Winter Fire - Malloran 06

by Jo Beverley

  “Of course he isn’t,” Genova said, as calmly as she could.

  “I’d say this betrothal was a folly of Thalia’s making except that the Oliphants heard the story on their way here. Fat, red-nosed fellow over there and his gaunt wife. Encountered the Brokesbys in London and heard the wondrous tale of Ashart’s betrothal to his great-aunts’ companion, along with hints of lewdness. Probably all the worse for being vague.”

  Genova looked at the middle-aged couple, wishing them to Hades.

  “No one will think too much of it, dear,” said Thalia, “now you are engaged to marry.”

  “And when that ends, I’ll be a fool who permitted too many liberties.”

  “It’ll blow over,” Lady Calliope said brusquely, “and it’ll be a feather in your cap to have interested him at all. As long as you don’t fall into folly over it.”

  Genova knew exactly what she meant, but said, “I am not the sort to fall into folly.”

  “No, thank Zeus. Unlike that Miss Myddleton. Silly piglet. But he might as well let her catch him. She’s from a good enough family and rich.”

  “I do think it a shame,” Thalia said with a pout.

  “There’s a light in the darkness.” Lady Calliope looked up at Genova. “We’re hoping we can persuade you to live in our house in Tunbridge Wells, dear. To continue as companion. You’ll have a room of your own, and a maid, and all comforts. I’m sure it won’t last past the spring, when the Wells is alive with eligible gentlemen, but we would enjoy your company.”

  Genova looked away, swallowing tears, touched but embarrassed. This was an offer made out of pity, a salve to her wounded heart. She must have been as transparent as Damaris Myddleton, and she hated that.

  What’s more, she couldn’t take the kind offer. She couldn’t live where she might meet Ash, perhaps even be expected to dance at his wedding.

  She was saved from having to respond by a bump on her leg. She steadied little Francis Malloren, who seemed intent on Lady Calliope’s chair. He toddled on and arrived at the old lady’s blanketed knees.

  “G’day,” he said, beaming, with no hint of shyness.

  A flustered maid rushed after. “I’m so sorry, milady! This is Master Francis Malloren, milady.”

  Genova braced to deal with harshness, but Lady Calliope looked the boy in the eye. “And what attracts you to an old crone, Master Francis Malloren, when there are mince pies and sugarplums to be had?”

  The boy patted her lap. “Up!”

  A chuckle rumbled. “A Malloren through and through. Lift him up then, girl, and we’ll tour this mayhem together. Off you go, Genova, and enjoy yourself. But take care.”

  Thalia linked arms with Genova. “Do let’s help with the mistletoe, dear!”

  Genova might have tried to slip to the edges of the room—another sort of edge—but Thalia headed straight for the middle, where the ladies were making bundles of greenery to place around the hall. Genova noted that they were tying it up with new ribbons, so frugality had lost that battle. But then, that had only been a pretext.

  During that chat with Portia, she’d been informed that the Mallorens were ordinary people beneath the glitter, but that Lord Rothgar was ruthless in protecting them and their interests. Why inform her, however? Did they overestimate her influence to that extent?

  No longer. She’d told Portia the truth about the engagement. Thank heavens for that. She would not be a pawn in this game.

  “Perhaps I might even get a kiss,” Thalia said, looking up at a huge bouquet of mistletoe that had just been hung from the central chandelier, low enough for the gentlemen to pluck the berries. “I’m sure Richard wouldn’t mind.”

  Genova steered Thalia under there, looking for a suitable gentleman. Her eyes fixed on Ash because she caught him looking at her. Her heart skipped a beat, with no conscious control at all.

  After a still moment, she mimed her request.

  He looked puzzled, but then came toward them, smiling. He still wore the plain riding clothes in which she’d first seen him, but he was all beau, all courtier, as he bowed. He could have been in powder, satin, and lace.

  “Why, Thalia, if you don’t want to be thoroughly kissed, this is most careless of you.”

  Thalia laughed with delight. “You naughty boy, but I am caught, indeed I am!”

  She presented a cheek, but he swept her into his arms and planted a kiss solidly on her lips. She emerged with high color that was entirely natural, and with a beaming smile that was brighter than any Genova had seen on her.

  She feared her own smile was as wide. No matter what his faults, the Marquess of Ashart could be exceedingly kind.

  As he plucked a berry from the bunch, Thalia said, “What a charming rascal you are, Ashart!” But then she tugged Genova under the branch. “And here is your reward.”

  Genova could hardly resist. They were the center of all eyes, including the Oliphants“. She wanted to refuse, though. Mistletoe kisses seemed sour when put against her confused but profound feelings.

  He took her hand, but only to pull her away from the bough. “A man needs no excuse to kiss his future bride, Thalia, so I’ll preserve the berries for less fortunate gentlemen.”

  A buzz said some had not heard the news. People nearby congratulated them, wishing them well, but Genova saw much astonishment. She hoped her blushes were taken for maidenly delight and was grateful when Ash drew her away from the hub.

  “I hate this,” she said.

  “Do you want to break it off now? It’s too early, but we can cope.”

  He was serious. She shook her head. “As you say, it’s too early. We might as well play the game to its end. This feels like a lie, though. I don’t like to lie.”

  He took her hand. “Then consider us betrothed for a little while. I certainly haven’t promised anyone here that I’ll actually marry you. Have you sworn to marry me?”

  He was making her smile. “No.”

  “You see. All is easy.”

  Easy? Hardly, but good humor made it easier to express her thoughts. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It was unfair.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I should have realized what your experiences might have been. You awe me.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t. There’s nothing extraordinary about my life.”

  “Perhaps I have lost touch with what women can be.”

  “Any woman, Ash. Don’t forget, the edge can be found in the simplest places. In a room with an idea. In a kitchen with a pot, in a nursery with a child. Women who fight Barbary pirates aren’t better than those who tend their families at home.”

  “But you,” he said simply, “are you.”

  She looked at him, breathless, but then it was as if a shutter closed. He looked away, then said, “There’s the maid and baby.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Genova turned and saw Sheena with Charlie in her arms. A glance around showed many servants present, some helping, some merely looking on and even enjoying the Christmas delicacies and drinks. It had to be with permission.

  Ash was already heading across the hall toward the Irish girl. Genova hurried after him, thinking that he, too, was concerned that Charlie might cry, but then realized that he probably didn’t know about his cousin’s weakness.

  She was caught and kissed by three other men. She managed to laugh and flirt to the required degree, but her reaction was only impatience. She needed to keep up with Ash, but also, no kisses other than his mattered now.

  She saw Sheena bob a curtsy, face sinking into sullenness. Was close enough to hear her say, “Good day, milord,” as if she spoke English well. The girl was clever, which would be a good thing.

  “Good day, Sheena,” Ash said, as Genova arrived at his side. “Lady Booth Carew?”

  The girl’s eyes widened, but she nodded.

  “Where is she?”

  Sheena’s eyes hunted around for help.

  “Where is Charlie’s mother, Sheena?”

  “Stop!” Ge
nova put herself between them. “You’re frightening her.”

  “If I’m to make peace,” he said sharply, “I have to sort out my affairs, especially those relating to Molly Carew. Sheena is clearly not stupid and she understands a bit of English. Names do not change much from language to language, and nor does the word for mother.”

  “But why would she know anything of use to you? She’s simply a wet nurse.”

  “Don’t you want to find the truth?”

  “Yes, of course, but not like this!”

  His dark eyes studied her. “You admit there is a truth to be found?”

  She hadn’t meant that, but challenged, she opened her mind. She now felt sure that he would not lie to her.

  “Yes. I believe you,” she said. “I don’t understand how you can be sure you’re not Charlie’s father, but I believe that you are. Sure, that is.”

  “Somewhat guarded, but thank you. If I can discover the real father, it will solve many of my problems.”

  “Lady Booth’s the one to ask, isn’t she?”

  “She seems to have slipped away.”

  “Slipped away?”

  “A friend was with me at the Lion and Unicorn. He went after her, but lost the trail.”

  Genova kept an eye on Sheena and the baby but was absorbed by this discussion. They were talking, directly and practically, and it felt completely natural, as if they had known each other a long time.

  And as if they trusted each other. It was as if a cloud of insubstantial delights had coalesced into a pearl, something real that could be held and cherished.

  It made it easy to put a hand on his arm. “As you said, she can’t disappear entirely, Ash. There’ll be time enough to talk to Lady Booth after Christmas.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “I think you could keep me sane, Genova.”

  “Is your sanity in doubt?”

  “Constantly. Especially recently.”

  He put his finger beneath her chin, and when she didn’t resist, he kissed her. It was light and simple, but perhaps the sweetest kiss they’d shared. She didn’t request a guinea, and he didn’t offer one.

  “I should be doing my duty to the Yule log,” he said, with a last glance at Sheena. “Will you try to find out what she knows?”

  “Of course, but she really does understand virtually no English.”

  He grimaced, then walked away.

  Genova turned back to Sheena, who was still looking wary. To soothe the girl, Genova plucked a cake from a passing tray.

  Sheena brightened immediately and consumed it. The baby slept on, but he could awaken at any moment. Genova hated to spoil Sheena’s treat, but she had to. “You must return to the nurseries,” pointing toward the great stairs.

  Sheena shook her head, but Genova insisted and began to steer her that way. Genova went slowly, however, and chose various delicacies for the girl along the way.

  To allow Sheena to enjoy them, Genova took the baby for a while and found comfort for herself in the bundle. There was something about a baby that brought the world into perspective.

  When they reached the stairs, singing started over near the Yule log. Sheena stopped to listen, and since the baby was still fast asleep, Genova took the girl up three steps so they’d have a better view.

  A group of gentlemen, including Ash, was singing a Christmas round about spiced ale and cheer. It would probably be called a glee, and once Genova would have thought glee and Ash uncomfortable partners. No longer. There was a joyous man in him, and he might be breaking free.

  Then some ladies sang “The Holly and the Ivy,” led by Damaris Myddleton, who did have a lovely voice. Everyone began to join in.

  Genova rocked the baby, praying the swelling sound wouldn’t wake him. A twitch of the bowed lips was almost like a smile. A deep need stirred then, a powerful need to have children of her own. To bear one man’s children.

  She looked across at Ash. Her heart was given.

  It was a strange recognition. Not dramatic, but calm and certain. This wasn’t a fit of wild lust or a passing infatuation.

  Well, then. What was she going to do about it?

  She was no grand lady, but she could be a good wife for him, she was sure. They were equals in all the ways that mattered. Hadn’t he just said that she could be his sanity?

  She didn’t know all she would need to know, but that would have been true if she’d encouraged the courtship of Hester’s neighbor, a wine merchant. She could learn. She would enjoy learning. She would even learn how not to sneeze in the royal presence.

  And love must weigh in the balance, especially a love like this, which she thought he shared. Only thought, but surely that would become clear.

  Then there was the physical. Yes, indeed, there was the physical, not to be discounted when it came to marriage. A happy bed was the heart of that. She could certainly be happy in his bed, and she hoped she could make him happy in turn.

  Make a rake happy enough to be faithful?

  She remembered him saying he intended to be a good husband. He might not have meant fidelity, but it was a start.

  She allowed herself to watch him a little longer, absorbing the change in everything. Her new thoughts and feelings were as frightening as naked blades, but as exciting. Yes, she was someone who needed to live on the edge.

  The song ended in laughter and chatter, and a little noise pulled her out of thought. Charlie wasn’t crying, or about to, thank heavens, but his big eyes were wide and alert. It was time to get him away from here.

  She put the baby in Sheena’s arms. “Charlie’s awake. You must take him back upstairs.”

  She pointed upstairs, but Sheena shook her head.

  Genova was about to insist when the girl pointed toward the back of the house, saying something equally firmly. Of course. By now she’d have learned to use the servants’ stairs.

  Genova watched the pair leave, thinking that Sheena might have a clearer idea of her place in this world than she had. What sort of madness said that she could marry a marquess?

  She climbed the elegant stairs to the half landing to observe again. This in-between spot was more in keeping with her position. Ash was down in the heart of things, near the fireplace, where the log was now in place. She was apart, up here.

  She remembered leaning on the balustrade in the Lion and Unicorn, admiring a virile stranger.

  He was still a stranger in some ways, but she knew him. She knew him deep in her heart, soul, and gut.

  Then she realized that being up here felt like being on the bridge of one of her father’s ships. She’d been blessed by good parents and an interesting life. What would her father have to say about her strange new adventures if he knew?

  Keep a solid ship beneath your feet, Genni-love, and you can ride out the wildest storms.

  Fanciful dreams did not form a solid ship, but surely the connection forged between her and Ash today did.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Genova saw Damaris Myddleton heading back toward Ash and went down the stairs. It was time to roll out the guns and do battle for the prize. Though she’d like to have sailed a direct course, discretion forced her to tack, chatting, flirting, and being kissed a few more times.

  If all the men were paying her guineas, Charlie’s account would be growing nicely.

  She was almost at the fireplace when she noticed Lady Walgrave—Lady Elf—frowning and rubbing her massive belly.

  “Are you all right, my lady?”

  Lady Elf looked at her, then smiled. “Oh, yes, just feeling restless. I have always done this, you see.”

  Genova did. “It’s strange to pass things over to others. You have your own home now, however.”

  “Yes, and I intend to do something as splendid in time. Walgrave Towers was a rather chilly house, so it’s being drastically renovated. That’s why we’re here at such a time. I didn’t want to give birth in town.”

  Was this chatter, or more information being fed to her? Lady Elf, after a
ll, was a true Malloren.

  Genova could see Ash, and Damaris Myddleton was in the same group. She needed to ask a question of Lord Rothgar’s sister, however. “Do you think your brother wants peace with Lord Ashart?”

  Lady Elf looked at her, surprised. “Yes, of course. Is it possible?”

  Negotiation through intermediaries? Genova hesitated, for Ash certainly hadn’t appointed her to the position. “Yes, I think it is. But there must be many grievances to be dealt with on both sides.”

  Lady Elf looked around, clearly making sure no one was listening. “There are, yes,” she said quietly, “and the most serious are to do with family. I gather the Dowager Lady Ashart truly believes that the Mallorens were responsible for the death of her husband as well as her daughter. He died, you see, because of Lady Augusta’s tragedy. At least, he died not long afterward, and she chooses to see cause and effect.”

  “It could be so. My mother’s death caused a great change in my father.”

  “But it still requires that my father caused his first wife to murder her baby. No one who knew him believes it.”

  “Can’t Lady Ashart be convinced of this?”

  “Apparently not. As for our wounds, she has tried many times to harm us.” Lady Elf glanced around again. “She paid a man to try to seduce me.”

  “My heaven! What happened to him?”

  “Rothgar called him out.”

  That’s what Genova feared. “And killed him?”

  “No. But he has little use of his right arm.”

  In a way it seemed worse than death. It sounded so coldly calculated, but Lady Elf seemed to think it completely normal.

  “My brother’s vigilance has kept us safe,” Lady Elf said, “despite the dowager’s machinations. Things have been better recently. Rothgar’s growing power deters, and I gather the Trayce fortune is severely depleted.”

  “The sooner peace is settled, the better.”

  “We agree entirely.”

  We.

  Genova glanced at Ash. He was about to kiss Miss Myddleton beneath the mistletoe!

  Before Genova could excuse herself, Lord Walgrave came over to his wife. “You must be tired, love. Come and sit down.”