‘Yes, it was. There was no one to accompany you, not even Judith, and I could not return with my mission unaccomplished …’
‘Intelligence gathering?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘Finding James seemed to be the only solution.’
‘And now you are telling me it was not?’
‘I am telling you that, for me, there was no alternative. From the moment you stepped ashore at Calais, our lives were inextricably linked.’ He smiled wearily. ‘Call it fate, if you like.’
He possessed himself of her hands and drew her to sit on the bed beside him. ‘Now, let us have no more teasing because I want to talk to you very seriously and I want you to understand.’
‘I am listening.’
‘Play-acting is all very well here in France where we are not known and where everyone is more concerned with their own lives than with propriety, but what happens when we return to England? Had you thought of that? You have spent days and nights in my company unchaperoned—what do you think that will do for your reputation and how will your grandfather, the Viscount, react, do you suppose? Will he cut James off? Will he turn your uncle from his living?’
‘He would surely not punish them for something I have done?’
‘Mud sticks, my dear.’
‘Oh, that is so hypercritical. And it isn’t fair. James has done nothing wrong. And neither have we.’
He smiled. Was she being deliberately naive? ‘Will anyone believe that?’
‘Perhaps not, but as I have no intention of going home, not to Beresford …’
‘Then where will you go?’
‘I shall find somewhere. You need not concern yourself about me.’
‘No? What do you think I have been doing these past six months?’
‘Six months? Is it as long as that?’
‘January to July. I am sure it must seem a lifetime to you …’
‘No, it seems shorter.’ She spoke softly, not daring to look up at him. ‘You have looked after me so well, I hardly noticed the days passing.’
‘Some would say otherwise. Some would say I had ill used you.’ He knew he should have found some other way, he should not have insisted on her playing his wife, or on sharing a room. The first night he had done it to drive home his message that she was not safe alone, which was true. The second night, he had sat in a chair by the hearth, listening to her tossing and turning and crying out in her sleep. Once, he fancied she had called his name. And he had answered her, gone to take her in his arms, to comfort her, sleeping beside her. He had known what he was doing; she had not.
‘Jack, please don’t make it sound sordid when it was nothing of the sort. What you did was good and chivalrous …’
He laughed harshly. ‘Chivalrous! Chivalrous to share a room, sometimes a bed …’
‘You did it for my protection. I had nightmares …’ She shuddered. ‘You have no idea how bad they were. Thanks to you they are far less frequent now and not half as frightening.’
‘For heaven’s sake, don’t make me into some kind of saint. I am nothing of the sort.’
‘Jack, I am very tired. Please tell me what all this talk is leading to.’
‘A way out of our dilemma,’ he said, stroking the back of her hand idly with his thumb. ‘You could marry me. I mean a real marriage, not this charade we have been playing.’
‘Marriage!’ She was so startled she pulled her hands from his and gaped at him. He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘Are you mad? Or is bigamy accepted in this Godforsaken country now?’
‘Bigamy?’
She laughed shrilly. ‘Had you forgotten you are married? I believe her name is Gabrielle. Nanette told me all about her. She said you were devoted to each other.’
‘Gabrielle is dead,’ he said flatly. ‘She died last year.’
‘Oh.’ She was so shocked she could not go on, but pulled herself together quickly. ‘I didn’t know. Oh, Jack, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive.’
‘When did you find out? How did it happen?’
‘She went to the guillotine. I learned of it while we were in Paris. Now we will talk of her no more.’
‘Of course. I can see it is a painful subject. But how can you talk of marriage to me? You do not love me and …’
‘What has love to do with it?’ he broke in before she could force a confession out of him. How could he tell her that ever since he had saved her from that hanging, perhaps even before that, the one thing he had wanted was to make love to her? That his desire that been overwhelming and could only be controlled by teasing her or being harsh with her?
He wanted to marry her, to have her legitimately in his bed. And James, hearing how they had come this far without a chaperon of any kind, had insisted on it. ‘My sister is an innocent,’ he had said when Jack finally caught up with him two days before. ‘She doesn’t understand that she can never go back to England unmarried. You must make an honest wife of her.’
Jack did not need to be told; it had been occupying his mind for some time and the solution he had offered was the only one. It was also the one he most wanted. She was looking at him now, hurt and puzzlement in her lovely eyes, and a dash of anger too. He could hardly bear it.
‘Is this another tease?’
‘No, far from it. I am in deadly earnest.’ He retrieved her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, that was not the most romantic of proposals, but you must know me by now. I am not a romantic man, and the circumstances are hardly conducive to tender declarations. Perhaps if we were in England …’
‘If we were in England,’ she snapped, ‘I would not even entertain such a proposal.’
It was such a set-down, he gave up the struggle to redeem himself, but neither could he withdraw the proposal. ‘Then let us come to an amicable agreement,’ he said brusquely. ‘We will marry tomorrow. Thomas will fetch the curé and he and James can be witnesses. And though I do not hold with breaking marriage vows, I shall raise no objection if you decide to ask for an annulment after we arrive safely in England.’
She was staring at him as if he had run mad and he supposed he had, mad enough to think they might be able to find happiness together in spite of the circumstances. ‘Think about it,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Think about the alternatives and give me your answer tomorrow.’ Then he bent to kiss the top of her head and left her.
He joined his friend downstairs. The roadmender was sitting by the hearth, smoking a clay pipe, but knocked it out on the fender when he saw Jack. ‘All is well?’
‘I think so. What do you think happened to James?’ Jack asked, taking a seat at the table. ‘He should have been here hours ago. Do you think there’s trouble up at the château?’
‘Could be. After all, the guards know you are related to the Marquis and if they think you are in the area …’
‘By me, you mean Jack Chiltern, not Jacques Faucon?’
‘Either. The two will be connected before long. You can’t afford to hang about waiting for someone who may never come.’
‘Kitty won’t go without him. Not willingly.’
‘Then you’ll have to make her. Marry her or something.’ Thomas stood up and pocketed his pipe. ‘I’ll take the horse and see if I can find out what is happening. If I ride over the top of the hill, it should only take a couple of hours. But whether I come back or not, you must leave at dawn.’
He went from the room, leaving Jack with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. It had been a nerve-racking day and he was exhausted. So was Kitty and he should have waited until they had both had a good night’s sleep before proposing to her. He had handled it very badly, stressing the practical arguments instead of opening his heart to her. ‘I am not a romantic man.’ He grimaced as he remembered his words.
It would serve him right if she turned him down.
Chapter Eight
Kitty was exhausted, mentally and physically. She lay on the hard b
ed, her head buzzing with everything that had happened to her since her precipitous and unthinking flight from the rectory: the poverty and dirt and, worst of all, Judith’s death, which had robbed her of a good friend as well as a chaperon, and now a proposal of marriage which, as Jack had pointed out, was far from romantic.
Just how much did it mean to him? It seemed extraordinary that he should be prepared to sacrifice his future happiness, perhaps even his inheritance, for her sake. He did not even like her; he found her a nuisance, a responsibility he would rather be without.
She could not forget what Nanette had told her about how Jack behaved towards Gabrielle, how close they had been, how he had done all he could to please her. It was almost as if she were talking about another man, not the Jack she knew. Could the loss of his wife have changed him so much, that he was harsh and uncaring about every other woman he met?
And yet he had offered to marry her, to try and mitigate the scandal. He was so deeply immersed in his grief for his wife that he did not consider it much of a sacrifice. But she did. She must say no. She must take the consequences of her own actions and face the shame when they returned to England.
But, oh, how she loved him! She knew that beneath that harsh exterior there was a man who could feel deeply, who could put someone else before himself, who was honourable. After all, there had been countless occasions when he could have forced himself on her and had not. She smiled wryly to herself in the darkness—not much force would have been needed because she loved and wanted him.
His touch, however fleeting, sent shivers down her spine, and she longed to dispel that look of pain she sometimes saw in his eyes. Could she make him forget Gabrielle with her own love? Could she make him love again?
If she said yes, then it would be a genuine commitment on her part to make the marriage work and hope that in time he would come to love her. If she failed, if he continued to be cold and hard, then she would be trapped in a loveless union because she would not go into marriage with the intention of ending it if it went wrong. Dare she chance it?
She fell asleep, dreaming of pale English skies, of gentle rain in summer, of the peaceful countryside and the placid pattern of life there, of friends and family. If she could find that again, she would never again long for adventure.
She woke suddenly before dawn to the sound of horses and voices. Scrambling from her bed, she hurried to the tiny dormer window, but it was in the slope of the roof and she could see nothing. She turned back, pulled on her clothes and crept down the stairs. Jack was fast asleep in a chair at the table, his head on his folded arms. She shook him. ‘Jack, someone’s coming.’
He was awake in an instant and on his feet. ‘Stay there.’
He went outside. She could hear voices and then laughter and the next moment the tiny room was full of people: Jack and Captain Trent and a man she had not seen before, besides Nanette, who was hanging onto the hand of another young man.
‘James,’ Kitty cried, flinging herself at her brother. ‘You’re safe.’
‘Of course I’m safe, silly.’ He grinned at her and held her at arm’s length. ‘My, how you’ve grown! If you didn’t look so horribly like a peasant, I’d say quite the lady.’
‘The disguise was necessary,’ Jack said, defending her. ‘But you may take my word for it, she is quite the lady.’
James turned to him. ‘And are you going to make an honest one of her?’
‘James!’ Kitty remonstrated. ‘Don’t be so tactless.’
‘Sorry,’ he said quickly. ‘But it is better to be blunt, don’t you think?’
‘It is none of your business.’
‘Oh, but it is. I am your brother and in the absence of our guardian …’
‘Shut up, James,’ Jack said sharply. ‘Kitty left home because she did not want to be forced into a marriage and here you are, only five minutes reunited, trying to do the same. Let her make up her own mind.’
‘Well, she had better make haste. The Marquis has betrayed us all …’
‘My uncle? I can’t believe that.’
‘He has,’ Nanette put in. ‘The guards came back and I heard him talking to them. They seemed to know you were in France. It had something to do with the comte’s carriage and knowing we were related …’ She paused. ‘Papa told them all about Jacques Faucon and what James was doing, everything. He did not need to, he could have pleaded ignorance.’
‘Have they arrested him?’
‘No, because he convinced them he intended to hand you over. He told them they could find you at Malincourt.’
‘But we are not at Malincourt,’ Kitty said.
‘We are not far from it,’ Jack said. ‘We had better make a move.’
‘We have time for a wedding,’ James said, nodding towards the fourth man. ‘The curé is prepared to conduct the ceremony.’
‘You take too much upon yourself,’ Kitty said. ‘I have not agreed.’
‘You may do as you please,’ James said. ‘But I do not intend to stir unless Nanette and I are married. Not for the world would I expose her to the kind of scandal you will be subjected to if you return to England unwed.’
‘Oh, I am sorry, I did not think of that.’
‘No, that is just your trouble,’ her brother said. ‘You never stop to think—’
‘And you always consider the consequences of your actions, do you?’
‘Children! Children!’ Jack laughed. ‘Do not quarrel over it, for I declare you are as bad as one another.’ He turned to Nanette. ‘Is it your wish to marry James?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘It means leaving your parents and your home. You may not see them again for a very long time …’
‘I know, but Papa betrayed James and you and Kitty, who is so brave to follow her heart. Even if he is afraid to lose his house and lands as the comte de Malincourt did, it is no excuse. You are my cousin and James is my own true love. I have aligned myself with you.’
‘So be it.’ Jack turned to the priest. ‘Will you marry the young couple?’
‘With pleasure, monsieur.’ He smiled and corrected himself. ‘I mean, citoyen.’ He opened a canvas bag he carried with him and began to take out his vestments.
‘Can it be done here?’ Kitty asked. ‘Will it be legal?’
‘The place is unimportant, citoyenne,’ the curé said. ‘It is as binding as a marriage solemnized in church. And as I now have no church, I must serve my God and my people wherever I can.’
Jack took Kitty’s hand. ‘Well, my dear, do we follow their example?’
She looked up into his face and it seemed as though there was a new softness there. His eyes were searching hers, asking for understanding, and her heart swelled with love. She wanted it, wanted it in spite of all the arguments against it. Arguments did not count. Risks did not count. What mattered was what she felt deep inside her. There was no doubt there. He had said love conquers all and, though he had been teasing as usual, she had a feeling he did believe it. She must put her faith in that.
‘You really mean it?’ she asked.
‘I do not say things I do not mean.’
‘Then tell the priest to make it a double wedding.’
It was far from the wedding of her dreams. She was not in her uncle’s church with its high-vaulted roof and multi-coloured altar window. She was not wearing a lavish gown and costly jewels loaned to her, or perhaps even gifted to her, by her grandfather. There were no flowers, although the priest had brought out some incense and the tiny room was filled with its heady scent, almost overwhelming her. And the ring Jack slipped on her finger was his signet ring and much too big. But none of that mattered because she was giving herself to the man she loved.
He kissed her when it was all over, kissed her for the first time as her husband, and it was a joyful and sensuous sensation, but a little constrained by the knowledge that they were being watched. She did not care. They had the rest of their lives together. He might talk of annulment, but she would never as
k for it. As far as she was concerned, this marriage was going to last into eternity.
There was time for nothing else. The curé packed up his bag and departed, riding an ancient mule. The horse was reharnessed to the cart which had brought Kitty from the prison and brought to the door. Kitty and Nanette said goodbye to the Captain who was staying behind, then climbed into the back with their meagre luggage and a parcel of food.
Jack and James, who had remained behind in the cottage, reappeared in the uniform of French cavalry officers, resplendent in dark blue double-breasted jackets with rows and rows of silver frogging and heavy silver-fringed epaulettes. Their breeches, tucked into shining leather boots, were tightly fitting and set off muscular thighs. They each wore a sword belt and a pistol and a shako with the regimental insignia on the front. The girls gaped at them and then began to laugh.
‘Oh, you are the very top of the trees,’ Kitty said. ‘The handsomest of heroes.’
‘Vraiment épatant,’ Nanette said, giggling. ‘Truly stunning. Magnifique. I am overcome with admiration.’
James grinned and punched Jack on the arm. ‘There, my friend! We have made a conquest each.’
Jack smiled and made no comment as he shook the roadmender by the hand and took his place on the driving seat. Laughing, James climbed up beside him and they were off.
Thus they journeyed the whole of the day, taking byroads and cart tracks. Sometimes Nanette sat beside James while he drove and Jack joined Kitty in the cart, sometimes she sat with Jack on the driving seat. Sometimes they walked.
In some ways it was like their journey from Paris except that she had been reunited with her brother and, what was more important, she need no longer worry about the impropriety of sharing this strange nomadic life with Jack. He was truly her husband now. She began to look forward to the night with a mixture of trepidation and eager anticipation.
They passed through the ancient Roman town of Vienne without stopping and by dusk had reached Roussillon where they drew up outside an inn. It seemed untouched by either the Revolution or the war, but they all knew appearances could be deceptive and were on their guard.
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