The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh so hard.” For a reason unbeknown, a lump formed his throat, and he turned to Mackenzie by way of a distraction. “You’ve outdone yourself, my friend.”

“The day’s not over yet, my lord.”

They returned to their seats on the dais. Lillian’s breath still came in ragged pants, and he couldn’t help but imagine a similar sound breezing past his ear as he thrust into her warm, welcoming body.

Willie Wright, the only man ever to wear his hair in braids, stepped forward. “Is it my turn to entertain the master, Mackenzie?”

Mackenzie stood on the dais, arms folded across his chest. “I’ve already told you, Willie, I need to hear your poem before I’ll let you take your turn.”

Lillian nudged Fabian’s elbow. “I should like to hear the poem. I imagine the hours spent at sea would give a man time for reflection.”

Life aboard a ship was far removed from what one read in romantic poems. Food was scarce, illness rife, the weather unpredictable. “We’re talking about Willie. Every word he knows rhymes with ale.” Fabian cleared his throat. It seems he would grant his wife anything. “Let him recite his poem, Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie frowned and shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Willie grinned and bowed so low his chin almost touched his knees. “I can’t take the credit for the words, my lord, but it is a sediment I share all the same.”

“You mean sentiment, Willie.”

“That’s what I said, my lord, sediment.”

Fabian pursed his lips. “Then Lady Ravenscroft is most eager to hear what is in your heart.”

Willie nodded and straightened. “There was an old man who peed in the sea. The sea was too wide, so he peed in the tide, and all the wee fishes crawled up his backside.”

“That’s enough of that nonsense,” Mackenzie roared, jumping down from the dais to shoo Willie back to his seat. “Have you forgotten there are ladies present? Never mind about the wee fishes. You’ll feel my boot up your bahooky if you carry on in that manner.”

Lillian chuckled. “I found it rather amusing. At least it rhymed.”

“Willie meant no disrespect. A man cannot flout the rules of propriety if he doesn't know they exist.” Fabian had lived alongside his men for years. He could tell from the sudden change in the air that they were growing restless. “But I think it's time to send them on their way.”

Fabian cleared his throat and raised a brow at Mackenzie who understood his meaning.

Mackenzie strode back to his seat on the dais and banged his gavel on the block. “It's time to bring the celebrations to a close. Now, will you all join me in raising a toast to Lord and Lady Ravenscroft.”

Everyone came to their feet and raised their tankards and mugs in salute.

“Perhaps his lordship might like to say a few words about his new bride,” Mackenzie said.

Fabian glared. Damn the man. Despite offering many comments to the contrary, Mackenzie knew full well theirs was a marriage of convenience. What the hell was he to say? That he had drugged and kidnapped the lady and bribed her to marry him?

His men’s cheers forced him to stand. He turned to face Lillian, not knowing where the devil to start.

Lillian’s anxious gaze swept over him. He noticed her nibbling the inside of her cheek as she stroked the gold locket. How could he compete with a lost love? What could he say that would soothe the pain he’d caused?

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as a tense silence permeated the room.

“Just raise your glass and sit down.”

The hint of hopelessness in her voice roused the chivalrous knight in him. No, he couldn’t lie to her. And so all he could do was take her hand, piece together snippets of the truth and hope it conveyed a level of affection.

Her fingers were cold, shaking.

“I’ve known Lady Ravenscroft for most of my life.” Those who had sailed the ship to bring her to Raven Island knew only that they were ferrying his bride. Those trusted men who’d taken her from Vauxhall knew of his real motive. “But I remember the first time I saw her, not as a friend of my sister’s or as a neighbour, but someone I admired in her own right.”

Lillian squeezed his fingers as she stared up at him.

“Like the stars that guide us on our perilous voyages, she has always been constant, always true and unswerving in her devotion to others.” He thought of her love for her brother, of the sacrifices she’d made for him, for Estelle. “And so I ask you to raise a toast to my wife. A woman whose outward beauty gives but a glimpse of the magnificence within.”