The Bride of Time (22 page)

He had no right to her; no right to take her, much less marry her. What could he be thinking? That was just the point: he wasn’t thinking. He didn’t dare think, for if he did, he would have to put her from him. When the moon waxed full in less than a fortnight, he would become the wolf again and she would be in grave danger from him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know, wasn’t aware. He’d finally convinced her, but that did not lessen his guilt. His unabashed selfishness could well cost her life. He hated himself then, but not enough to give up the precious prize sleeping so peacefully in his arms. He
had taken her virtue. He owed her his life and his loyalty. But what of her safety? Didn’t he owe her that as well? The answer was a resounding yes, but he would not heed it—
could not
heed it. He wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life before. She was pure love. Somehow, fate had given him what life had denied him—a soul mate—and he would have her no matter the cost.

He was almost sorry he’d mentioned St. Michael’s Church. He hadn’t made the connection until it slipped out and he saw the glimmer of recognition darken her eyes, like a storm cloud passes before the moon. Were the St. Michael’s churches the links the lay lines threaded through? He was half-hoping the curate there would turn them away, but somehow he knew that wouldn’t happen. The lay lines weren’t evil, after all, just conduits to other dimensions, strange subterranean corridors, spirit roads that fractured the myth of time; one of the universe’s metaphysical mysteries. One day, someone would solve that mystery, but not in his time or hers. It was enough of a mind-bender to know in his heart and beleaguered mind that the phenomenon was real.

Tessa shifted in his arm, uttered a pleasant sound and cuddled closer, calling his attention to her beautiful face nestled against his shoulder. He was as giddy as a schoolboy in her hands, as malleable as putty that she could mold with her will alone. For the first time in as long as his memory served him, he was genuinely happy. It couldn’t last, but while it did, he was determined to make the most of it. Heaving a sigh, he grazed her brow with his lips, shut his eyes, and slept.

Chapter Seventeen

“I am not an unreasonable man,” Giles barked at the innkeeper the following morning. “The hearth in that room is black with soot. It’s coated everything up there. I’ve paid for two more nights in this establishment, and I do not think it unreasonable to expect a flue to draw without choking a body with soot.”

“A sweep’s been summoned,” the man said. “You’ve let the fire go out, haven’t ya? Can’t have the lad burnin’ his breeches, now can we?”

“Of course I have, you nodcock! What sort of bufflehead do you take me for?”

“ None a’tall, cove, none a’tall,” the man said, sketching an awkward bow. “So sorry for the inconvenience. ’Twill all be put right as rain, afore ya come ta supper.”

Giles growled. “I’d demand another room, but I expect all the others are the same.”

“Pretty much,” the man agreed, scratching his bald head. “We haven’t gotten ’round ta doin’ the chimneys for the winter season yet. It’ll all be taken care of over the next few days, ya have my word on it.”

“Yes, well, see that ours is done first,” Giles said, waving his walking stick toward the sky. “Do you see that
fog? It will have turned to rain before the supper hour. This is our wedding trip, and I’ll not have it spoilt with soot!”

The man muttered more, but Able had brought the brougham around and set the steps. Considering his dour prediction, Giles was anxious to see the painting delivered safe and sound before the deluge began. Taking Tessa’s arm, he led her into the mews and handed her inside the carriage.

“Where to, sir?” Able called, climbing into the box.

“Carlton House, off Pall Mall, in the West End,” Giles replied, climbing in next to Tessa. Wisps of the thick black fog filtered in through the open isinglass window like wraiths. Giles quickly shut it as the coach swayed out into the cobblestone street. The conveyance tooled along among the phaetons, high and low-perch carriages of all descriptions, gigs and hackney cabs, even a sedan chair or two, for London was coming to life on this damp fall morning.

Giles squinted through the isinglass. “Not the best morning to show you my London,” he said absently. “But we have two more days. I’m hoping the weather will improve by time we must head back.”

“Like as not it will worsen first,” Tessa observed. “That is, if your Town weather is as perverse as mine.”

“Quite,” Giles said. “I’m concerned for the painting. It won’t stand a drenching.” But it wasn’t the trip to the prince’s residence that worried him. It was the prospect of a two-and-a-half day journey back to Cornwall in dirty weather that creased his brow in a frown.

Carlton House, situated in the posh West End of London, was a rambling structure. Able let Giles and Tessa out in the drive, then drove around to the delivery entrance to unload the painting. A wigged and liveried footman led them to the Blue Velvet Room, the Prince
Regent’s audience chamber off the vast and breathtaking main hallway. Along the way they caught a glimpse of Ionic columns, splashes of brown Siena marble, and the splendid octagonal double staircase at the far end of the hall leading to the Prince Regent’s private apartments. Ushering them inside the vast audience chamber, the footman bade them wait and disappeared

Time passed too slowly to be borne, and Giles began to pace the length of a thick Aubusson carpet in the center of the gleaming polished floor. The room was painted top to bottom in a soft shade of blue-gray, with a large three-tiered crystal chandelier fringed in gold poised overhead and reflecting the misty blue color also. It was sparely though elegantly furnished, with a long, intricately carved table with one matching chair, which obviously served as a desk by the way it was situated. Several low carved chests were positioned about, upon which great Sevres vases in colored porcelain were set, and two gilded armless chairs stood against one wall hung with a magnificent Gobelins tapestry. This was clearly a room where visitors were welcomed in style, or screened before being admitted to the palace proper. Giles couldn’t help but wonder in dark reflection how Prinny would feel about receiving a werewolf in his posh lair. It would have been laughable if the situation wasn’t so grave.

Though it wasn’t all that long, it seemed like an eternity to Giles before the Prince Regent joined them, accompanied by two footmen gingerly conveying “The Bride of Time,” which they set upon a gilded easel in the corner after removing a large landscape canvas that had occupied the space.

“Exquisite, Longworth!” the prince said, strolling into the room.

Giles executed a flawless bow from the waist, while
Tessa sketched a dutiful curtsy. How lovely she looked in her robin’s-egg-blue gown and indigo pelerine with its matching bonnet.
She has taste, by God
, Giles thought, admiring her choices. She was possessed of an elegant bearing and a cultured voice as well, none of which reflected her servant-class status. He must remember to ask her about all that. Whatever the cause, he’d definitely found himself a diamond of the first water in Tessa LaPrelle, scullery maid or no.

The prince was his usual dapper self, decked out in superfine and silk, his ruffled shirt and elaborately tied neckcloth fighting with the brocade waistcoat that barely stretched across his ample paunch. It added pounds to that which already widened his girth. His hair, swept forward and styled
a la Bruitis
, approached his plump cheeks in a rakish manner that suited him, Giles thought, though it wasn’t a style he would be comfortable in himself.

“I’m glad you approve, Your Highness,” he said humbly, for all that relief flooded his speech.

“And this charming young lady would be the model, I presume?” the prince inquired.

“One of them,” Giles said. “There were several. May I introduce Miss Tessa LaPrelle, Your Highness? She was my model for the Bride’s hair and hands, and before the day is gone, she will become Mrs. Giles Longworth. We are on our way to obtain a special license.” He’d spoken quickly as Tessa sketched another curtsy. Her cheeks were on fire. It was obvious that her embarrassment at having her nakedness flaunted before the Prince Regent was acute. With all the other press, neither of them had considered this aspect until the moment it occurred. The little white lie seemed to put her at ease, and he drew her close with a reassuring caress.

“Congratulations, Longworth!” the prince erupted.
“I’m quite jealous, to be sure. But if my fantasy bride must belong to another, who better than the artist that painted her?”

“You are too kind, Your Highness.”

“She shall hang in my private gallery here at Carlton House. I spend more time here than anywhere else these days. You’ve quite outdone yourself, Longworth. It has far exceeded my expectations, but then all of your work is brilliant. She will steer more commissions your way, never doubt it.” He handed Giles a sealed envelope. “For a job well done,” he said. “You will let me know if it isn’t sufficient.”

Giles pocketed the folded parchment without looking inside. “You are most generous as always, I am sure, Your Highness,” he said.

“Tell me, Miss LaPrelle, soon to be Mrs. Longworth,” said the prince, “are you a professional model?”

“No, Your Highness,” Tessa said. “I am governess to Giles’s…Mr. Longworth’s ward.”

“I had to sack my last model for stealing,” Giles explained, “and Tessa was kind enough to stand in so that I could finish the painting.”

“Nicely!” said the prince. “I do so love a romance, don’t you know. I’ll have it to my framer first thing in the morning, and I’ll instruct him to have a care, since the paint hasn’t dried. He’s a fine chap. Edwin Tatum is his name. He has a little framing establishment off Threadneedle Street. His dream is to open a small gallery there, near the banks, don’t you know. Clever fellow, Tatum. I think he means to pick the rich men’s pockets coming and going. It’s only a dream, of course. The man’s on in years, but he has four sons, and mayhap one of them will take up his cudgel. Feel free to recommend him to your patrons, Longworth. His work is above reproach.”

Giles watched the color fade from Tessa’s cheeks as if
a shade had descended, turning her peaches-and-cream complexion ghost gray before his very eyes. Tatum’s Gallery! He felt a pang inside that struck a nerve and triggered a rush of gooseflesh riveting his spine.

“I will make a point of it, Your Highness,” he said.

“May I offer you some refreshment…tea, wine?”

“Thank you, no, Your Highness,” Giles said. “We are anxious to secure the license while it’s still early enough for the ceremony.”

“Well, of course you are, Longworth, of course you are. Where are you staying?”

“We only have two days, Your Highness. We are stopping at the Golden Cross, at Charing Cross.”

“The deuce you are! I’d like you to be my guest right here at Carlton House, Longworth. We shall have an unveiling! I have other house guests I would like you to meet. The Duke of York is visiting, and the Earl of Rochester. You can’t afford to say no.” He took Giles arm and strolled toward the door. “You’ll stay at least a sennight.” When Giles’s posture clenched in spite of himself, the prince said, “Tut, tut, I’ll brook no argument. Now, go and have your wedding ceremony, then collect your things from that haven for transient cutpurses and thatchgallows before they rob you blind, and return. I will not be gainsaid. We sup at nine. We shall toast your nuptials, and your success before men who can do you some good.”

“Giles, how can we…?” Tessa asked, as the brougham tooled through the dreary London streets toward Doctor’s Commons.

“We can hardly refuse an invitation from the Prince Regent,” he replied. “It just isn’t done, Tessa. It would be a cut direct to refuse his hospitality, especially since philanthropy is his avocation these days, and he fancies himself my patron.”

“But Giles…a
sennight!
The moon will be full. We can’t chance it.”

“There is nothing for it,” Giles said. “We don’t have a choice. We shall carry out our plans and return to the inn. There, we will collect our belongings and go back ’round to Carlton House. I will explain to the prince that we can only stay for two days before starting back. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. I’ll use the boy, if needs must. Prinny has met Master Monty, to my gross embarrassment. He knows the child is difficult.”

But Tessa could not shake the tightness in the pit of her stomach, as if an icy fist had gripped it. “I’m frightened, Giles,” she murmured.

He pulled her close in the custody of his strong arm and grazed her temple with his lips. They were cold and dry against her flushed face. “Don’t let this spoil our day, my love,” he murmured, soothing her with gentle hands. He ground out a wry chuckle. “At least the accommodations will be an improvement,” he said. “We shan’t have to grope about through clouds of soot and sup upon mutton stew and cheap ale. You shall have a wedding feast fit for a queen.”

Tessa wanted to say she would settle for gruel and a straw pallet just to be in his arms, but she nodded instead and held her peace. What worried her most was returning to the Abbey now that she knew what would become of it, but didn’t know when. It would have to be soon, while Monty was still a child, if the caretaker’s tale was true, and the first part of the event had already occurred; the boy was missing. On the other hand, if Giles was right about the curse, she feared a transformation into wolf form occurring at Carlton House, or any setting but the rambling isolated wilds of Cornwall, especially if that curse now affected her as well.

They weren’t long at Doctor’s Commons. It was really happening! Tessa LaPrelle was about to become
Mrs. Giles Longworth. She could scarcely believe it, examining the piece of embossed parchment as Able drove the brougham toward the shopping district through a raw misty drizzle that wasn’t strong enough to chase the fog.

In Bond Street, Giles bought her a beautiful royal-blue hooded pelisse trimmed and lined with chinchilla fur, which she put on in place of the wrapper she’d been wearing. It was warm enough to protect her against the wickedest gale, and the soft gray fur framing her face offset her chestnut hair so strikingly even the shopkeeper was taken aback. Tessa dug in her heels when he wanted to add several extravagant ball gowns to their purchases, citing that if he wasn’t careful he’d fritter away the entire sum the Prince Regent had given him. A compromise was made, and one lovely oyster-white muslin gown was allowed, as well as some frivolous trousseau items that Giles insisted she select, a fashionable bonnet and an assortment of gloves among them.