Verushka stepped from the carriage brushing the embroidered surface of her ivory gown with care. She leaned forward to inspect her nails and a golden tendril of hair fell across her shoulder. There were no lingering remnants of dirt but somehow she still felt tainted. Oxford has got under her skin and 'assassin' was a difficult type of filth to clean.
She tried to push their discussion from her mind with another swift stoke of her dress. Jay stood at her elbow and she took his offered arm with a sewn on smile and crossed the threshold of the Bexley House.
"Are you okay little sis?" He gave her a wry grin.
Verushka stifled a giggle. He had no idea how accurate his joke was but it still lifted her spirits.
The house was adorned as never before. Candelabras threw their brilliant light against the walls, chandeliers hung from high ornate ceilings and flowers entwined the bannisters of the grand staircase with illustrious care. It was the height of the season and Verushka should have pre-empted that the Duchess of Bexley would spare no expense on her son's supposed engagement party. Jay cleared his throat and she moved forward instead of lingering near the doorway like a street urchin begging for alms.
The party had already been well on its way and both host and hostess no longer manned the front door to greet their guests, and yet the moment Verushka was within her old home, the Duchess of Bexley emerged.
"Miss Wyversnstone, my darling girl. I was beginning to think that you would not come to your own engagement."
Verushka curtseyed politely and embraced the older woman. "I am so sorry, Your Grace. I was detained by a run in my dress. It took the seamstress a dreadfully long time to fix."
"Well, perhaps we ought to arrange a new tailor for you." The Duchess smirked.
"No need, I think she has the right of it now." Verushka smiled enigmatically.
"Excellent. I have always trusted your keen judgment."
Jay snorted under his breath. Neither woman were talking about dresses, and the double entendre seemed to delight them beyond a level he could understand.
"Something wrong with your throat, Jacob?" Catherine grinned.
"Nothing a good stiff drink won't fix, Your Grace."
"Would you like me to have one brought to the garden?" The grin of the Bexley Duchess grew wider.
"Pardon me, Your Grace?" Jay's throat clenched. Surely, this matchmaking mama wasn't suggesting he seek out her servant in the garden again.
"This garden." The Duchess indicated the decorated house with a flourish. "I thought we should have a little theme this year. I have brought all the plants in doors, and had several exotic flowers imported."
"It is, erm... very nice." Jay bowed.
"It's beautiful," Verushka beamed. "Thank you."
"Now, let us get you to your ball, young lady. There are several people who are most anxious to meet you, one more especially than the rest." The Duchess took Verushka's hand and enfolded it within her own. "My son tells me that his meetings with you have not been as warmly received as usual. But then again," the Duchess cleared her throat, "anywhere is considerably colder than the back of my pantry oven."
Verushka looked at her ex-employer startled. She wasn't sure if she was being admonished or encouraged to stage a repeat offence in the Bexley kitchen. However she wasn't given much time to linger on the veiled suggestion as they had reached the entrance of the grand ballroom and Verushka's breath left her body altogether.
The room where she once shared her first dance with Cain, bare of anything but a piano and sunlight, was filled with the glittering throng of the ton. Chandeliers threw a soft glow into every corner, lighting up sleeping daisies that wound the outer columns with coiling ivy. The smell of sweet ripened oranges blended with orchids whose long stems sprouted from ornate glass vases that dotted the entire periphery. Brick piles created quiet alcoves that were vined with creeping snow peas and softened by moss. It was impossible for the Duchess to know that such an alcove was where she had her first kiss with the Duke of Bexley and yet its very essence had been re-created.
Cain stood in the centre of the crowd, clothed in midnight blue with golden stitching that caught the reflection of every flame. He stood unmoving, tall and sure, a sculpture of male perfection poured into flesh. When Cain met her gaze across the room, he smiled at her the same way he had the very first day that she saw him stark naked in his room. She knew in that moment that it was he who had blended the ballroom into the warm comfort of the pantry and the memory of their first embrace in the garden alcove, shielded from the rain and unwanted eyes. It was a reminder that under all the intrigue, the spies and the lies was the man who had strode into the kitchen and claimed her heart.
Her feet moved without hesitation, gliding without apparent thought until one slippered foot followed the other and descended the steps. The world could have stopped. The music could have ceased to play and the eyes of every member of the ton could have been on them but she did not know, and what's more, she didn't care. Cain awaited her at the foot of the stairs and lifted an arm. She took it and he led her to the centre of the floor never once looking anywhere other than her eyes of smiling silver.
A waltz began and Verushka didn't need to count this time. With him, the music flowed through her and patterned steps came secondary to the movement of his body in time with hers. A circle of empty space surrounded them as she twirled in the Duke of Bexley's arms. A maid, an orphan, a spy. She was a contradiction of a thousand things but in his arms they became a distant memory. She was simply Verushka. A woman in love.
Chorded strumming softened to the swells of a refrain and Cain lowered his lips to hers in a kiss. A brush of heat in a ballroom and every memory, every whispered word and hidden touch came flooding back. Two weeks of the quiet duke, the dandy who did and said all the correct things to satisfy the people he considered peers, went flying into the fire. Emerging from the flames came the funny, daring, intelligent man who had won her heart.
Cain met her eyes with a probing depth of passion.
"Yes?" he asked as if they were alone in the Queen's courtyard once more.
"Yes," Verushka sighed with a smile. There was never a doubt. For him, her answer would always be yes.
The devilish duke gave her a grin twinkling with mischief, and somewhere a key was turned in a lock connecting her destiny with his. Some people would say that love binds two individuals together, but this was like a door being flung wide open. There was simply no barrier between them. No two hearts more perfectly in unison. So when the veil of his public persona fell back into place she did not mourn the loss of his keen mind and sharp wit. She understood better than she had before that they were both playing a part and it was every bit as important as the one she had performed in Newgate Prison. She could welcome the dandy in public as long as she had her duke in private.
Gasps of shock and titters of gossip were quick to emerge from the lips of their onlookers who had witnessed their very public and scandalous kiss. Verushka looked to Cain for some indication on how to proceed. The Duke of Bexley appeared un-phased and with a nod to his mother the small orchestra in the corner of the room halted and the Duchess moved to stand at his side. Several footman circulated, refilling the glasses of the staring masses with expensive French champagne and Cain seized two flutes brimming with bubbles.
The duke cleared his throat and raised his glass to the light. "It seems I have forgotten to make my toast."
The crowd hummed like bees about a hive ready for the flow of gossip as tasty as honey and Verushka tried to hide her smile. Knowing Cain, he would not disappoint a thirsty crowd.
"My mother tells me that this particular announcement was due at our country party several weeks ago now, but it takes time to ease the heartbreak of hundreds which now litter out great nation." Cain smirked and winked at Verushka who tightened the corners of her mouth in a scowl.
"I am of course talking about Miss Wyvernstone's would-be paramours," Cain continued inclining his head respectfully to her although Verushka couldn't decide if he was paying her a compliment or painting her as a whore. "England's finest noblemen will surely weep today as the brightest diamond of the ton becomes set in the Bexley tiara."
Gasps of disbelief ricocheted off the silk damask walls and Verushka thought she glimpsed Lady Hiltern faint in an unceremonious heap next to her daughters. Verushka caught her eyes mid-roll but the Duchess was either not as quick or not as bothered and expressed her exasperation with a sigh. Verushka giggled behind the rim of her flute. As announcements went it was certainly unforgettable. Everyone was sure to remember the day the most sought after bachelor kissed a veritably unknown debutant in a packed ballroom and branded her a diamond.
"Please, don't mourn your loss," Cain beseeched, circling Verushka at the tip of his outstretched arm. "You have known her but briefly as Miss Wyvernstone and yet in two short weeks she will bear the title of the Duchess of Bexley. That is, with your blessings, Mother?" Cain bowed to his matriarch.
Catherine inclined her head magnanimously. "Nothing would give me greater joy."
The room erupted in murmurs amid clapping and the occasional shout of congratulations. However, Cain was far from done. He gave his new fiancée a wicked grin and knelt before her, surrounded by every elite member of the ton whom his mother could squeeze into her Ballroom. "Miss Wyverstone," Cain verily shouted in her direction to be heard over the mounting excitement as if the gathered throng were witnessing a jousting tournament. "Would you do me the greatest honour and consent to be my wife, in the presence of these, our closest friends and family?"
Verushka barely knew one sixteenth of the assembled crowd but she bit the inside of her cheek and smiled. If her soon to be husband was able to put on such a show it seemed only fair that she meet him halfway and muster up some tears to moisten the moment. Historically, she always teared up when she was exhausted and so Verushka allowed herself to feel every tired, sleep deprived fibre in her body until a shimmering drop fell on one cheek. "Oh, Cain," she sobbed, as if he hadn't just compromised her in front of all these people. Every one of which would have flayed her if he hadn't immediately proposed marriage. "Of course yes, a thousand times yes."
The Duchess rolled her eyes again and Verushka envied her that small freedom of movement.
Then Cain reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a thin golden sheath that looked very much like a blade except it was engraved with the image of a deer and bore a circle cut out of its centre. Cain stood and held it between them on an open palm and Verushka frowned in question.
He ducked his head close to hers so she could feel the warmth of his whisper against her cheek. "It is a bookmark, of sorts. If there was any page I wanted to mark in our story, tonight would be it."
Verushka met his eyes, that she could read now as well as any book. Theirs would be a truly epic tale, and through trauma and triumph Cain would be with her, at the turn of every page. "I love it Cain," she sighed as glasses clinked wildly around them.
"I hope it will be of use, no doubt for that novel you have stashed in your bulging reticule." Cain eyed the purse that hung heavily from her wrist.
"Well, I hadn't finished it, and I thought I might get a spare moment or two in the carriage and-."
Cain stopped her lips with another kiss and the crowd went wild. Passed the point of propriety, the ton whooped and cheered. It was no wonder that the Crimson Guild held them in the palm of their expert hands, when the repressed masses were secretly starving for any hint of sexuality.
Cain deepened his caress, and Verushka had to concede that she really couldn't blame them.
When the Duke of Bexley's showmanship was eventually at an end, the music resumed and couples took their place on the dance floor once again. Cain still held her hand in his, reassuring her that beneath the oozing charm lay someone real, and solid, and at her side.
As the moon rose, the couple circulated the room speaking to all the right people. The Dowager Duchess was ever present and gushing as a proud mother should but Verushka knew those shrewd eyes were coordinating her elevation in society. In two weeks, Verushka would have to prove herself worthy of adopting the Bexley name and become the logical choice to be seated amongst the inner circle of the Queen. So she smiled demurely, laughed when appropriate and appeased every Tory politician whose faces she had memorised.
When the Dowager sent her son in search of a Marquis and directed Verushka to the powder room, the young ex-maid assumed that the many sleepless nights were finally taking its toll on her visage. However as soon as Verushka's hand touched the handle she felt someone seize her arm and pull her inside the dark space. She swung around to face her assailant wielding the bookmark Cain had given her like a dagger and stopped short.
"I'm glad you figured out the other use of my little engagement gift," Cain grinned as he turned a swift key in the lock.
"To disembowel you?" Verushka huffed and slipped the golden shard away. "Honestly, Cain, I could have stabbed you."
The Duke of Bexley chuckled and put his arms around her, drawing her close. "Unlikely. Anyway I thought you would have figured out what my mother was doing. And it's not as if you didn't know this servants' closet was here."
"Umm..," Verushka hesitated looking around the tiny space at the surfeit of brooms that hung from hooks.
"Oh, I forgot, you and your trio never did any work," Cain laughed. "How did you stay employed all this time?
"It's probably because I am so lovable." Verushka grinned.
"I can't argue with that." Cain gave her a warm squeeze.
"Or that I am actually very accomplished as a maid," she rejoined.
"Or," Cain arched a brow. "That you are the daughter of nobility and my mother's old friend?"
"That might have something to do with it," Verushka admitted with a secretive smile.
A swell of laughter bubbled up between them to fill the shadowed confines. When it dissipated silence wrapped them in its sacred space and they paused in the moment, drinking it in. Their world was about to change and the reverberations of her one small 'yes' could be felt even in the dusty corners of a broom closet.
"So, we are getting married," Cain stated softly.
"I guess we are," Verushka murmured.
"It seems hard to believe, doesn't it?"
Verushka paused to draw breath in the stale space, but all she could smell was the heady scent of the man before her. Perhaps that was what true love was like, brightness and beauty in the pallor of everyday.
"Yes," she answered. "And also, no. I feel like this is right. That you were meant for me, and I was always meant for you."
Cain tucked a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. "I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?"
"As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you; but believe me not, and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing."
Cain gaped in shock, his jaw slack with disbelief.
"What?" She smiled. "You aren't the only one who can read Shakespeare."
"Marry me." Cain clutched his heart in affected infatuation.
"I believe I'm already doing that, Your Grace." Verushka twisted her lips in consideration but her eyes sparkled with delight. "I really should be getting back, though."
"Not to that buffoon Lord Norfolk? I saw him weasel his way onto your dance card again."
"No, I think I have promised the next to the Marquis of Elmford." Verushka tried to read the tiny scrawl attached to her cumbersome purse in the dim light.
"Is there any chance you would like me to keep that book you are toting around in your reticule safe until the night is over?"
"No chance at all!" Verushka immediately clutched the heavy bag to her chest. "I wouldn't trust you with my books as far as I could throw you, Sir!"
"But you would trust me with your heart?" Cain smouldered and Verushka was certain the tiny space became at least a degree or two hotter.
"That," she punctuated, "is different."
"And why is that?" Cain pressed her flush against a wall which would have been sensual as hell if there weren't broom bristles scraping against her buttocks.
"Because," Verushka began as Cain lowered his lips to her neck.
"Because?" the duke flicked his tongue against her soft skin.
Verushka forgot about the broom and its offending bristles. The entire closet was probably going to be on fire soon anyhow. "Because you don't give my books back to me. But my heart, well... my heart I don't want back."
Cain stilled. The hard planes of his body tensed and he raised his head, capturing her with his emerald eyes. "In the library of life you have given me your heart and it is the most precious and rare gift that I possess." His words were whispered and urgent and kind. "I will never damage a single page. I know I have always told you that my oath is to the Queen but I lied. My dearest, it is you and only you to whom I pledge my fealty."
He was making a vow in a broom cupboard instead of a church. But then again, their love had bloomed in a pantry instead of a parlour. Their love was back to front and upside down, but perfect in every way.
Cain's chest moved rapidly against hers, deep with each breath as if the words he spoke came at the end of a long and arduous race. Verushka realised her own lungs strained for air against the arches of her boned corset and she supposed it was only apt. Their journey to each other was a tortuous labyrinth of secrets and danger. Was it any wonder that they stood panting on the precipice of forever promising their love?
It was several long minutes before either of them emerged from the closet with lips a little swollen and hair more than mussed. Despite Cain's proficiency with fixing a woman's coiffure which she did not want to question more closely, there was only so much he could do when her pins were scattered all over the dusty floor.
"Now I really do need to find the powder room," Verushka bemoaned.
Cain grinned like a naughty school boy. "Around the corridor, third door on your left."
"Honestly, why didn't you choose a less awkward spot for an assignation?"
"Apparently last time the Duchess of Wyvernstone found you in the pantry. A servant's closet is the only place the ton would not think to venture, and besides, they would need a key. If you would prefer we can organise the next rendezvous in my chamber?" Cain offered her a saucy smile. "I believe you know where to find it."
"Only because I was bringing you breakfast!" Verushka whispered with a scowl, ensuring the hallway was empty of prying eyes and ears.
"Well, feel free to bring me breakfast again anytime." Cain laughed with unencumbered mirth as he ambled back to the ballroom with a self-satisfied swagger.
"Argh!" Verushka grumbled to herself and hastened towards the bathroom. If she didn't love him so much she would surely strangle him. The man was a constant mystery, dandy one moment, duke the next. Sometimes he was so righteous it made her want to scream and other times he put the R in rake. At least life with him would never be boring. Constantly being pulled behind locked doors had its benefits.
Verushka's feet skidded to a halt on the Persian carpet runner.
Locked doors.
Suddenly she knew where Bianca Rinehart's keys lead to. Verushka turned sharply in the direction of the garden. She had to find her brother.
***
If you liked it, V-O-T-E!
***
A/N:
Hello Agents!
Is everyone happy? It has been a long road to unite this very deserving couple. We finally have a true engagement and wedding bells around the corner! But plenty more excitement lurks around every hallway so prepare your heart, mind and tissue box for what's to come. Feel free to speculate, I would love to hear your theories.
#Keeptheovenburning
X Inara
-From the desk of the Duchess