by Burnett, May
So now he wanted to press his supposed advantage, worried that Barnaby Winthrop would replace him as her favoured suitor. “This is awfully sudden, Major Kepler. Part of me wants to agree to what you suggest, even, strangely, feels that I ought to give you what you desire. But I am not a wanton woman, and it is not so easy… I have never craved nor enjoyed the grossness of physical intimacy.”
He raised his brows. “Grossness? You insult me. There is nothing unwholesome or gross about bed sport between a man and woman. It is how God created us, after all, for mutual enjoyment and pleasure.”
“I can only go on my previous experience. Remember that I am a widow, not a spinster, Sir.”
He twirled his moustache. “That bad, was it? But it does not have to be, you know. It only takes a short while, and is pleasant to both parties.”
Milla folded her arms in front of her body. “Even that prospect fails to entice me. I am sorry, Major.”
“You feel that way about all men?”
“Yes,” Milla lied without hesitation. If she admitted that Barnaby Winthrop was the exception, it would only lead to awkwardness and perhaps danger for the young man.
“I see. You are so pretty, and a picture of health, Camilla, that I would not have expected an attitude like that… one cannot tell… but no reason to despair. I believe that Doktor Rabenstein, here at the spa, has an effective treatment for female frigidity.”
Milla just bet he had, similar to what he had already tried on her. “Interesting. But I am not sure I want to be treated for it. It is more comfortable to be entirely in charge of my emotions, my body.”
He shook his head in instant disagreement. “How is it being in charge, if you are scared of the most natural thing in the world? Think about it. You are like a high-bred horse afraid to jump a fence – but the horse was bred for just that purpose, as you are made to enjoy my embrace.”
Milla had trouble hiding her indignation at this pronouncement, and was grateful when Veronique appeared at the door. “I believe it is time for you to change for the afternoon concert,” she reminded Milla.
“Yes, I did not see how quickly the time was passing. Thank you again, Major, for putting me in contact with that seller of shares! Eighty gulden is a very nice gain.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He was all smiles again, recalled to his primary objective. “Enjoy the concert, my lady.”
Milla paused outside the door. Kepler was speaking to Veronique in a low, furious voice. “I told you to leave! You will very much regret it if you do not decamp within the next twenty-four hours.”
Veronique huffed. “What can you do? You have no power over me or my movements.”
“We’ll see about that.” There was leashed violence in the Major’s voice. “I am done waiting, or playing around. If you value your neck, go away and don’t come back. And don’t breathe a word to Lady Fenton of why you are leaving.”
“I don’t fear you,” Veronique replied, but there was an uncertain tone to her voice. Knowing her intrepid nature, Milla wondered if it was feigned, or if what she saw in the German’s face made her genuinely uneasy.
Louis came along the corridor at a quick pace. Milla gestured to the door, to have him interrupt the confrontation, and retired to her room.
Why the sudden urgency, the pressure to sleep with Kepler, or at least court disaster by allowing him the public use of her first name? Was it to chase off Barnaby? Something had changed. The Major was not truly attracted to her, she sensed. Hers was a kind of beauty that some men found irresistible, but it left others cold. Barnaby belonged to the first group, his brother Jeremy to the second; and so did Kepler, Milla guessed, for all his pretence at attraction, and intent to seduce. He’d wait forever before she yielded to his charmless blandishments.
She was about to call Marie to help do her buttons when Veronique stormed in and set to the task without saying a word. Her features were tense.
“Did Kepler upset you?” Milla asked. “I wonder why he is suddenly so eager to press ahead.”
“His behaviour is alarming. There used to be camaraderie among professional swindlers, a kind of mutual courtesy, in my father’s generation. Kepler seems to believe that I am still in the game, but those heavy-handed, thuggish threats remind me more of the wartime years, when lives were cheap and any kind of brutality was justified with patriotic fervour. I should know.” Her voice was bleak.
“What did Kepler do during the war, do you suppose? Is he a genuine officer with a profitable side-line? It is maddening that we have not yet been able to find out more.”
“He threatened violence against a lady, which would have been scorned by his father or mine, or by any true gentleman and officer. I don’t pretend to know exactly what he has become, since I knew him as a sneaky, selfish boy; my instincts warn me that he may be more dangerous than we thought. Perhaps we should simply depart.”
“And let him continue his criminal career?”
"Sometimes you have to think of your own safety first. Danger seems unlikely so far, but during those wartime missions I have learned to rely on my sixth sense. It is warning me now not to take Kepler too lightly.”
“Noted.” Milla would think on Veronique’s words, but later. Would Barnaby attend the concert, too? They had never yet compared their respective tastes in music. Would he mind that unlike ninety out of a hundred well-born ladies, Milla did not play an instrument?
“Here, before I forget,” she handed her companion a small, heavy leather purse. “The eighty gulden I earned by pretending to invest in the Peruvian mine. The hook, as you call it. It is yours.”
“That’s a great deal of money.” Veronique sounded startled. She stared at the purse for a long moment, but took it at last.
“It comes from those crooks. In view of their animosity against you, it amuses me that their gold should go to you.” That was not her whole reason, of course; Milla wanted to help Veronique speed up her emigration plans. She and Louis would not achieve true safety until an ocean lay between them and the vengeful Bourbons.
She would miss them, but if Barnaby was at her side, perhaps not all that much. In any case, she would never hold a friend back, when lack of funds was the only obstacle.
Chapter 17
Barnaby lay awake in his unfamiliar bed, going over every second of his discussions with Milla, searching for hidden meanings. Had he understood correctly, that she was still untouched? That she had waited for him? Her kisses, though not lacking in passion, were hardly those of a practiced wanton.
If it was so, Barnaby was the luckiest fellow in the Continent. He should snatch at this second chance. Milla could soon be his, Mrs. Barnaby Winthrop… or had he misunderstood her? No, she could not be so cruel as to fool him with false hopes.
While she had been amazingly open on highly sensitive subjects, Milla had been evasive on the subject of her fortune. But to the devil with her fortune. It came from Fenton, that villain who had insulted Barnaby’s sister Susan, whom his brother Jeremy had to put down like a rabid cur. A dangerous madman, whose money Barnaby did not want or need. He had made quite enough himself, through his hard work over the past two years, for the family and on his own account. It had been a spur that he wanted to be as rich, or preferably richer, than Milla, he admitted to himself in the privacy of the featherbed.
It might be as well that he had tended to his fortune, if Milla’s was diminished or lost. He doubted that the intelligent woman he took her for could have gone through such a large fortune in a mere two years, but there was no lack of charlatans and unscrupulous persons willing to help even the richest heirs and heiresses dispose of their wealth. If Milla had fallen victim to such a scheme, he would not tease her with reminders, simply ensure that she never again would know the slightest insecurity or want.
Her deprived, lonely youth explained how she had become such a formidable young lady, though the stubborn pride was likely inborn. Other, gentler natures might have responded differently to such challenges
, would have broken under them. Milla was not easy to break. In a wife, that was a good thing. She would be a tower of strength in times of trouble. It also presaged battles and conflicts, for Barnaby was not willing to knuckle under if they should have any difference of opinion. A strong-willed wife would never bore him; he was looking forward to a lifetime of stormy battles, to be passionately resolved in bed.
***
Barnaby rose early, full of restless energy, trying to formulate the right words for his proposal of marriage. Today, at long last, Milla might consent to be his wife. He might be betrothed by lunchtime, if all went well.
Why did he have this apprehensive feeling in his guts, that things would not be as easy as that?
He arrived at the livery stable a full half hour early and watched with impatience as a groom leisurely saddled the grey mare reserved for Milla, and the big dappled gelding he chose for his own use. Then he had nothing to do but kick his heels while he watched the larger hand of the clock on the nearest church steeple advance with maddening slowness. There, only five minutes to their appointment. He mounted, and took the leading reins of the mare as he set off towards Milla’s lodgings.
As before, she was ready on the dot, this time in a rust-coloured riding outfit with black embroidery, and a dashing hat decorated with black feathers. His hands clasped her narrow waist and easily lifted her up to the lady’s saddle. The habit’s woollen fabric was soft, but how much softer would her skin feel? A discreet perfume of roses enveloped her body, only noticeable from very close.
It was barely eight in the morning, the sun was still rising. Apart from a few small clouds sailing high in the sky, it promised to be a splendid day, perhaps too hot for riding later, but perfect at this hour. Did the propitious weather presage good luck, when he put the all-important question to Milla?
Milla turned her mare in a different direction than the last time.
“What is our destination today?” Barnaby asked.
“The Blauensee – blue lake, in English.”
They rode side by side through a near-deserted street. Within two minutes, they reached the end of the stone pavement, and the horses’ hooves produced a far more pleasing noise on the earth and gravel of a broad path. There were hazelnut bushes on the left side, and willows in the distance. The clucking of chickens was audible from behind a farm they passed.
“A big lake?”
“Not very, but large enough for unwary swimmers to drown, and rather cold for swimming throughout the year. But one can hire boats, and there is a farmhouse with outdoor tables and benches, for refreshment after the exercise.”
“It sounds charming.” He hardly cared whither she led him, but a boat on a lake sounded like an excellent, private place to ask for her hand. “Have you been there often?”
“Only once before. We have only been in Regensbad for five weeks, and one of those I spent elsewhere.”
“And why did you return here afterwards?”
“I had my reasons,” she said evasively. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, because I want to know how your mind works, Milla. You are a tantalising mystery.”
“I already told you a great deal about me, the other day. Had you known me as a twelve-year-old, you would understand me much better. I sometimes think we do not truly change, that new experiences and behaviours grow on top of the old, like the layers of an onion.”
“The onion has no core,” he pointed out. “And the first version would be the mewling infant, which is very different from our adult selves, you must admit.”
“Perhaps so.” She smiled impishly and spurred the mare on.
Barnaby easily caught up with her, and after a short exhilarating gallop, they slowed by unspoken accord.
“You ride exceedingly well, Milla.” Indeed she seemed born to the saddle, her posture perfect and straight.
“Thank you. I learned to ride over difficult terrain when I could barely walk. My parents were still alive, and kept excellent horseflesh. North is a bruising rider, and even Edward was very good.”
“I see.” He imagined Milla as a tiny, stubborn tot with dark curls, tagging after her much older brothers on a horse too big for her, over rocky cliffs. A miracle that she was still alive.
The black feathers on her hat bobbed as she turned towards him. “Of course, I had to sell our last horses when we could no longer buy fodder, and invest the proceeds in a small boat that helped feed the household. One must be practical, but I cried when I saw the stables so empty and deserted.”
“I don’t suppose you cry often.” It was surprising she would admit to such emotion at all, even if the occasion lay years in the past. Would she ever allow herself to cry on his shoulder?
“No, not these days. I learned early that it does not do any good.”
They had arrived at the lake, and were trotting along a path skirting the shoreline. A grey heron was wading in the water, close to patches of high reeds.
Milla slid down from the mare, holding on to the reins. “It is about ten minutes from here to the place where they rent boats. If I am to sit still on the water, I prefer to walk the rest of the distance.”
He followed her example. Bees were buzzing, and a falcon was lazily circling high above their heads. “It is a pretty spot.”
“Indeed.” Milla pulled at the mare’s reins, as the horse sniffed at a patch of lush green grass. “No, this is not the time to snack, greedyguts. You can do that while we are on the lake.”
“Do you suppose the horse can understand you?” he asked, amused.
“The tone of voice, at any rate.” Indeed, the mare made no further attempts to stop and graze.
“It is some time since I have wielded the oars,” Barnaby remarked as they wandered along the path. “At Oxford I rowed a bit, but since then I have preferred sailing boats. We discussed sailing on the afternoon when we first met.”
“I remember the occasion.” Their eyes fleetingly met. From her wistful expression, she had not forgotten that moment of instant attraction, when the teeming crowds had receded into the distance and only the two of them existed on the earthly plane. He had known then, instantly, that he wanted her. Why had so much time passed and they were still at the courtship stage?
“Here we are,” she said a few minutes later. Barnaby perceived four small wooden rowing boats, tied to a minuscule wooden pier. Milla put the mare into a convenient paddock shadowed by oak trees, and he followed suit. A middle-aged woman wearing a blue apron over her red dress emerged from the farmhouse and smiled at them. Barnaby could not follow the rapid conversation in German, but he gathered that Milla hired one of the boats, and ordered refreshments for later. The woman nodded and went back to her kitchen, while they proceeded to untie one of the boats. Milla nimbly jumped in and took her place on the wooden plank before he had the chance to lift her.
“It looks tight enough.” He carefully examined the boat’s bottom, mostly dry, mindful of Milla’s remark that people had drowned here. “Can you swim, Milla?” Hardly any ladies could, but in her particular case, he would take nothing for granted.
“Well enough not to drown in this lake,” she confirmed his guess. “And no, I will not tell you how I learned, and from whom.”
“Another mystery, then.” The oars felt warm and familiar in his hands.
“There are swans and ducks over there.” Milla pointed.
“Yes, well, I am far less interested in waterfowl than in what I can see right here in this boat, Milla.”
“Yet it has been nearly two years. I have changed, Barnaby.”
He loved hearing his name in her husky voice. They had agreed to use first names on the way back from that ruined castle. After those sweet kisses, anything else would have seemed absurdly formal. In his mind, she had been Milla almost since the beginning.
“I know, you explained that very well… I too have changed in the meantime, if less visibly. I feel more ready than ever to marry, to cling to a single woman, to found a family. I
want to do all that with you, and cannot imagine sharing my life with any other woman.” He did not stop rowing. “Will you be my wife, Milla? I could wish for nothing better than a lifetime of love and adventure, with you.”
She was silent for several long moments, with her blue eyes, more lovely than the azure sky above them, fixed on his face in earnest thought. His heart sank. What was there to think about? Either she wanted him, loved him in return, or not. Had he mistaken her signals once again?
“I want to say yes,” she said finally. “I am fond of you, Barnaby. And I am curious to see what it is like.”
He could easily guess, from the direction of her gaze, to what she was referring. The neck cloth and breeches suddenly seemed much too tight, and he felt hot.
Milla’s eyes rose to meet his, and did not look away as she continued. “Since I am technically a widow, we need not wait until marriage. Indeed, I would feel easier in my mind if I knew that I liked that part of matrimony, before we set a wedding date.”
His mouth opened in shock at her statement. He shut it quickly. Trust Milla never to react as expected. “Are you serious, that you would risk an affair with me? To find out if you like my lovemaking, before you consent to marry me?”
She fiddled with the folds of her riding habit. “In a nutshell, yes.”
Barnaby stared at her in mingled delight and exasperation. Milla’s greatest attraction was that she was so different from other, conventional women; it was also her greatest drawback. He was impatient to enjoy her lovely body, to make love to her as she suggested, but his instincts screamed a warning.