A Well Pleasured Lady (24 page)

“You were Guinevere Fairchild.”

“Yes!” He did understand. “Where Guinevere reigns, chaos results.”

“Sometimes chaos is good. It creates change. Guinevere has certainly changed me. Where's your handkerchief?”

“My…?”

“Your handkerchief.”

Moving with care, she dug out the handkerchief.

He tilted her face up, wiping it tenderly. Her skin was blotchy from crying, her eyes red-rimmed, and
her hair slid around her face as the rain dampened it. He thought he'd never seen anyone so beautiful. “That side of you called Guinevere took over that morning in your bedchamber, and I loved the result.”

She took the handkerchief away from him and blew her nose. “Loved being forced to marry me?”

“I might have been smart enough to do it on my own, but it would have taken much longer before I admitted how much…how very much…” He almost couldn't say it, but he took a breath and brought the long-lost words to his lips. “I love you, Guinevere Mary Fairchild Durant.”

He'd seen that expression on someone else's face not long ago. He tried to remember who, and then it struck him. When he held the pistol on Brindley and offered to spare his life only if Mary forgave him, Brindley had looked like that. Frightened, appalled, affronted…hopeful.

Mary seemed hopeful. She hoped his declaration of love was truthful, and he relaxed just a little. Perhaps Lady Valéry had spoken the truth.

But the frightened part of Mary spoke. “You don't love Guinevere. No one could love Guinevere. She's wild, undisciplined, foolish beyond belief.”

“She,
you,
were just young. The young are all those things.” She made him so impatient! Why couldn't she see…? “Guinevere Mary Fairchild is who you are. All the parts of you. All of your past formed you. That's the person I love—and respect.”

She sniffed.

“Really, Guinevere Mary, think about this. Have you been moved to murder since that long-ago night?”

She seemed to be thinking as she studied the chimneys and the smoke that curled out of them. Finally she looked back at him. “Only yours.”

He laughed. God, how he loved her! She answered him back without fear. She put him in his place smartly. She brought him to life after too many years in the shadows. He owed it to her to return the boon. “Today you saved my life. Brindley would have shot me if not for you waving that damned diary over the wall.”

She shivered. “I know.”

He wrapped the edges of his coat around her. “You took a life once, but today you saved one.”

She contemplated that silently. Finally she tilted her head back. “That's true.”

“So you'll forgive yourself.” He didn't ask her, he told her. “You'll decide saving the life of your beloved is apt compensation for taking the life of a monster.”

“Yes.” She stroked his cheek. “Are you my beloved?”

“Lady Valéry says I am.”

“Did she say anything else?”

He flinched at the memory of Lady Valéry's tongue-lashing. “Nothing of importance. Only that you loved me and I loved you, and you know we dare not think her wrong.”

“No.” She stretched up and kissed him softly,
savoring his lips as if they were dusted with cinnamon and flavored with honey. “She's not wrong. The reality of you is better than any prince I ever dared to dream.”

His body stirred at her sweet salute, and his heart stirred at her tender avowal. He wanted to convey her to their bedchamber and…and call a physician to tend her wound. Shifting her, he stood and carried her toward the door. “You will never, ever put yourself in danger for me again.”

“He was going to kill you.” She seemed to think that explanation enough.

He clutched her tighter. “I thought he
had
killed you, and over that damned stupid—” Stopping, he turned and scanned the area. “What happened to the diary?”

“The…Oh, you mean the book. I think it went over the edge to the ground.”

Disgusted by the trouble Brindley had caused, Sebastian said, “He'll get it. After I've put you in bed, I'll have to go after him.”

She laughed weakly. “He can have it. I gave Lady Valéry the diary hours ago.”

If she hadn't been injured, he would have shaken her. Instead, he turned sideways to get her through the door and demanded, “Explain.”

“As soon as you left me up there”—she pointed back up the stairs—“I went to Lady Valéry and told her what had transpired.”

“Of course.” Sebastian hadn't thought it through. “That's how she knew.”

“She kept the diary, and gave me a book she got from a lover who had been to India.”

“What kind of book?” He had his suspicions.

“Um.” Mary kept her face averted, but he thought he could see her cheeks flaming. “It had illustrations. Lady Valéry suggested I look through them, and should the time arrive when we might reconcile, we could use the book as a reference.”

They entered the main corridor. “The
Kama Sutra.
”

“I believe that was the title.”

“That woman is incorrigible,” Sebastian muttered.

“Yes, well, it doesn't matter.” Mary began to shake with suppressed laughter. “Mr. Brindley has got it now.”

When Lady Valéry heard their voices, she snapped open her bedchamber door and stepped into the corridor. As she expected, Sebastian held Mary as if she were fragile and might melt like a confection in his mouth. Mary hugged his neck as if he were an angel who might at any moment spread his wings and fly away.

Two more unlikely events, Lady Valéry couldn't imagine. But that was love. She'd seen it enough times to know. And that meant she'd succeeded once more. Briskly she tied on her bonnet. “Are you two reconciled at last? Because I need to leave.”

Mary turned a dazed expression toward her. Slowly she absorbed Lady Valéry's impatience, then just as
she had trained herself to do, she put Lady Valéry's needs before her own. “What's wrong, my lady? Can I assist you in any way?”

“Not likely.” Sebastian frowned thunderously at Lady Valéry. “Mary has been shot. She's not going anywhere.”

“The devil you say!” Horrified, Lady Valéry went to Mary at once. “What happened, child?”

“Nothing to trouble you about, my lady.” Mary tried to soothe her.

Sebastian had no such concern. “One of the buyers for the diary tried to kill us.”

Lady Valéry touched Mary's side. She had experience with gunshot wounds, and this one was minor. Then she looked up at Sebastian. New contusions, she noted, but he seemed strong enough. She sighed in relief. “A little blood, but you don't appear to be suffering.”

“I'm better. If you must leave, we can go,” Mary said firmly.

“I'll tell you when you're better.” Sebastian gripped her tighter. “Then we can leave.” He glared at Lady Valéry. “Not a moment before.”

“Now, Sebastian—” Mary tried to object.

Sebastian started toward their bedchamber. “Now, Mary,” he mocked.

“You can't have your own way about everything!”

Mary's voice was fading as they walked down the corridor, and Lady Valéry snorted when she heard Sebastian chuckle.

Mary was beaten. She just didn't know it yet. And the way Sebastian was looking at her, she probably wouldn't realize it for at least fifty years.

“Georgette.” An excited, desperate, wholly aroused Burgess stood in the door of her bedchamber and beckoned. “Come back, Georgette. I have something for you.”

She assessed him. He was younger than the others. Easier to train. Held some potential. And as long as she was stuck here for who knew how long…“All right.” She untied her bonnet and removed it with a gesture of exasperation. “But try and keep up this time.”