“Later in the week?” Tatiana kept her voice level and unconcerned.
“Indeed. Several members of my family were in residence here up until a fortnight ago. Lord Matthew’s presence provides me with the perfect opportunity to call them back. I sent out informal invitations the moment I received your note and I expect the guests nearest to Effington Hall to arrive as early as tomorrow. Why, no one would speak to me again if they knew Lord Matthew and his balloon were here and I had allowed them to miss it. In addition, my grandson and several other relations have recently visited Avalonia. I’m certain they would enjoy the opportunity to discuss their activities there with you.”
“That would be lovely,” Tatiana lied. She would much prefer not to speak with anyone who might recognize her, although she had not been home since shortly after her brother had left Avalonia for England early in the spring.
“I think a ball is in order. Nothing extensive, mind you, a small gathering. No more than fifty guests or so, probably less than a hundred all told, mostly family, could be managed by the end of the week. Oh, say, three days from now. You will stay, of course?”
“Of course,” Matthew said, his polite smile belying the reluctance in his eye.
“Of course.” Tatiana nodded. As much as she did not want to waste the rest of the week, the time would give her the opportunity to fully explore Effington Hall and its grounds. If the Heavens were here, this was her chance to find them.
“Excellent.” The elderly woman beamed. “I do so love impromptu entertainments, and I confess I will use any excuse. I rarely travel to London these days and the country can be frightfully dull. Most of the time, I rather prefer it that way, but at the moment, I am oddly restless.” She pulled her brows together in a considering manner. “I have no idea why, but there you have it.” She squeezed Tatiana’s hand and met her gaze. “It may well be that whole issue of regrets. I shall not live forever and there are any number of things I have yet to do.”
She pulled her hand away and turned toward Matthew. “And I fully expect you to help me accomplish one of them.”
“Me?” Apprehension flickered in Matthew’s eye.
The dowager nodded. “You and your balloon.”
“My balloon?” he said slowly.
“Aerostat,” Tatiana added.
“In your wife’s note I was given to understand you are at a point in your work where it will be necessary to inflate the”—she cast a quick smile at Tatiana—“aerostat. It should be quite exciting. I was hoping you would give me the honor of a ride.” She smiled, and a far-off look appeared in her eye. “I do regret that I have never had the opportunity to fly.”
“The honor would be mine, Your Grace.”
“Excellent. And to seal our bargain, I have something of a treat in store.” She picked up a bell and rang. The butler appeared in the doorway immediately. The dowager nodded and the servant disappeared, to return almost at once bearing a tray with a decanter and three filled glasses. “I have been saving this for years, and tonight is indeed the perfect occasion.”
The butler offered the tray first to the dowager, who selected a glass, then to Tatiana and Matthew in turn. Tatiana had no idea what the beverage might be, although the deep, dark red-brown color looked familiar.
The dowager raised her glass to Matthew. “To family and friends”—then directed her glass to Tatiana—“and to those who have newly joined our company.”
All three brought their glasses to their lips. In that instant before the liquid touched her mouth, Tatiana recognized the sharp, unmistakable scent of Avalonian brandy. At once she realized if she drank it she would soon be asleep and there would be no opportunity for confession to Matthew and no chance of anything much more delightful. But the dowager was offering the brandy in honor of Lord and Lady Matthew, and it would be most impolite not to accept it. Tatiana had little choice.
She squinted her eyes closed, held her breath and drained the glass.
“Avalonian brandy,” Matthew said in much the same manner one would say hemlock. As much as Tatiana did not like the drink, it was still not at all pleasant to hear Matthew speak of it as if it were poison.
“Oh, my.” The dowager gasped and held her glass out to study its contents. “I did think brandy got better with age.”
“It’s supposed to,” Matthew muttered.
“Do you think it’s gone bad? The taste is distinctly…” The lady licked her lips and her nose wrinkled.
“Foul?” Matthew said.
“Odd.” Her Grace stared down into her glass. “The princess sent it to me years ago. I understand it’s rather rare.”
“It’s very difficult to get outside of Avalonia,” Tatiana said.
“Thank God,” Matthew said under his breath.
“I rarely drink spirits other than wine or sherry or champagne, of course. Perhaps a cognac on special occasions. The odd glass of whiskey now and then during the winter. A sip of gin…” She held the glass to the light and scrutinized its contents. “But is brandy supposed to taste like this?”
“I believe it is.” Tatiana was beginning to wonder if Avalonian brandy was any good at all. At least as the rest of the world judged brandy.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Matthew said pointedly.
“And no doubt difficult to acquire. This may well explain why after all these years in this house, in which there are a fair amount of spirits regularly imbibed, it has not been drunk.” The dowager leaned toward Matthew. “I believe there are quite a few bottles of the stuff still in the cellar.”
The dowager brightened. “We could serve it at the soiree. In honor of Lady Matthew. It would be perfect.”
“And you would get rid of it.” Matthew grinned.
“Is it really that bad?” Tatiana asked, staring at her empty glass.
“No, my dear.” The dowager rose to her feet, Matthew and Tatiana following suit. “But as Matthew says, it is obviously a taste that must be acquired.”
Tatiana sighed. “And I have never truly acquired it.”
“That is not, necessarily, a bad thing.” Matthew grinned down at her. Something in his look, amusement or perhaps even affection, caught at her heart and her gaze locked with his.
The look in his eye changed, deepened, and desire now stared at her. A wonderful, tremulous sense of anticipation settled in her body.
She stifled a yawn.
“I shall bid you both good night,” Her Grace said. “I am more than ready to retire. However, if you are not”—she turned to Matthew—“we have an excellent library and a billiards room. Along with a gentleman’s lounge, those are the only rooms where the smoking of cigars is permitted. Many of the Effington men like the foul-smelling things. Do you, Matthew?”
He shrugged in an offhand manner. “On rare occasions.”
“Well, there are supplies in both rooms if you consider this occasion rare.” The dowager chatted on about the quality of the offerings in the Effington library and the enjoyment of the game of billiards and Tatiana was not certain what else. In a few short minutes, she would have to tell Matthew everything and in many ways she rather welcomed it. He could be of great assistance in her search for the jewels. He would certainly understand her affliction brought on by travel. As for the rest, well, the truth about the state of their marriage could no longer be put off. She should have told him long ago.
The dowager turned to Tatiana and took the younger woman’s hands. “I have quite enjoyed this evening, and I do so look forward to speaking with you about the princess.”
“As do I, Your Grace,” Tatiana said.
“I shall see you tomorrow, then.” Her Grace started toward the door and called back over her shoulder. “And do put that young woman to bed, Matthew, she is falling asleep on her feet.”
Tatiana yawned.
Matthew moved closer and studied her carefully. “You are falling asleep.”
“Not at all.” She forced a bright note to her voice and blinked hard. She had n
ever particularly tried to counteract the effects of the brandy—indeed, she had always welcomed the respite it brought—but tonight she very much wanted to remain awake. She stepped to Matthew, placed her hands on his coat and slid them up and around to the back of his neck. “Besides, I have far too much to accomplish tonight to sleep.”
“Oh?” His brow raised in a wicked manner and he drew her body close to his. “And what do you have to accomplish?”
“Well…” She brushed her lips back and forth across his mouth and his arms tightened around her. She could feel the heat of his body through the layers of their clothing and pressed closer, wondering if he could feel the throb of her own body in response. Her eyes drifted closed and she savored the warmth of him. She sighed. “Well…”
“If you do not stop that, we will not make it to our bed,” he growled against her ear.
“I have much to tell you. I promised.” She rested her head on his chest and sank into his embrace. It was as if she were in a dream, at once familiar and exciting. And indeed, had she not had this dream so many times before?
“I’m sure you do.” Matthew sounded oddly distant and resigned.
She snuggled closer against him.
Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms and started toward the door and the corridor beyond.
Her eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?”
“Exactly as the dowager instructed.” A wry smile quirked the corners of his mouth. She wanted to touch his lips, but it required far too much effort. “I am putting you to bed.”
“Excellent.” She closed her eyes and curled against him, then summoned all her strength and lifted her head. “Alone?”
“It appears that way.”
“Pity.” She sighed.
“My sentiments exactly.” He shifted her weight in his arms and started up the stairs.
Tatiana struggled to open her eyes. “Not that it would mean anything to you.”
He chuckled. “Nothing at all.”
“Just lust?”
“Nothing more.”
“You are lying, Matthew.” She smiled with a wonderful sense of contentment. He did care. She knew it. “My lord husband.”
“Your Highness. My lady…” He paused for a moment, then she felt him sigh in surrender. “Wife.”
The next thing she knew, he was placing her on the bed in the room that adjoined his and… leaving. She struggled to prop herself up on her elbows and stared after him.
“You are not staying?”
He paused at the door to the dressing room. “Not tonight.”
“But tonight…” Tonight, what? She could not find the words. Tonight was important… why? She could not… of course. “You called me your love.”
She couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but she could hear his smile. “A slip of the tongue.”
She sank back onto the bed with a sense of joy she had not had for a very long time. “You do not lie as well as I do, Matthew.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to tell you… everything. You really should… know.” But she could not grasp what everything was. What did she have to tell him? What did he have to know? A moment ago it had seemed so urgent; now it scarcely mattered.
In her fogged mind only one truth surfaced. “You hate my brandy.”
He laughed softly. “I confess, it isn’t exactly to my liking.”
“It is an acquired taste, Matthew.” She rolled onto her side and curled her hands under her cheek. And murmured in the last second before sleep claimed her, “As am I.”
… and, in truth, Ephraim, I am as befuddled by her as much now as ever.
I must confess, she makes me smile and I have laughed more in recent days than I had thought possible. While I am not happy with the deception she has woven around us, nor do I as yet trust her intentions toward my family or her true purpose, I have found myself beginning to believe in the woman herself.
It is an exceedingly odd admission, given both our pasts and our current circumstances, yet when I look into her eyes, I see a depth of affection and, indeed, a truth, that I am hard-pressed to disregard. It catches at my breath and melts my resolve and I forget my own intentions.
I began this adventure of hers determined to remain in command of my emotions, of my heart, as it were. I swore to myself that my agreement to accompany her was for the prime purpose of the protection of my family and only incidentally to resolve what was still unsettled between us. I can now admit, to you and perhaps to myself, there was an element of retribution as well. Do not think poorly of me at this confession, old friend. I have still retained that sense of honor you find so inconvenient. I did not plan to wound her as she had injured me; however, I fully intended not to especially care when next we parted. To be unconcerned and aloof when we bid one another farewell, as surely we must. She is a princess and I am the disinherited youngest son of an English marquess, as unsure of his future as he is of his own dreams.
Knowing this, I would be a fool to fall under her spell again, yet I cannot seem to prevent it. It is as inevitable as my next breath and the beat of my heart.
She loves me, Ephraim, I am certain of it. As certain as I am that I feel the same. It is the nature of such emotion to be optimistic and so, no matter how foolish, for now I live only in the moment. And in her laugh and her smile.
I know not how this farce of ours will play out. I have no clue as to the true purpose of her quest, nor what will happen should she succeed. Or, perhaps, should she fail.
Fate has thrust us together once again, but to what end?
Somewhere in the far distance, where the gods that rule such things reside, I hear the faint sound of laughter…
Chapter 12
Tatiana was indeed an acquired taste and, God help him, he had acquired it once and, it now appeared, acquired it for life.
Matt strode back toward Effington Hall, his step determined but his heart lighter than it had been in more than fifteen months. He grinned to himself. It was past time to admit there hadn’t been a week, a day, a minute when the thought of Tatiana hadn’t lingered in his mind. His feelings about her had never changed. Not for a moment. And he was confident, no, he knew she felt the same.
Oh, certainly last night hadn’t turned out as he’d expected. He still did not know what his princess was up to, nor how his family entered into it. But her long list of regrets had revealed much about her life and her choices and, more importantly, how she felt now. It would not be easy to put the past behind them, and he refused to consider what marriage to a princess might mean for his future, but for the moment, all he wanted was to clear the mistakes between them. And take her in his arms.
He’d slept later than usual this morning and she was still abed when he’d checked on her. It was apparent now that it was not the rocking of a coach that lulled her to sleep but that foul drink with which she began every trip. Perhaps she had some sort of fear of travel. Odd, since he’d never believed she feared much of anything.
Matt had spent the day assembling the various fittings, riggings and myriad of other components required to get his balloon airborne. His experimentation was for the most part complete. While his system worked in principle, in practice each effort proved the need for additional modification. Still, he was confident that it was nearly perfected and he was planning to take the balloon up in an hour or so. The sky was overcast but did not threaten rain and he did not anticipate any particular problems. Even now, eager Effington servants were tunneling hot air into the taffeta body. He grinned at their enthusiasm. Ballooning was not quite as fashionable as it once was, but it still held a fascination for most people. If he didn’t win this competition, he could always go back to selling balloon rides in Paris parks and make his fortune in that manner. Of course, by then he could well be too old to care.
And he did have a princess to provide for.
His step slowed. Matt was not a man of means. If he and Tatiana remarried—and indeed it seemed they
headed toward that end—what then?
He’d never concerned himself with the question of supporting her. Their time in Paris had been far too short to consider the realities of life, and then he’d had no idea of her title. Their time together now was an adventure, nothing at all like his usual way of living. Wasn’t she, in fact, paying for their travels? Why, she had provided the clothes that were on his back at this very moment.
Even if he managed to win the funding needed to invest in a ship, his finances would not be substantially improved for a long time. Tatiana was a blasted princess. She was used to luxury. To palaces and places like Effington Hall. Not cottages that were little more than shacks.
The hall loomed in the distance and he could make out figures seated at a table on the terrace.
Perhaps the idea of spending the rest of his days with her was as absurd as the fairy story he’d likened her life to. Perhaps he should simply let her go when the time came and be grateful they’d had the chance to resolve the past. Perhaps her decision to leave him in Paris, disregarding the manner of her leaving, had been the wisest decision for them both.
Matt drew closer to the hall, following a gravel path dividing a formal garden. Tall boxwood mazes flanked the gardens. Tatiana waved from the terrace and he responded with feigned enthusiasm, his lighthearted mood gone.
There was nothing to be done now. It was entirely possible he was mistaken about her feelings and her return was prompted by no more than her need for assistance from an Englishman. It was possible he was simply a convenience. And possible as well that she had no intentions toward him beyond sharing his bed.
“My lord,” Tatiana called and waved again from the terrace. “Will you join us?”
He skirted a fountain and continued along the gravel path to the broad stone steps of the terrace.
“Good afternoon, Matthew.” The dowager duchess waved at an empty chair. “Do sit down and tell us how your aerostat is progressing today.”
Her Highness, My Wife Page 15
