Virginia Henley (35 page)

“Of course not, sweetheart. So long as the liquor flows, your guests will be happy. We won’t start the entertainment until you come down.”

When she was alone she picked up her child and nestled him against her. He nursed hungrily and she gazed at the robust child with wonder. He looked exactly as Julia’s baby had, with the stamp of O’Reilly all over him. He closed his eyes and his long black lashes made shadows on his cheeks. She went quietly back into the larger bedroom and poured some scented water from the ewer to bathe her hands and face. She looked toward the baby’s room and told herself over and over that she had done the right thing in marrying Charles. She picked up the lacy nightgown that had been put ready on the bed and replaced it in the bureau. Instead she took out a more modest one of heavy satin and put it on her pillow.

She went back downstairs to the evening’s entertainment. It was all a colorful blur to Kitty. The music, the dancers, the costumes were all a noisy jumble; however, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Everyone came indoors when Mrs. Collins was ready to sing, and as Charles had hoped, the crowd quickly became bored, and after three selections some of the guests began to take their leave.

By ten o’clock the last guest had departed, and Charles took Kitty by the hand and led her upstairs. Katie came out of the dressing room when she heard them. “The baby is asleep, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Katie. I’m sorry you missed all the merriment. It was very kind of you to stay with him.”

As soon as the door was closed Charles picked up Kitty and swung her into the air. “You were magnificent, my darling. Everyone loved you! I’d swear you were born to the purple.”

She blushed vividly and murmured, “Please, I must check on the baby.” She hurried into the dressing room and Charles followed her. She stood gazing down at the child and said wistfully, “He’s asleep.”

“And you’d rather he was awake? Well, go on, wake him up and say hello.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t disturb him for the world,” she said quietly.

He took her hand and led her back into their bedroom. He sat down in a large, comfortable armchair but kept hold of her hand. She stood before him with downcast eyes, for all the world like a virgin to the slaughter.

“The name Drago is Latin for dragon. Do you think me a dragon, Kathleen?”

“No, I’m not afraid of you, Charles,” she said very meekly.

“Then you’re just apprehensive about this business of sleeping with me?”

She nodded her head, miserably. He pulled her into his lap.

“My darling, don’t be afraid. I promised to cherish you, and I shall. I’ll always be gentle with you. I promise never to hurt you in any way. Look at me, Kathleen. Ah, that’s better. I love you with all my heart.” His lips brushed her hair and he held her to his heart. She was beginning to feel better. His arms were so protective and comforting.

“I’m just nervous. I’m sorry I’m being so silly.”

“It’s perfectly understandable. You’re not in the least silly, but I suspect you’re worn out from the rabble we’ve been entertaining.” He sought her lips, and when she didn’t pull
away, he was encouraged to kiss and caress her as he had longed to do for weeks.

“Now, the first thing we have to do is get you out of this uncomfortable gown. Turn around, love.” She turned her back to him and he undid all the little buttons down the back. “You need something to make you relax. I’ll just go down and get you a glass of wine. Put your nightgown on and slip into bed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

She had worried so much about undressing in front of another man, but it had been accomplished without any embarrassment. Her breasts were very large and firm at the moment, and she had no idea how beautifully they were revealed in the satin gown. Charles was back before she was in bed, so she quickly slipped under the covers, but not before he had taken in every detail.

“Here, darling, this will make you sleep.” He turned the lamps low and undressed quickly. Kitty averted her eyes and drank her wine. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

He took the empty glass from her fingers and set it aside. Then he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her breasts.

“You’re incredibly lovely. I’ve longed to hold you like this since the first time I saw you.”

He kissed her slowly and made love to her so gently it wasn’t an ordeal for her after all. Later, when he was asleep, she half smiled at the complete power she had over him. She would have to be very careful never to hurt him. Her heart ached for betraying Patrick. She closed her eyes to shut out the guilt she felt.

Charles slipped from the bed early in the morning and came back with a breakfast tray. “Sit up and see what I’ve brought you.”

“Mmmm, I can smell chocolate.”

He took a long envelope from the tray and held it carefully.

“I want to give you your ‘morning gift.’”

“What is a ‘morning gift’?” she asked.

“It’s an ancient tradition. When a husband is pleased with his bride, he gives her a ‘morning gift.’ You please me very much.”

She smiled at him gently.

“At first I thought of giving you jewelry, but that’s such an ordinary gift. I decided to give you something that would be more meaningful to you.” He held out the envelope.

“What is it, Charles?”

“It’s the deed to one of my Irish estates. It’s yours free and clear, to do with as you wish. You mustn’t save it for Charles Patrick, because he will get all of my lands. This is yours to keep or to sell, or even to give away, if it so pleases you.”

“Why, I … I don’t know what to say. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely sure.” He laughed to lighten the mood. “Now you can leave me if you want to. You’re not dependent on anyone anymore, not even me.”

She was crying and in a moment he was in bed with her, holding her and laughing. He tipped back her head and kissed her.

“Charles, the servants will see us,” she protested.

“Mmmm, I hope so,” he murmured against her neck.

Much later, when she was alone, she vowed that she would be a good wife to Charles. She knew it would take an extraordinary effort on her part to fulfill the role of a duchess. She would start by putting away her tarot cards. She would help her husband make decisions about their son and their life and stop consulting the cards every time she had a decision
to make. It would never do for her to go about telling fortunes now that she was married to a duke. She wanted him to be proud of her and swore she’d make every effort to be a lady.

Patrick was nearing Bagatelle Plantation at last. He regretted his decision to ride. The heat was unbearable; he’d never been so affected by it. A wave of dizziness swept over him. He steadied himself with his knees and wiped the sweat from his eyes. As he came into view of the plantation, he sagged with relief. He’d been in the saddle for two days and every muscle in his body ached. He dismounted awkwardly and entered the house.

He knew at once that something was wrong. He could not identify what it was he saw in the faces of the house servants —fear? Jacquine greeted him with a brilliant smile, but her eyes were filled with compassion for him. He walked toward her with a sense of impending doom. “Patrick, sit down. I have some shocking news for you.” He sat down and waited.

“A young woman came looking for you. I know it was someone very special to you called Kitty. When she arrived she was very sick—boat fever, I believe—anyway, I did everything I could to save her, but it was hopeless from the beginning.”

He laughed. “Kitty? Here? That’s impossible! Where is she?” he demanded.

“I told you, Patrick, it was hopeless. She died from the fever.”

“It wasn’t Kitty. There’s been some mistake, some mixup!” he denied quickly. “It’s not true, you’re lying!” he shouted.

Without a word she turned quietly and went upstairs.
When she returned, she held out the traveling bag containing Kitty’s belongings. He snatched it from her and rummaged inside. His mind denied these things belonged to Kitty, but when his fingers closed on the pale lavender silk, he knew. He breathed in her fragrance deeply, and the delicate details of their lovemaking rushed back to him as his fingers caressed the silk.

“My God, what have you done with her? When did she arrive? Why wasn’t a doctor called to help her?” he raved.

“Patrick, you look ill. All these questions are only upsetting you. She is dead, you must accept it. Take this brandy.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. “Show me where,” he said more quietly.

He followed her to the private cemetery plot and saw a small new mound of earth with a plain wooden cross.

“Leave me,” he said.

When he hadn’t returned to the house after two hours had elapsed, she went in search of him with two male house servants. She would use force on him if necessary. They found him unconscious on the ground, beside the grave. He was soaked with his own perspiration. She knew he had a raging fever and instructed the men to carry him up to bed immediately. She sent down to the cabins for Lucy. “If he dies—you die,” Jacquine stated flatly. “When you know for certain one way or the other, you will come and tell me.”

Lucy worked over her patient day and night for a week. It was not an easy task. He was well over six feet of raving, cursing, struggling male animal. Her emotions ran the gamut of fear, hatred and finally compassion for the man in her charge. Finally he looked at her with comprehension. She was startled as he hissed, “Why didn’t you let me die?”

She ran for her mistress, who came with such caring haste he would never know she hadn’t attended him once since he fell ill.

Her smile was tender, her hands gentle as she fed him broth to bring back his strength. He remained coldly indifferent. His eyes were narrow slits whenever they rested upon her for a moment, and she knew she would need to become the consummate actress ever to break through his iron carapace. She plied him with liquor, hoping he would indulge in a gigantic drunk to drown his heartache and emerge with his sorrows behind him. Patrick disappointed her. He set glass after glass aside with hardly a glance. She knew he didn’t wish to ease the pain of Kitty, but to hold it close. When he was well enough to leave his bed, he kept to himself. He was silent and remote and she had to double her efforts to reach him. The grave held a fascination for him; he visited it both night and day. He took solitary rides; she rode out after him many times, but could never capture more than a fleeting glimpse as he thundered through the forest. She fell into the habit of riding off her own frustrations after dark. Sleep became elusive. She watched covertly as he returned to the house on foot.

“He has been at the damned graveside again,” she said to herself jealously. She walked over to the burial ground and stood gazing down. “I have a garden filled with perfect roses and camellias, but he prefers to gather wild flowers for her.” Her mouth twisted downward in a derisive laugh as she thought of the empty grave and the hoax she had perpetrated. Men were such sentimental fools! When would he get on with the business of living? He showed signs of becoming restless and she feared it would only be a matter of days now before he would announce his return to England. Her mind twisted and turned for some small shred, some weakness in his makeup that she could fasten upon and turn to her own advantage. It did not take her long to find an idea.

“Mon chéri
, we must speak. Things cannot go on as they are.”

His eyes narrowed. He lit a cheroot and allowed the smoke to mask his expression.

“Don’t you think the time has come when you must return to England?”

The moment he hesitated, she knew she had won. “I know how much you must have loved her. She was so very young, you cannot bear to leave her here alone while you return to England. There is still a bond between you which even death cannot sever.”

He crushed out the cigar and let her see the naked pain in his eyes.

“Stay here, marry me and you will own all this land. Then you may be near her all your days. We would make good partners. You would be the first to acknowledge this if you were thinking clearly.”

During the next few days her words came to him again and again. The truth was that he had wanted to leave for over a month now, but he could not abandon Kitty. He began to look upon the plantation with speculative eyes. He even had an occasional smile for the house servants these days. When Jacquine returned from her ride each evening, her eyes went up to the balcony outside his window.

“Ah, well,” she thought, “not tonight, but soon he will send out an invitation, soon.”

Jacquine went for her usual evening ride, leaving Patrick still at table with a large brandy. Topaz came in to clear the dishes and she smiled shyly. “Can I get you something else?”

“I’ll just help myself, Topaz. I don’t want you waiting on me, child.”

“It’s always a pleasure to do for you. Sir,” she said and smiled.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Topaz. I’ve been thinking about staying here. I think we’re going to have a wedding.”

Her face crumpled. “You can’t!” she blurted, then quickly covered her mouth.