Natalya (41 page)

"Never have you made a more ridiculously
male
statement! It's quite apparent that you don't know yourself what you mean, but I can assure you that I do." Looking adorable wrapped in the blanket that trailed behind her, Natalya flung open the cottage door. "Although you may be confused, sir, I am not. Ride safely. I shall see you later!"

When Grey was gone, Natalya used the tunnel to return to her own bedchamber. Climbing the hidden stairway, she realized that she could conceivably get into her own bed and behave as if shed been there all night. It was still early, after all; no one would be the wiser. Humming softly to herself, she touched the spring that opened the panel... and beheld her father sitting on a moss-green chair in front of the fireplace. He wore a black dressing gown and looked as if he had just come from bed.

"Ah, there you are, child," he said genially. "Do come in and join me. Would you care for tea?" He gestured toward the china teapot, cups, and a fresh plate of croissants drizzled with icing.

Natalya's throat was dry as she closed the secret panel and glanced self-consciously at the lawn nightgown that revealed a faint outline of her lovely body. "Let me slip on a wrapper, Papa, and I shall be glad to join you." She found one of her own in Caro's dressing room and fumbled with the sleeves, her mind whirling. He knew! A man had spent the night with her, and even though no real scandal had taken place, Natalya still felt nervous. She thought back to the other time her father had appeared at the worst possible moment, when she had been in Grey's bed, still basking in the afterglow of their coupling. Had he known then as well?

Alec had never been an overprotective father, but the young men who had courted Natalya before she went to France had quaked at the sight of him. He had never raged at her, yet her respect for his authority remained fully intact. When she felt he'd caught her at something, it didn't seem to matter how old she was....

As Natalya crossed the bedchamber and took the chair Alec had drawn close to his, he handed her a cup of tea and said, "I've been talking to your mother, and I think it would be a good idea for the two of us to go away for a while. It's been rather a long time since we've visited her farm in Connecticut. Although it's being looked after, as you know, we do like to go up ourselves from time to time."

"I remember that you used to take Maman away to the farm every spring when we were growing up," Natalya said softly.

Alec grinned. "In those days, it was a good excuse to have her to myself."

She sipped her tea, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "Papa... what is really behind this? Why were you waiting for me, and why do you think you and Maman should go away at this particular time?"

"I have to keep reminding myself that you are a woman," he told her gently. "You've lived away from people, except for Nicky and his family, for a long time, and I believe that you are now discovering that there are more important aspects of your life than books and dreams. I know that a relationship has begun between you and Grey—"

"Papa, last night we didn't—"

He held up his hand. "No, don't explain. You don't have to explain to me, and I don't expect you to discuss your personal life with us unless you choose to, or you need our help. If you were younger or I felt differently about St. James, I might be more tempted to interfere, but my instincts tell me that I can trust him, ultimately, and I have great faith in the strength and wisdom of your heart." He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her lovingly. "It is difficult for parents to stand by and watch their children explore life. Your maman has an even harder time than I, for she wants so much to help you find happiness. That's why we should leave you alone for a while. It's a decision I've made as much for our sakes as yours. We won't have to decide whether to meddle or not, day in and day out, if we aren't here." Patting her hand, Alec added, "And you deserve some privacy. You're a grown woman."

"Oh, Papa." Natalya's heart swelled with love and her eyes brimmed with tears. "You really do trust me...." Weeping in earnest, she came over to him and sat on his lap, her face buried against the familiar expanse of his chest. "No girl has ever had a better father. I love you so!"

"And I love you, my darling daughter." He stroked her hair and held her as he had when she was a little golden-haired child. "Be patient with Grey, up to a point, for he is the sort of man who may be afraid to yield to love. With a woman like you, there can be no half measures, and that can seem daunting. I held out far too long before I surrendered to loving your mother." He sighed at the memory. "If you should need us, you need only send word, and if you crave advice, you must go to your grandmama. She is very wise in the ways of love."

"I shall, Papa." Natalya sat up and smiled at him. "It is a very exciting and happy and terrifying time for me. I really don't know how it will all turn out."

"It will turn out as it should," he assured her.

"Does Maman know—about Grey and me?"

"She suspects, and it is driving her mad!" Alec chuckled, his expression transformed as he thought of his wife. "Her maternal instincts are working at a furious pace. She worries about you and wants to help, and, of course, it is because she loves you so."

"I am so fortunate to have the parents I do." Natalya kissed his cheek and added, "And especially to have so brilliant a father!"

"Ever since you were a baby, you have had a gift for flattering me at the right moment,
cherie."
Alec laughed and set her on her feet. "I won't keep you any longer. Your maman and I must pack, and you doubtless have plans of your own."

Natalya picked up a croissant, took an inelegantly large bite, and grinned at him. "As a matter of fact, I
do...."'

Part 5

Did ye not hear it?—No; 'twas but the wind.

Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;

No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet

To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.

Lord Byron (1788-1824)

Chapter 26

May
16-17, 1814

"What is the meaning of this?" David St. James held up a note penned in Francesca's flowery script. "And where have you been these past few days?"

Reclining on a daybed of red japanned beech that featured silver and gilt decoration and cushions of white silk, Francesca gazed serenely out her bedroom window. Despite her expression of studied gravity, she looked as flawless as a Greek goddess. Her shining auburn curls were caught up loosely, falling over the gold ribbon she wore high on her forehead, and her lips were artfully painted a deep red. Her gown was of the thinnest muslin, revealing rouged nipples beneath the low neckline, and a golden armlet set with an emerald circled the soft, creamy flesh above her elbow.

"Hello, David," she said softly. "Won't you sit down? It was very good of you to come."

"Whatever's the matter? Has someone died?" He perched on the low end of the daybed, crossed his legs, and withdrew a priceless Sevres snuffbox. Delicately inhaling a pinch, he regarded her with mild curiosity.

"I've seen Grey," Francesca announced in ominous tones.

"Indeed?" He raised his eyebrows. "Did he come to you in a dream or did you glimpse his profile from a passing carriage?"

"How dare you mock me at such a moment? I tell you, your brother is
here,
in Philadelphia, just as I feared! And, he knew that I was here. He trapped me in an inane garden party that was given for some overweening spinster who has managed to write a book." Francesca paused to gauge her lover's reaction and was pleased to note that his face had gone white as death. "Ah, I see that you believe me. Grey is out for blood, my dear. He forced me to hand over the parure of rubies that I was wearing, and demands that I return
all
the jewels. David, you know that you have as much right to those jewels as Grey does—more, if justice were served. Why should he have
everything
of value simply because of an accident of nature? He'll have the title, and Hartford House, and Briar Hill, and—"

"Francesca, we've been over this a thousand times. You know I agree that we should keep the bloody gems, so kindly refrain from wasting my time shrieking about them!" David's hands were knotted into fists as he stalked to the cellaret, there to pour himself a generous brandy.

"I was
not
shrieking," Francesca said icily. "Kindly beg my pardon."

He tossed down the brandy, poured another, and returned to the daybed. Clasping her slim, outstretched hand, he murmured, "Forgive me, dearest. This has been a rude shock, to say the least."

"Forgiveness granted, darling. Now do sit down and let us discuss this calmly."

David did as she bade, pushing back his spectacles with trembling fingers. "You must tell me all. What is Grey doing here, of all places? He hasn't any idea that I'm—"

"Alive? Coupling with his wife?" Her lips curved in a feline smile. "No, he hasn't the foggiest notion. He must have come back to London and heard that I'd written Papa of my intention to visit here. No one knows that you weren't killed at Salamanca, and no one knows that it was you who spirited me out of England, so how could Grey know?"

"As far as I'm concerned, anything is possible. He's never been quite human," David said darkly.

"Don't talk nonsense. What you and I must do is work together to ensure his speedy return to England."

"God's eyes, Francesca, how do you intend to do that? And what part could I possibly play? 'Twould be wiser for me to lock myself in a store room until he's gone—or flee Philadelphia altogether!" David had begun to perspire. "He'd kill me if he discovered what I've really been about these past two years. If he knew that I'd deserted the regiment, faked my own death, disgraced our family name, stolen his wife
and
our mother's jewels—"

"Stop it!" If it hadn't required an effort on her part, Francesca would have leaned over and slapped him. "First of all, even if Grey were to pass you on the street, I doubt he would recognize you. In case you weren't aware of it, you've changed drastically, my dear. Now then, try to compose yourself and listen to me."

David gulped the rest of his brandy and stared at her, glassy-eyed. "I'm listening."

"I have reason to believe that there is more to Grey's sojourn in Philadelphia than his quest to bring me to justice. I don't know all the details, but I'll find them out somehow." She stared out the window again, pondering that problem, then continued, "What I do know is that there is a relationship of some sort between Grey and that spinster authoress, Natalya Beauvisage. Philadelphia is her home; she lives with her parents. As long as Grey remains interested in her, he will postpone his return to England, and you and I will be forced to live in fear."

"What in God's name can we do about it?"

"David, darling, are you witless?" She gave him a charming smile. "You will court Miss Beauvisage yourself and woo her away from Grey. I, meanwhile, will convince him that I have sold most of the Hartford jewels. We'll hide them somewhere until he's gone. You know Grey. Once he realizes that his little flirtation with that insipid bluestocking is doomed, he'll grow bored with his situation here and return home to obtain the divorce he yearns for."

"What makes you believe that this woman would throw Grey over for me?" David queried, thoroughly dazed by her speech.

"Because, my dearest, you will make her see that Grey is a rake who will break her heart," Francesca replied patiently. "You will treat her tenderly, attentively, appealing to her vanity. You know his style with women; it's hardly romantic. Once she realizes what she's been missing, she'll forget all about him."

He shook his head. "This has the ring of utter insanity to me. What if Grey appears when I am with her? Dear Christ, I'd die a hideous death!"

"Come over here," Francesca commanded. When he obeyed, she took him in her arms and stroked his graying hair. "Now then, darling, can you not see the sport in this plan? Have you not spent your entire life resenting Grey and longing for revenge? I am offering you one more opportunity to have it. You mustn't be afraid. I'll see to it that Grey is otherwise occupied when you are with Miss Beauvisage. You know that you can depend on me. Haven't I seen to everything since the day we met?"