Sabine entered the darkened room where Thea lay pale and listless upon her bed. The old nurse was so weak that she could hardly raise her hand to motion Sabine forward.
Sabine sat beside Thea, taking her hand. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Thea?"
"There is no comfort for me. I am dying, and we both know it."
"I will not hear such talk, Thea." Sabine tried to sound cheerful. "1 didn't find you again only to lose you. Do you want me to read to you? You once liked that."
"No, I must talk. I must.. . tell you about the night your father died."
Sabine tensed. She was afraid to hear what Thea had to say—what if she further implicated Garreth? "There is no need to speak of that night. It will only cause you distress."
Thea's hand tightened on Sabine's. "You must listen to me. You still have an enemy, and you must be aware."
Sabine froze, her heart pounding fiercely. This was not the ravings of a dying woman, but the terror of one who had loved her and Richard and feared they were yet in danger. "What is it you want to tell me, Thea?"
Thea's voice grew stronger with urgency. "That night the soldiers thought I was . . . dead. I heard them talking." Her eyes widened, and she tried to rise, but Sabine gently pushed her back against the pillow.
"Please do not speak of this now. When you are better we will talk."
Thea licked her dry lips, praying for strength. "Hear me! I must tell you what I overheard."
"Very well," Sabine nodded. She must know what Thea had learned that night, even if it proved Garreth's guilt.
Thea began to cough, and Sabine handed her a drink of water after the spasms passed.
She looked tenderly at Sabine. "I always knew in my heart that you were alive."
"We survived because of the chance you gave us, Thea."
"Listen to me, Your Grace. This is what I heard one of the men say that night. He did not guard his tongue because he thought I was dead—I very nearly was." Thea stopped as if she were gathering her fragmented thoughts. "I heard a man boast that they had made it look as if the duke of Balmarough was the guilty one."
Sabine's heart contracted. "Are you certain!"
"Yes. There is more. They said that the cousin had finally avenged himself against the duke."
Sabine felt tears of shame swimming in her eyes. Though she had fought against it, she had known in her heart that he was honorable. If only she had believed in his innocence, they might have been happy together. He had loved her, but she had killed that love, and now she must face the consequences—whatever they might be.
"You are not yet safe," Thea continued. "There is another who wished you harm. It chilled me to hear the man speak of some woman wanting your death."
"What did he say?"
"He said, her ladyship won't rest until the duke's wife is dead. He said . . . her ladyship'll want proof that the deed's done."
Sabine stared at Thea. "Garreth is truly innocent."
Thea nodded. "Aye, that he is. I told as much to the king's man long ago. Your husband did not have anything to do with your father's death, as we thought that night. He was betrayed, the same as you."
Sabine glanced upward so Thea would not see her tears. "For so long I have hated and feared my husband, believing that he was a villain. I have wronged him, Thea."
Thea's eyes took on a look of fear. "Beware of this woman who wanted your death. If she is yet alive, she may still wish you ill."
"I can think of no woman who would despise me that much."
"Be alert," Thea warned. "I can no longer watch over you. But you have a good watchdog in Ysabel. She has given me her pledge that she will protect you, and I believe her."
Sabine could see that Thea was in pain. "Rest now, dear Thea. Think only pleasant thoughts."
"Yes ... I am ... so weary." The old nurse's eyes became misty. "I can go now that I have warned you."
Sabine sat beside Thea long after she had fallen asleep, trying to make sense out of all that she had been told. What woman had plotted with Cortland Blackthorn to have her killed? Who would have hated her so much?
During the night, Thea died in her sleep, and the next day she was buried in the churchyard in the village. A large number of friends tramped through the snow to pay their respects, the duchess of Balmarough and the earl of Woodbridge at their head.
Sabine was haunted by the thought that she had wronged Garreth. Would he ever forgive her for tricking him? She thought not—and she did not deserve his forgiveness. Once she had held his love in her hand, only to kill it by humiliating him. A man like Garreth would not easily forget such a blow against his pride.
Three weeks had passed since Sabine sent a message to Garreth about the baby. Every day she expected to hear from him, but thus far there had been only silence.
Sabine was watching Ysabel fold Richard's woolen doublet and place it in the trunk. "You must prepare yourself to face his grace," Ysabel said, pausing. "You know he will want this baby—especially if it is a son."
"I would expect that. I wonder what I'll do if he decides to take the child and reject the mother. Already I love the baby that stirs within my body. I will never give it up, not even to Garreth."
Ysabel closed the trunk. "This is a muddle of confusion."
"The waiting is the worst," Sabine said. "If he had ridden here demanding that I go home with him, I would have understood that. Now I'm afraid that he might refuse to acknowledge the child as his."
"Garreth Blackthorn did not seem a man who would put his feelings in a letter. He will come in person, I think, and he knows that the child is his."
Adrienne Blackthorn closed the door to the study and approached her son. "Garreth, I want to speak to you."
He was seated at his desk and rose as she entered the room. "I wondered when you would approach me about Sabine, Mother."
"It's not only that. I am most concerned about this bitterness in your heart. You never told me all that happened in Paris, and I don't want to know. What concerns me is this change in you." She placed her hand on his arm. "You did not want to marry Sabine, but she is your wife, and she's going to have your child, so she deserves some consideration."
He glanced up. "She was my wife for exactly one night. The results of that night is this baby. If it were not for the child, we both know that she would have gone through with the annulment."
"I wish I did not have to ask this, but 1 must. Are you certain that the child is yours?"
"There is no doubt."
"Of course, forgive me for questioning, but I knew of no other reason that you would be so reluctant to bring Sabine here."
"Fear not, your grandchild will be born at Wolfeton Keep."
Adrienne could see the pain he tried to hide. "I have only seen you this disheartened one other time, and that was the night you promised your dying father that you would marry Sabine Woodbridge. I now realize that the marriage has forged your life, Garreth. Had I known the unhappiness it would cause, I would have objected to the match."
"It's hardly worthwhile to lament about that now, Mother."
"I suppose not," she said. "What do you plan?"
"I go to bring my wife to Wolfeton Keep."
She smiled. "Oh, Garreth, I'm so excited about the baby, and I have wanted to meet Sabine for a very long time."
When Garreth remained silent, she looked perplexed. "Tell me about her."
He shifted some papers on the desk, avoiding her eyes. "She is the most independent woman it has been my misfortune to meet—she is strikingly beautiful, witty, and charming. You will find her honorable and ready to fight for that which she believes to be right, no matter how misguided. After seeing her with her brother, Richard, I am convinced that she will make an admirable mother." His eyes bore into hers. "What else would you like to know about her?"
The dowager heard more in her son's voice then he realized. He sounded like a man in love. "You described qualities I would want for you in a wife."
>
Garreth moved around the desk and turned to the door. "I have this day received a summons from the king, asking me to come to London with all haste."
"He sends for you to speak of Sabine."
"I daresay," Garreth agreed. "I shall first go to Wood-bridge Castle, and then to the king."
Adrienne rushed to her son. "Be kind to her, Garreth. And remember what she has suffered. Would it not be better to wait until after the child is born to bring her here—the journey is a long one, and the weather is unpredictable this time of year."
"I'm determined that my child will be born at Wolfeton Keep," he said, the coldness back in his voice. "After that, Sabine can either stay or leave—I care not which."
Adrienne was stunned by the callousness of his words. "Why do you want to hurt Sabine? She was a child when she married you. Her mother died, her father was killed, and she had to flee for her life. Have some compassion for her."
"For her as a child, I have compassion. For the woman she has become, I have none."
"You will regret it if you do not rid yourself of this hardness in your heart, Garreth."
He smiled sardonically. "I regret many things, Mother, and I'm sure if I live long enough, I'll regret many more."
* * *
Sabine was instructing the butler on shining the silver when Richard burst into the pantry. "He's coming, Sabine. A rider came from the village to warn us. He'll be here within minutes."
She didn't have to ask who Richard meant. "Is he alone?"
"I was told that there are two coaches and ten outriders accompanying him."
She moved out of the pantry, with Richard at her side. "I have ordered the gates to be closed and locked, Sabine. I will only admit the duke if you say so."
"Let us climb to the battlement. I will see this for myself," she said, not knowing if her heart was racing from happiness or fear. He had come for her, as she had known he would.
Remembering the raid on Woodbridge, the villagers were in a panic as a column of soldiers wearing the duke of Balmarough's livery rode swiftly through, heading for the castle.
When they reached their destination, they were met with barred gates. Richard and Sabine stood on the battlement, and Richard called down to them.
"What seek you here?"
Garreth removed his hat and looked at Richard, ignoring Sabine. "Good day to you, Lord Richard. I come to pay my respects to you, and to take my wife home."
"You have no jurisdiction here, Your Grace," Richard answered with an assurance that was unusual in one so young. Sabine had taught him well.
At last, almost reluctantly, Garreth looked to Sabine, and she saw a coldness there that made her shiver. Snowflakes were softly drifting earthward, and the whiteness was the perfect backdrop for the pale blue cape that Sabine wore.
"Madame," Garreth said stiffly. "I pray you accept my escort to Wolfeton Keep. It is there that I would have my child born."
Richard stared at Sabine, seeming much older than his years. "I will turn Garreth Blackthorn away if you don't wish to see him."
Sabine was silent for a moment. "Allow him to enter, Richard. Garreth has his rights. But you might want to ride into the village and assure the people that they have nothing to fear from these men."
Richard nodded. "If you are certain this is what you want."
Sabine looked into her brother's troubled eyes. "I am carrying my husband's child, Richard. I must do what is right for my baby."
He called down to his guard. "Open the gates to allow the duke and his men to pass through."
Richard took Sabine's arm and carefully guided her back into the castle.
The meeting she had been dreading had come at last.
28
As Garreth entered the castle, he was led down marble halls so bright that the chandeliers were reflected on the walls. He moved past tapestries that had been woven long ago. Vaguely, he noticed the display of weapons that adorned the ceiling, and the suits of armor that lined the curved walls.
Silently he followed the servant up the ornate Renaissance stairs to the second floor, where he was shown into a green and gold salon. "Her grace will be with you shortly, Your Grace. Is there anything you require?"
Garreth could tell by the man's stiff manner and the way he avoided his eyes, that he was mistrustful of him. "No, I require nothing."
After the servant had withdrawn, Garreth looked about the tastefully decorated room. Everything about it revealed the wealth of its young lord.
His attention was drawn to a portrait that hung within a large alcove. Standing beneath it, he stared at the little girl pictured there, a dull ache in his heart. The artist had deftly captured Sabine's unusual amber eyes, that even at such a young age were melancholy and sad, and seemed to be looking at him accusingly. This was the Sabine he remembered from the wedding. How could he not have recognized her in Paris? The features were exact—it was so apparent to him now that Sabine and La Flamme were the same person.
Sabine's footsteps faltered outside the door while she gathered her courage to face Garreth. Stiffening her spine, she grasped the handle in her hand and the door creaked open.
He was standing beneath her portrait and turned to watch her enter, his face an unreadable mask.
She wore a modest brown velvet gown with a wide white collar and a matronly head covering. Her only jewelry was a gold locket he had so often seen her wear. Their gazes collided, and he swept her a bow.
"So, Madame, we meet again."
She moved to the hearth and held her hands out to the fire, hoping that if Garreth noticed them trembling he would think it was because she was cold. "You come because the king commands it?"
"He has commanded me."
There was wistfulness in her voice. "Garreth, it seems destiny has once again stepped in to dictate the course of our lives."
Sabine noticed no softness in his dark eyes, no sign of the love they had shared that last night in Paris. Instead they were as cold as the wintry snow that fell past the window.
As Garreth removed his leather gloves and tossed them on a nearby chair, he glanced at her stomach. He could see a slight rounding there and it gave him a rush of pride. Then his lips twisted sardonically. "It would seem, Madame, that in your haste to avenge yourself on me, you got caught in a trap of your own making."
She met his gaze, knowing that she deserved his contempt. "So it would seem." Was he happy about the baby? It didn't appear so. His manner was distant and detached.
"I have come to escort you to Wolfeton Keep."
He had been prepared for Sabine to fight him on this, but she merely nodded.
"I will come with you. I ask only that you delay our departure for two days so that I might see Richard depart for London."
"I could never deny you anything, Sabine. I feel sure it will take you that long to pack your belongings." He dropped down in a chair and watched her for a moment, softening his manner slightly at her acceptance of his demands. "My only concern is if you are able to travel in your ... condition."
"I will not impede your progress."
"You are welcome to bring whatever servants and possessions you wish."
"You are most kind, Garreth." She attempted to hide the rush of heat that stained her cheeks because he was staring so intently at her. "As for servants, I will bring only Ysabel with me, although she is more a friend than a servant. I would wish her to be accorded the respect of my personal maid."
"As you wish."
"I brought the grays with me from France. I would like to take them with me."
"Ah, yes, the matched grays. Of course, you may bring them." He glanced toward the door. "Where is Richard—I had hoped to see him."
"He has ridden into the village to assure the people that your soldiers have not come to raid."
A muscle twitched in Garreth's jaw. "The villagers did seem to scatter into their cottages as we passed. I should have foreseen their fear and instructed my men not to wear livery. I ask your par
don for the oversight."
"It is of little consequence. They will believe Richard when he assures them that they have nothing to fear." She searched his eyes. "There is nothing to fear, is there?"
She watched fury ignite in the depths of his dark eyes and wished she could retract the words that had been spoken in anger.
"I may ever stand accused in your eyes. If you still judge me guilty, I'll put forth no defense. My good intentions and my family honor need no vindication."
Why hadn't she told him that she believed in his innocence?
Without a word, she moved to the bellpull, and a servant immediately appeared. "Please show his grace to his room, and send his valet to him." She turned to Garreth. "Be assured that your men have been properly housed. Richard and I dine at eight. You may dine with us if you like. Or ... if you would prefer, I can have a tray sent to your room."
He stared at her intensely. "You are the perfect hostess. It will be my pleasure to dine with you and your brother." He loomed over her for a moment. "I have a dilemma, Madame. By what name do I call you: La Flamme, or Sabine? I seem to have difficulty separating the two in my mind."
She stared at the carpet. "La Flamme was an illusion. I am, and always have been, myself."
He bowed stiffly. "As you will, Sabine," he said. Then he left the room.
She had held herself rigid during their conversation—now she collapsed onto a chair, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. She had made it past the first ordeal, and hopefully that had been the worst. Perhaps their meeting at supper would be less strained.
That evening, Garreth was shown into a room where the amber glow of the candles fell on the stark white marble floor. An elderly gentleman, dressed in finery that had been in vogue twenty years earlier, was conversing with Richard. They both turned their attention to Garreth.
"Your Grace," Richard said, smiling. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
Garreth walked toward the young lord, returning his smile. "That was not the impression I got when I arrived this afternoon."
La Flamme (Historical Romance) Page 23
