"You will have to understand that I was only thinking of my sister. You would not now be here, if she had not allowed it. I pray you understand my feelings on this."
"I do, Richard. And I admire the loyalty you have for your sister."
The boy let out a relieved breath. "I am glad that you were not offended by my actions. I like you, Your Grace." He turned to the gentleman beside him. "Your Grace, may I present my uncle, Sir Simon Woodbridge?"
The elderly man looked Garreth over carefully. "I am pleased to meet you at last, Your Grace, and happy that this beastly affair is ending in a happy conclusion."
"Uncle Simon became earl in my absence, Your Grace. He was only too happy to rid himself of the title, though he will be remaining at Woodbridge to manage the estate while I am away at school."
Garreth glanced around the room, noticing Sabine had not yet come downstairs. "Very admirable of you, Sir Simon."
With a rustle of silk, Sabine swept into the room with her head high. She avoided looking at Garreth, but she could feel his presence and knew that his eyes followed her.
Richard, knowing what she was feeling, went to her, and taking her hand, led her forward. She brushed her lips against her uncle's cheek and turned to Garreth.
"I trust you have found your quarters comfortable, Garreth."
"Indeed they are."
"I believe," she said, smiling tightly, "that we can dine now."
Garreth held his arm out to her and her golden eyes flashed, reminding him momentarily of La Flamme, before she veiled her gaze and placed her hand on his arm. She walked stiffly beside him, remembering a time when she had limped and he'd been forced to slow his steps to match hers. She glanced up to find him watching her, and it was most unsettling.
Sabine wondered how she would get through this night, and how she would sit at the same table with Garreth and make polite conversation.
Silver and gold dishes adorned the dining room table, while four sober-faced servants stood at either end of the room anticipating the family's every need.
Garreth was seated, as befitting his title, on Sabine's right. Richard was at the head of the table, and his uncle on Sabine's left.
Sabine forced herself to turn to Garreth, to engage him in polite conversation. "Was your journey a pleasant one?"
"Reasonably so, considering that a snowstorm struck but a day from our destination." He raised a glass of wine to his lips and then looked at her. "You should not concern yourself about the journey to my home. I have arranged for your every comfort."
"I look forward to meeting your mother. I remember well her many kindnesses."
"Unfortunately, that will not be for a time. My mother has decided to winter in Brighton."
Sabine could not hide the disappointment in her voice. "Oh. Is it because you told her about. . . Paris?"
He lowered his voice. "I did tell her about Paris . .. with exceptions. But that is not why she decided to leave. She believes that we should be alone to become better acquainted with each other—her words, not mine."
Sabine could feel her face burn. "You must try the leg of mutton a la braise, Garreth. It was my mother's recipe, and quite delicious. My father always boasted that Woodbridge has the best-tasting mutton anywhere because of the sweetness of our grass."
"Why, Sabine, you're a wellspring of domesticity. Only you and I know that you also have other talents."
She could only lower her eyes, wishing the meal would end. Soon the last course had been served, and she rose, leading the way to the salon. Richard and Uncle Simon were soon bending over a chessboard, leaving Sabine to entertain her husband.
She was seated near the fire and watched as Garreth moved about the room. He was restless, pacing like a sleek cat ready to spring on its prey. At last he came to her, and she motioned for him to sit beside her.
"You are not enjoying our hospitality," she observed.
"This is not your hospitality, Sabine. Woodbridge Castle is your brother's domain—Wolfeton Keep shall be yours."
"You are right, of course," she said stiffly.
He glared at her. "I don't trust this subservient act of yours. It makes me want to watch my back."
She deliberately folded her hands demurely in her lap. "Is it not a wife's duty to obey her husband in all things?"
"God help me, but I believe I liked you better the other way."
Some of the spark was back in her eyes. "What way is that, Garreth? Did you come here expecting me to defy you? Are you disappointed that I gave in so easily?"
"I merely don't trust you."
"I take that as a compliment. I would not want you to think I was commonplace and predictable."
He stared into the fire, the licking flames reminding him of her glorious hair. "I'd like to see the man who believes he can predict what you will do."
Wanting to put an end to the evening, Sabine turned to her brother. "Richard, it's your bedtime."
"Oh, Sabine," the boy groaned, but obediently came to her. "Why must I be treated like a child?"
She smiled, clasping his hand. "At school, Richard, they will be much more strict than I. They will not allow you to sneak a book and read after you are in bed."
"Very well. It matters but little that I am lord of this domain." He bowed to Garreth. "I will wish you good night, Your Grace."
"Good night, Richard. Now that we are family, why don't you call me Garreth?"
The boy beamed. "Good night, Garreth."
Uncle Simon moved toward the door. "I'm to bed, as well. I want nothing less than a warm fire in my hearth and a warming pan at my feet."
Sabine started to rise, but Garreth reached out, placing his hand on hers. "You are feeling well?"
"Yes, of course."
"Are you"—he seemed to be struggling with his words. "Are you very unhappy?"
"If you mean about the baby, I love the life I carry within my body."
"Even if it's mine?"
She stood. "I am tired, Garreth."
He come to his feet. "Forgive me, I should have realized that. You will have to understand that I have never been exposed to a woman in your condition."
"Stay and enjoy the fire if you like," she said hurriedly. "I will instruct a servant to light your way when you are ready to retire."
He turned his back on her and walked to the window. It had stopped snowing, and a bright moonlight gave the appearance of day. "Good night, Sabine."
Everyone had wisely allowed Sabine and Richard to be alone as he prepared to board the coach that would take him to London.
"I don't like leaving you, Sabine."
She tried to make light of their parting as she took him in her arms. "We shall soon be together again." He relaxed against her and then pulled himself up stiff, trying to act grown. "You will take care of yourself, and let me know as soon as the baby is born?" She smiled at him. "Of course." "It is time that I learn to take care of myself." "It is," she said sincerely, thinking how young and frightened he seemed at the moment. She touched his cheek. "Be diligent in your work habits; father would have expected it of you."
Richard studied the tip of his boot, and she knew he was trying not to cry. "I shall."
"Good-bye, Richard. Write as often as you are able."
He nodded and climbed into the coach, waving until he was out of sight. This was the first time she and Richard had been parted, and Sabine felt an ache in her heart. She reminded herself that he needed to be with boys of his own age and rank, but the ache would not go away.
Sabine pulled her woolen cape about her to protect herself from the cold. Not wanting to face anyone at the moment, she walked toward the meadow. She took the familiar path that she had trod so often as a child. This was her last day at Woodbridge, and she wanted to imprint each memory on her mind.
She passed stone barns that brimmed from a bountiful fall harvest, then continued toward high ground, where she could see all of Woodbridge. Glancing toward the castle, she watched threads of gray smok
e curl skyward from numerous chimneys, then looked around at the meadow and hills. In the spring, they would be dotted with wildflowers but she would not see it.
Sabine didn't know how long she stood there taking in the beauty around her. It stopped snowing, so she pushed the hood off her head and allowed her hair to blow free.
At last, she turned to the frozen stream, remembering the night it had been a raging torrent that had carried her and Richard to safety. There were memories here that she would always cherish, and some she wanted to forget.
She shaded her eyes and glanced upward, where a brilliant blue seemed to compete with the purple storm clouds that hovered low in the eastern sky.
With a sigh, she walked toward the castle. She had one more place to visit.
Sabine entered the family crypt and went directly to her parents' tombs. Dropping to her knees, she paid her last tribute to her mother and father. She felt so alone with no one to counsel her about the future.
Lovingly she touched each cold stone crypt and then walked out into the sunlight. Tomorrow she would leave for Wolfeton Keep.
She heard footsteps and turned to see Garreth approach. He took her arm, wanting to reassure himself that she was there. When she hadn't returned after Richard's departure, he had feared she had run away again. "You should go in now. It's bitterly cold."
She allowed him to lead her forward. "I hadn't noticed." "You have to think of the baby, if you won't think of yourself."
She looked into his eyes. "Do you ever think of it?" "That's why I'm here, remember?" "Yes, of course. You came for your baby." He looked away from her. "That is the tie that binds us, Sabine."
She was suddenly cold ... all the way to her heart.
29
A bright sun was shining, and the snow had melted except for the places that were protected from the sun. Sitting beside Ysabel in the carriage, Sabine refused to look out the window for a last glimpse of the castle. The procession wound its way through Woodbridge. Many of the villagers came out of their cottages to bid her farewell. There were tears in her eyes as she waved back.
Ysabel tried to distract her. "I have never known such comfort. This is a well-sprung coach; we have fur lap robes, satin pillows, and foot warmers. I am content."
Sabine's eyes were still shining with tears as she looked at Ysabel. "It seems that my husband has provided every luxury. But how will I bear his coldness to me?"
"You brought out fire in him before, Sabine, you will do it again. Time and patience will be your weapons," the old woman said cryptically.
Sabine look at Garreth, who was riding beside the coach. He wore a black cape, and his long dark hair rippled in the wind. He looked not at her, but straight ahead. Oh, how she loved him. But he must not know.
"We were never meant to be husband and wife, Ysabel," she said sadly. "There are too many differences between us, and too many wounds left unhealed."
"You will meet him more than halfway and heal the hurts—the differences do not matter. I was nothing like my husband, and yet we were happy every day of our marriage."
"Garreth and I have been unhappy every day of ours."
Even Ysabel had nothing to say to that, for it was true.
It was nearing the noon hour when Garreth stopped at a small country inn. He helped Sabine inside, where he asked for a private room. She was soon seated before a warm fire as a maid served a luncheon of mutton stew, cheese, and fresh baked bread.
Garreth sat beside her, his gaze straying often to her face. "You are not overly weary?" he asked.
She met his eyes. "Not in the least. I'm strong."
He broke off a piece of crusty bread and placed it on her plate. "So I've observed. Nonetheless, I have instructed my captain to travel slowly and stop often to allow you to rest. Arrangements have been made at inns along the way to offer you shelter."
She looked puzzled. "Will you not be coming with us?"
"No, this is where 1 leave you. I must be in London by tomorrow. If there is anything you need, you have but to tell Captain Barkley."
She looked away so he would not see her disappointment. "You should leave at once. It is yet a long ride to London."
He stood. "Yes, I must." He worked his fingers into his black leather gloves and pulled his cape about his shoulders. "My servants will see you settled when you reach the Keep. Should you need to contact me, I'll be staying at Blackthorn House. Captain Barkley knows how to reach me."
She made no reply, nor did she look at him. In a move that surprised her, he took her arm and brought her up beside him. "Must you do this?"
She blinked her eyes. "Do what?"
"Damn it, do you sentence me to a life of contrition?"
She shook her head as his grip on her tightened. "I don't mean to."
"You submit too easily. What has happened to your unconquerable spirit?"
Now her eyes flamed, and her lips tightened. "Do not let my obliging manner lull you into believing that I am disposed to do your bidding, Garreth. I will go to Wolfeton Keep, and I will have your baby there—beyond that, I promise nothing."
He brought her closer to him, and she caught her breath at the smile that curved his lips. "This is the woman I know." He laid his face against hers. "What new method of torture have you devised for me?"
She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and feel his arms about her. Instead, she turned away, moving back to the fire. "If you are tortured, it is not of my doing, Garreth."
"Is it not?" He abruptly swept her a bow. "When next I see you, it will be at Wolfeton Keep."
She did not watch him leave, but she listened until the sound of his footsteps died away. She wondered why she no longer fought him. She could have told him that she was weary from years of fighting just to keep herself and Richard alive. She now had the heart of a woman, and oh, it hurt so badly.
Picking up her cape, she left the room. It was yet five days to Wolfeton Keep.
Captain Barkley was most attentive and saw to Sabine's needs before they arose. The coach moved swiftly across the wooden bridge that spanned a meandering brook with large chunks of ice floating on the surface.
"Ysabel, I never expected to feel so strongly about Wolfeton Keep—It's somehow like coming home. Why do you suppose that is?"
"Perhaps you feel that way because you have known since you were young that this would one day be your home."
As the carriage topped a hill, she could see Wolfeton Hamlet. It appeared so natural in its setting that it seemed to be woven into the fabric of the land, as if it had always been there. In the distance, Sabine caught only brief glimpses of the huge castle nestled in a wooded area high above the village they were approaching.
"I can see by the architectural style that the village was built by the Normans. Look, Ysabel, instead of thatched cottages like at Woodbridge, these are built of limestone. There must be a limestone quarry nearby."
Ysabel looked with interest at the quaint shops with pointed roofs and gables. "I do not know about such things. But I see that the village prospers."
"Yes," Sabine agreed. "It is evident that my husband looks after his people."
The horses slowed their pace as they entered the village. She had not expected to find the villagers lining the cobble streets. The men removed their caps and bowed, while the women curtsied. Children waved and ran alongside the coach.
"What a wonderful welcome," Sabine said, waving through the window and smiling at the children.
"They will have been curious about you, since you are their lord's wife."
Captain Barkley smiled at her as she opened the window. "I believe they love you already, Your Grace."
She waved at the children until the village was left behind. Now the coach travelled faster, so Sabine leaned back and thought of her new home.
They sped through a maze of narrow lanes and then began to ascend a hill. The horses' hooves clattered over a narrow wooden bridge, then down a cobble roadway. Just ahead, the turrets, battlement
towers, and clusters of Tudor chimneys of the great castle rose ghostlike through a winter mist.
The massive oak gates of Wolfeton Keep swung open to allow them passage through the arched gatehouse. The horses clattered over another wooden bridge that took them into the inner courtyard of the castle.
When the carriage came to a stop, Sabine was aided from the coach by a footman, and then alone she walked toward the castle.
Two servants stood on the steps—a man and woman. As Sabine approached, the man bowed and the woman dipped into a curtsy. The woman smiled, softening her angular face, and her gray eyes sparkled with warmth.
"Your Grace, I am Ida North, the housekeeper. This is George Brook, the butler. May I say what a joyous day this is for all of us? Welcome to Wolfeton Keep."
The butler bowed to her. "I shall see to your trunks, Your Grace."
"Thank you, Mrs. North, Brook." She indicated Ysabel with a nod. "This is Ysabel Agostino, my personal maid."
Garreth's butler and housekeeper looked at Ysabel with respect, and Mrs. North spoke. "Mrs. Agostino, we all stand ready to be of assistance to you in any way."
Sabine looked up at the wide double doors and climbed slowly up the steps. At last, after all these years, she had arrived at Wolfeton Keep.
The Lord Chamberlain pushed the door open and allowed Garreth to precede him. "Your Majesty, his grace, the duke of Balmarough," he announced.
Garreth approached the king and bowed. "You sent for me, Sire?"
"I did," Charles Stuart said heatedly. "I am pleased that you arrived promptly, even though 1 am not pleased with you, sir."
There was a cynical twist to Garreth's lips. "I would not want to be the object of my king's displeasure. Pray tell me what I have done, so that I might rectify it."
King Charles glared at him. "What you've done is most distressing to myself and the queen. You live at one place and your wife at another. 1 won't have it! I want both of you to reside at Wolfeton Keep, or else there will be those who will suppose that you cannot control your own wife."
"Then they would suppose correctly, Your Majesty."
La Flamme (Historical Romance) Page 24
