Chapter 18
April 28-29. 1814
“What—? How in the world—?” Natalya managed to whisper as Grey reached the side of her bed and loomed above her.
“I was in the kitchen, rousting out Speed, but he had torn his jacket and your outrageous cook, Hyla, insisted on mending it for him. While I waited, I decided to explore the passageways Kristin showed me earlier.” His tone was maddeningly conversational. “When I reached the top of the hidden stairway, I saw that there was no light under your door, nor did I hear voices. Knowing you were alone, I decided to bid you good night on my terms.”
“How did you know which bedchamber would be mine?”
“Instinct,” he replied enigmatically.
When he sat down next to her, Natalya’s heart began to race in earnest. “I can call my father, you know.”
Grey laughed softy. He had removed his jacket, and his shirt was luminously white in the moonlight, causing his chest and shoulders to look exceedingly broad and powerful. “My dear Natalya, I thought that this sort of visit was perfectly acceptable to you. Did you not burst into my bedchamber and awaken me just a few nights ago?”
Her cheeks burned with mingled anger and humiliation. “Rogue! Why will you not go away and leave me in peace? What happened on board the Rover was a unique and isolated incident, certainly not a common practice on my part! Everything is different now—”
“According to whom?” Grey cut in coolly, his gaze sweeping over her. “I think it only fair to warn you, my sweet, that the world operates a trifle differently outside of your castle tower in France. Others may not care to have you direct them thither and yon across the stage of life, nor will they bend to the rules that you make and then alter according to the permutations of your moods.”
“There is no need for you to concern yourself with my moods or character defects, sir,” she hissed. “I thought that I would never see you again after we docked this morning. I am home now, with my family, and I would like to put you in the past.”
“Just because you have decided what I must do does not mean that I will comply.” His soft voice cut the shadows like a knife. “Far from it.” Reaching out, Grey grasped her wrist, caressing its fragile pulse point. He gazed at her in admiration. How ravishing she looked in her thin lawn bedgown, her honey-hued tresses swirling about her shoulders, lustrous in the starlight.
“Unhand me,” Natalya whispered, “or I’ll scream.”
“And you call yourself an author,” he murmured, amused. “Can you not invent a more original threat?” One arm encircled her waist, and in the next instant she was against him, her breasts branding his chest through the fine material of his shirt. “You did me a disservice with that tepid farewell downstairs. Did you honestly imagine that you could dispose of me so easily?”
She was furious, yet giddy with desire. Everything about Grey stimulated and aroused her, from his clean male scent to the way he held her. Though gently sensual, his hands and arms were as unyielding as bands of steel. “Let me go,” she protested weakly.
Grey responded by kissing her. Helplessly Natalya submitted to his demanding mouth, parting her own lips to allow the thrilling invasion of his tongue. Lying across his lap, she felt molded to him somehow, as if the curves of her body had been made to fit against his lean-muscled hips and chest. Grey tasted so good to her. One of his hands caressed her back, lingering on the curve of her hip and then wandering upward to graze the barest edge of her breast. Just as a whimper rose in her throat, he released her.
“That, at least, was honest,” he said grimly, and lifted her away from him. Natalya huddled against her pillows, watching as he walked over to the open panel in the wall and then glanced back over his shoulder. “Good night, Miss Beauvisage... until we meet again.”
* * *
There were smudges of exhaustion under Natalya’s eyes when she appeared in the upstairs morning room to breakfast with her sister. The sun was shining brightly, birds were singing, and Kristin wore a bored expression as she stared out the window.
“Good morning,” Natalya offered from the doorway.
“Where have you been? I’ve eaten two buns with honey while waiting for you! I’ll be as fat as Hyla if you sleep this late every morning.” Picking up the Chinese porcelain coffeepot, she filled both cups and spooned sugar into her own. “You’re looking rather pale. Don’t you feel well?”
Upon waking and discovering the time, Natalya had dressed hurriedly in a Circassian wrapper and then paused before the mirror to brush her hair and draw it back with a pink ribbon. As she did so, she noticed that she looked pale, as if she hadn’t slept at all. “I’ve just arrived home after a very long journey,” she said, with a wan smile, sipping her coffee gratefully. “It may be a day or two before I am quite myself.”
“I didn’t mean to be short with you. Indeed, I am overjoyed that you’ve come home. As much as I adore Maman and Papa, and am able to confide in them, I do get lonely. It will be wonderful to have a sister again.” Kristin reached out to squeeze her hand.
“How difficult it is for me to realize that you are actually twenty-one! If I should forget and treat you as if you’re a child, you must reprimand me immediately.” Feeling more cheerful, Natalya cut a raisin-studded hot cross bun in half and took a bite. “You must know that you are terribly beautiful, Krissie. What a charming gown that is! You will have to take me to your dressmaker.”
“And I am eager to see all the lovely clothes you brought from France. The lace on your wrapper is exquisite! I do love fine things.”
“I’m afraid that I was unable to bring very many gowns with me,” Natalya replied absently. After another sip of coffee, she asked, “Is this love of fine things one of the reasons you haven’t married? Are you looking for a rich husband?”
“What a question!” Kristin exclaimed with a laugh. “What of you? But, never mind. The reason I haven’t married is that I am searching for a man who can excite me for a lifetime, and I haven’t yet found him.” Her eyes were dreamy as she stared out over the meadows surrounding Belle Maison. “Don’t you think I was right to break off my engagements rather than marry someone I didn’t truly love? I’ll admit, I do long for a grand home and beautiful clothes, but I long even more for a great love, like the one Maman and Papa have.” She looked back at her sister. “There’s nothing between you and Grey St. James, is there?”
Taken aback, Natalya nearly choked. “Heavens, no! Certainly not! Why would you ask such a question?”
“Because I find him exceedingly attractive. I confess that I dreamed about him last night....”
“Oh, but he’s gone back to England, or at least he’s preparing to sail. Besides—”
“Haven’t you heard?” Kristin interrupted gaily. “Mr. St. James is staying on in Philadelphia. He told Papa he has business to attend to. I vow, I can’t recall feeling more elated than I did this morning when Maman told me.”
“I—I can’t believe it,” Natalya gasped, trying not to betray her outrage and panic. “How can this be?”
“Wait, there’s more,” her sister announced, enjoying the drama. “He’s moving into Uncle Nicky’s old house on Spruce Street. That affords me a perfect opportunity to become better acquainted with him!”
Growing paler by the moment, she asked, “How did this happen? How could he have had the effrontery to install himself in one of our homes?”
“Why, it was Papa’s idea! Apparently they got along splendidly last night after you and Maman and I retired. Papa sounds as if he’d like to adopt Mr. St. James. He told me he is a viscount!” She looked as if she might swoon. Since Natalya’s only response was an openmouthed stare, Kristin continued, “It’s a shame that you are so tired today. I was going to ask you if you would like to come with me to town in a little while. We could visit Grandmama and the dressmaker, and then I thought it would be a splendid idea to drop in at the house on Spruce Street and offer assistance to Mr. St. James in getting settled. Maman thought that he might be able to use someone from our kitchen until he can find a cook.”
“No!” cried her sister. “I have no desire to see Grey St. James again, and the very last thing I care to do on my first full day home is visit him!”
Kristin gave her a quizzical look. “I do wish you would tell me what it is about the man that bothers you so. All of us like him tremendously. This isn’t a case of unrequited love, is it, Talya? Did he reject you because you’re rather... well, past the first bloom of youth?”
Horrified, she exclaimed, “Absolutely not! That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard! And, for the record, I am not bothered by Mr. St. James. I feel, rather, that our association is part of the past, and I have more than enough to occupy me in reestablishing my life here.”
Kristin shrugged and stood up. “Well, then, I’ll go alone. Perhaps you and I can take a walk in the garden later this afternoon. I do want to hear all about Paris and London.” She kissed her sister’s cheek and started toward the door.
Torn by confused frustration, Natalya saw that she had no choice. Even worse than seeing Grey again would be an afternoon spent here wondering what he was doing with Kristin. Besides, she was bursting with the need to give the arrogant Mr. St. James an angry dressing-down.
“Wait!” she called, and, putting on a smile, went to join Kristin in the doorway. “I’ve changed my mind. I do want to see Grandmama, and I badly need to visit the dressmaker, so I’ll come with you after all.”
* * *
Returning to her bedchamber, Natalya opened the door and was surprised to discover that the brass bathtub she remembered from her youth had been placed in front of the fireplace. A servant was bent over it, pouring in steaming water. Why did the generous curves of the maid’s bottom look so familiar? Natalya wondered.
“Good morning,” she said politely.
“Oh, my Lord!” Startled, the girl whirled around, backed up against the tub, and barely recovered her balance in time to save herself from tumbling into the hot water. Mobcap askew, she clutched the pitcher against her generous bosom and laughed nervously. “Nearly jumped out of my skin, didn’t I, Miss Natalya? I wasn’t expecting you yet.”
“Charlotte?” She stared in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“Why, I’m your maid, ma’am.” Her smile faded when Natalya made no response. “Didn’t you want me?” she asked worriedly. “When his lordship came back to the kitchen last night to tell me that I was to stay at the behest of your father, I was overjoyed! I already love America and this house and all your family, and I supposed that it was your wish that I remain as your maid. If not...”
“No, no, it’s not that I don’t want you.” Natalya crossed the room to pat Charlotte’s arm and smile into her brown eyes. “Papa must’ve made these arrangements after I went to bed last night. I never dreamed that you’d want to remain in America, but I’m pleased that you do.”
Reassured, Charlotte helped her mistress into the scented water and then left to finish unpacking. Since the dressing room that adjoined Natalya’s bedchamber belonged to her mother, she would share again with Kristin, who had generously set her own maid to work clearing space for her sister.
Alone at last in the hot, soothing bath, Natalya tried to make sense of the chaos her life had so quickly become since the Wild Rover had docked the previous morning. Perhaps this was just more of the same tangle that had begun with the moment she first laid eyes on Grey in France? She had submitted to his will many times during their adventures since then, partly because she thought their association was temporary. She pondered his incendiary appearance in her bedchamber the night before and the news that he was staying in Philadelphia, in a Beauvisage house. Finally, she reflected upon the continuing presence of Charlotte Timkins. She felt mean-spirited for wishing secretly that Charlotte were not there, but the simple fact was that the girl reminded her of their sea voyage and the one night that she longed to forget.
Was this all a game Grey was playing at her expense? She had been brimming with plans for the life she would shape upon returning to Philadelphia, and now all she could think about was that infuriating Englishman. Rinsing the soap from her neck and shoulders, Natalya resolved to confront Grey and settle the matter once and for all. And this time she would neither bend to his will nor allow him to have the last word!
* * *
Drawing on a pair of kid gloves, Natalya walked into the dining room where her parents were sitting down to a lunch of cold chicken, perfect crimson strawberries, and corn bread with honey.
Caro’s face glowed at the sight of her daughter. “Darling! How lovely you look! Do come and join us. I was just about to ask Pierre if you had made an appearance yet today.”
Clad in the blue-sprigged, silk-sashed gown of white muslin that she had worn during the ride from Dover to London, Natalya did indeed look lovely, if a trifle pale. Her hair was drawn up in a soft Grecian knot, honey-hued tendrils framing her delicate yet sensual features. Smiling, she went to the table and kissed both her parents before taking a chair.
“Have some strawberries,” Alec said, spooning a few onto a dessert plate and placing it before her. “Hyla’s very proud of them. She has a little hothouse behind the kitchen now and gives us all sorts of exotic fruits and vegetables year-round.”
“She is very eager to see you, Talya,” Caro added.
“Goodness, how you both stare at me!” Natalya laughed, blushing. “Have I a spot on my chin?”
“It’s still difficult to realize that you are truly here,” her mother replied.
“And that you have grown so beautiful,” added Alec. “You were a girl when you left, and now you have returned to us a woman. I might add, without an ounce of paternal bias, that you are one of those rare women who grows more beautiful with the passing years. I must brace myself for a veritable onslaught of suitors!”
“Don’t be silly, Papa. I’m twenty-six, in case you’ve forgotten. Hardly marriageable.” Cheerfully she ate a strawberry, closing her eyes with rapture. “How utterly delicious!... Why are you two looking so concerned? Do you imagine that I want a husband? Just the opposite. I am perfectly content to write my books, socialize with friends, and enjoy the company of my family.” As the tall case clock near the doorway struck twelve, Natalya inched her chair away from the table. “I really hate to leave you so abruptly, but Krissie has convinced me to come with her to the dressmaker, and we thought we’d visit Grandmama for tea. Do you mind terribly? You know, Grey and I were forced to travel so lightly that I was unable to bring most of my gowns, so it is imperative that I have new ones made.”
“Must you go today?” Caroline could not suppress her disappointment. “Your father and I were so looking forward to spending the afternoon with you, and so many of the staff have been waiting to greet you. We haven’t even had a look at your book yet, and we wanted to take you out behind the garden to your great-grandmother’s cottage—”
“We thought it might serve as a study for you,” Alec said. “A quiet place where you could write.”
Flushing guiltily, Natalya hastened to apologize. “This is truly not the way I planned to spend this first day at home, but I can’t go around in the same two or three crumpled gowns, can I? I’d love to see the cottage again, and using it as a study is a wonderful idea. It’s so generous and thoughtful of you to offer it!” She reached over to pat her mother’s hand. “Pray do not be unhappy with me. I promise that once these other matters have been resolved, I shall be able to relax and enjoy my homecoming.”
“I could accompany you,” Caro murmured.
“Nonsense, Maman. Why should you suffer the boredom of my fittings?” Unable to meet her mother’s eyes, Natalya busied herself with donning the blue spencer she’d carried in with her. Then, just before she rose from the table, she glanced at Alec and said in an offhand tone, “Oh, Papa, I heard that you invited Grey to live at the house on Spruce Street. I’ll own that I was rather surprised to hear that he was not returning to England, and to discover that you and he had become so friendly in such a short space of time.”
“I like St. James very much,” he replied frankly. “I don’t often take to people so readily, but I sensed immediately that he was a man of character. But of course you know that, since he was good enough to bring you all the way from Nicky’s door to our own. I couldn’t have been more pleased by his decision to remain in Philadelphia for the time being, and I look forward to improving our acquaintance.”
Feeling rather ill, Natalya tried to smile. “How... nice.”
Kristin appeared at that moment to announce that they would be terribly late if they didn’t leave immediately, so both girls kissed their parents and hurried out the front door.
For a long moment Caro and Alec were silent, then their eyes met.
“I wonder what our little girl is up to?” he murmured, arching a white brow.
“Why do I doubt that it has little to do with an overpowering need for new gowns?” Caro replied. Pensively she drizzled honey over a wedge of corn bread and added, “She’s behaving very oddly. We may not have seen her for six years, but I know my daughter....”
“Less than twenty-four hours have elapsed since she arrived in Philadelphia,” Alec exclaimed. “How could she have become embroiled in a drama so quickly?”
* * *
“I think Grandmama may have a gentleman friend,” Kristin said. She and Natalya had just settled back into their carriage after being turned away by their grandmother. She hadn’t time for tea that afternoon, she’d explained, because of a pressing engagement she could not break. The girls had hinted that they could remain at the house on Third Street and partake of refreshments without her, but Antonia had been firm, if apologetic. It was a most inconvenient day, she’d sighed, shooing them gently out the door.
“Grandmama?” Natalya echoed, incredulous. “But she’s past eighty! And it’s been less than a year since Grandpapa’s death. What you suggest is... unthinkable!”
“Is it? She’s been awfully secretive lately, and why did she make us leave?”
“I don’t know. Why did she?”
Kristin’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “Because her gentleman friend was about to arrive and she didn’t want us to see him.”
“Ridiculous! If Grandmama is behaving oddly, it is probably because she’s becoming a trifle eccentric in her old age.”
Kristin shook her head. “She’s as alert as ever, and still very much a woman, Talya. Don’t underestimate her.” Looking out the carriage window as they turned onto Spruce Street, she gasped suddenly and drew back against the seat. “Oh, dear, I think he saw me!”
“Who?” Natalya asked in surprise.
“Hollis Gladstone. He’s determined to court me whether I desire it or not.” Kristin made an exasperated face. “I just caught a glimpse of him, turning west at the corner, but now I’d wager that he’s following us.”
The carriage drew up in front of a three-story red brick house with Georgian window frames and shutters and a doorway complemented by two columns and an arch. Natalya had always adored this house; it was here that Nicholai Beauvisage had lived when he and Lisette fell in love. It galled her now to think that Grey St. James was making himself at home inside.
As the driver assisted the two young ladies out of the carriage, a pleasant-looking man hurried toward them on the brick footpath. Clad in a rather old-fashioned suit of brown broadcloth, his cravat slightly askew, he had the look of an amiable bear. When Kristin smiled politely, he grinned with unabashed pleasure.
“Hello, Hollis,” she said, smoothing her exquisite pale lavender walking dress. “I don’t believe you know my sister, Natalya. She is a published authoress, you know, and has just returned home after six years in France.”
He turned to smile at Natalya. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Beauvisage. Kristin has told me a great deal about you, and I don’t doubt that your return to Philadelphia is cause for much celebration by your family.” His tone was friendly and his green eyes were warm, but as soon as the amenities were dispensed with, he returned his attention to Kristin. “I was just about to summon my carriage to drive to Belle Maison, Kristin. Had you forgotten our plans?”
“Plans?” she repeated.
“Why, yes! When I visited you on Saturday and you were unable to attend the theater with me that evening, you promised to dine with me tonight instead.”
“Oh, of course! No, no, I hadn’t forgotten.” He was so ardent that her heart went out to him.
“Then you must have come into town to spare me the journey out to Belle Maison. How thoughtful you are, and how fortuitous that we are able to begin our time together early. My aunt Felicia has just arrived from Williamsburg, and begged me to bring you for tea at the Man Full of Trouble Inn. Her own daughter died recently, so I have been trying to cheer her up a bit, and meeting you would surely do so.”
Kristin’s lips parted as she groped for an excuse, then conscience quickly overcame her more selfish instincts. “I would be delighted to take tea with your aunt and do whatever I can to improve her spirits, but first—”
“I can look after this matter on my own,” Natalya assured her quickly. “After all, we were only paying a courtesy call on Mr. St. James. I’ll inquire after his comfort, offer a servant or two if needed, and be on my way. You go along with Mr. Gladstone and have that tea we missed at Grandmama’s.” Silently Natalya gave thanks for Hollis Gladstone’s timely appearance, for she had been worried that she might not be able to speak to Grey alone. Certainly what she had to say to him was not fit to be overheard by her sister.
Presently matters were sorted out, and Natalya bade the couple good-bye and walked alone up the steps to the front door. Lifting the knocker, she fantasized that an old family retainer would answer and tell her that Grey St. James had decided not to remain in Philadelphia after all.
The door swung open to reveal a startlingly familiar face, followed by a gravelly cockney voice inquiring, “Can I help you, mum?”
“Fedbusk?” Natalya blinked at the sight of the weathered, balding sailor clad incongruously in a black frock coat, knee breeches, and a white cravat.
“The same, mum.” He eyed her knowingly. “Here to see the cap’n?”
“Why—why, yes, I am.” In struggling to regain her composure, Natalya was relieved to discover that her sense of humor had not deserted her entirely. Fedbusk gotten up as a butler was definitely cause for amusement. “Is Mr. St. James available?”
“Follow, me, mum.” He turned and walked with a rolling, seaman’s gait through the entry hall that led to the beautiful house’s most impressive feature, a stunning elliptical stairway that soared and curved unsupported up three floors. Trailing after Fedbusk down the long central corridor, Natalya peeked into familiar rooms and noticed that most of the holland covers had been removed from the elegant furnishings. She expected to find Grey in her uncle Nicky’s study, but Fedbusk passed that and continued on into the kitchen. “Miss Beauvisage to see your lordship,” he announced loudly.
The cozy, whitewashed kitchen was dominated by a large, open fireplace, a hundred-year-old Welsh dresser lined with Bristol delft china, copper pots that hung from the ceiling, and a scrubbed worktable in the middle of the room. A beautiful woman with skin the color of cafe au lait stood next to the table writing on a long piece of paper. Swallowing, Natalya finally allowed her gaze to rest on Grey St. James.
The sight of him made her heart leap, for he had never looked more devastatingly handsome. Clad in a simple white shirt and biscuit breeches, and perched casually on a rough-hewn stool, his booted feet propped on a rung, he was the embodiment of male virility in repose. His skin was deeply tanned, his black hair was windblown, and his eyes glinted silver as they met hers.
“Ah, Miss Beauvisage,” he murmured, a hint of mirth in his voice. “What a surprise. How thoughtful you are to pay us a call of welcome. I’m deeply gratified.”
Natalya smiled sweetly, fighting a powerful urge to choke him. “Knowing your fondness for surprise visits, sir, I could not resist the temptation to bestow one upon you. Moreover, there are certain matters we should discuss....”
“Indeed?” His brows flicked upward. “I wonder what those might be....”