Tallie's Knight
Page 14
"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