Chapter Thirty-five

When Tony cornered them the next morning, it was obvious that his health was no longer a matter for concern. He had been searching for them, and was almost bouncing with delight.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Since he had been in Marguerite’s bed, Ned did not want to answer that question, and he didn’t want her to succumb to a fit of honesty and answer it either. But he needn’t have worried. Tony wasn’t interested in an answer.

“I told the old man what we found, and he was ecstatic. He knew that was what it was all along. Can you believe it?” Tony was striding around the library enthusiastically, paying no attention to his audience. “He knew what it was. He didn’t tell us because he was afraid we wouldn’t search for it. And he isn’t nearly as senile as we thought. He perked up as soon as I told him we’d found it.”

“That is good to know,” Marguerite said politely.

“Well, I confess I wanted to shake him when I realized. But he has promised to make up the rest of the funding we need for the steel works, so all is well.” Tony paused uncertainly. “I say, Delphine isn’t going to cut up rough over this, is she? About not having a treasure to restore the chateau?”

“There’s no need for you to worry about Delphine. She will be fine.” Ned smiled, a trifle stiffly, and squeezed Marguerite’s hand to keep her still.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Tony’s uncertainty vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “In any case, I need to send a telegram to let Georges know we are set. And then I must go down to the village.”

Tony grinned. “It seems I can’t just pick up that thing and haul it down to the church. The esteemed patriarch feels that some ceremony is necessary. I must speak to the mayor and the priest so that they can come to receive it from his hands.” Tony rolled his eyes, but did not really seem upset. He was probably too delighted to have his financial worries relieved. “We must all be dressed in our finest, preferably draped in decorations, for the formal transfer—and that includes you. I told him you were the one who started us hunting for rosettes, and he will probably want to present you with some sort of reward.”

“That is nonsense,” Ned protested.

“Too late for objections. Your contribution has already been noted.” Tony turned to leave, but paused. “Oh, by the way, this came for you.” He handed Ned a telegram before he left.

A telegram? To say Ned was startled would be an understatement. He fingered the envelope nervously. Like many people, he thought of telegrams as harbingers of disaster. Why else would someone need to communicate with him so urgently?

“As you pointed out to me when I was hesitating over my letter, the only way to know what it says is to open it and read it,” Marguerite said.

The worry eased as he looked at her. She was smiling, and he did not think she had ever teased him before. If she was now that comfortable with him, how bad could the news in the telegram be?

So he opened it.

“Ned? Ned?” Her voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. “What is it? Is it your family? Is someone ill?”

He recovered himself enough to manage a smile. “No, or rather yes. It is my family, but they are well. In fact, my parents have just been in Paris.” He looked at the telegram again and took a deep breath. “And they have decided to pay me a visit.”

“A visit?” Marguerite lost her smile. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” He looked uncertain. “They probably plan to stay in a hotel.”

“Pftt.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That is ridiculous. Impossible. There are no hotels here. I doubt that the village boasts so much as rooms above a tavern. They will stay at the chateau. I will tell the servants. When do they arrive?”

He looked back at the telegram, just in case he had completely misread the message. He hadn’t. “Tomorrow. They arrive tomorrow.”

She grew a bit paler, but nodded. “Tomorrow. I see.” She started to leave.

“Marguerite,” he called. When she turned back to him, he said, “They will love you, Marguerite. You will see.”

“Did you tell them about me, then?”

“That we are going to be married? No, I thought that was something that should be said in person.” He did not like her smile—it was too disbelieving, too cynical. But he persisted. “But of course I have told them about you, and everyone else here at the château. It is just that my mother has a habit of jumping to conclusions on very little evidence.”

“Unwarranted conclusions?”

“No,” he acknowledged wryly. “She is right more often than not.”

Marguerite shook her head gently. “Which do you think is more likely, that your parents would come racing here to make the acquaintance of a woman they would welcome as a bride for their son? Or that they would come racing to rescue him from an unacceptable entanglement? No, do not answer that.”

His increasing panic had nothing to do with the imminent arrival of his parents. She was withdrawing—he could feel it. He grabbed her by the shoulders to pull her to him. She did not resist, but neither did she respond. He had to keep himself from shaking some sense into her.

“Marguerite, you are going to marry me. You gave your word.”

He did not think he had ever seen anything as sad as the smile on her face as she pulled back to leave. “We shall see what your parents say.”

This was the end, then. She had not expected it so soon. She had thought there would be more time. But it was probably just as well. She was starting to depend on him too much.

When his parents arrived, he would see how impossible it was. She was a musician who played in public concerts, from a family of musicians who did the same. She had charge of a cousin who was clearly mad, an elderly quasi-aunt and a simple-minded servant. She had to earn a living to support all of them.

He came from a family of wealthy aristocrats and had been safe and secure all his life. He probably didn’t even know the cost of a loaf of bread. It was not a gap that separated them—it was a chasm.

Hurrying to her room, she turned a corner too quickly and crashed into Tante Héloise.

“Tiens! Calm yourself.” The older woman held her by the shoulders. “There is no need to rush. I have just left Delphine and she is quite calm.”

“Delphine?” Marguerite put her fingers to her forehead and tried to think. Should she be worrying about Delphine?

“Yes. She is happily trying on gowns with a helpful maid to adjust the fit. It seems she has quite forgotten about the treasure, at least for the moment.”

“The treasure. Of course.” Marguerite made an effort to smile.

Tante Héloise was not fooled. “Something else is the matter. Something new? What is it?”

“Nothing. Really nothing. It is just that Lord Edward’s parents will be arriving tomorrow, and I wanted to see about preparing rooms for them.”

“His parents? Already?” Sympathy swept across the older woman’s face. “Oh my poor child.”

“It’s all right. Really it is.”

Tante Héloise shook her head and drew Marguerite into her embrace. “I know, I know. You thought to have more time with him. I thought you would, too.”

Marguerite simply buried her face against the older woman’s shoulder and let herself be rocked gently until she felt able to stand without support.

Tante Héloise cupped Marguerite’s face in her hands then and looked at her with both pity and resolution. “You had to know this time would come. It is sooner than you expected, but still…”

“Yes, I always knew.”

The older woman looked at her for a long moment before nodding her head. “Good. You will manage. I will see to it that Delphine does not bother you today. Would you like to go lie down for a while?”

“There is no need.” Marguerite stiffened her back and held her head up. “I will go talk to the servants and make sure all is prepared. And by then it will be time to change for dinner.”

She turned to leave but stopped and turned back. “Don’t worry about me. I will be fine.”

It wasn’t until later in the evening, after an interminable dinner when Ned kept shooting worried glances at her, that Marguerite was able to curl up in her bed, pull the covers over her head, and let the tears flow. She didn’t even notice when Ned came into her room until the bed sagged as he lay down beside her.

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t know if she was angry or pleased.

“I am joining my beloved, just as I do every night.” She could hear the smile in his voice. So foolish, his refusal to see that things had changed.

“But…” She couldn’t find the words to convince him.

Then it didn’t matter.

His mouth covered hers, silencing her, and then growing more and more insistent, demanding, possessive.

She could not help herself. Why should she resist? Her arms reached up to pull him close and tightened to keep him there.

One night. They could have this one last night.

They made love slowly and tenderly. It seemed as if every brush of their fingers, every breath they exchanged, was magical.

Afterward, she lay beside him, listening to his slow, even breathing. He was asleep. They were precious, these moments with him. “Never will I regret this time I have had with you,” she whispered. “I have been so happy.”

“And I intend to keep you happy for many years to come.”

Startled, she lifted her head to look at him. “I thought you were asleep. Why were you pretending?”

He didn’t look in the least bit drowsy. Just amused. “If I had been asleep, I would have missed that poignant confession.”

The tears threatened again. She would not let them fall. “I suppose I should be glad that you are not greatly pained by our parting. I have never wished sorrow and regret on you.”

“You are such a ninny. The only thing I could regret is losing you. And that is not going to happen.”

She pushed away and lay on her back, staring up into the darkness. “My mother always regretted the estrangement from her family. Even though she loved my father, she always missed her mother and her sister. I don’t want to cause you that kind of regret.”

“And do you think she would have had no regrets if she had parted from your father instead? And how do you suppose your father would have felt if they had parted?”

“But you love your family. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about them. You would mind terribly if they disowned you.”

He snorted in exasperation. “Really, Marguerite, not everyone is as foolish as your grandparents seem to have been. You must stop making yourself out to be a bloody martyr all the time.”

“I am not doing anything of the sort.” She sat bolt upright in outrage.

“Of course you are. You think you are responsible for everything and everyone, and you must always sacrifice yourself. You need to learn a little humility and admit that other people can solve problems, too.”

“Why, you, you arrogant…”

“You see?” He grinned. “You don’t want to let anyone else do anything.”

She glowered at him. “I do not make myself a martyr.”

“I am very glad to hear that. Now, come get some sleep. We have some interesting days ahead of us.” He pulled her down and wrapped himself around her. “Pleasant dreams, my love.”

She couldn’t stop herself from sinking into the safety of his arms, but she did have to have the last word. “I am not a martyr.”