A Breath of Scandal (37 page)

Two weeks. Three weeks. Four weeks. Time passed slowly. Despair settled on her like a shroud. Ramona impressed upon her that travel was nearly impossible under such adverse conditions, and that Julian might not yet have recovered fully from his wounds. But Lara knew that had Julian wanted to find her, nothing would stop him. Surely he knew there was only one place she would go, so locating her shouldn’t be a problem. Had he washed his hands of her? Had she gone too far this time?

Julian paced his study while Rondo lounged in a chair, watching him. “Sit down, Drago,” Rondo said, using his Gypsy name from force of habit. “You’re exhausting me. Pacing won’t change the weather.”

“I know pacing won’t help, but it makes me feel better. I worry about Lara. She didn’t look well the last time I saw her. I fear her recent ordeal was too much for her and she’s not thinking straight. ’Tis the only explanation I can give for her sudden departure.”

Unless she doesn’t love me and never has
, he silently lamented. But he wouldn’t let himself think like that. That was something she’d have to tell him in person.

“Are you ready to ride, Rondo?” Julian asked suddenly. “If not, you can remain behind until the weather improves.”

“I’m not quite as anxious as you to take off in the middle of winter,” Rondo replied. “Your home is comfortable, Julian. I’d like to continue my convalescence here, if you have no objections.”

“Of course, if that is your wish. I’ll instruct Farthingale to see that your stay is made comfortable. I plan to leave at first light.”

Julian strode from the study, his face set in determined lines. Bad weather or no, wound or no, he was going to find Lara and learn for himself what in bloody hell was going on with her. Then he’d wring her pretty neck. Or make love to her until she promised never to leave him again.

Julian headed out at first light. A fine snow was falling and the temperature had plummeted during the night. But that didn’t stop him. The sooner he reached Lara, the quicker he could talk some sense into her.

F
our weeks had passed since Lara left her father’s house in London, and she began to fear that Julian had indeed filed for divorce. It was a bitter blow, one from which she’d probably never recover. But she had only herself to blame. She could have remained in London and lived with Julian in a loveless marriage, for she knew he’d never suggest that their marriage be dissolved. Julian was too honorable a man. But that didn’t mean he had to love her. And existing in a marriage without Julian’s love wasn’t an option.

No one forced love. It sneaked up when one least expected.

Suddenly another thought occurred to Lara. What if Julian’s wound hadn’t healed? What if something unforeseen had happened, like infection, or something equally as debilitating? Surely her father would have sent word if Julian wasn’t recovering as expected, wouldn’t he? But given the state of the roads these past weeks, Lara wasn’t sure a messenger could get through, much less find their camp.

Her face set in determined lines, Lara decided she couldn’t go on another day without knowing what had happened to Julian. She wanted him to come to her, but she wasn’t too proud to go to him. Especially if he needed her.

Her mind made up, Lara found a wrap and stepped outside into the frigid air. Trudging through two inches of new snow, she made her way to her grandparents’ wagon. Her knock was answered immediately.

“Lara, what are you doing out so late?” Ramona asked. “Are you ill? Come inside and warm yourself.”

Lara walked over to the glowing brazier and held out her hands.

“Sit, little one,” Pietro urged. “Something is bothering you. Do you wish to tell us about it?”

“I’ve been a fool, Grandfather,” Lara lamented. “I left Julian without positive proof that he was going to recover. Oh, he seemed well when I left, and all signs pointed to a quick recovery, but sometimes signs can be deceiving. What if he had a relapse? What if my leaving hindered his recovery?”

Ramona and Pietro exchanged speaking glances. Then Ramona said, “Julian will recover, little one. I have seen this. But it appears that you have come to a decision about your marriage. You wish to return to London, do you not?”

“You always know what I’m thinking, Grandmother,” Lara said fondly. “Aye, I’m going to return to London, but I need your help getting there.”

“I will take you myself,” Pietro said. “As soon as the weather permits.”

“I cannot wait that long,” Lara protested. “The weather is better than it has been in recent weeks so I see no reason to delay. I wish to leave tomorrow morning.”

“You are carrying a child,” Pietro reminded her.

“I am strong and healthy. A short trip will cause me no harm.”

Pietro looked at Ramona for direction.

Ramona stared into the glowing brazier for several long minutes, her eyes closed, her body still. Suddenly she opened her eyes and smiled.

“You will leave tomorrow, just as you wish, little one. Pietro will escort you and all will be well.”

“Are you sure?” Pietro asked, obviously not convinced.

“Did I not say so?” Ramona chided gently.

Pietro stared at her a moment, then nodded his compliance.

“Dress warmly, granddaughter,” Pietro admonished. “We will leave at first light.”

Lara kissed both her grandparents soundly. “Thank you! Thank you!” she gushed. “I will be ready to leave in the morning when you are, Grandfather.”

“Get a good night’s sleep,” Pietro advised.

Lara hurried through the biting wind to her wagon, happier than she’d been in a long time. At least she was doing something positive instead of sitting in her wagon waiting and wondering.

Lara undressed, donned her nightdress, and climbed into bed. She was no longer ill in the mornings and had actually begun to enjoy her food. Her stomach was still flat, but she imagined she could feel her babe beneath her heart, his or her little heart beating in time to her own.

With that pleasant thought, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The weather showed little improvement the next day, but Lara wasn’t about to let snow or cutting wind stop her. She dressed warmly in woolen petticoat, thick stockings, and boots, pulling her heaviest dress and a fur-lined cloak on last. When Pietro arrived leading two horses, she was ready.

Lara mounted with Pietro’s help. Then Ramona came hurrying up with a sack of food, which Pietro stuffed into his saddlebags.

“If the weather holds, we’ll reach London before nightfall,” Pietro predicted as he bid Ramona farewell. “Don’t look for my return until our granddaughter has been safely delivered to her husband.”

“Thank you, Grandmother, for everything you’ve done for me,” Lara said. “Perhaps we can visit before you leave for Scotland.”

“Go with God,” Ramona said, waving them off.

The first part of the day passed uneventfully. Then, after they had stopped to rest the horses and share the lunch Ramona had prepared, the skies lowered and snow began to fall at an alarming rate.

“We’ll have to seek shelter soon,” Pietro said, gazing at the threatening sky. “We will never reach London before nightfall in this weather, and riding in darkness, on dangerous roads, is too risky. I won’t jeopardize your health, little one.”

Though Lara wished it otherwise, she knew her grandfather spoke the truth. “What do you propose?”

“There is an inn not too far from here. We’ll stop there for the night.”

Lara remembered the inn well. She and Julian had stayed at the Three Feathers after he spirited her away from London. In fact, she had fond memories of their stay there.

Lara was cold, hungry and exhausted by the time they reached the Three Feathers Inn. Drifting snow had almost obliterated the road, and the lights from the inn were barely visible through the dense, white haze. They turned into the yard and Pietro helped Lara to dismount.

“Wait inside for me while I find someone to tend our horses,” Pietro said.

Lara didn’t need to be told twice. She’d thought the trip to London would be easy, but being pregnant had taken its toll. She was grateful to her grandfather for stopping, for had it been left to her, she probably would have fallen from the saddle before suggesting that they stop short of London.

Lara warmed herself by the fire in the nearly empty common room. Obviously few travelers were brave enough to venture out on a night like this. Pietro arrived shortly afterward, and Lara heard him making arrangements for their accommodations.

“Ye can have yer pick tonight,” the innkeeper said. “Not much business in this weather.”

“A room for my granddaughter and another for myself,” Pietro said.

“Aye, I’ll send a lad up to lay a fire so yer rooms will be warm for ye and yer granddaughter. Will ye be wanting a meal?”

“Aye, something hot and filling. We’ll take it down here before the fire. We’ll have warmed mulled wine while we’re waiting.”

Pietro joined Lara while the innkeeper barked orders to his help.

“We’ll have a hot meal soon, little one,” Pietro said. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m not very hungry, Grandfather. I’d rather go right up to bed.”

“Ramona wouldn’t forgive me if I let you go off to bed without your meal. You’re eating for two now. Besides, the fires are being laid in our rooms as we speak and it will be a while before the chill leaves.”

Lara didn’t relish undressing in an icy cold room so she bided her time, drinking her mulled wine while their meal was being prepared. Once their meal arrived, it looked so appetizing that Lara dug in with surprising gusto. She
was
hungry, she realized as she chewed and swallowed a savory morsel of meat pie and washed it down with wine. She topped off the meal with an apple tart loaded with cinnamon and raisins, then sat back and sighed, her hunger appeased.

Pietro grinned at her. “I thought you weren’t hungry?”

“I thought the same thing, but the smell of the food restored my appetite. Do you think our rooms are warm now?”

“Go on up, granddaughter. I’m going to sit here by the fire a while longer and finish my wine. Your room is up the stairs, the first door on the right. My room is the one beyond yours. Leave the door unlocked, I’ll look in on you before I retire.”

Lara kissed his cheek. “Good night, Grandfather.”

Julian cursed the weather and the rotten luck that was keeping him from Lara. He had fully intended to reach the Gypsy camp tonight, but weather and fate had conspired against him. Pelted by the relentless fury of stinging snow, he could barely see the road for the drifts. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he feared there was no way he could go on tonight without risking limb and life.

Julian had traveled this road often enough to know that the Three Feathers Inn loomed somewhere ahead. He recalled the night he and Lara had stayed there and couldn’t stop the smile that curved his lips. It seemed so long ago; so much had happened since then.

Julian’s toes and fingers had gone numb by the time he spied the lights from the Three Feathers blinking in the distance. If not for the lights he would have passed it by and never known it was there, that’s how thickly the snow was falling.

Julian turned into the yard and guided his horse to the stables behind the inn. No one was about so he tended his own horse, noting as he worked that only two other horses were stabled within.

Julian entered the inn and shook the snow off his cape. After greeting the innkeeper, he made directly for the roaring fire in the common room. He held out his hands to the flames and pushed back his hood. A movement from the corner of the room caught his attention and he turned slightly. He nearly lost the ability to speak when he saw Pietro. The two men stared at each other for several moments before Julian found his voice.

“Pietro! What in bloody hell are you doing here on a night fit for neither man nor beast?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing, my lord.”

“I was on my way to your camp to claim my wife when bad weather forced me to seek a room for the night. How is Lara? She left me without a word of explanation.” His eyes glittered. “She and I are going to have words when I catch up with her.”

Pietro gave Julian a strange look. “This is incredible!”

Julian frowned. Had he missed something? “To what are you referring?” Then a terrible thought occurred to him and he asked anxiously, “Lara is at your camp, isn’t she?”

“As a matter of fact, she isn’t,” Pietro replied.

A jolt of sheer panic kicked Julian in the gut. “What? Where could she have gone? My God, man, my wife is missing! I didn’t worry excessively about her, believing she was with you and Ramona. Now I don’t know what to think.”

He began to pace.

Pietro must have taken pity on him for he said, “I know where you can find Lara.”

Julian whirled, his face taut with anxiety. “Out with it, man! Where is my wife?”

“Upstairs, first door on the right. The door isn’t locked.”

Words failed Julian. His mouth worked noiselessly until the words began to flow. “Lara is here? In this weather? Is she mad?”

“Mad with love for you, I suspect,” Pietro said with a chuckle. “Ramona must have known you and Lara would meet like this, else she wouldn’t have let Lara start out in this weather. My wife is a wise woman.”

“Granted,” Julian allowed, “but Lara shouldn’t be traveling in this weather. Where is she going that she couldn’t wait until the weather clears?”

“Surely you know the answer to that question,” Pietro chided. “Lara was coming to you in London. She fretted endlessly and regretted leaving you before you had fully recovered. She feared you’d had a relapse. The weather interfered with our journey and we were forced to seek shelter.” He chuckled. “Fate has a strange way of bringing people together.”

“Fate or love,” Julian muttered beneath his breath.

“Go to your wife, Julian. I’ll explain to the innkeeper and arrange everything.”

“Aye,” Julian muttered hoarsely as he started up the stairs.

Julian found Lara’s room and turned the knob. The door opened noiselessly and he slipped inside. The glow from a single candle sitting on the nightstand emitted enough light for Julian to make out Lara’s form beneath the covers. She appeared to be sleeping soundly. He closed the door behind him and approached the bed. Bending close, he kissed her smooth forehead. She sighed but didn’t awaken. Julian’s love expanded as he stared at her. She looked innocent and waiflike in sleep, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.