His rooms were in the same hall as her own, only three doors away, so she allowed him to pass his chamber and deposit her at her own.
“Do you always get everyone to do your bidding so easily, Kathryn?” Jules asked quietly, amusement lurking in his voice.
“Is that a polite way of saying I am shockingly bossy, Monsieur le Comte?” she teased, resisting the urge to run soothing fingers over the bruises now beginning to discolor his lean cheeks.
“No.” Gently, he lifted both her hands, and turning them palm up, pressed his lips to each in turn.
The trembling inside her threatened to overwhelm her, but she stilled it, staring up into his face.
“I am saying, my dear Kathryn, that you are the bravest woman I have ever known.”
Again, a flame lit his gaze. But he stepped back, slowly releasing her hands. She put them behind her so he couldn’t see their trembling. Knowing he would not go to his chamber, which he so obviously needed to do, until she did, Kat nodded and quickly entered her room, shutting the door quietly.
She leaned against it, listening, until she heard his footsteps fade down the hall. Only then could she drop upon her bed and bury her hot, tearwashed face in the pillows. She was instantly asleep, missing Hannah’s peek into her room.
When Hannah returned hours later, bearing a tray with a bowl of strengthening broth, Kat consumed every bite. Hannah stood watching over her, arms folded with serene determination. “What an uproar this house has been in. The doctor, a very superior little man in a dark frock coat, has been to strap up the count and says he’ll be fine—no bones broken, just deep bruises.”
Hannah bustled about, insisting Kat change into her night shift and let her hair down. Kat knew Hannah was right; she should rest even though she longed to see for herself that Jules was all right. But after Hannah left, she lay wide awake and stared up at the underside of the floral canopy. She tossed and turned, making a jumble of the bedclothes.
There was only one way to make absolutely sure all was well. Slipping on her robe, Kat lifted a single candle and made her way out into the hall. She knocked softly on Jules’s door, and when there was no reply, took a deep breath for courage, and entered his chamber.
He lay on his side, the cut above his left eye neatly bandaged. He was deeply asleep; his bare chest, wrapped tightly with linen strips, rose and fell slowly with strong, even breaths.
Weak with relief, she sat suddenly onto the side of the bed, staring down at this man who had so completely complicated her life. Awake, he seemed so competent, so compelling. His air of authority had certainly scared off Edmund Trigge.
Kat knew Hannah trusted him utterly because she had so quickly settled into her old pattern here in France. Jacko thought him a great gun!
Even his staff, who hadn’t known what kind of a master he would be, held him in affection. But now, asleep, he seemed vulnerable. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead, screening both the cut and the bruise that formed there. She reached out to brush it back as she had seen him do so many times.
“Lady Kathryn!” Madame Bernair gasped, and Kat stood to face the door.
Carrying a branched candelabrum, Madame Bernair quietly shut the door and came to stand beside her. “I slipped some laudanum into the tea I gave him for a light supper.” At Kat’s shocked look, Madame Bernair shrugged. “Men when they are unwell are like infants. It is our duty to see they do what is best for them.”
“You have done an excellent job of caring for him. Thank you,” Kat whispered, amazed that here in the dark and silence of Jules’s room Madame was finally approachable. Without her sour expression her face was even softly pretty.
“I have had much practice. After the dreadful French defeat at Waterloo…” She crossed herself. “I nursed my son until, finally, his terrible wounds took his life.”
“I am sorry, Madame.” Kat saw such pain in the older woman’s face, she felt tears welling up behind her own eyes. “The war took many fine young men.”
“Oui, but it is hard at times.” Madame Bernair lifted her chin, assuming her natural pose, but with no dislike marring her countenance. “I will leave you alone with him. I know how important it is at these times to be with the one you love.”
Kat was so stunned by Madame’s words that she didn’t even notice her departure. Love? She had always, from the time she was a child, sworn she would have a love as strong as her parents. A love, if need be, that could defy convention and flourish amid censure. But what would such a love feel like? She was certain it would not be like the love she felt for Jacko and Mariah. Love consumed you with its power. Like the piercing sharp sweetness that had consumed her earlier.
She now knew how foolish she had always been; you cannot seek love, you cannot consciously decide to love. Instead love finds you and pierces your heart before you even realize what’s happening.
Running her fingertips ever so gently over Jules’s bandaged cut and down the bruises discoloring his sleep-flushed cheeks, she acknowledged the truth. Through her foolhardy actions at the Blue Boar Inn she had stumbled into what she had always wanted. But how could Jules, forced into this coil by her foolishness, ever feel for her what now burned brightly in her heart?
Two days later, Jules insisted he was back to normal and came downstairs. The bruises were fading and the cut above his left eyebrow was healing. However, he noted that the women of the house still had a tendency to hover anxiously around him.
Most particularly he had sensed something new in Kathryn’s attitude toward him. He wasn’t sure what it meant.
It was not disgust after seeing his blind eye. He dared to hope it was the feelings that had been born between them in those moments in the winery. More and more he was growing certain that this arrangement they had fallen into would suit him very well indeed.
He retreated to his library to get away from Hannah’s incessant flutterings. Concentrating on the ménagère’s books, he experienced no warning before the double doors burst open and Dominic casually strolled into the room.
“Dominic, mon frère! What are you doing here?” Joy at seeing his half brother warred with concern as to why he had dragged himself away from Juliana and the baby.
Dominic clapped him on the back, and although he smiled, his cornflower blue eyes were clouded. “I have come with two trunks of new frocks for Lady Kathryn, an English curate, and a special license. I have come to wish you happy,” he drawled.
Shocked, Jules stepped away. “You know? But how? Lady Tutwilliger has already announced our engagement in the Gazette?”
“She and Grandmother have sent an announcement of your wedding, which will take place tomorrow. That’s why I’m here.” Dominic’s startled eyes scanned his face. “Good God, I’ve just taken a good look at you! What has happened?”
“While out riding Kathryn and I were attacked by hired thugs. Fortunately, she was unharmed, they were set on getting me.” Jules leaned lazily against the desk, his arms folded across his chest. He knew his brother well; he didn’t want him to get involved.
“Hired! Hired by whom?” Dominic demanded, his face flushed with color.
“Easy, Dom. It is an old nemesis of mine, Sir Edmund Trigge. He was staying nearby, but has now suddenly disappeared.”
“I know Trigge! Regular bounder! Still seen here and there at huge crushes, but definitely on the fringe. Do you wish me to deal with him when I return home?” Dominic asked grimly.
Dominic was older and less hot-headed than Kat’s twin, but still there was a streak of daring easily recognized in his younger brother. In no way would he involve Dominic in this fight.
“Trigge I shall handle in time. Never fear. But more importantly, how are we to prepare Kathryn for her wedding day?” Jules smiled ruefully, but in all truth he felt his pulses quicken. He had made up his mind that day at the Blue Boar Inn to marr
y Kathryn Thistlewait. But then he had not really known her. Now that he did—”
“Jules … Jules, are you listening to me? Is there no other way? I … I wished you the kind of marriage I have with Juliana.”
There was such concern and compassion in Dominic’s eyes, Jules clasped his brother’s arm. “Mon frère, I want this marriage. I am beginning to think Kathryn is as much my destiny as Juliana is yours.”
Dominic’s face softened as he lowered himself into a deep wing chair. Jules rang for a servant to ask Kathryn to attend him in the library, anxious for his brother to meet his future wife. As soon as Dom saw Kat he would be reassured of his happiness.
Moments later, Kat rushed in, her golden curls tumbling from lilac ribbons that barely held the richness of her hair, and her cheeks were flushed with fresh color. “Jules, are you all right? I’m sorry it took me so long, but I was on the third floor helping Madame Bernair air out bed hangings.”
Dominic had risen upon her entrance, now she turned to acknowledge him. “I am sorry, I did not realize you had a guest.”
“Kathryn, I would like you to meet my half brother, Dominic Crawford, Marquis of Aubrey. He has brought news from home.”
Dominic performed a neat bow and gave her the smile that before his marriage, had littered the English countryside with broken hearts. “Lady Kathryn, I have brought letters and gifts from Lady Tutwilliger and your sister.” He handed her two fat white envelopes. “I believe you should read the letters at once,” he ordered, in a sharper than usual tone.
Frowning, Kat looked to Jules and he nodded. “It would be best if you read them now, Kathryn.”
Although a puzzled crease marred her smooth brow, she sat on a needlepoint chair and slit open the envelope from Lady Tutwilliger.
Jules watched the varied emotions chase one another across her face as she read. She flushed, then she paled, then flushed again. Finally, she raised strickened aquamarine eyes to his face. It was the same imploring look she had given him before.
“Tomorrow?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Dominic answered, his whole stance sterner than was his nature. “I have brought two trunks of bride clothes. I believe they are waiting in your chambers.”
Jules silently signaled Dominic to leave the library. Waiting until the door closed tightly he knelt before her, taking both her cool hands between his palms. They were so close he could see tears welling beneath her long silky lashes and her full lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “I know you never intended to marry me. I am sorry your plan could not suffice, but I promise to do all in my power to make you not regret this marriage.”
“I would ask but one question.” She smiled faintly and, bemused, he leaned closer for she spoke in such soft tones he could barely hear her. “Does our marriage stop you from going where your heart goes?”
Their gazes locked and intertwined. “My answer is as your own, Kathryn,” he answered quietly, although his heart, again, pumped in that odd, unsteady beat.
At her nod, he helped her to rise. She thrust up her chin, her eyes remarkably blue and clear. “Then tomorrow is our wedding day, Monsieur le Comte.”
The wedding day dawned bright and clear. Kat saw the sun’s first rays touch the hilltops and slowly, brilliantly, expand to bathe the valley in a golden glow. She had lain awake all night, reading and rereading Mariah’s letter. Yet her attention had not been on the words so much as on the coming day. What would this marriage bring? Ideally she hoped that she and Jules would grow ever closer, sharing their thoughts and hopes.
At dinner Dominic had spoken so openly of his own marriage, his happiness was apparent to all. And when he had mentioned his baby son … Kat had looked across the table to find Jules watching her intently. The same thoughts whirled through her mind. Did Jules intend to make theirs a real marriage? Would he come to her tonight and consummate this union that had been thrust upon them? The thought did not frighten her as it would have a week ago. Jules was no longer a stranger to her. Yes, his thoughts and his emotions were still a mystery, and she did not know what secrets lurked behind his detached air. But, he did not seem a stranger to her heart. With soft, breathless excitement, Kat made up her mind. If there was any way to work her way into Jules’s heart she would find it. Hannah had said she was resourceful; now she was meeting the most important challenge of her life.
Kat napped the morning away. She didn’t wish to shut dear Hannah and Caroline out, but she needed this time alone, to prepare herself mentally.
After a light tea served in her chamber, Kat took a long leisurely bath in the copper hip tub, relaxing down into the bubbles as the maid washed her hair with scented soap. It was so thick it took hours to dry. Finally she remembered the trunks Dominic had brought. The maid was overwhelmed by gowns of satin, muslin, and crepe, and a new riding habit of sea green that very nearly, but not quite, matched her eyes.
Packed lovingly in one trunk was the most beautiful dress Kat had ever seen. Willy had said in her letter it had been her grandmother’s presentation gown. It fit Kat to perfection. Her own mother, Bettina, had been smaller like Mariah, but Willy’s letter had explained she remembered this dress from a portrait she’d seen and knew it would be perfect for Kat. And it was.
The dress was rose satin; the low, square neck and close fitting bodice were edged with fine lace. Its half sleeve was also banded in lace and finished in three tiers of ruffles. The full skirt worn over voluminous petticoats emphasized Kat’s tiny waist. It was an entirely different style than Kat was used to—the straight empire lines seemed much less revealing, but if her godmother had gone to so much trouble to send it she must wear it.
Twirling around before the mirror, the petticoats brushing her legs, Kat was happy Willy had sent it. The dress made her feel like a bride. What would Jules think of it? And of her in it?
What of his brother? Dominic had seemed most forbidding. A future duke for a new brother—it was all too much to take in. But the cleric and the special license couldn’t be denied. In all truth she did not wish to cry off. Tonight she would marry for love.
She had chosen for the ceremony to take place after supper, on the terrace of the château, with the beauty of the flower gardens around her. Madame Bernair had lit the garden with every available candelabrum and candlestick. It looked as if the night sky had reached down with its stars to the earth.
Jules stood in full court dress a little apart from the rest of the group. Jacko and Caroline whispered together on the stone bench. Dominic, Hannah, and the cleric were debating with the abbé which ceremony should come first—the English or the French.
Steeling her nerve she traversed the small salon and exited the château. All conversation ceased as the party saw her.
Instantly, Jules came forward, holding a velvet box. The smile that had first touched her heart softened his face. “My dear, you are even more beautiful tonight. Before we begin I would like a moment.” He lifted his eyebrow, but this time it did not seem haughty or detached to her. “Kathryn, I have no betrothal ring and very little of my heritage to present to you, but I hope you will wear these as a token of my regard.”
He clasped a breathtaking parure of rubies around her neck. The graduated stones were linked by pounded gold and a large, pigeon egg ruby hung in the hollow between her breasts.
She was astonished at their beauty. And at the tenderness she glimpsed in his eyes.
“This belonged to my great-grandmother. My mother took it to England when we fled the terror, but never wore it for she did not care for rubies. My step-grandmother, the Duchess of Culter, remembered and sent it for this occasion.”
“It is lovely,” she breathed, touching the large stone where it hung between her breasts. Already the ruby had gained warmth from her body.
Madame Bernair stepped discreetly onto the terrace and Jules asked her to have the staff, smal
l as it was, be present to witness his marriage. In a matter of minutes the terrace was full of people.
At a nod from Dominic, Jules led her to where both the abbé and curate stood. The abbé began first, speaking so rapidly in French Kat could not make out all the words, but she followed Jules’s lead; bowing her head in prayer at the appropriate moment, making her response a firm “oui.”
Finally the abbé stepped back and the curate began the English wedding ceremony. She understood every word of this service, and when the curate reached the place in the ceremony that required them to recite their vows, Kat was afraid to raise her eyes to Jules for fear he would plainly see her feelings or that what she saw on his face would disappoint her.
At last the curate declared them man and wife and she lifted her head to meet Jules’s stare.
As they had done that day in the winery, their eyes locked, and Kat was powerless to look away. That flame leapt to life in Jules’s gaze and he embraced her shoulders in a powerful move, pulling her tightly to his chest. Her head fell back against his strong arms and he kissed her so deeply, so sweetly and passionately that her lips pulsed beneath his. Her arms gathered him even closer as her mouth answered his searching quest. This was what love felt like, this breathless hot excitement.
Ever so slowly he released her, stepping away, and she felt bereft. But she smiled brightly as their family rushed forward to shower them with well wishes.
Kat had just married the man she loved. His kiss had promised that all would be well between them. But she dared not reveal her heart in case she’d misread him. How uncomfortable it would be for both of them if she acknowledged her feelings and he did not share them. It would be better to live in a fantasy of her own making. Until tonight. Tonight she would discover the secret his kiss so sweetly promised.
Jules stared out the window at the full moon spreading its silvery light on his land. The château was finally quiet after the wedding party Madame Bernair had overseen. Wine from his own cellars—his father’s best vintage—had flowed freely, but he had sipped very little, as had Kathryn.
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