by Anna Gracie
and before you know it you'll be reunited once more with Your Beloved."
She sailed from the room.
Tallie giggled. Her Beloved? She giggled again, trying to imagine The
Icicle involved in anything so human as a romantic assignation. It was
simply not possible.
Having told the irritatingly coy maidservant he would meet Miss
Robinson in the summerhouse in twenty minutes, Magnus found himself
wondering why the girl wanted to speak to him so urgently. Something
to do with her wedding finery, no doubt. He allowed himself a faint,
cynical smile and felt in his pocket for the long oblong package. He
was well ahead of her.
Magnus had ridden away from his last interview with his bride-to-be in
a white-hot rage. He was still angry, but his rage had cooled to an
icy implacability. Thalia Robinson would have to learn her place. If
she wanted to be treated as a bride would wish to be treated she had
better tread very lightly around him until she'd earned his
forgiveness. He frowned and felt the package. He must make his
motives for this gift very clear to her. He would not wish her to
misunderstand him.
It had occurred to him a week before that she would very likely not
possess any adequate jewellery. It was unthinkable that his bride wear
cheap or shoddy jewellery at her wedding, so Magnus had looked through
his late mother's jewel case until he had found a very pretty rope of
matched pearls, earrings, and a bracelet--just right for a young bride.
Simple enough to look modest and maidenly, yet the rope was very long
and the pearls priceless. They were the perfect betrothal gift--and
would be bound to go with whatever she had decided to wear.
From the little he had seen of her clothing. Miss Robinson preferred
an odd style of garment, but Laetitia's taste was exquisite, and she
would have ensured that his bride would not wear anything outrageous.
And after they were married he'd supervise her wardrobe himself. The
rest of his mother's jewels he would present to her as and when she
deserved it.
"Lord d'Arenville?"
Magnus rose and turned quickly. He bowed slightly.
"Miss
Robinson. " His eyes were cold, his patrician features impassive.
Tallie closed the door to the summerhouse behind her. Her heart was
pounding as if she had been running and her hands felt clammy. She
curtsied automatically, trying not to stare. Gracious, she'd forgotten
how very handsome he was. It made it so much harder to remember how
cold he was.
"I was under the impression that you wished to converse with me, but
perhaps you merely wished to see for yourself | that I had returned."
His tone was blighting.
"Oh, no," Tallie responded instantly.
"I believed Lucy when she told me you'd arrived. Lucy is a very
truthful girl."
He missed her irony.
"Lucy?"
"The maid." Tallie seated herself on a bench beside a wall.
Lord d'Arenville folded his arms, leaned against the wall and regarded
her sardonically. He was looming again, Tallie thought resentfully,
and obviously had no intention of making this any easier.
"I wished to see you in private because there are things we need to
have clear before the wedding," she said in a rush.
Have clear? His eyes narrowed.
"Are there indeed?"
"Yes. You left so suddenly I had no chance to talk to you about
them."
"Well, I am here now," Magnus drawled.
"Th ... they are very important to me, and I could not agree to marry
you unless we do so."
"I was under the impression that you had already agreed to marry me,
madam," he said silkily.
"Well, I did, yes, but we had not finished our discussion when you
rushed out, and I only discovered later that you had gone to dArn ...
d'Anvil..." She stumbled over the word in her nervousness.
"D'Arenville Hall, madam. You had best learn the name, as it will be
your home for the rest of your life."
This veiled allusion to the rural imprison menthe planned for her threw
Tallie into a temper. He did not know she had overheard him in the
library that night, telling his cousin his plans for a bride and an
heir. She recognised his threat.
"It is not my home yet." Tallie bared her teeth in what she hoped
would look like a smile.
"And there are issues to resolve before I agree to make it so--several
conditions, in fact."
Conditions! Magnus was outraged. The chit was trying to blackmail
him.
Threatening to jilt him unless he agreed to her demands. The day
before the wedding, when guests would be arriving at any moment. By
God she had a cheek!
With difficulty he held onto his temper, kept his face impassive. He
would wait until he had heard her 'conditions'-then he'd show her who
was master here! He'd march her to the church and marry her out of
hand, and then set about teaching Miss Thalia Robinson a lesson she'd
never forget! Gritting his teeth, he coolly inclined his head,
inviting her to continue.
Tallie regarded him nervously. He was leaning casually against the
wall, seemingly relaxed and at ease, but his jaw was clenched tight,
and there was a most disturbing look in his eyes. She should not have
spoken of conditions, should have put it more tactfully. He was
annoyed. Still, this was her only opportunity to ensure that not all
her dreams ended in the dust. A betrothed female still had some
power--a wife had none.
"There are a number of cond--matters that we need to agree on. The
first concerns children."
He stared at her and his frown darkened.
"Go on."
"I... I know you want children... but I must tell you that I will
not..." Tallie gulped at the black look on his face, but forced
herself to continue.
"I will not allow you to send them away to school."
Magnus blinked. Her statement had taken him unawares. He'd thought
she was going to refuse to bear his children, refuse to share his bed.
Not send them to school? Did she think it a threat?
"And why should our children not be sent to school? Do you wish them
to grow up ignorant and uneducated?"
"Of course not," she flashed indignantly.
"They shall be taught at home, of course, by the very best and kindest
governesses and tutors.
I am not saying they shall never go to school, only not when they are
still babies. When they are eleven or twelve, perhaps, but no younger
than that. "
Magnus opened his mouth to agree to this extraordinary request, but was
cut off.
"No, you need not argue--I am absolutely adamant on this point. I
won't have my children sent off to be reared by st rang- J ers. Not
until they are old enough. And / will decide when | that is." | She
clenched her fists and glared at him defiantly, a mulish j set to her
jaw, and continued, "Oh, you need not think I wish ) to tie them to my
apron strings--I value strength and independence and will nourish these
qualities in my children-but you can have no idea the damage it does to
very young children to be away from all that is familiar and those who
love them, and I will not have my children feeling unloved and
unwanted." Her voice quavered with emotion and she stopped to catch
her breath.
Magnus stared. He recalled the devastating loneliness he had first
felt when sent off to school himself at the age of six. A lump in his
chest made it difficult to breathe.
"I accept," he said coldly.
Tallie blinked in surprise and relaxed slightly. The first hurdle had
been unexpectedly easy. No argument at all. She supposed he didn't
particularly care what happened to the children, as long as he had an
heir. The next would be a little more difficult, for she could not let
on she had overheard his infamous plan to immure her at d'Arenville
Hall for ten years.
"You said I would be living at d'Arenville Hall for the rest of my
life..."
He nodded curtly.
"Well, I wish to come up to London for a short visit once a year--no
more than two or three weeks," she added hurriedly. The black frown
was back again.
"I realise you'd prefer me to stay at d'Arenville Hall, and for the
most part I will,
but I have never been to London and would very much like to visit it.
"
He said nothing. He was going to refuse; Tallie could sense it. She
hurried on, "Your children's mother should not be totally ignorant of
the world they will move in."
Magnus was puzzled. On the contrary, he expected his children's mother
to learn the ways of the polite world as soon as possible. Why would
he wish her ignorant? He didn't see her point. It had something to do
with visiting London. For a few weeks only. Was she trying to tell
him she didn't wish to go out in society? The chit made no sense.
Well, he would not take no for an answer on this one--he had every
intention of taking her to London immediately, to order her new
clothing, introduce her to society and teach her how his Countess
should conduct herself.
And the sooner Miss Thalia Robinson accepted that, the better. He did
not want society to think the mother of his children was an obscure,
ignorant rag-bag. He knew full well the gossip that had already arisen
about his bride as a result of the house party.
"If you lock me away; people will gossip, and I would not want my
children to discover that people think their mother is strange or odd
or even mad," concluded Tallie desperately.
Lock her away? Did the silly chit think he had a dungeon at
d'Arenville Hall? Her eyes were fixed anxiously on his face. She
looked rather appealing. Magnus frowned.
"I have every intention of taking you to London. I have no desire to
have my wife thought an eccentric social recluse, madam, and the sooner
you realise that the better."
Tallie was amazed. Somewhere along the line he must have changed his
mind about keeping her at d'Arenville Hall for ten years--or perhaps he
planned to change his mind back again after the wedding.
"Do I have your word on it, sir?"
Magnus stiffened. He was not accustomed to having his word
questioned.
By anyone. And certainly not by an ill- dressed poor relation
attempting to blackmail him.
"You do, madam," he grated.
"Good." Tallie smiled triumphantly. His anger at her question had
confirmed her suspicions. He had planned to change;
his mind, but she'd been too clever for him. She'd gained his
agreement to the most important things now there was just| the matter
of the bride trip. It would be the most difficult, she| knew.
"Now, my next request you may find a little unusual...! and possibly a
trifle expensive," she said. J Magnus mentally braced himself. The
last two 'requests'! had, as he'd expected, been mere bagatelles,
intended to soften! him up. This one would be the cruncher. I "I
have always wished to travel," Tallie began, 'and I was hoping that you
would agree that on the honey. on my bride trip we could visit some of
the places I have always dreamed of seeing. " She clasped her hands in
unconscious supplication. I " On the Continent. " | Magnus relaxed.
So that was it. The girl wished to go to Paris. Not surprising. Every
woman he'd ever known preferred French gowns, French hats and French
perfumes. And the war was over... He shrugged mentally. It would be
no hardship to take her to Paris and purchase her new wardrobe there.
It might even be a good thing allow her to acquire a touch of town
bronze in Parisian society before she made her entrance in London.
He shrugged indifferently.
"All right. If you wish to brave the Channel crossing, we shall."
Tallie was incredulous.
"You do not mind?"
Magnus shrugged again.
"Not at all." He wondered what her final request would be. He
shifted, and felt the bump of the jewel case in his pocket.
"The trip will take some time," said Tallie.
"You may not care for the inconvenience. You are sure?"
The chit was questioning his word again, damn her!
"You have my word on it, Miss Robinson," he snapped.
Tallie beamed.
"Then may I prepare an itinerary?"
Magnus inclined his head.
"I can speak several languages, you know," she said confidingly.
"French, of course, and Italian, but also German and a little Dutch,
for there was a girl from the Low Countries at school, and she taught
me some Dutch and some Flemish, too."
"What the devil are you talking about? You won't need all those
languages in Paris."
Tallie laughed.
"Not in Paris--for Italy--and elsewhere, of course. I won't need an
interpreter in Paris. I told you--I speak French fluently. And
Italian."
"Do you mean to tell me you wish to travel to Italy V Tallie nodded.
"Yes... and Germany, Switzerland, and perhaps we can visit the Low
Countries on our way back to England." Anywhere, as long as we go to
Italy, where poor Mama died. And then, perhaps, I will be able to find
out--for certain-if.
"That is The Grand Tour," said Magnus, in a forbidding tone.
"Yes. I have wanted to take it for years."
"Quite impossible! And too dangerous--Europe is still at sixes and
sevens because of the war."
"Nonsense. It is perfectly safe since the Peace Treaty was signed at
Amiens," retorted Tallie triumphantly.
"Several of my cousin's acquaintances departed for Paris even before it
was signed, and they are all surviving nicely."
Magnus glared at her. Ladies were supposed to know nothing of
political matters. She ought not to question his judgement.
"And if it is so terribly dangerous, why did you agree to take me to
Paris?" she added.
"Paris is one thing--The Grand Tour another. Ladies do not take The
Grand Tour," he stated coldly.
"They do," Tallie contradicted him.
"I know of several."
Magnus stared down his nose at her.
"Pe
rhaps you are speaking of females," he said.
"I was referring to ladies."
"Well, so was I!" retorted Tallie.
"Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Lady Fetherstonhaugh, and... and Mrs. Ann
Radcliffe, who embarked on The Grand Tour with her husband, in the very
year that Robespierre was guillotined--the same year her Mysteries of
Udolfo was published, I believe."
Magnus was exasperated.
"That damned silly book--' " It is not a silly book! It is utterly
thrilling, as anyone who did not have ice-water in his veins--' "We are
not speaking of Lady Mary Montagu or Lady Fetherstonhaugh or Mrs.
Radcliffe. We are speaking of my wife."
"I am not your wife yet!" Tallie interrupted him.
"And you gave your word!"
"I gave my word to take you to Paris, but no further."
"I never mentioned Paris, and neither did you," argued Tallie.
"Not until after you gave your word."
Magnus thought back. Damn it--the chit was right!