“I understand perfectly. I am as illogical as you, ma belle, and happy that way.” He hugged her to him. He kissed her, slowly and lovingly. “Let us marry very soon.”
“Yes.”
They succumbed once again to passion. It was the most perfect night of her life.
Chapter 17
“Good morning, Miss Glow. I hope you slept well . . . Eep!”
Gloriana jolted awake. They must have slept for hours! She sat up, mortified, and clutched the coverlet to her nakedness. Beside her, Philippe opened an eye.
Elspeth blushed red as a strawberry, but her voice retained its usual asperity. “Well! It’s about time.” She plunked the tray with Gloriana’s morning chocolate on the dressing table, when usually she would have brought it to the bed. A jug of hot water was also on the tray, but she didn’t move it to the washstand. “But for the sake of others, Miss Glow, you might have considered locking your door.”
“I daresay I would have done so,” Gloriana retorted, her own color rising, “if I’d been expecting Monsieur de Bellechasse to climb in through my window.”
“Tsk.” Elspeth had retreated to the door, but now she turned just enough to face Gloriana while determinedly avoiding the sight of Philippe. She didn’t specify whether the ‘tsk’ was for such a dangerous method of entering or for entering at all.
Philippe smiled at Elspeth without a sign of gêne. He looked handsome, contented, and smug, which was frightfully unfair. Gloriana had just as much reason for contentment—perhaps even smugness—yet all she felt was awkward.
“Good morning, Elspeth,” Philippe said. “We all agree that it’s about time, but tell me, what time is it?”
“Good morning, sir.” The maid still didn’t look directly at him. “It’s nine o’clock of a fine spring morning, and how we’re to get you out of the house without being seen is beyond me.”
“I don’t care who sees him,” Gloriana said. “We’ll be married soon anyway.”
“I should hope so.” Elspeth unbent enough to move the jug of hot water to the washstand, but she didn’t venture near the bed.
“I’ll leave by the area stairs.” Philippe yawned. “Maybe your footman and I can seem to be servants on an errand. I’ll go procure a special license tout de suite . . .” He paused. “It will be a busy day. I have already hired actors to serve as decoys tonight, but I must make arrangements with Freddy Barnham, as well as with Lady Marianne, Mr. Turner, and a few others.” He raised himself on his elbows, and Elspeth yelped at the imminent exposure of bare male chest.
He waved her away. “Off you go. Can the cook give us breakfast in fifteen minutes or so? Nothing elaborate, just something quick and simple. I’ll need you to join us, as you must get in touch with Mr. Turner.”
“Yes, sir. Kindly assist Miss Glow to dress, as I certainly cannot do so under the circumstances.” She whisked herself out and shut the door.
“With pleasure,” Philippe murmured, “although I had hoped to spend a little time undressed this morning. Did you sleep well, ma belle?” He smiled, and Gloriana’s heart turned over.
“You look far too handsome in this tousled state,” she grumped.
“I shall not speak about what your beauty does to me, for it is sufficiently obvious.” She glanced down, gasped at the little tent in the coverlet, and hoped to God Elspeth hadn’t noticed. He took her hand and kissed it, and a bolt of desire shot through her. She blushed, and he added, “A pity I didn’t specify half an hour till breakfast—but I would rather our next lovemaking be slow, lazy, and erotic in the extreme.”
“Philippe, that is not helpful!”
He laughed, got out of bed, and quickly donned his clothing, giving her far too little time to ogle him. She found a shift and corset, and he laced it up for her. Soon she was dressed in an old morning gown.
Next came the ordeal of going downstairs. What must the servants think of her wanton behavior? Elspeth wouldn’t discuss it with them, but even if they didn’t realize Philippe had spent the night there, his presence at breakfast would give rise to speculation. A Warren can do no wrong, she told herself, but this particular dictum of her mother’s had been wishful thinking, as the Warrens were known for misbehavior.
They ran the gauntlet of no one except Gregory, who treated Philippe with cautious deference, and found Elspeth setting the table in the dining room. Two steaming dishes of scrambled eggs and sausage already awaited them, along with a wedge of cheese.
“In case you were uneasy, Miss Glow, I informed the staff that you and Monsooer are to marry.” This explained Gregory’s attitude, as he was anticipating a new master. “They are all very happy for you.”
“Thank you, Elspeth.” Gloriana took her place at the table. She took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. Why was she so overwrought? She should be happy and at peace and at ease and . . .
Elspeth left to bring the toast and coffee, and Philippe sat next to Gloriana, taking her hand. “You are anxious, but do not be. All will be well.”
Fine for him to say, but he was about to commit a crime, and meanwhile . . . “I’m just not accustomed to . . . this. To you and me.” She took another deep breath. “It will take a little time.”
Philippe took a plate and served her eggs and sausage. “It is indeed strange to be in such harmony with one another. Perhaps we should dispute a little—to become more comfortable.”
“Never,” Gloriana said. “I couldn’t bear another dispute with you.”
He laughed. “Not just a tiny one, so you will feel more at ease?” He cut a corner off the cheese and tasted it. “Tsk. One day we shall go to France and eat real cheese.”
“This is excellent Lancashire cheese from my brother’s estate!” she retorted.
He chuckled. “Voilà, our first dispute.” He served them both some of the sharp, crumbly cheese. “I like your Elspeth. She has your interests at heart.”
“Yes, I shall miss her very much,” Gloriana said.
He helped himself to sausage and egg. “Why should you miss her?”
“Because she is my dearest friend, and she’s going to leave me.”
He took a forkful of eggs. “Why? She seems devoted to you.”
“Yes, but she intends to wed Mr. Turner. The reward for helping us get the Book of Hours means he can quit Lord Hythwick’s employ, and he will have the money to become a tailor or innkeeper or some such. She will be much happier as a wife than as a lady’s maid, so I must be happy for her.” She toyed with her eggs.
Meanwhile, Philippe savored his breakfast as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Tiens, what superb sausage! I must send a message to the cook. Why shouldn’t a lady’s maid also be a wife?"
“It’s not usual,” she said. “I expect that’s mostly because marriage means children, and caring for them would prevent her from doing her work. But I would keep Elspeth anyway if I could.” But what was the use of wishing? She took a bite of the sausage. It was one of Cook’s homemade special sausages, not the rather bland sort from the butcher. She shouldn’t read anything into that—Cook couldn’t have known ahead of time that she would make breakfast for the future master of the house—but somehow it cheered her anyway.
“Do not worry about that, either. All will be well.”
Exasperated, she almost snapped at him, but Elspeth came into the room again, shut the door, then poured coffee for them all and took a seat at the table.
“You’re not eating?” Philippe asked.
“No, sir, I broke my fast two hours ago,” Elspeth scoffed. “I don’t lie abed of a morning.”
“That may change after you marry your Mr. Turner,” he said.
She colored. “He’s not a slug-a-bed either,” she retorted and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir. I spoke without thinking.”
“I am glad to see she has no difficulty doing the same with me,” Philippe said. “That means we shall get along well.”
An emotion, which Gloriana wished might be sadness but which she couldn’t identify, flitted across the maid’s face. Gloriana waited for her to say that she wouldn’t be staying with them long, but evidently Elspeth thought it wasn’t the right moment, for she merely said, “Might we get on with the planning, sir? For I’d best be getting back to work soon, or the other servants will wonder.”
“And I’d best be on my way,” Philippe said as he outlined the plan.
~ ~ ~
At three o’clock in the afternoon, Gloriana and Elspeth pottered about in the nursery on the road to Islington. The location was Gloriana’s idea—a place on the road to the north where respectable ladies might choose to shop but were unlikely to meet their friends and acquaintances. They were followed about by an obsequious little man asking questions about the garden she had no intention of planting. She did her best to imitate her sister-in-law, who had managed to take over direction of the rose garden at Garrison House without upsetting the head gardener. Not that Gloriana cared about upsetting this particular person, although maybe she should—he was only doing his job, after all. The other customers at the moment consisted of laborers fetching baskets of cut flowers to sell in Town, so lesser clerks were able to deal with them.
It occurred to her that she might make actual use of the nursery, so at least the obsequious man wouldn’t have wasted his time. “Setting my house in Town aside, perhaps you could advise me about another project,” she said, and went on to describe the school in Islington, the tiny garden in front and the larger one behind, the necessity of planting a few herbs as well as flowers, the hope of instilling in the boys a respect for growing things, and so on.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the arrival of a coach and four with the crest of Freddy Barnham’s father on the door. Shades covered the windows, but hopefully it contained three passengers—two actors bearing a superficial resemblance to Freddy and Marianne, the third being Freddy himself. She turned to watch it pass—no, Freddy was on the box with the coachman. He spread his hands in the obvious question—Is she here?—to which Gloriana shook her head. The coach rolled on and disappeared around a corner.
Where in God’s name were Lady Marianne and her aunt? She wished she could have called on Marianne and made sure she came to the rendezvous, but Philippe had insisted she must not seem in any way connected with the elopement. He feared that Hythwick would seek vengeance on her as well as him, and therefore the meeting at the nursery must appear to be a chance one.
Gloriana had a feeling Hythwick would soon hate her anyway, but she acquiesced.
At last! An elegant barouche turned into the nursery yard. Gloriana pretended to be absorbed in the array of herbs. The nurseryman dithered—two wealthy clients at once! But this one was clearly more important, having arrived in a vehicle with a crest on the panel.
“If you might excuse me for a moment, ma’am, while I direct one of my assistants to advise you further?”
This gave Gloriana a reason to turn and notice Lady Marianne and Mrs. Apsley stepping down from the barouche. “What a pleasant surprise!” She trod forward, smiling. “My dear girl, has springtime prompted you to plant a garden too? Or are you the garden enthusiast, ma’am?”
Thus, she avoided directly identifying the new arrivals. The less that was known to the nursery folk, the less the gossips would learn.
“Not I,” Mrs. Apsley said. “My niece has taken into her head an unaccountable desire to plant window boxes.”
“Flowers cheer me up,” Marianne said, “and I’ve been so dreadfully unhappy lately.” Her color fluctuated wildly—no doubt from anticipation—but behind it, she was almost as wan as yesterday.
“Now, now, enough of that—” her aunt began.
“My brother will be sorry when he sees me go into a decline,” Marianne said with a convincing pout.
“Flowers are an excellent remedy for low spirits.” Gloriana struggled not to watch for Freddy’s coach. “I’m sure this knowledgeable fellow can give you the best of advice about which to choose.”
The nurseryman stepped forward, bowing and scraping, but Marianne’s attention had flown elsewhere. The coach and four pulled up, blocking the entrance to the nursery yard, and Freddy jumped down.
Marianne dashed across the yard and flung herself into his arms. He whirled her about and kissed her.
“Marianne!” her aunt cried. “This is most improper.” She bustled after them. “Freddy, you should be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of my innocent niece in such a public situation.”
So much for not identifying the fleeing couple.
“That’s the least of your worries today, ma’am,” Freddy said. He opened the coach door and Marianne scrambled inside. He followed suit and slammed it shut before her aunt could utter another word. If the actor and actress were also in the coach, they stayed well out of view of the door.
The coach sped away. Mrs. Apsley gaped at it. “Oh, heavens! Oh, mercy me! Whatever shall I do?”
Gloriana put an arm around her. “Calm down, dear ma’am. Is there someplace we might sit for a moment or two?” she asked the nurseryman.
He guided them to a bench, trying to mask his curiosity with a bland face. Gloriana helped the trembling Mrs. Apsley to sit.
“Might I offer refreshment?” the man asked. “A bracing cup of tea?”
“Yes,” Gloriana said, “that would be most welcome.”
“No!” Mrs. Apsley cried, “I must go after them. Freddy cannot be allowed to drive her about in a closed carriage, completely unchaperoned.”
Gloriana motioned to Elspeth, who bore the man away to fetch the tea.
“Whatever has got into Freddy to behave so badly?” Mrs. Apsley said.
“I should think that’s obvious, ma’am,” Gloriana said.
After a bewildered pause, the elderly lady’s eyes widened. “You think they have eloped?” Her voice rose to a bleat on that last, dreadful word. “Surely not!”
“The coach headed toward the Great North Road,” Gloriana said. “And we both know that Freddy wishes to marry Marianne. Since Lord Hythwick’s refusal to allow it is based only on spite, it’s hardly surprising that Freddy has taken matters into his own hands.”
Mrs. Apsley rose hurriedly, hands clasped to her heaving chest. “I must go after them. I must catch them before Alvin learns of this.”
“You can’t go after them in the barouche. It has only two horses to their four. You’ll never catch up, and even if you do, how can you possibly stop Freddy?” She put an arm around the elderly lady. “Sit down, ma’am, and try to compose yourself.”
Tears glistened in Mrs. Apsley’s eyes, but she allowed herself to be guided back to the bench. “How could Marianne take such a scandalous step? She used to be such a sweet, biddable girl. It’s all Freddy’s fault, and now he has cozened her into fleeing with him, for she would never think of taking such a step on her own. Her brother forbade her to speak to him, and he has been proven right.” She dabbed at the tears with her gloved hand.
Gloriana dug in her reticule for a handkerchief and handed it to Mrs. Apsley. “Here comes my maid with the tea, and although she is very discreet, the nurseryman may hear. The best we can hope for is to hush it all up.” She took the tea from Elspeth and motioned her to keep the nurseryman away.
“How? It will be all over London in no time.” Mrs. Apsley took the cup with shaking hands and sipped. She made a face. “This is dreadful stuff.”
“I expect so, but he’s a nurseryman, not an earl.” Gloriana retrieved the tea from Mrs. Apsley. “Perhaps we can prevent the elopement. I belie
ve your best course is to drive back to Town and inform his lordship. If he hurries, he may be able to catch them before it is too late.”
“Yes! You’re absolutely right, Miss Warren. I shall leave immediately.” She tottered toward the barouche.
“I’ll come with you.” Heroically, Gloriana drank the tea and handed the cup to her maid. “Thank the poor man, Elspeth, order some plants, and have them delivered to the school.” She hastened after Mrs. Apsley, who was already clambering in with the help of the groom. Gloriana climbed in after her, and they were off.
“It’s most kind of you to come,” Mrs. Apsley said. “I am quite, quite overset.”
“There, there.” Gloriana patted her hand. “I daresay his lordship will succeed in catching them. He has access to the best of coaches and horses.” She paused. “And if he doesn’t, he will have to countenance the marriage.”
“He will never do so, Miss Warren,” the elderly lady whispered. “He was adamantly against it.”
“True, but he is just as adamant about avoiding scandal.”
“Yes, which is why I’m astonished at . . . Oh, dear me.” She flushed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned . . .”
“That he is flirting so scandalously with me, when everyone knows he won’t marry me?”
“It isn’t at all like him,” Mrs. Apsley said. “Usually, he is discreet about satisfying his animal urges. Meanwhile, the gossips are saying you will try to entrap him into marriage by becoming his mistress.”
The Redemption of the Shrew (Scandalous Kisses Book 4) Page 23
