Tallie's Knight

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by Anna Gracie


  "Mine was quite comfortable, although I woke up a little cold." She

  blushed, and did not meet his eyes.

  "I gather Mrs. Farrow put me to bed. I must thank her, though I don't

  understand how she could have missed my nightgown--it was on the top of

  my valise.

  And she must have taken my--er--some things to wash, because I could

  not find them anywhere. "

  Magnus's ears turned slightly pink. He walked over to the fire and

  kicked some of the burning logs with his boot. Smoke gushed into the

  room.

  "My lord-' " Oh, for God's sake let us have done with all this "my

  lord" nonsense! " Magnus exclaimed.

  "You are my wife. You may call me Magnus and I will call you Thalia.

  Agreed?"

  Tallie wrinkled her nose.

  "I would prefer not to be called Thalia."

  "What else should I call you? Lady d'Arenville, perhaps?"

  "Good gracious, no," she said, vigorously scrubbing the honey off her

  lips with a napkin.

  "I should never remember to answer to that."

  Magnus frowned.

  "Never remember to answer to your title?" | He was stunned. He'd

  expected the title to be the very first thing his wife would learn to

  use. That and his wealth.

  Tallie perceived she had mortally offended him and smiled

  placatingly.

  "I suppose it is all still so new to me. I cannot seem to think of

  myself as a countess yet." She smiled brilliantly, with false

  confidence.

  "I am sure I shall soon grow accustomed to it."

  "But in the meantime I am not to address you as Thalia. You would

  prefer Miss Robinson, perhaps?" he finished acidly.

  "Of course not. It is just that I have always disliked the name

  Thalia."

  "Well, there we are agreed--it is an appalling name to inflict on

  someone."

  Tallie suddenly found herself annoyed. It was one thing for her not to

  like her own name; it was quite another to have him criticising it with

  such enthusiasm.

  "Well, at least I am not called Euphrosyne or Aglaia!" she snapped.

  Magnus blinked.

  "Why on earth should you be?"

  "Euphrosyne and Aglaia were Graces."

  "Good for them. But I don't see--' " And Thalia was a Grace, too. "

  "Grace is a perfectly unexceptionable name." He shrugged.

  "I have no objection to calling you Grace."

  "But I don't wish you to call me Grace!"

  "Well, what the devil do you want me to call you? Euphro- what or

  Agalia?"

  Tallie's lips twitched.

  "Thalia, Euphrosyne and AglflM were the three Graces--the daughters of

  Zeus and servants to the other deities," she explained severely.

  "My mother thought it romantic to name me after one of them."

  "Romantic! She must have been a hen-wit," he said frankly.

  "I suppose she wanted more daughters to complete the set. You must

  thank your lucky stars you were born first."

  Tallie giggled.

  He smiled down at her, feeling more in charity with her.

  "So, if you do not wish me to call you Thalia, what is my

  alternative--Lucy?" he said, pleased with himself for recalling her

  second name.

  Tallie pulled another face and shook her head.

  "No, I don't like Louise either." She hesitated.

  "My friends from school and my cousin's children call me Tallie, so you

  could call me that--if you wish it."

  "Tallie... Tallie," he said thoughtfully, then nodded.

  "Yes, it suits you. So, you shall call me Magnus and I call you

  Tallie-agreed?"

  "Agreed, my lor--Magnus." She found her hand enveloped in his and

  looked up at him, smiling shyly.

  He looked down into her shining amber eyes and his hand tightened its

  grip.

  "Come then, Tallie, for we depart within the half-hour."

  "Where to, my lor--Magnus?" she asked breathlessly.

  He couldn't help but smile at her excitement.

  "Paris!"

  Chapter Seven

  What is that most uncommon smell, my lor--Magnus? " Tallie called from

  the window of the coach.

  They had come to a steep hill. The horses slowed to a walk, and, for

  the first time in several hours, Magnus was close enough for

  conversation.

  Magnus frowned, inhaled and shook his head.

  "I smell nothing untoward."

  "Oh, you must," she said, sniffing the air vigorously.

  "It is... it is... Oh, I cannot explain it, for I have smelled nothing

  like it before..." She sniffed again.

  "It is a little... tart, but vastly refreshing."

  Magnus inhaled and shook his head again.

  "I can smell nothing--the wretched sea drowns all other smells."

  "The sea?" Tallie exclaimed.

  "It is the sea I can smell? Oh, how very exciting. I have never seen

  the sea and have always longed to do so."

  She bounced up on the carriage seat and craned her neck as far as she

  could out of the window.

  Magnus regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.

  She turned her head.

  "Pray tell me, my lorI mean Magnus, in which direction is the sea?"

  "You cannot see it yet," he said, 'but once we are over this hill you

  should be able to catch a glimpse of it. "

  Tallie's eyes avidly scanned the approaching horizon. Sure enough,

  within a few moments she saw a sparkling blue line stretching between

  the dip of green hills.

  "Ohhh," she breathed.

  She fastened her gaze on the horizon for the next forty minutes,

  catching tantalising glimpses of blue and silver, until the coach

  breached the final crest and the English Channel lay spread out before

  her in an endless gleaming expanse.

  "Ohhhhh."

  Amused by her naive enthralment, Magnus signalled the coach driver to

  stop. He himself dismounted and opened Tallie's door.

  "Come," he said, holding out a hand.

  "Alight for a moment or two and gaze your fill."

  Eyes shining, she hastened to do his bidding, almost tumbling into the

  road as she did so. She hurried up a small rise and stood there,

  drinking in the incredible sight.

  "It is not the true sea, you understand. This is just the Channel."

  She turned to stare at him in amazement.

  "Truly? But it is enormous. I cannot see to the other side at all."

  He shrugged.

  "Nevertheless..."

  She turned back and gazed in silence for several minutes, her hands

  clasped to her bosom.

  "The English Channel..." she breathed reverently.

  "It is so much bigger than the maps would have you believe... And just

  over there is Europe." She clapped her hands.

  "Oh, I cannot wait! Come! Let us delay no further."

  She hurried back to the coach and scrambled back up the let-down steps,

  oblivious of the groom waiting to assist her.

  Magnus sighed and made a mental note to find someone to teach his wife

  how a lady should step into and descend from a carriage.

  The town of Dover was not particularly prepossessing, in Magnus's

  opinion, consisting, as it did, largely of cheap, unsavoury taverns and

  inns kept by retired rum-soaked sailors for the benefit and

  entertainmen
t of other rum-soaked sailors. There were but two decent

  hostelries in which a gentleman could safely repose his bride--the Ship

  Inn and the King's Head. The Ship Inn being the more fashionable of

  the two, it was there that Magnus naturally made his way.

  To his annoyance, however, the inn was full. The landlord explained.

  It seemed there had been no wind, not even a breeze for days. The

  Channel lay smooth and glassy and the boats' sails limp, and so the

  inn--the whole town, in fact--was crowded with people waiting to leave

  for France. The landlord was extremely apologetic, but every single

  room was taken.

  "Check again," said Lord d'Arenville, laying several shining coins on

  the counter. The landlord regretfully shook his head. Lord

  d'Arenville added several more to the pile.

  Lord d'Arenville's name was not unknown. Nor was it The Ship's

  practice to turn away titled gentlemen. The landlord hesitated a

  moment, then leaned forward.

  "All I can offer your lordship is accommodation to share, I'm

  afraid--for a small consideration, of course. There are several young

  gentlemen who would be pleased to accommodate your lordship for a

  reduction in their tariff, and your lady wife would, I am sure, be

  welcome to sleep with Mrs. Entwhistle, an elderly widow of the utmost

  respectability." His fingers crept towards the money.

  "Share?" exclaimed Lord d'Arenville, outraged, sweeping up the

  coins.

  His wife to share with some old woman--a cit, no doubt! The notion was

  preposterous. His countess did not share her bed with strange old

  women! She shared it with him--or she would as soon as he could manage

  it. He had waited quite long enough as it was.

  The memory of her naked softness had stayed with him the whole day, and

  each sight of her, each movement, had caused him the sort of discomfort

  he had not had to endure since he was a green youth. It was a

  ridiculous situation for a man of his age and experience, and he was

  determined to remedy it immediately--all he needed was a bed and his

  bride.

  The landlord spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness and

  shrugged. "Tis all I can offer you, my lord. Without the wind, the

  ships can't leave, and until they do we must all make the best of

  things."

  "Well, then," said Lord d'Arenville coldly, 'be so good as to recommend

  some respectable private accommodation where my wife and I can stay.

  "

  The landlord shook his head.

  "Nothing left, I'm afraid, my lord. The ships have been stuck here for

  six days already, and the whole town is full up--as tight as a tick, if

  you'll forgive the expression." He paused, then added doubtfully, "You

  might find something in one of the taverns near the waterfront, but I'd

  not wish a lady there, myself."

  "Quite!" said Lord d'Arenville crisply. He pondered the situation. It

  was far too late to retrace their steps and find some other town. His

  bride was waiting in the carriage, tired and no doubt hungry, though

  she had not complained. Repressing his frustration, he accepted the

  landlord's terms, hiding his chagrin behind an icy demeanour.

  Mrs. Entwhistle was, as Magnus had feared, a cit. A wealthy widow,

  she currently owned several large woollen mills and manufactories--a

  fact of which she did not hesitate to inform them, much to his disgust.

  She spoke with an assumed air of refinment," which intensified when she

  found the exalted company in which she was to mix. She was also

  garrulous to the point of strangulation. Magnus was in her company no

  more than ten minutes before he had formed an understanding of why all

  three of her husbands had died young--seeking the peace and quiet of

  the grave. She was, however, intensely respectable, and only too

  delighted to share her chamber with a youthful countess, so Magnus was

  able to leave his bride to dine on a tray in the woman's chamber with

  no doubts about her safety.

  He himself passed a most frustrating night. It took him hours to get

  to sleep, images of his naked wife being the chief cause. Then, when

  he finally fell into a fitful sleep, the young blades with whom he

  shared the room stumbled in, foxed to the eyeballs and talking at the

  tops of their voices. He bore it as long as he could, then sat up in

  bed.

  "If you young gentlemen do not put yourselves to bed with the utmost

  speed--and silence--I will be forced to get out of this bed," he said,

  in a voice which froze the young men in their tracks.

  "I do not believe you would enjoy the consequences."

  After that, the only noise in the room was furtive breathing.

  Magnus lay wide awake, wondering what malignant twist of fate had

  caused him to end up sharing a room with three drunken sots while his

  wife was curled up in bed with a vulgar old woman. He had never been

  so uncomfortable--nor so frustrated--in his life. Except for his

  wedding night.

  Nothing had gone right for him since he'd offered for the girl, he

  thought sourly. Why had he ever been so foolish as to consider

  marriage? It was all Freddie's fault. One of the young blades started

  to snore. Magnus turned over in bed, attempting to block out the

  sound. A second set of snores joined the first, then a third, making a

  loud and inharmonious din. Magnus pulled the pillow over his head.

  Lord d'Arenville was far from his best when he entered the inn's

  crowded public dining room to join his bride for breakfast. He had

  passed a most indifferent night--again--and even the expedience of

  tossing the noisiest of his companions out of bed had failed to quell

  the vile nocturnal sounds.

  Further, he'd had to shave and dress himself without his valet.

  Again.

  He was forced to acknowledge he missed the man's skills--Magnus had

  detected a hair on his coat when it had been returned to him, his

  cravats were insufficiently starched and, worst of all, the inn's

  bootblack had left a thumb-print on his hessians!

  "Good morning, my lord." Tallie greeted him with a sunny smile.

  "Did you sleep better last night?"

  Magnus gave her a baleful glance and sat down. He ordered kidneys,

  bacon and a tankard of ale. His wife applied herself vigorously to a

  plate of kippers.

  "I gather you slept well. Again," he added, noting her bright- eyed

  demeanour and her clear, smooth skin.

  She shook her head, glanced furtively around the room, then leaned

  forward and whispered, "No, not at all, for--you will not credit

  it--Mrs. Entwhistle snoresV Magnus let out a surprised snort of

  laughter.

  "Oh, but it is perfectly true," Tallie whispered, and rolled her

  eyes.

  "It was dreadfully loud." She glanced around the room again and added,

  her eyes brimming with mischief, "It seems she cannot bear to be

  silent--even in sleep!"

  Despite his bad mood, Magnus found himself smiling back at her.

  "So, too, did my companions."

  "Oh, then you understand. I do so dislike the sound. And it goes on

  and on, doesn't it? Until you feel as though
you wish to smother the

  person who is doing it." She took another forkful of kipper and chewed

  it meditatively, regarding him with a speculative expression.

  "Do you?-- I mean ... no."

  "Do I what?" said Magnus.

  She blushed.

  "I have forgot what I was going to say. Er, do you think the wind will

  be in the right quarter today, my lor-Magnus? For the packet to

  depart, I mean. It is beautifully sunny, at any rate. If we cannot

  depart today, do you think we might walk up to the Western Heights? I

  have heard that the view is most spectacular and the walk very

  invigorating."

  Magnus frowned. What had she been about to ask him? Something that

  caused her to blush. Had she been going to ask him whether he

  snored?

  He opened his mouth to reassure her. then shut it, disconcerted. He

 

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