“Few of us truly do in life, Matthew.” A familiar voice sounded from the doorway. “The difficulty is in accepting it.”
At once Matt and his brothers were on their feet. His grandmother, Beatrice, the Dowager Marchioness of Stanwick, stood in the doorway, as unchanging as the house around her. She was not quite as tall as he remembered, but tall for a woman nonetheless, and even though she leaned on a cane, her bearing was still elegant. Matt stepped forward to greet her.
“Grandmother.” He took her hands in his and kissed one offered cheek, then the other. “I have missed you.”
“It is nice to be missed,” she said in a stern tone. “Although an occasional letter would have been far nicer.”
She pinned him with an unyielding gaze and he resisted the urge to shift his weight from foot to foot.
“However”—she allowed a grudging smile to crease her lips—“I can well understand how the exciting life of an adventurous young man might preclude such things as courtesy.”
“I am sorry, Grandmother.” Matt smiled weakly, feeling rather more like a ten-year-old boy than an adventurous anything.
“I’m sure you are at the moment. Now…” She glanced pointedly at Stephen, who immediately moved to shift an upholstered chair hidden in the shadows against the bookshelves, to the circle of male seating. The stiff-backed, tapestry-covered chair, with its delicate wooden arms, was as startling a contrast in this masculine domain as the elderly lady herself. A minute later, she settled comfortably in the chair.
“This is quite an honor, Matt,” Alec said with a grin. “The library’s not Grandmother’s favorite spot.”
“On the contrary, Alec, I quite like this room. I always have. I simply believe that in a household such as this, even if you and your brothers are away more often than you are here, there should be places reserved for the primary entertainment of men and women. This room I have graciously granted to you and your bothers. Besides”—she wrinkled her nose—“the foul odor of cigars is ever-present here.”
At once four cigars were stubbed out. James stepped to the side windows, Stephen to the rear windows and both men simultaneously threw up the sashes. Alec pulled a large lace fan from a drawer in a table, obviously kept there for just this purpose, and handed it to his grandmother.
“Now, then, Matthew, do sit down and stop towering over me.” She smacked the chair next to her with the fan. “I hate it when men tower over me. It is most disconcerting.”
Matt sat obediently.
Her gaze skimmed over the other men. “The rest of you can sit as well.”
They sat without question, and Matt bit back a smile.
“I don’t know what you are smirking about.” She swatted his knee with her fan. “They have one and all at least written when they’ve been in London or elsewhere.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Alec nudge James and Stephen stifle a grin. And for a moment he was indeed no more than ten years of age.
“Now, then, Matthew.” Grandmother folded her hands in her lap and fixed him with a steady stare. “As you have failed to keep me apprised of the events in your life, I want to hear all about them now. From the day you left the manor, through your years at sea, at war, with your balloons—and finally your marriage. I want you to relate every fact, every detail.”
“Everything?” Matt asked uneasily. “It will take rather a long time.”
“Then you should begin at once.” Grandmother nodded.
“As the two of you shall be occupied for a while”—Alec got to his feet, James and Stephen following his lead—“I shall take my leave.”
“I think not, Alec,” Grandmother said firmly. “You, above anyone else, as the head of the family and the title holder, should learn about your brother’s life.”
Alec reluctantly returned to his seat. James and Stephen exchanged glances, then started toward the door.
“You are not excused,” she said, without so much as a single look in their direction. The brothers turned without pause and retook their seats.
Grandmother could always do that: see what the boys were doing without looking. Alec was barely six when their mother had died, and their grandmother had raised all four of them with the help of an ever-changing series of haggard governesses. She once told Matt it was impossible to raise male children without a firm hand, a lesson he’d wondered at the time if she’d learned from rearing his father.
“Proceed, Matthew.” Grandmother nodded. “You may consider it a form of verbal letter-writing. And you have a great many letters to write.”
Chapter 19
Lady Stanwick remained silent for a long while after Tatiana’s tale about the Princess Sophia.
Tatiana glanced at Matthew, who shrugged helplessly. He was certainly not going to interrupt the musings of his formidable grandmother. Tatiana tried not to smile. She had never imagined him to be intimidated by anyone, let alone an elderly, silver-haired woman.
Matthew had spent the better part of the day in the library with his grandmother and his brothers, relating the last decade of his life in great detail. During dinner, his brothers had seized every opportunity to tease him about one childhood incident or another. Tatiana herself had learned a great deal about her husband. Unfortunately, she had not had the chance to speak to him privately about what he might have told his family about her. She did hope it was not as entertaining as some of his other tales.
In truth, she had had no private time with Matthew at all since the secret of their marriage had been revealed. Now that he had had time to get used to the truth, they needed to discuss the future. Their future. He had been adamant about postponing any such discussion until the question of the Heavens was resolved. Still, she had caught him studying her tonight at dinner with an expression that was at once thoughtful and resigned. It was most disconcerting.
Now Tatiana, Matthew and his grandmother had retired to a well-appointed parlor that was quite obviously a favorite of the older woman’s. Tatiana and Lady Stanwick sat in matching chairs, Matthew perched uncomfortably on a nearby sofa. His brothers had been told in no uncertain terms that they were not to be included in this particular conversation. Tatiana suspected the men were more relieved than annoyed by the exclusion.
“Her Grace thought you might be of great help,” Tatiana said in an effort to pull the older lady from her reverie.
“Her Grace did, did she?” Lady Stanwick snorted in disdain. “At least I can remember those days. My memory is as sharp today as it was fifty years ago.” She favored Tatiana with a slightly wicked smile. “I can remember all sorts of interesting things about Her Grace that I am certain she’d rather not have anyone know. Although admittedly”—she chuckled—“the duchess can probably say the same about me. Precisely why we both keep our lips sealed.”
Tatiana laughed.
Matthew cleared his throat. “The Princess Sophia, Grandmother?”
“Yes, of course.” Her brows drew together with her memories. “Sophia and I became friends when she was here. Both of us had lost husbands, and it drew us together. Even after she married, we corresponded regularly until her death.” She cast Matthew a chastising look. “She never failed to write, and wrote an excellent letter. Sophia was well aware of the need to keep in touch with those she cared about.”
Matt smiled weakly and tugged at his cravat as if it were suddenly too tight for him.
Lady Stanwick turned her attention to Tatiana. “But I am sorry, Your Highness, Sophia never mentioned your Heavens or jewels of any sort. She was an extremely private person, but we did talk rather a lot. She stayed here for several months and I think she needed someone, another woman, to talk to. I know I certainly did at that particular time in my life.
“Sophia talked more about the people she had left behind than anything else. Her late husband, of course, her parents and her brothers. She spoke at length about Avalonia as well, almost as if it were a person rather than a country. She was certain she’d never return there, and
while I believe she was resigned to her fate, it was a matter of great sorrow to her.” Lady Stanwick shook her head. “She talked a great deal about the importance of tradition and the need to pass one’s heritage on to one’s children.”
“Heritage is the tie that binds the past to the future,” Tatiana said under her breath.
Matt raised a brow. “Do you think that means something significant? Or is it mere sentiment?”
“There is nothing mere about sentiment, Matthew,” Lady Stanwick said sharply.
“I do not know what to think.” Tatiana blew a long breath. “It’s to be expected that she would speak often of what she had lost. It is only when we start looking beneath the surface that her words seem at all cryptic. I do not know if we are giving her comments meaning she did not intend.”
“She was deeply concerned for the future of her daughter,” Lady Stanwick said. “But she could at least control that. It’s precisely why she married Lord Worthington. Of course, he was quite head over heels for her, and I believe she eventually developed a certain fondness for him as well. As least her letters never indicated otherwise.”
“Did she regret it, I wonder?” Tatiana said without thinking. “Leaving her country and family and position behind?”
“I don’t know. She never spoke of regrets.” The older woman’s eyes narrowed in an assessing manner. “Of course, she had no choice initially. And by the time the insurrection in Avalonia was laid to rest, she had already married Lord Worthington. She once told me she felt as though she’d had to make a choice between the past and the future and she chose the future. In many ways, her choice was a source of great sorrow to her. She took her position very seriously.” Lady Stanwick’s gaze met hers. “As I am certain do you, Your Highness.”
“Indeed,” Tatiana murmured.
Lady Stanwick smiled pleasantly. “You are a hereditary princess as well, are you not?”
Tatiana nodded.
“She is third in line for the throne,” Matt said.
“Only if my brothers were to die without issue, my lady,” Tatiana said quickly. “While neither of them are yet married I cannot imagine such a thing happening.”
“Of course not.” Lady Stanwick studied her for a long moment. “What exactly are your intentions toward my grandson, Your Highness?”
“My intentions?” The question caught her by surprise.
“Good Lord, Grandmother, what kind of question is that?” Matthew glared at the woman. “I am not a sweet young virginal female who needs protection. Tatiana is my wife. I would say her intentions are honorable.”
“Matthew.” Lady Stanwick addressed her grandson, but her gaze never left Tatiana. “I believe I have left my favorite fan in my rooms. It matches my dress. My maid will know exactly where it is. Would you run up to my room and fetch it for me?”
“I most certainly will not. However, I shall be more than happy to have a servant bring it to you.” Matthew rose and started toward the door.
“No, Matthew,” his grandmother said sharply. “I would appreciate it if you would get it for me. Personally.”
“Absolutely not.” Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. “I know what you’re up to, Grandmother, and I will not permit it.”
“You are being terribly rude, Matthew.” Tatiana’s gaze locked with the other woman’s. “Lady Stanwick has made a reasonable request and I think you should comply with it.”
“You don’t know what she’s trying to do,” he said firmly.
“Come, now, dear boy,” Lady Stanwick said coolly. “She knows exactly what I have in mind.”
“And it is understandable.” Tatiana flashed Matthew a reassuring smile. “Go on.”
Matthew’s gaze traveled from his wife to his grandmother and back. “If you are certain?”
“I am.”
“I shall not be long.” He turned and strode from the parlor.
Silence hung in the room for a long moment. Tatiana knew Lady Stanwick’s only concern was for her grandson. As was Tatiana’s.
“This marriage can never work.” Lady Stanwick pressed her lips together in an unyielding manner.
Tatiana drew a deep breath. “There are difficulties, of course, but—”
“Difficulties?” The old woman scoffed. “Impossibilities is a more accurate term.
“You are young, Your Highness, and you have a great deal to learn about the world. There are only two kinds of men who can be married to a woman in your position. Men who do not love you but rather love power and position and privilege. And men who love you to the exclusion of everything else. Men who love you better than they love themselves. They have no pride, no strength, no sense of themselves. Frankly, such men are not worth loving in return. They are little better than lapdogs.”
“Matthew is hardly a lapdog.”
Lady Stanwick heaved an annoyed sigh. “Of course he isn’t. A man like my grandson cannot possibly survive in your world. He is not cut out to be a consort for a princess.”
“I do not intend him to be.” A hard note edged Tatiana’s words.
Lady Stanwick considered her for a tense moment, then nodded slowly. “But can you give it all up, Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
Sympathy showed in the older woman’s eyes. “You will pay a dreadful price. I know, my dear; I watched your aunt pay it.
“She lived her life in quiet resignation. She retired from the world when she married Worthington, spending the rest of her days in that drafty old castle of hers. She scarcely left it at all, either before the earl’s death or after. And when her daughter married, she lived there alone save for her stepson.”
Lady Stanwick shook her head. “While Sophia never officially abdicated her title, she did so in her heart, and in many ways it destroyed her.”
“But when Sophia gave up the life she knew, she was escaping. She was running away from danger and pain and despair.” Tatiana leaned toward the other woman. “I am running toward the man I love and cherish with all my heart. Anything I give up for him is not a sacrifice; it is nothing more than a burden if it keeps us apart.”
“It sounds so noble and selfless in theory. But can you really give up your title and family and country for my grandson?” Lady Stanwick settled back in her chair and studied her intently. “And can you live with yourself afterward?”
“Yes,” Tatiana said without hesitation. “I have given this a great deal of thought for a very long time. In many ways I have no choice.” She smiled ruefully. “I have tried, but I cannot live without him. I am well aware of all that I will lose, but it pales in comparison to what I will gain.”
“Oh, dear.” Lady Stanwick sighed. “You are very much in love. Such love ends as often in tragedy as it does in joy.”
Tatiana laughed. “Well, then there is at least half a chance.”
Lady Stanwick fell silent, her fingers plucking at a thread on the arm of the chair. “He loves you, you know.”
“I am confident of it.”
“A great deal, I suspect.” She raised her gaze to meet Tatiana’s. “So much so that he would be willing to accompany you back to Avalonia.”
Tatiana shook her head. “I would never allow that.”
“Never?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I would never allow Matthew to be less than what he is. A mere husband rather than a man.”
“I see.” Lady Stanwick chose her words with care. “You would not allow him to give up his life for you, yet you believe he will permit you to give up your life for him?”
Tatiana lifted her chin. “I have no intention of asking his permission.”
Lady Stanwick raised a brow. “I’m not sure if that calls for applause or censure.”
“Perhaps”—Tatiana smiled—“what it really requires is prayer.”
Tatiana leaned against the window frame in the rooms she and Matthew were to share and stared out into the night. Her chat with Lady Stanwick had given her a great deal to think about. Oh, not about re
linquishing her title. She had wrestled with that dilemma some time ago. It was the other points Matthew’s grandmother had made that gave her pause.
Would he indeed be willing to return to Avalonia with her? To live by her side in that odd position accorded to men who marry women of power? It scarcely mattered. Her jaw clenched. She would not allow it. She acknowledged that Matthew was not Phillipe and she had no doubt Matthew would manage to make a useful life for himself at court. But in spite of the strength of character he possessed, she was afraid of turning him into something less than what he was. Something less than the man she loved.
A lapdog.
And Lady Stanwick did not believe Matthew would accept her decision to give up her title. Not that Tatiana planned to either ask him or tell him until the deed was done.
It was a simple matter, contingent more upon the will of her father than anything else. He could well refuse to accept her abdication on paper, although in practice she had no intention of living the rest of her life in Avalonia. She could arrange everything when she returned home with the Heavens.
If she found the Heavens.
She blew a long, frustrated breath. No one Sophia had trusted had even heard of the Heavens. According to Alexei, Beaumont knew nothing of them either. It was unreasonable to expect that Sophia’s daughter was any more knowledgeable than her grandson.
Valentina would use the loss of the jewels to foment unrest. Alexei had just managed to restore confidence in the throne and the House of Pruzinsky, but was it enough to deflect any new threat by their cousin?
And how could Tatiana abandon her country if that should happen?
“You were gone by the time I came back,” Matthew said behind her. “I never did find that fan of hers.”
“She already had it,” Tatiana said absently. “It was tucked beneath the arm of the chair.”
“I should have known.” He enfolded her in his arms, pulled her back against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Are we looking at anything in particular?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “Everything.”
Her Highness, My Wife Page 25
