Read Online The Memory of Your Kiss by Wilma Counts - Free Book Online

afternoon, but, having run into a rainstorm, he did not arrive until very late in the evening. The journey had not been a pleasant one, largely because of the weather. The coach had been stuck in mud at one point and Zachary and Charlie had to lend their shoulders to help get it unstuck. Apart from that, traveling gave him too much time to think. Even when he managed to doze, images of Sydney haunted him.
    “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Henry said as Zachary divested himself of a many-caped greatcoat and handed it to a footman.
    “I usually manage to keep my word,” Zachary replied, then was immediately contrite about being so testy. It wasn’t Henry’s fault that Sydney was lost to him. “Sorry. It was a hellish journey.”
    “Do come into the library. I have a really fine cognac here.”
    “Contraband, of course?”
    “Of course.”
    Zachary accepted a crystal glass, inhaled the aroma, and sank intoa comfortable leather chair. He looked around to admire the Paxton library. A painting on the ceiling depicted idealized scenes of a bucolic countryside. A large painting over the fireplace showed a fox-hunt with a Paxton ancestor in the foreground. And books. Hundreds of books—and Zachary doubted the present earl had read more than a handful of them. He assumed a tone of mocking censure. “You are aware, are you not, that you are supporting the enemy when you encourage the smugglers?”
    “Hah! You know as well as I do that half our intelligence about what the infernal French are up to comes via smuggling operations.”
    Zachary laughed. “Trust an Englishman to turn his self-indulgence into a virtuous act of patriotism.”
    Henry shrugged and changed the subject. “I am sorry you were so late. You missed meeting Bella. She and her family were here for supper, but they left over an hour ago.”
    Zachary raised an eyebrow. “An inspection tour?”
    “No. Just a visit, though I did ask her to look over the arrangements for the wedding breakfast to be held in the ballroom.”
    “I take it she approved?”
    “Yes. Bella is not hard to please.” Henry emitted a derisive laugh. “I will not face the sorts of problems in this marriage that plague our prince and future king.”
    “His troubles are largely of his own making. He never has treated his wife with the degree of respect a wife rightly deserves.”
    Henry gave him an oblique look. “Princess Caroline is not blameless, you know. Her behavior often has tongues wagging.”
    “I daresay she retaliates in the only way she knows how—or can—when he so openly flaunts his mistresses.”
    Henry laughed. “You’re right. The prince is not a paragon of discretion.”
    Realizing that this conversation might veer into an area Henry could find uncomfortable, Zachary changed the subject to a safer area of public discourse: the ongoing conflict between the king’s conservative Tory government and the Whigs, supported by the monarch’s rebellious heir.
    Well after midnight they finished the bottle of cognac and Zachary was feeling quite mellow as they said their good-nights. The drink had not truly worked its magic: His last thought before sleep overtook him was of Sydney.
    The next morning Zachary donned his dress uniform and sat in Paxton’s best carriage opposite his cousin who was dressed in the fashionable pantaloons and tailed coat of formal town wear. Zachary thought the care Henry had taken in his appearance might indicate a deal of respect for his Bella beyond what he demonstrated in casual conversation about his bride.
    As the two cousins stood at the altar of the parish church, Zachary looked over the small group assembled to witness the ceremony. He guessed there were, perhaps, thirty people gathered here. Well, Henry had said it was to be a small, private affair. Then his glance fell on two members of the group on the bride’s side of the church. Herbert Carstairs and his mother. What were they doing here? Was Sydney here too?