Natalya (42 page)

"Yes," he acknowledged in a muffled voice.

"Once Grey has gone home to get his divorce, we will be truly free. You haven't forgotten our dream? Don't you want to marry me any longer?"

"Oh, my darling," David said passionately, "you know that I do!"

Slipping one sleeve down, Francesca bared her breast. "Then you haven't any choice, have you? Say yes, my angel, and you may have all of me, for the rest of your life."

"Yes," he breathed.

"I'm not certain I heard you, darling."

"Yes! Yes, I'll do it!"

"That's better." She offered him her taut, rouged nipple, and he took it eagerly into his mouth. Francesca dropped her head back and allowed herself a secret smile. "Much better...."

* * *

"Talya?" Kristin poked her head into her mother's dressing room. Clad in a blue-and-white-striped round gown, a short blue spencer, and a chip-straw bonnet with striped ribbons, she looked fresh and lovely. "There you are!"

"I was just looking for a bonnet of Maman's to wear today. I am riding into Philadelphia, and don't want anything too large for fear it might come loose in the wind." Wearing only a chemisette and petticoat, Natalya turned from the shelves lined with Caro's stylish hats and held up a small pale gray bonnet lined with rose sarsenet. "This is perfect! I had hoped she didn't take it with her."

"It feels odd not to have them here, doesn't it?" Kristin said wistfully. "Hollis has asked me to visit Bartram's Botanical Gardens with him. He's bringing a basket lunch for us to share on the banks of the Schuylkill. Do you think Maman would approve?"

"Why would she not?" Natalya exclaimed, delighted. "Krissie, I can't tell you how pleased I am that you are keeping company with Hollis Gladstone. I like him very much."

Blushing uncertainly, Kristin replied, "I find that I like him myself, more and more. And, Talya, he likes
me,
not as an ornament, but as a person! He seems to understand me, and I can speak frankly to him, which is very gratifying."

"Then you've recovered from your infatuation with Grey St. James?"

"That horrid, rude man? I've forgotten him completely!"

Rather taken aback, yet relieved, Natalya kissed her sister and wished her a happy outing. Alone again in the familiar dressing room, she looked around and thought of her mother. Only one day had passed since Alec and Caro had left for Connecticut, but it seemed much longer. Natalya's eyes misted as she remembered her mother's parting words, spoken as she leaned from the carriage window and reached out to caress her elder daughter's cheek. "I know that you will be changed when we return, and I am glad for it. If you listen to your heart, darling Talya, and remain true to yourself, the future will unfold as it is meant to."

A noise from the hallway broke into Natalya's reverie and she returned to her bedchamber to see the hall door opening.

"There you are, Charlotte!" she exclaimed, smiling as her maid entered the room. "I thought perhaps you'd gotten lost."

"Aye, I nearly did, it's been so long since you've had need of me," the girl replied sulkily, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug as she approached her mistress. In her arms she carried a lovely riding gown of rose linsey-woolsey finished up the front with dove-gray braiding. "I don't mind telling you that I've never been treated this way before. In his lordship's house, I was respected and valued. Everyone knew that I was one of Mrs. Thistle's best maids." Charlotte fairly scowled as she repeated, "Everyone knew! There are rules in England, you know, but I can see that you don't hold with such over here. You'd look after yourself if it weren't so bloody difficult to fasten the backs of your gowns, and once I even peeked in from the corridor and saw your sister attending you! How d'you think that made me feel?"

Natalya tried to look sympathetic. "Charlotte, I must be honest with you." She held up her arms as the maid slipped the habit over her head. "We do things differently here. I've never really had a maid of my own, although I could have, because I find it simpler to look after myself. It has nothing to do with my regard for you or your abilities, Charlotte, so you mustn't take offense...."

Natalya paused as a thought struck her. There was a hierarchy among the servants even at Belle Maison, and she had unwittingly made it difficult for Charlotte to assume her rightful position as ladies' maid by not keeping her occupied with tasks to perform. "I am sorry if I've been thoughtless... but I'm not certain I want to change," she said. "There will always be duties for you here, but I doubt that I would ever want to have you dancing attendance upon me."

"I see." Charlotte pressed her lips together and fussed with her mobcap. "You've made yourself quite plain, mistress. Perhaps I should seek employment elsewhere."

Natalya turned back from the mirror in surprise. "If you feel that strongly about it, perhaps you should, for your own happiness must come first. I do want you to know, however, that I shall always be grateful for the care you gave me when I fell ill during our voyage to America. And if you do decide to leave, I shall miss you, Charlotte."

"I appreciate that, mistress, but you don't
need
me any longer." Looking downcast, the girl walked slowly toward the door. "I believe I'll go into the city today if there is nothing more you require of me."

"That sounds like a splendid idea, for it is a beautiful day! Do avail yourself of my carriage. I am planning to ride myself."

"That's kind of you, mistress, and I'm grateful."

Charlotte Timkins closed the door and stood in the corridor for a long moment. Hesitantly she reached into the deep pocket of her apron and drew out a folded piece of parchment covered with writing in a swirled hand. "At least there's someone who needs me," she muttered despondently, then set off to prepare for her excursion to Philadelphia.

* * *

Grey St. James was sitting at his desk in the sun-drenched study when Jasper Speed appeared in the doorway. The manservant noted that his master's dark head was bent over the piece of paper on which he was writing, so he cleared his throat discreetly and waited.

As Grey dripped hot wax onto the folded note and sealed it with his ring, he said quietly, "Yes, Speed?"

"I believe that you may have a visitor, sir. She is stabling her horse at the moment, and—"

"Is it my wife?" His eyes like sharpened steel, Grey rose to his feet in one fluid movement and strode to the garden doors before Speed could reply. There he beheld Natalya walking from the stable. It was as if the golden sunlight shone only upon her, and she was radiant.

Speed knew that his master had seen her, for the taut lines of his face softened, his gaze warmed, and a smile played over his mouth. In that moment Speed knew the truth. "I take it, sir, that this visit is not altogether unwelcome?"

"Hmm? Oh, quite right, Speed," he said, glancing back distractedly. "Not unwelcome in the least."

When Natalya reached the edge of the garden, Grey went out to greet her. "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked, with just a touch of irony.

"I shan't be coy," she replied gaily. "I came to see you because I missed you. You've missed me as well, haven't you? It's all right, you can admit it; it's written all over your face."

An unfamiliar sensation of joy swelled within him as he clasped her fingers in his strong, brown hands. "You're very brash today, minx."

"Yes, I am, and I'm enjoying it immensely! Will you give me luncheon? I find that I have the most prodigious appetite of late."

Grey gazed down into her thick-lashed eyes, twin jewels of sparkling turquoise, and surrendered to her magic. "Come inside, Miss Beauvisage, and we shall see if we can discover a way to appease your hunger."

She loved the fond, mocking tone of his voice, loved the feel of her hand tucked in the crook of his masculine arm, loved the way his eyes crinkled slightly in the sunlight as they turned back toward the house. No detail escaped the embrace of Natalya's love. When they stepped into Grey's study and she spied Jasper, the light of her smile took him in, too.

"How good it is to see you again, Speed! It's quite apparent that you are well. Laviolet's cooking must agree with you."

Flushing, Speed glanced down at his expanding waistline, then chuckled. "Indeed, you are correct, Miss Beauvisage. Soon I shall be forced to have my clothes let out." He took a breath and added, "I hope you will not think me presumptuous for saying so, but you are looking extremely beautiful, and it is a great pleasure to have you visit us."

"Miss Beauvisage is an ardent admirer of presumptuousness, my dear Speed. It is second only to her love of audacity and high drama, so you can never put a foot wrong by behaving presumptuously toward her," Grey said, devils dancing in his eyes.

"Pay no attention to him," Natalya declared as she cuffed Grey's arm. "He is very bad, is he not? You, on the other hand, are terribly kind—and an estimable gentleman in all aspects. Grey is fortunate to count you as a member of his household."

Speed's face was as red as his hair and he was quite speechless as he watched his master glower at his guest. Clearly their relationship had progressed far beyond that which he would have believed possible of so detached and dispassionate a man; for even as he arched a black brow at her, it was obvious that they were engaged in a sort of love play.

"If you have no further need of me, sir..." Speed mumbled, backing toward the door.

Dragging his eyes from Natalya's, Grey said, "Wait. I have an errand for you." He crossed to the desk and picked up the letter he had been writing. "Take this to my lady Altburne immediately and tell her that I require a response. Do not leave without her written reply. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Speed had gone pale now, for he realized that his master had taken Natalya into his confidence. Shocked beyond words, he exited with the letter in his grasp.

"What a sweet man," Natalya said, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and lifting it from her honey-hued curls.

"Speed has become something of a friend as well as a manservant," Grey acknowledged. "I'm quite fond of him. Did you know that he lost his wife not long ago? He's the son of my former manservant, who took another position while I was in France. Speed was a farmer until his wife died in childbirth, followed by the baby boy. He needed a change, and I suspect that he viewed me as a worthy distraction."

"Poor man!" Natalya said sadly.

"I'm sure he wouldn't want your sympathy, minx. He's happy now, I think, and lives in the present rather than the past." His face darkened as he added, "Which is what I intend to do myself just as soon as this matter with Francesca is resolved."

"Will you tell me what has happened? What did you write to her?"

"Bloody
nothing
has happened," Grey replied in a hard voice. "She hasn't responded to my first letter, so I wrote today to inform her that I will visit tomorrow at five o'clock and expect to find her at home."

"Well, that's good news," Natalya rejoined cheerfully. "You're free today and doubtless yearning for something to take your mind off your troubles." She touched a finger to her breast. "I am at your service, sir!"

"Are you indeed?" There was an undercurrent of amusement in his tone, but the expression in his eyes was far more complex. Slowly he lifted Natalya's hand and kissed the palm with lips that burned her tender flesh. "Let us visit Laviolet in the kitchen and see what she has to feed you."

"Are you not hungry also?"

Still holding her hand, he led her across the hall, murmuring, "Rather; but I doubt that food can satisfy me this afternoon...."

Chapter 27

May
17, 1814

Sitting on a stool next to Grey in the sun-washed kitchen, Natalya felt richly content. The long bleached table, accented by a glazed jug of blue French irises, was covered with dishes of food. There was a bowl of sliced bananas, melon, strawberries, and oranges all mixed together, a freshly baked loaf of spiced honey bread, a cold salad of shrimp, scallops, peas, and red peppers tossed with a creamy dill dressing, sweet potato pudding, an okra soup that Laviolet had just finished, wild blackberry pie, and a bottle of dry Vouvray wine.

Laviolet stood across the table preparing a leg of lamb for supper, smiling to herself as she pretended not to watch Grey and Natalya. They were eating and chatting amiably together, their hands brushing occasionally. It might be whispered about the house that Laviolet's employer was a libertine, but those days were clearly over. Grey St. James was in love; as besotted as the girl, if that was possible!

"I couldn't eat another bite," Natalya announced at last, glancing down rather sheepishly at her half-f plate. "I think I may have overestimated my capacity, but who could blame me? Everything looked so tempting and tasted sublime. Laviolet, you must not repeat this, but I am beginning to suspect that you are an even better cook than our own Hyla DuBois."

"When we are happy, all food tastes good," Laviolet replied, with quiet pleasure.