The Rebel Bride (39 page)

She wrenched herself free of him, her eyes grown dark and enormous. She gulped convulsively and the hated tears sprang to her eyes.

“Ah, sweetheart,” he whispered, and extended his hand to her. “Please, come back to me.” When she backed away from him, mutely shaking her head, he dropped his hands to his side, and his face hardened.

“Would that I never see you again, Julien.”

“If that is what you wish,” he said grimly, his eyes boring into hers.

“It is what I wish above all things.”

“Then I bid you good-bye.” Without another word he turned and left her bedchamber.

Kate raised her head from her hands, realizing inconsequentially that they were wet with tears. She rose slowly and placed more wood upon the dying fire.

The snowstorm ceased during the night, leaving a thick white blanket in its wake. Soft flakes fell about Kate as the steady pounding of Astarte’s hooves shook the low, snow-laden branches.

She didn’t slow Astarte’s pace until they’d crossed the small meadow that bordered the copse. She waited for the gnawing fear to come as she slipped off her mare’s back and carefully tethered her.

Watchful of her footing, she walked into the small hollow and stood there looking about her. Several inches of fresh snow were piled high on the familiar tree stump. The small patch of mushrooms was buried. She bent down and swept the snow from the stump. It seemed so much smaller than she remembered, her two hands could almost span its surface. She felt nothing except a slight chill from the crisp winter air.

She sat down and pulled her riding habit and cloak
close about her. She waited silently, still expectantly, but she could not recapture her child’s excitement, nor her child’s terror. There was nothing here for her, not the soft, sighing music woven from her child’s thoughts, not the sound of the men’s heavy wooden boots coming upon her, their glee at finding her there. The copse was simply a place, a small hollow of land, of no account really, not to her, not to anyone.

She rose finally and walked back to Astarte. She didn’t look back as she retraced her steps.

“M
y lady! Oh my goodness, what a surprise! What an utter and complete surprise. We had no idea that you—well, you’re here and isn’t that something!”

“Good evening, George,” Kate said brightly, sailing past the flabbergasted butler, waving as she did so to two lackeys. They staggered into the entrance hall under the weight of several trunks, portmanteaus, and bandboxes.

“I find myself without a guinea, without even a shilling,” she said with a disarming smile. “Would you mind, George, settling with that excellent coachman, and, oh, yes, that very stern-looking fellow, who, I was informed, was an excellent outrider.”

“Yes, my lady, certainly.” He had sounded calm, even though to his own ears, his voice had risen a good octave. He motioned to a silent footman, who moved forward somewhat clumsily, bumping one of the countess’s bandboxes. George shot him a look that promised retribution, and after giving the hapless fellow instructions and paying the coachman and the evil-looking outrider, he turned back to the countess. He took her ermine-lined cloak, her gloves, and a dashing bonnet.

“It’s been a long time, George. I trust all goes well with you.”

“Yes, indeed, my lady, so very well until just a moment ago. No, that’s not really true, since you’re here and that’s an unexpected pleasure.” A nervous tic had formed in the past few minutes in the corner of his right eye.

“Is the earl here, George?”

She followed his gaze up the long circular staircase and cocked her head to one side in question. He tugged on his cravat. “Er, yes, my lady, his lordship is indeed here, it’s just that he—” George faltered and died.

“Yes, George?”

“That is to say, my lady, ah, his lordship is not alone, my lady.”

“Well, no matter,” Kate said kindly, patting him on his arm. “I’m certain his friends won’t mind a visit from his wife, do you think?”

“It’s not exactly his
friends,
” George said in desperation.

“Oh, not his friends? How very curious. I wasn’t aware his lordship admitted his enemies into his house. Come now, George, who is with his lordship?”

He realized that the countess of March wasn’t the same young lady he’d known but a month before.
This
countess wasn’t about to be put off.
This
countess was clearly in charge. He said, “Lady Sarah is with him. She arrived not fifteen minutes ago, demanding to see his lordship. Surely you see it’s not his lordship’s fault that she’s here. Why, he would never admit a lady to this house, except you, naturally, but you’re not a lady—well, you are, of course, but you’re his wife, and surely that’s more important.”

“Yes, far more important.” She smiled at him, and he started at the decided militant look in those eyes of hers. Then she gave the most sublime shrug. “Is that all? I dare say the
lady
who is not his wife is just this moment on the point of leaving.”

Definitely the quiet, rather biddable young lady was long gone. No tears, just this calm indifference, this somewhat amused hauteur. It was astounding. He quite appreciated it. Perhaps, just perhaps, life would change for the better around here. It certainly couldn’t get any worse, what with his lordship moping about, silent and withdrawn, drinking too much brandy, just sitting in the library, staring into the flames in the fireplace.

He got hold of himself. “Do allow me to inform his lordship that you’re here, my lady.” He had this sudden
horrible vision of a scene that would make his own hair absolutely gray.

“Oh, no, George, that’s not the way to handle this. Do trust me. I believe I shall surprise his lordship. He’s in the salon upstairs?” He darted a look upstairs, gave her an anguished look, then just stood there like a dumb stick, at least that’s how he characterized his own behavior to himself later over a glass of the earl’s best brandy.

Kate turned and walked to the stairs, as bouncy as a child fetching a treat. She heard George say in a decidedly pettish voice, “Get about your business, my lads! Don’t stand there gawking. Oh, yes, I must find some money for the coachman. No, no, I already paid them. Thank God for something, even a too-small something.”

She walked purposefully up the stairs. Poor George’s distress at Lady Sarah’s tête-à-tête with the earl had, strangely enough, given her confidence. Trepidation is for fools, fainthearts, and butlers, she decided, not for countesses, at least not for this countess.

Had she lost him?

No, she wouldn’t consider that, no, indeed not. The door to the salon stood partially ajar, and Lady Sarah’s repulsive voice reached Kate’s ears before she actually saw the lady.

“Oh, Julien, let her stay in the country. She will be much more in place there. I always thought her awkwardly uncomfortable in society. She was always so pale and uncertain of herself, and our friends didn’t know what to do with her. They were polite only because of you.”

She waited, but Julien didn’t say anything. Well, there was nothing for it. She marched in, head high. “How
very
kind of you, Lady Sarah, to have my welfare so much at heart. Do you really believe that everyone dislikes me? Is it because I’m such a bore? I don’t believe I’m particularly pale now.” She spoke in the sweetest voice imaginable. She hoped it was as repulsive to Lady Sarah as her voice was to Kate. Actually she wanted to kill the lady, since her arms were around her husband’s shoulders.

“Oh!” Lady Sarah jumped back, dropping her arms in stunned surprise.

“Good evening, my lord. I trust I find you well.” She gave her husband a dazzling smile.

Julien was staring at her, not smiling back, not frowning, just staring, as if she were a specter. He said easily, “I go tolerably well, my dear, tolerably well.”

“Now, my dear Lady Sarah, although it is perhaps comforting to think that one’s husband is in such capable hands, I think it time to have a changing of the guard, so to speak. I daresay your own husband would much appreciate such a fond display of affection.”

Although Sarah had never before been confronted by such a calm, contemptuous lady, she was made of sterner stuff than Kate imagined. Yes, she would quickly reduce Kate again to that pale, spineless chit that she’d known just a month before. The earl had been quiet since her arrival, attending to her every word with obvious interest, so it seemed, and had not appeared to be at all disinclined to accept her passionate embrace. Indeed, Sarah was emboldened to believe the earl had been on the verge of succumbing to her. Had it not been for the untimely arrival of his country mouse of a wife, she would have won. Perhaps she would still win.

“I don’t believe you judge the situation quite correctly, dear,” Lady Sarah said. “You speak so easily of fondness and affection. Why, everyone knows that you don’t even sleep with your husband of three months, that you don’t allow him near you.”

Oh, God, she couldn’t stand it. But she had to. Everything came down to this conversation, to his view of her now.

She stiffened almost imperceptibly as Lady Sarah continued smoothly, picking up speed in her growing confidence, “Doesn’t it make sense to you that Julien would most certainly grow impatient with you, which I understand is usually the case when one forms attachments outside one’s class. Don’t you think it time for you to own up to the mistake? Don’t you think it time to release him? Don’t you think it wise, dear, to return to your
quiet country life, where surely you will understand things better and be more comfortable?”

Kate wondered briefly how bunches of the lady’s blond hair would look wrapped around her fisted hand.

“Am I more comfortable in the country? I do wonder about that. However, I’m touched by your obvious concern for my welfare. However again, I find you and your observations a dead bore, though I must admit to being a bit curious at your overly lively imagination. Now, if you please, I find your presence quite fatiguing, and must ask that you leave. I am here now. I am home. I wish to be with my husband, alone.”

“Julien, tell her to go away, tell her not to talk to me in such a way.”

“You intrude upon my comfort, Lady Sarah. Leave my house this instant, else I shall personally boot you out. I can too, you know, for I was raised in the country and I’m nearly as strong as my husband.”

“You fool!
Your
house? I think the earl must have other opinions on that subject, don’t you, Julien?”

“Well, half the house is mine. And indeed, this salon is in the very center of my half.”

“Julien, would you cease this senseless charade and send her packing?” Sarah grabbed his arm and gave it a light shake.

There was a sudden silence, and Kate found that she couldn’t meet his eyes. She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, for he’d acted the interested but detached onlooker since she entered the room. She wondered with a sinking heart if the unmeasured words she had flung at him their last night together had finally driven him away from her, and if, indeed, he now viewed her as Lady Sarah had painted her. Did he now want to be free of her?

She forced herself to look up and saw that he was looking at her with an oddly keen expression that she couldn’t begin to fathom. She wondered dispassionately if he would allow her a dignified exit.

“Sarah,” he said finally, “I do believe the countess is in the right. The parlor is indeed in the very center of
her half of the house. Regrettable as it may appear, her logic is persuasive.”

Kate blinked, thankful for once that no words were required of her.

“By God, surely you don’t mean that, Julien. Surely.”

“Yes, Sarah. Shall I ring for George?”

“No man dismisses me! How dare you? Just look at you, besotted by this provincial girl who has changed and I hate the changes, just as I hate her and always have.” She was so angry, so outraged, that she couldn’t move.

Julien turned to his wife, who was looking, to his amusement, quite bewildered.

He said softly, “Perhaps you’re right, Sarah. I’m quite besotted and have been ever since the first time I saw her, dying dramatically in a duel at my very feet.”

“I hope you will not live to regret this action, my lord. Actually I hope you will.” She picked up her skirts and walked with what dignity she could muster from the room. They could hear her angry breathing as she stomped down the corridor.

“Close the door.”

Without a word, Kate turned and pulled the door closed.

“Now, come here.” He grinned at her. “Please come here.”

“Perhaps I should ring for tea, my lord?”

“What happened to my protector, my mouthy wife who quite routed Lady Sarah—surely a novel experience for her.”

“I don’t know. It’s different now. We’re alone and you’re not my enemy.”

“That’s true enough.”

“Surely tea isn’t such a bad idea?”

“It’s the very worst idea I’ve heard. What I would most prefer is to have my shrew of a wife in my arms.”

“I’m not a shrew, curse you.” However, she walked into his arms without hesitation.

He hugged her tightly against him, his hands sweeping up and down her back. Finally, he lifted her chin in his
palm. She was staring up at him, as shy as a nun. He leaned down and kissed her.

She’d been so afraid, so very afraid, but the moment his mouth was on hers, she knew it would be all right, and she arched up against him, bringing his mouth closer, accepting his tongue, wanting more and more.

When he released her, her eyes darkened with disappointment.

He grinned down at her, absolutely delighted. “The servants, sweetheart, remember the servants. With Lady Sarah tearing down those stairs, doubtless hurling curses back at us, poor George must think we need him. Do you want him flying in here to see us making love?”

She gave him a look that made his hands clutch her shoulders. “Why not?”

“A very good point. However, before I have that lovely gown off you and throw you to the rug in front of the fireplace, I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“I’ll kiss you while we talk. But it’s important, love, don’t you think so?”

“If you insist.” She was silent a moment, then, to his surprise, laughed. “You should have seen poor George. I’ve never known him to be so bowled over. I quite marched all over him, you see. He must have believed that murder would be done in this house, for he knew I was capable of it, I know. And I was.”

He sighed even as he kissed her again, and then again and again. “Being that my wife is a shrew, a very beautiful shrew, but there you have it nonetheless, I see I have to agree. Yes, murder at the very least, had I not intervened.”

“Intervened, ha! You stood there like a stick. I didn’t know if you would send me out or not. It was horrible. Oh, God, Julien, I was so afraid.” She threw herself against him, holding him tightly.

“Shush, love, it’s all right. Come now and sit down, else that rug will be under your back in a second flat and I’ll be on top of you.”

She sat beside him, actually, more on him, her cheek
against his neck. “I treated you so badly at St. Clair, so very badly.”

She slowly pulled away, fixing her eyes on an elegant Dresden figure above the mantelpiece.

“You were speaking of the times you abused me,” he said. “There were so many times. Could you be a trifle more specific?” Then he squeezed her hands, grinning.