by Candace Camp
“Do you think we can actually locate her?” Alexandra asked, hope beginning to stir in her. “It seems a hopeless task.”
“Not as unlikely, I should think, as you being restored to your grandmother,” he told her. “At least we know that she grew up in this country.”
“That’s true.” Alexandra brightened. “Perhaps we can investigate it on our own.”
“Oh, no.” Sebastian shook his head, pulling her against his side. “I do not plan to engage in any more mysteries with you. We are going to be married, and you are going to be a good and proper wife, not one who gets kidnapped or stabbed or winds up in a brothel every few days.”
Alexandra chuckled. “I promise I shan’t get kidnapped anymore. But if you expect me to be a good and proper wife…”
“I know.” Sebastian sighed. “I am doomed to disappointment.”
“You needn’t marry me,” Alexandra replied.
“There you are wrong. I need very much to marry you.”
He bent and kissed her lips tenderly. “If I don’t marry you, you see, I shall be doomed to spend the rest of my life in boredom.”
“That will never do,” Alexandra responded, smiling. “I suppose I simply shall have to marry you.”
“Thank God. I was beginning to think I would never get you to agree.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
He grinned wickedly and swept Alexandra up in his arms. “Then I would have had to kidnap you.”
He turned and strode down the hall toward his bedroom, carrying her. Alexandra’s delighted giggle floated after them. He halted at the door of his bedroom and bent to kiss her.
“I love you,” Sebastian told her, all laughter gone from his face. “Promise me you will never leave.”
“I will never leave,” Alexandra agreed. “Why should I, when all I love is here?”
With a smile, he carried her into the bedroom.
EPILOGUE
THE STONE TOWER OF THE NORMAN CHURCH rose in the distance. It would not be long before the carriage reached it. Alexandra, who had had her head pressed against the window, leaned back against the luxurious squab. Across the carriage, the Countess smiled benignly at her.
“I am so glad you will be married in the family church,” she said with satisfaction. “With all the tradition of the Earls of Exmoor. So much better than some impersonal pastor’s study in London. Sebastian never did have much notion of what was proper.”
Alexandra smiled. “So I have noticed. Perhaps we are well-suited that way.”
Her hand went up to touch the delicate gold circlet around her neck from which several pendants of enameled gold dangled. Sebastian had offered her her choice of jewels to wear on their wedding day, and he had seemed quietly pleased when she had chosen the antique satratana instead of the heavy pendant of sapphires and diamonds. No doubt the sapphire and diamonds would have been more proper, but Alexandra preferred the history and oddity of the Indian necklace.
The Countess looked grim. “Richard will be there today. I could scarcely leave him out with the wedding here on his estate’s doorstep.” Her upper lip curled in scorn. “The snake. I don’t know how I will be able to look at him, knowing what he did to my grandchildren.”
“I know.” Alexandra felt the now familiar shadow that settled in her heart whenever she thought about the fates of the brother and sister she had never known. “If only we had some proof. But with Willa dead…” She shook her head. “Perhaps if we could find those jewels in his possession, the ones that Mother brought over from Simone.”
“I doubt that I would recognize any of them—except the emerald pendant. That was a breathtaking piece. It was Emerson’s wedding present to Simone. But even if he has it and your mother can identify it as what she brought with the children, we cannot prove that Richard did anything wrong. He would lay the blame on Willa, say that all she gave him were the jewels, that she told him the children had died. She is not here to contest it. He would say she was insane and point to the attempts she made on your life and your mother’s. Even if we could prove that he knew about the children, what difference would it make? It would be a scandal, a blot on the Montford name, but nothing more. John died of a fever—and how could we prove how much he neglected him? With John dead, Richard is still the Earl of Exmoor.” Her blue eyes flashed. “Sometimes I think that I could rip his heart out with my bare hands.”
Alexandra nodded, then said, “At least we may find my sister someday.”
“Oh!” The Countess sat up straighter, chagrin coming over her features. “How could I have forgotten? In the bustle of getting dressed, I didn’t tell you. I received a letter from the Bow Street Runner today.”
“You did?” Alexandra leaned forward eagerly. “Did he have news?”
“Yes. He got little concrete news from any of the London orphanages, so he moved to the smaller towns outlying from the City. And he found one—the St. Anselm’s Orphanage in Sevenoaks—where a small girl, perhaps five or six—was admitted late in the summer of 1789. She gave her name as Mary Chilton.”
Alexandra drew in a sharp breath. “Chilton. You mean like—”
“Yes. Like my son’s title. Just think. That is what he was called by everyone. If you asked a young girl what her father’s name was, meaning his surname, she might very well have answered with the title by which he was called.”
Alexandra nodded. “Yes, of course. It would make sense. And Mary, an anglicized form of Marie. It seems very possible.”
“I thought so, too. I sent a note back to him immediately, telling him to pursue it.” The Countess’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, Alexandra, to think that I might someday have both of you back! I think I would die happy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want that!” Alexandra protested with a chuckle. “You must promise me that you will live happily.”
The Countess leaned across the carriage to pat her granddaughter’s cheek. “All right. I can promise that easily—with you here. The Lord has given me a present in my old age.” She settled back against the seat and flashed a wicked grin. “Now, if only you and Sebastian will provide me with great-grandchildren, I shall be a truly happy woman.”
“Grandmama!” Alexandra exclaimed, feigning shock. “Surely talking about such things is not proper.”
“Minx,” the Countess said fondly. She leaned forward and patted Alexandra on the knee.
“I am sorry we missed all those years, but I cannot help but be grateful to Mrs. Ward for keeping you with her instead of giving you to Willa.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. It has made Mother feel much better.” Years of habit and love were too difficult to break. Alexandra knew that even though Simone had borne her, Rhea would always be Alexandra’s mother in her heart.
“How is she doing? Is she still planning on returning to America?”
Alexandra nodded. “She and Aunt Hortense are leaving shortly after the wedding. She has been much better since she told me everything; I think it has relieved her mind a great deal to get rid of that burden of secrecy and guilt. But, still, she will be happier at home, among the people and things she knows. Sebastian has promised me that we will visit them next year.”
The sound of the wheels changed beneath them, and the Countess said, “Ah, we must be there.”
She lifted the curtain and peered out. The carriage had indeed reached the stone courtyard outside the church. They came to a stop, and a footman leaped to open the door and help the women down. They climbed the stone steps of the church and entered the narthex, where a maid waited to fuss over Alexandra’s veil and train until they were exactly right. The Countess walked through the double doors of the sanctuary.
Moments later, Alexandra followed her. She walked slowly down the aisle, seeing the faces of her new life in Nicola, Penelope and the Countess. Even Lady Ursula was there. She had grudgingly admitted that Alexandra was her niece, although Alexandra was sure that theirs would never be a close relationship. There, too, were the faces of her old
life: Aunt Hortense and her mother, both of them beaming at her. Rhea was crying unrestrainedly, and Aunt Hortense had her arm around her sister-in-law to comfort her. Aunt Hortense’s eyes gleamed wetly.
Alexandra gave them a last smile and looked past them, down the aisle to the altar, where Sebastian waited. Alexandra’s heart gave a little lurch, as it always did when she came upon him. Here was the foundation of her new life, the heart and soul of it. Whatever came, good or bad, she knew they would get through it together.
She smiled at Sebastian, love shining in her eyes, and stepped forward to give him her hand.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-0446-4
A STOLEN HEART
Copyright © 2000 by Candace Camp
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