heavy with intention.

Whispers and giggles filtered through the haze that seemed to surround her. Her friends had arrived in force, making up for the fact that she had no family to support her, and they seemed to be enjoying the occasion immensely. There was a burst of laughter when the vicar had recited the part about declaring impediments that only died down when the duke cleared his throat loudly, and with clear implication of dire consequences were his warning to be ignored.

Leo dipped his head slightly, a slight smile hitching up one side of his mouth, and she realized she was supposed to be responding. Her skin burned. The spangled net itched where it touched her skin. She pressed her foot down hard on the coin Lady Beau had slipped into her shoe for luck.

“I, Viola Elizabeth Whedon, take thee, Leonidas Roibert Vaughn, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey.” Leo smirked as she hit obey, both eyes teasing her. She raised her brows and finished: “Till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The vicar nodded approvingly and continued with the ceremony, the words falling from his lips by rote. Another guffaw flickered through the crowd as Leo slipped the ring onto her finger and the words with my Body I thee worship passed his lips. And then they were kneeling, and the final prayer was being said over their heads.

She was married. The bubble of panic that had been growing in her chest exploded. A deep breath did nothing to calm her nerves. Her vision wavered, going black for a moment, and she struggled to keep from fainting. If she had the vapors she’d never forgive herself. Leo squeezed her hand and helped her to her feet.

Hope. That’s what marriage was about. Hope. Sp   s, spem, spe   , sp   . Her heart slowed, and she was finally able to catch her breath.

Viola stopped dead in her tracks, causing Leo to do likewise. He pushed her back into motion, the hand at the small of her back propelling her forward. As they exited the church, his lips brushed her ear. “Is everything all right, Vi?”

Viola nodded, allowing herself a grin of pure delight as her pulse sped for an entirely different reason. She squeezed his arm as their friends cheered them on. Leo handed her into the carriage, smiling, but with a bit of concern hovering about his eyes.

He climbed in after her, his weight causing the pretty little open coach to rock like a skiff pushing off from shore. “Vi?”

“I know where the treasure is.”

His brows flew up. “Shall we leave our guests to their own devices and proceed directly to town?”

Viola held her tongue firmly behind her teeth. The secret knowledge burned within her chest like a banked fire. “If I’m right, it’s been safely hidden for nearly forty years. It can wait a few more weeks, or until spring. It can wait however long you can wait.”

“What? Not even a hint? You’re my wife. You just swore to love, cherish, and obey.”

She smiled and shook her head.

“You’re really not going to tell me?”

His look of feigned indignation set her laughing. His mouth quirked up, and he threw himself back on the squabs with an exaggerated sigh.

“You couldn’t possibly have intended to hold me to obey.”

“I suppose not.” He leaned close, rubbing his face in her hair, the tip of his nose pressed against the sensitive skin behind her ear. “It’s not your strong point, after all, but I’ll have cherish and love by all that’s holy.”