by Unknown
"No, of course I do not. It was merely a figure of speech," she returned impatiently. "I will ride until
such time as I consider it unwise, and I will continue with my work in London until that time also. You have no objections, I trust, Linton?"
He shrugged. "None whatsoever, my dear. It would make very little difference if I had."
That brought a smile and the challenge in her eyes faded. "Will you visit the Ducloses with me?"
"I will ride with you, love, whenever you choose to do so yourself," he responded quietly.
Danielle nodded her comprehension. If her husband preferred only that she not ride alone, she could not quarrel with him and, indeed, had no desire to do so.
"Justin, you cannot permit her to racket about the countryside and the town in her usual outlandish fashion," Lavinia protested, once Danielle had left. "Supposing she should be thrown?"
"That is such a remote possibility, Lavinia, that I consider the risk an acceptable one. I do not think Danielle has been thrown from a horse since she was six years old," Justin said calmly. "She is no fool
for all her teasing and will take no unacceptable chances."
"But, Justin, Danielle does not understand the meaning of an unacceptable chance," Lavinia lamented.
"I believe she does." Linton smiled. This pregnancy, as only he knew, was of Danielle's making, and she would not jeopardize it. Once set upon a course of action, she followed it through with single-minded purpose. She would never deliberately put herself in danger of miscarriage.
"But Louise had such difficulties and Danielle is so tiny." Lavinia, in her anxiety, quite forgot the impropriety of discussing such matters in front of three young bachelors. Fortunately, though, none of them appeared remotely put out; it was as if their mother were discussing a favorite sister.
"She is stronger than Louise, ma'am. But I take your point. I shall insist she visit Stuart as soon as we return to town and that she follow any specific recommendations he might make."
With that Lady Lavinia had to be satisfied. Stuart was the court physician, considered the best accoucheur in Harley Street, and, for all Justin's easy tolerance of Danielle's unconventional ways, Lavinia did not doubt his ability to "insist" should he feel it was warranted.
* * *
The Ducloses who received the Earl and Countess of Linton later that morning were a quite different family from the one Danielle had first seen in the cold smelly room in London's East 'End. The children, plump and rosy, swarmed around Danielle as she distributed presents. Within a very few minutes she was involved in an energetic game of Hunt the Thimble around the stone cottage that bore all the signs of a well-managed orderly household. Monsieur and Madame Duclos regarded the scene benignly and appeared to stand on no ceremony with the young countess. They were more reserved with His Lordship until he accepted a tankard of monsieur's cider and a large slab of madame's heavy fruit cake with its thick crust of marzipan beneath the white icing. They relaxed completely when Danielle scooped up little Guillaume, now ten months, and deposited him on Linton's lap.
"My Lord must get used to babies, you see," she said with a twinkle. "Since he will have one of his own in June." The news was received with joyful exclamations of congratulation. Justin beamed delightedly, heedless of the baby's fingers busily engaged in pulling at his crisply starched stock. The kitchen was redolent with the aromas of boiling pudding and roasting goose and Danielle suddenly put her hand over her mouth and ran for the courtyard.
"Oh, la pauvre petite!" Madame Duclos exclaimed in instant female comprehension, and bustled after her.
"It was always so with madame," Duclos informed Justin placidly. "But it passes in a few weeks, you
will see. And then she will want only the most impossible things. With Marie it was peaches, only peaches—in February, my lord!" He chuckled reminiscently. "I scoured the whole of Paris." Duclos sighed. "But that, of course, was in the old days."
"I shall make you a tisane." Madame Duclos reappeared, her arm around a pale Danielle. "It is just the thing."
"No, please, madame. It is not necessary." Danielle managed a wan smile. "I feel much better now and we must leave you to your dinner preparations."
"What nonsense! Sit by the fire; it will take but a moment." Madame set the kettle on the fire and began to select dried herbs from the long rack hanging from the ceiling. She placed the herbs in a stone mortar and began to pound them with a heavy pestle, clucking sympathetically all the while. Boiling water was poured over the mixture, creating an aromatic infusion that she then strained through muslin and poured into a cup.
"Drink this, child," she said briskly. Danielle's nose wrinkled at the pale green liquid but she sipped bravely and found that it was actually very soothing.
Justin noticed with relief that the color had returned to her cheeks by the time the cup was empty and decided that the sooner he got her home the better—home and ensconced by the drawing-room fire with her feet on a footstool and cushions at her back. Keeping her there would require considerable ingenuity but he'd have ample assistance.
Thus it was that Danielle found her guests curiously uninterested in outdoor pursuits. Piquet, backgammon, chess, and riotous games of charades seemed to be their preference. When she began to show distinct signs of cabin fever, Justin hit upon the notion of a fencing tournament in the long gallery and followed that success with an archery contest in the stableyard. Danny had not the skill with the bow that she had with the small sword and suffered what she considered an ignominious defeat at Julian's hands. She seized on Justin's suggestion that she work to perfect her technique and then challenge Julian to a return match. Her cousin-in-law played his part by scornfully maintaining that she could never defeat him. As a result, she received all the fresh air she craved a mere few paces from the house in an activity that required little physical exertion, all the while blissfully unaware of the elaborate machinations of her husband, grandparents, and friends.
"How long do you intend to keep this up, coz?" Julian asked softly one afternoon as the two men stood watching Danny at her single-minded practice.
"For as long as possible," Linton replied. "This nausea concerns me, although I am assured by every female from Lady Lavinia to Molly that it is quite normal and, in fact, a good sign. But it taxes her strength although she will not admit it." He turned to smile at his cousin. "I am grateful for your help, Jules, and that of the others. But you must not feel obliged to remain here; it must grow tedious."
"Gad, Justin! How can you suggest such a thing? We'd all do anything for Danny, although," he added with a grin, "feigning fatigue at ten o'clock every evening has its absurd side. Not to mention creeping
like guilty schoolboys downstairs again once we're sure she's in bed. I don't know what the servants
must think."
"They know full well what's afoot, my friend, and are more than happy to assist in the deception." The earl chuckled, watching his wife bend the thin bow of pliant willow. "I strongly suspect, Julian, that you are about to meet your match. That is Danny's third bull's-eye in three straight shots."
"Did you see that, milord?" Danielle ran across the yard, her skirts tossed over one arm. "I think I now fully understand the science. We shall have our return match tomorrow, Jules. Will you make a wager
on me, Justin?"
"Having just witnessed your performance, my love, I cannot fail to do so." He bowed and gave her his arm. "Will you not rest a while before dinner, though?"
"If it will make you comfortable." Her smile was soft.
"It will." He bent to kiss the corner of her mouth and Julian, quite accustomed to being ignored at such moments, left them to it and went back into the house.
It was the end of January before the earl and his countess returned to town. Danielle was now rarely nauseous and her complexion had regained its customary bloom. Apart from the tenderness of her
swollen breasts, her body showed little signs of change, but with a co
mmon sense rarely evinced by her peers she wore her stays loosely laced even though her svelte body showed no need for such adaptation. With grim resignation she endured the examinations of the court's physician. With an equally grim determination she informed her husband that she had no intention of lying upon her bed for the greater part of the day, and to the devil with Stuart's recommendations.
Justin stroked her belly with long delicate fingers. "My love, I ask only that you obey the dictates of
your body, that you do not ride ventre a terre, and that when your condition becomes obvious that you withdraw from Polite Circles."
"Mais, d'accord." She ran her foot down the bare calf beside her, curling her toes beneath the sheet.
"You shall have your heir, husband, and if it is but a girl child this time, 'twill be a son next."
Justin propped himself onto one elbow to examine her expression in the light of the bedside candle. "It matters not, Danielle. The child alone is important."
"But you would prefer the son, surely?" Danielle thought of the old due and his sons and the efforts she had made asa child to meet their expectations, all the while knowing in a deep subconscious valley of her awareness that at some point pretense would not be sufficient. She was a Danielle, not a Danny, and as such a shattering disappointment to the men of her family.
"I have no preference," Justin said softly. "Julian stands heir to the title if I have no sons and I am well satisfied with the arrangement. You may give me half a dozen daughters, Danny, and I shall be ruled by
a monstrous regiment of women and be glad of it."
"I do not believe you will be glad of it at all," she retorted. "And I do not think it at all polite to talk of monstrous regiments." Sitting up with a sudden energetic movement, she swung one leg across his supine form and sat firmly on his stomach. "Now, my lord, since I have you at my mercy, I shall think how best to punish you."
Her eyes danced as she ran her hands slowly over his chest and then reached behind her, fingertips pitpatting down his thigh. Justin groaned as she enclosed him in one small hand, never taking her gaze from his face as she stroked him with delicate rhythm before lifting her body slightly and moving backward, guiding him within. Justin lay very still for a moment, watching her through half-closed eyes, savoring the sensation of the soft velvet walls imprisoning him. Her inner muscles tightened and he
gasped with pleasure, but as she began to move, slowly at first and then with increasing speed as the
tight coil of passion spiraled, he seized her hips urgently, holding her still.
"Not this way, my love; not at the moment."
"Why not?" Puzzlement showed in the passion-filled eyes and not a little indignation at this abrupt cessation.
"Because I know how energetic you can become in this position and you might hurt yourself. Over you go!" With a determined heave, he lifted her off and rolled her onto her back beside him. "For the next months, my love, you will play a rather more passive role in this business than you are accustomed. There will be no less pleasure, I promise."
Any protest she might have made failed to surface as Justin parted the long creamy thighs. His head lowered and her body arced with joy beneath a questing tongue that with all the delicacy of a butterfly on honeysuckle sipped the nectar of her passion. It was a long time of engulfing sweetness before he entered her, moving with the utmost gentleness, holding them both on the peak of the precipice until Danielle could bear it no longer and then discovered that she could, that she could bear this wonder for an eternity. But at last they fell together in a slow motion free-fall through pure ether.
"I think I shall be quite content to be passive," Danielle murmured against his shoulder.
Justin chuckled sleepily and patted her bottom. "You need not be totally without initiative, love."
"I do not intend to be so." It was supposed to sound like a dignified statement but a deep yawn detracted considerably from the desired impression and Danielle yielded willingly to the sleep of satisfied desire.
* * *
It was some two days later when she was going through the pile of invitation cards that poured daily into the house that she heard the sound of excitable voices in the hall. A footman's ponderous tone was denying Her Ladyship's presence in the house and the voices rose in voluble French.
Frowning, Danielle went to the library door, opening it just as Bedford appeared and in stony accents informed the owners of the voices that if they did not leave immediately they would be thrown out.
A woman's voice lifted in a sobbing wail and Danny went swiftly into the hall. Two men and a woman stood by the open front door, naked desperation on their faces. It was easy enough to see why the footman and Bedford were reacting as they were—the party bore all the signs of poverty in their bedraggled clothing and wooden-soled shoes; and they were none too clean, either. But Danielle knew well how dirt and misfortune were inextricable partners. . "Qu 'est-ce qui sepasse, mes amis?" She
walked briskly toward them.
All three began to speak at once in an impossibly confused torrent and she held up her hand in an imperative gesture for silence.
"Venez avec moi, s'il vous plait. Bedford, you will bring coffee and biscuits to the library, please." With an encouraging smile she ushered the group into the library and closed the door. "Maintenant, vous
voulez expliquer. Vous, monsieur?" She indicated the man whose grizzled hair bespoke his seniority.
The story was preceded with elaborate, courteous apologies for the rude manner of their interruption, but speed was of the essence and they had been unable to afford the time to write to request milady to visit them. Danielle nodded. She had assumed something of the sort since her help had never before been requested in this way. The chevalier received the urgent visits since in his bachelor lodgings they would attract less notice than in Grosvenor Square. But D'Evron was in France at present gathering up-to-date information for Pitt, much as Danielle and Justin had done last summer.
A footman appeared with a tray of refreshments, his expression wooden as he placed it on a small rosewood table. "Thank you, I will pour the coffee myself." Danielle dismissed him with a courtesy that concealed her impatience. When they were again alone she turned to the elderly man. "Continuez, monsieur."
She wished now she had asked Bedford to provide bread and cheese rather than the dainty mouthfuls of petit fours that accompanied the coffee. She was reminded unpleasantly of Marie Antoinette, who had declared that if the people had no bread then they should eat cake. She would remedy her thoughtlessness later.
The old man told the story with a simple dignity that did little to prevent the cold chills creeping across Danielle's skin. His granddaughter, twelve years old, had been on her way to market that morning when the cry of "pickpocket" had rent the air from a man standing close to her. In the succeeding flurry, someone had bumped against her and a gold watch had fallen to the ground at her feet. The girl had been seized instantly, hauled before the magistrates, who, in the face of the evidence, spared no time to listen to her halting attempts to explain her innocence in a language she barely knew. As a result, la petite Brigitte was now incarcerated in Newgate Prison awaiting trial and the Robertses knew no one with sufficient facility in the language to plead her case.
At story's end, Danielle paced the library floor well aware that for once she had no idea what to do. The first priority was to effect the child's release from that hell upon earth. She could post bail if she knew how to do so, could even expend sovereigns in bribery, but to do that she must go to the jail herself, and there was no one to accompany her. The chevalier was in France, Jules and his friends were attending a prize fight out of town. Justin was her only hope and Danielle had no idea where he was, but every minute Brigitte spent in Newgate was a minute spent in danger of life and limb, not to mention the
trauma of such an experience.
"You must allow me one hour." She made her decision with cold finality. If Justin could not be
found in that time then she would go alone. It meant a broken promise, but the only alternative was to turn this stricken family from the door. He would understand that as he had understood everything else.
She left the Robertses in the library and instructed Bedford to send several men in search of His Lordship—they should try White's and Watier's and certain houses. She reeled off the names of Linton's closest friends and included the address on Half Moon Street. It was unlikely, since Edward Mainwairing
had joined the Ninth Foot some six months ago, that Justin would have business there, but it was possible he might be visiting his old friend. She then requested that a substantial nuncheon be provided for her guests and went upstairs to don habit and boots, slipping a purse of sovereigns in the deep pocket together with her pistol. She threw a heavy cloak over her arm before descending to the bookroom where she scribbled a hasty note to Justin—a note of apology and explanation of her mission.
All efforts to find Justin failed and with a fair assumption of confidence she had the town chaise brought to the door and followed the distraught Roberts into its cushioned interior. There was no need for secrecy—in fact, Danielle decided, quite the opposite. She would need all the power and influence of her social position in this affair and she had made no secret of her destination in her note to Justin.