Chapter 27
May 17, 1814
Sitting on a stool next to Grey in the sun-washed kitchen, Natalya felt richly content. The long bleached table, accented by a glazed jug of blue French irises, was covered with dishes of food. There was a bowl of sliced bananas, melon, strawberries, and oranges all mixed together, a freshly baked loaf of spiced honey bread, a cold salad of shrimp, scallops, peas, and red peppers tossed with a creamy dill dressing, sweet potato pudding, an okra soup that Laviolet had just finished, wild blackberry pie, and a bottle of dry Vouvray wine.
Laviolet stood across the table preparing a leg of lamb for supper, smiling to herself as she pretended not to watch Grey and Natalya. They were eating and chatting amiably together, their hands brushing occasionally. It might be whispered about the house that Laviolet’s employer was a libertine, but those days were clearly over. Grey St. James was in love; as besotted as the girl, if that was possible!
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” Natalya announced at last, glancing down rather sheepishly at her half-full plate. “I think I may have overestimated my capacity, but who could blame me? Everything looked so tempting and tasted sublime. Laviolet, you must not repeat this, but I am beginning to suspect that you are an even better cook than our own Hyla DuBois.”
“When we are happy, all food tastes good,” Laviolet replied, with quiet pleasure.
Grey, who had been eating bread and soup, glanced up and smiled at her. “We don’t want to distract you from that leg of lamb by wandering into a philosophical discussion, so I suppose we’d best be on our way. Miss Beauvisage, would you care to take some exercise to aid your digestion?”
She saw the mischief in his eyes as he stood and offered her his hand. “That would be lovely, Mr. St. James. Thank you again for luncheon, Laviolet.”
As they strolled down the wide corridor toward the stair hall, Natalya whispered, “We dare not venture outdoors, Grey. It wouldn’t do at all for Francesca to see us together. What manner of exercise did you have in mind?”
“I thought a brisk stroll up the stairs would do nicely,” he replied conspiratorially, and placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her.
Her heart began to pound with anticipation, for she yearned shamelessly for his touch and the sensation of his body against her own. It was bliss to share Grey’s company, to talk and laugh with him and feel the bond between them strengthening, but there was more to love, and she desperately needed to feel that completion.
Grey made no pretense of his intentions. He led her directly into his bedchamber and closed the door. During his adult years he had known many and varied forms of lust, but he had never felt like this before. His physical need had never been so intense, and yet it was much more than that. When he turned to Natalya and she came into his arms, a sweet, cleansing heat passed forcefully between their bodies.
Natalya pressed her face against his shirt and held fast to his shoulders for fear her knees would give way. When his lips brushed her hair, and she turned her face up to him, Grey lifted her for a long kiss that went straight to her heart, branding it with fire.
Somehow they found their way to the bed. Smiling into each other’s eyes, they shed their clothing. Natalya fumbled with the intricate folds of his snowy cravat, then Grey deftly unfastened her riding gown. Standing before him in her chemisette, she felt like a bride.
“You are utterly perfect,” he said in a husky voice, touching his thumb to the rosy nipple that swelled against the thin muslin of her bodice. “Utterly perfect for me.”
Natalya realized that she believed him. No longer did she fear that she was not young enough, that her mouth or breasts were too full, or her eyes the wrong color. Grey loved her just as she was; in fact, he preferred her this way. He’d hinted many times that she was precisely his idea of womanly beauty, but Natalya had never dared believe it until now. Newly confident, she slid the chemisette from her body and stood naked and proud before him.
Arousal, raw and deeply primitive, surged through Grey at the sight of her. Pulling off the rest of his clothes, he reached for her, and the contact of their warm, bare bodies was pleasure beyond description. His sun-bronzed hands wandered down the graceful line of her back, over her full hips and the curves of her buttocks. Natalya felt her breasts swelling against the crisp black hair covering his hard chest. When he pressed her hips to his, she found that she thrilled to the sensation of his fully erect manhood, hot and insistent against her belly. They began to kiss hungrily, and it came to Natalya that an innocence born of the tenderest emotions infused each caress of their mouths and hands.
As he lifted her onto the bed, it seemed to Grey that he was making love to a woman for the first time. What had changed? He knew only that he had never dreamed of feeling thus; his heart had opened and he was beginning to understand all that he had missed by keeping it locked so securely all these years....
“Darling Natalya,” he said gravely, staring into her luminous eyes, “I love you.”
* * *
Garbed in an exquisite gown of pale green India muslin with a long pearl necklace encircling her neck, Francesca entered her downstairs parlor with an air of grandeur. She wore her auburn curls in a Grecian knot offset by two emerald-studded combs that had been favorites of the deceased Countess of Hartford.
“My dear Miss Timkins,” she exclaimed warmly, walking toward the Sheraton sofa with her hands outstretched. “I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you could visit me today.”
Red-faced and nervous, Charlotte stood up and bobbed a curtsy. “Pleased to be here, your ladyship.” She hardly knew how to react to so effusive and familiar a greeting from the woman who had briefly attempted to preside over Hartford House. Although Charlotte had been in awe of Francesca then, as far as she knew the viscountess had never noticed her existence.
“Do sit down, my dear. I’ll ring for tea. My cook makes the most delicious little cakes, and I’ll wager you’re famished after the long ride from that... farm in the hinterlands.” Her lips pursed in obvious distaste.
When a serving girl had brought tea and tiny frosted cakes, Francesca waited until she and Charlotte were alone again before confiding, “These American servants are quite hopeless! I cannot tell you, my dear Charlotte, how elated I was to discover that you of all people were in Philadelphia.”
Charlotte wondered how her ladyship had learned this, but she was far too shy to ask. In fact, Francesca had sent one of her own lackeys out to Belle Maison the previous day, ostensibly to apply for a position there. He’d happily discovered that the Beauvisages had left for Connecticut and lingered to casually quiz the servants. When at last he returned to Pine Street with the information that Natalya’s ladies’ maid was a Miss Charlotte Timkins who had come with her from England, Francesca was intrigued. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but for what reason? It was David who remembered that the girl had been employed at Hartford House like her mother before her.
“She’s a bumbling child, very eager to please,” he’d told Francesca. “She spilled tea on me once and burst into tears, begging me not to tell my father.”
Now that she saw Charlotte, Francesca remembered her. Out of regard for Mrs. Timkins, Mrs. Thistle had been training the woman’s daughter for the world upstairs beyond the kitchen. Sometimes she had been allowed to watch Francesca’s own ladies’ maid perform her elaborate duties.
“You must tell me how you came to America,” Francesca continued blithely, pretending not to notice that Charlotte’s hand was shaking violently as she attempted to sip her tea.
“Well, my lady, I actually came with his lordship. That is—your husband! I mean, if he is still your husband. I wouldn’t know about such things, it’s not my place. At any rate, he was bringing Miss Beauvisage home, and I came along as her ladies’ maid.” Overcome by curiosity, she asked, “Does his lordship know that you are here as well?”
“Oh, yes, of course! You see, that was part of his plan all along. Perhaps you are not aware of it, my dear Charlotte, but Lord Altburne is a very evil man. That was why I was forced to run away when I had the opportunity. But through devious means he has discovered my whereabouts. His lordship means to harm me... and I have reason to suspect that your new mistress is in league with him.”
Charlotte gasped and nearly dropped her cup and saucer. “Oh, my lady, that is terrible! But I hardly think that my mistress is capable of evil—”
“Dear sweet innocent Charlotte!” Sighing, Francesca shook her head sadly. “How trusting you are. You have been very sheltered and know nothing of people of this sort, who are expert at hiding their true natures. Have another cake.”
Her eyes like saucers, Charlotte accepted the proffered cake and popped it in her mouth, chewing furiously. “My lady, is it not possible that you could be mistaken?”
“I fear not, my dear,” Francesca replied regretfully. “You see, I have evidence.”
“Oh!” The girl’s brow wrinkled as she tried to accept what she had been told. “It seems... impossible, but—”
“Surely you do not accuse me of lying?”
“Oh, no, my lady!”
Francesca sat down beside Charlotte, patting her plump hand. “I understand that this has been a terrible shock for you, my dear girl. Tell me, have you been very happy in the employ of Miss Beauvisage?”
“Now that you mention it—no, my lady, I haven’t. She’s nothing like a proper English lady. In fact, she would rather do for herself than call on me.”
“But, don’t you see, that’s because she doesn’t want you to see what she’s really doing.”
“It is?” Charlotte squeaked. “I never thought of that. Do you know, my lady, I’ve been feeling more and more unhappy, deprived of the duties I was raised to perform. More than anything, I must be needed.”
“Well, my dear girl,” Francesca replied, slipping a kind arm around the maid’s shoulders, “I understand exactly how you feel. But, now you must cheer up, because I need you, and we have important work to do!”
* * *
Leaning back against pillows plump with goose down, Natalya sipped from a goblet of wine and breathed deeply of the fragrant breeze that wafted in from the garden. “I would say that I am happy,” she murmured, gazing into Grey’s eyes, “but that seems a very small word for such an overwhelming feeling.”
He wrapped his hand around her slim fingers and lifted them to his mouth. “I never would have believed that I could voluntarily engage in such a conversation with a woman,” he said, with a self-deprecating smile. “I never believed that this could really happen in life. I thought true love was for fools.”
“And now?” she prodded, joyously anticipating the answer.
Grey gave her a dazzlingly grin. “I know that I was the fool. The love I feel for you is, quite possibly, the first honest and valuable emotion of my life. It is as if I’ve been walking under a dark cloud of cynicism for so long that I assumed it was hovering over everyone.” Impatient with the gap between their bodies, he drew her against him, kissing her brow and her soft, unruly curls. “When I met you, I was skeptical of your enthusiasm for life and I resisted the desires of my heart.” Grey’s eyes stung and his voice caught for an instant. “Now I have discovered freedom in surrendering—”
Tears clung like stars to Natalya’s lashes as she set aside her wine and straddled Grey’s thighs, perfectly at ease in her nakedness. “I do not regret the years I wasted doubting love,” she declared, “because I think God was keeping me safe for you. In the past, I believed that I could never give any man power over me. I treasured my independence. And yet, with you, I felt differently almost from the beginning. When you took charge of me, I liked it, yet I was so confused! All I knew was that I felt secure when you were near, and so keenly alive. It was quite alarming.” She traced the line of his jaw with her fingers. “Oh, Grey, do you not think that we were meant to be mates?”
Although no promise of marriage had passed his lips, Natalya trusted him, and that was a gift he did not take lightly. “Yes, minx, I believe that is what God intends for us.”
Smiling, she caressed his tousled, silver-flecked hair and the lean line of his jaw. “We’re going to have a wonderful life together, and I shan’t take one moment of it for granted. Where shall we live? “
In the magical world they had created in this testered bed, the reality of Grey’s marriage to Francesca seemed a barrier that could be easily pushed aside. He gave himself permission to dream. “You’d love Briar Hill, the country estate that will one day be mine. It’s in Hampshire, one of the most idyllic regions of England. But...” His face darkened and he glanced toward the window. “I’m not at all certain that I want any part of the life that’s been created for me back home. Even that word—home—seems hollow compared to the warm, loving example of family and home I’ve witnessed at Belle Maison.”
“Won’t you tell me more about your family?” Natalya asked gently. “I do need to understand.” Returning to a less distracting place beside him, she nestled in the circle of his embrace, her breasts warm against the tapering line of his chest.
Grey sighed harshly. “It’s all so different from what you’re used to. Growing up, I learned about duty. As a nobleman from birth, and the heir to an earldom, I was groomed to believe that I was better than other people. England’s upper class is fraught with beliefs that have little to do with humanity.” He reached for his wine and took a long drink before continuing, “My life was very cold and regimented, especially after my mother died, though I don’t remember her as being a particularly warm person. How could she be, married to my father?”
“What is he like?”
“Extremely remote, although I must own that I have begun to find him rather amusing of late. Perhaps it’s because it no longer matters to me that he scarcely remembers I’m alive, let alone cares.” His tone was distant. “However, when one is a little boy and craving a word of kindness or encouragement from one’s father, it’s hardly amusing to hear, ‘Fine, fine, yes, quite, and do visit me again if you happen to be passing by,’ spoken without so much as a backward glance.”
Natalya’s heart ached with Grey’s pain. Kissing his shoulder, she exclaimed, “What a horrid man!”
“Not precisely. He simply doesn’t know any other way to behave.” Grey shrugged. “And once I realized that he could not give me what I needed, that I could never measure up to his standards no matter what I did, I taught myself not to care. I threw myself into the heartless but amusing pastimes of a titled rake: gambling, wenching, drinking, sporting, and other activities in that line. Then I went to fight Boney, and you know the rest.”
“But have you no other family besides your father?”
“My mother died giving birth to my sister. My younger brother, David, was lost in the battle of Salamanca two years ago. I have other more distant relations, but none I particularly admire.”
“How very disheartening. Were you close to your brother?” Natalya sensed that these questions were painful, but she also knew that it was important for him to share with her the details of his past so that they could go forward.
“No. David and I were not close. As the elder son and heir, I received what little attention my father had to give, and David quite justly resented that. Also, to be honest, he could not equal me in other areas. He was not as tall or strong as I, nor did he excel in the meaningless but fashionable pursuits I described earlier. He lacked the streak of reckless daring I possessed, which is a quality that is highly valued in London society.” Grey paused, and a shadow momentarily crossed his face. “Sometimes I think that he wanted to die in battle. What did he have to return to? Knowing what I do now, I would try to change things between us, but we cannot go back, can we?”
“And what of the life you returned to?”
He shook his head. “Everything had changed, just as you warned me it might. “My closest friend was left to me, but nothing else was the same. Also, discovering that Francesca had made off with Mother’s jewels didn’t improve my spirits.” Shivering slightly in the breeze, he turned on his side and pressed the length of his strong body against Natalya’s welcoming softness. “This is a devil of a conversation for us to be having. Let me close by saying that whatever regrets I had about my return to London were dispelled after I arrived here. When I met your family and entered their home, I realized that nothing had been real before. My past had been a maze of smoke and mirrors.” He kissed her deeply, his passion mounting. “This, my darling, is life as it is meant to be.”
* * *
During the hours when the sun mellowed before accepting the twilight, Natalya lay safe in Grey’s arms, napping peacefully. He awoke first, almost surprised to find that she was not a dream—and even more surprised to realize that he had no regrets about all that had transpired between them. She fit against him as naturally as their thoughts and conversation flowed together. Natalya was right: God had created her as his mate.
“I feel wonderful,” she said suddenly.
Grey saw that she was looking at him with alert turquoise eyes, a smile playing over her mouth. When she began to stretch, still in the circle of his arms, he bent to trail kisses from the hollow of her belly to the pink crests of each beautiful breast. “I could make love to you forever and still crave more,” he said huskily, his fingers straying lower to caress her intimately.
Later, Natalya bounded out of bed and ran to the garden windows. “Oh, Grey, look what a beautiful evening it’s going to be! Let’s go outside for a walk. I’ve been wanting to give you a proper tour of Society Hill, and I have so much energy!”
“But—”
“Have no fear, my love, I shall not be recognized.” Her face shone with an impudent smile. “I’ll disguise myself. No one will know me. I’ll borrow clothes from—Fedbusk!”
Grey fell back on the pillows, laughing. “Fedbusk! You’re outrageous!”
“Perhaps, but you must admit it is an inspired notion.”
Half an hour later they were standing in the stair hall. Grey was drawing on his gloves, and Fedbusk himself was glowering at Natalya, apparently unamused by her comical appearance. Since they were nearly the same height, she fit easily into one of Fedbusk’s butler costumes. The length of the black coat and breeches was nearly perfect, but Natalya had tied a black cravat around the waistband of the breeches, which ballooned around her thighs. Grey had helped her tie a white stock, which looked charming against her delicate face. She wore her own white stockings, handkerchiefs stuffed into Fedbusk’s buckled shoes, and a wide-brimmed black hat in the Quaker style that covered her hair and the upper part of her face.
“’Tis bad enough that I’m forced to wear those clothes, but when you give them to a woman, I cannot approve,” Fedbusk grumbled. “And, I’d like to know, sir, why it is that I am locked in this bleedin’ house when she’s allowed to parade around town with you in my clothes!”
Grey calmly raised his eyebrows. “Hold your temper, old fellow. Miss Beauvisage is wearing these clothes because they render her unrecognizable. Perhaps if you were to don her garments, I could permit you to roam at liberty.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses... sir?” Fedbusk spluttered.
“A jest, old chap,” Grey reassured him, biting back a smile. “Try to be patient for one more day. After I recover the jewels from Lady Altburne tomorrow night, it won’t matter if she knows that you’re in Philadelphia. Until then I’d rather not take unnecessary risks. I simply don’t trust the woman, and the less she knows, the better I’ll feel.”
“It’s a mighty queer arrangement, if you ask me,” declared the grizzled seaman.
“I believe you’ve previously registered that opinion,” Grey observed dryly.
Speed came out of the kitchen then, hurrying down the hall with a piece of spiced honey bread in one hand and a folded note in the other. “There you are, sir. I’ve been waiting to give this to you.” He turned over the paper to his employer, then glanced at Natalya, widened his eyes, and grinned. “I say! You’re quite a sight, Miss Beauvisage. May I remark that you look much more attractive in those clothes than Fedbusk?”
“You’re too kind, Mr. Speed,” she replied, smiling at him under her lashes and sketching a curtsy.
“Humdudgeon,” Fedbusk grunted.
Grey, having read the note, folded it and handed it back to Speed. “Excellent. Our appointment is fixed for tomorrow at five o’clock.”
“Lady Altburne conveyed the reply to me personally, sir, and said to tell you that she is looking forward to your visit with great pleasure.”
“I don’t doubt it one bit,” Natalya said, frowning under the wide brim of her Quaker hat.
Fedbusk threw open the door. “ Are you two going or not?”
“Don’t be jealous, minx,” Grey whispered as they stepped outside. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“Oh, I’m not jealous. I trust you implicitly. I just don’t trust her.”
Then Francesca was forgotten. Strolling down Spruce Street next to Grey, she felt positively frolicsome. Passing carriages held occupants who had fawned over Natalya and her book at the Hampshires’ party and now only glanced quizzically at the odd little black-clad Quaker man with the spring in his step.
“Isn’t this fun!” she exclaimed to Grey. “I only wish I could hold your arm. I want to touch you all the time.”
He gave her an affectionate smile and caught himself before he reached out to caress her cheek. Walking down the wide, straight street lined with horse chestnut, lime, and maple trees, Natalya pointed out residences of friends and famous Americans. Society Hill, with its beautiful mansions and quaint row houses, had been the home at various times of Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and such illustrious Philadelphia family names as Willing, Powel, Chew, Bingham, Biddle, and Penn.
“You know,” Natalya explained, “Society Hill didn’t get its name because it’s a wealthy neighborhood. It comes from the Free Society of Traders, which was granted a charter by William Penn around 1680 and set up a warehouse near the waterfront.” She continued to instruct him as they walked along the river, peeked at the Wild Rover, then started west on Pine Street.
Noting a street sign, Grey remarked, “This is the street where Francesca lives. Perhaps we ought to walk in a different direction.”
They had just turned north on Third Street when a plain hired carriage passed by. Natalya noticed the occupant, who was craning his neck to stare at them. “Grey, do you know a thin man with gray hair and gold spectacles?”
“I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”
“Well, the man in that carriage going down Pine Street was staring at us as if he’d seen a ghost. Assuming that I am unrecognizable, I would deduce that he was looking at you.”
Grey shrugged, remembering the description Stringfellow had given of Francesca’s gentleman friend. There was no point in worrying Natalya, so he merely said, “Perhaps I reminded him of someone else.”
They were approaching a huge mansion set back from the street behind a high fence. “This is the Washington Benevolent Society now, I’m told, but when I left for France William Bingham still lived there. He’s moved to France now himself; apparently he’s never fully recovered from the death of his wife, Anne. The Mansion House was the centerpiece of President Washington’s Republican Court when Philadelphia was America’s capital, and Anne Bingham was an elegant and lovely hostess. Don’t you find it rather sad that everything could change so quickly? Twenty years ago all of American society vied for invitations to the Binghams’ lavish parties, and Anne and William had power, beauty, wealth, and influence. Now... it’s all over, and they are both gone.” Natalya paused, gazing pensively at the Mansion House. “Of course, Meagan Hampshire knew them rather well and says that Anne’s beauty was superficial. Perhaps that was their undoing.”
“Unfortunately I am all too familiar with people of that sort,” Grey said. “They rarely come to happy ends.” He pointed up the street, glad of a distraction. “Isn’t that your grandmother’s house?”
“ Yes. Might we visit her for a few minutes? I’ve been thinking of Grandmama a great deal these past two days, and there is something I need to say to her.”
They strolled up the neat brick footpath to the home of Antonia Beauvisage, and Grey stood back as Natalya knocked. This time Mrs. Reeves answered the door. The pink-cheeked cook was nearly as old as her mistress and provided Antonia with welcome companionship. “Ah, Miss Natalya!” she exclaimed, as if the young woman’s appearance were perfectly commonplace. “It’s lovely to see you, and you, too, Mr. St. James. Mrs. Beauvisage is in the library.”
Antonia, having overheard, met them in the hallway. She was looking especially pretty in an old-fashioned gown of azure blue silk trimmed with Alencon lace. Her expression, however, was apprehensive as she regarded her granddaughter through her tiny spectacles. After greetings were exchanged, she said in hushed tones, “I would invite you inside, but Mr. Saunders is here. We have been enjoying a lively game of backgammon. I must tell you frankly, my dear, that I was rather disappointed in your behavior when we encountered you at the garden party. I will not bring you into the same room with Barton if you are going to stare at him as if—”
“Grandmama, please don’t go on,” Natalya said, looking distraught. “That’s why I’ve come... to speak to you about Mr. Saunders, and then, I hope, to speak to him.”
“Perhaps I should join Mr. Saunders and allow you both some privacy,” Grey interjected. He went into the library and took Antonia’s chair at the game table.
“This won’t take long, Grandmama, and I can say it standing right here. It was horrid of me to behave as I did when you introduced me to Mr. Saunders. I may have said nothing uncivil, but I am perfectly aware that my feelings were written on my face.”
“Barton is a very kind and sensitive man, Talya. He has been so good to me—” Antonia’s voice caught as tears pricked her eyes. “I understand that you were accustomed to thinking of me only with your grandfather, and, of course, so was I. When he died, there was a tremendous void in my life. God was generous enough to bring Barton, a man whom I could never compare to my Jean-Philippe. I have a great deal of love in my heart, nurtured during more than sixty years of marriage, and it makes me happy to have someone to care for again. It’s true that I have a loving family, but all of you have lives of your own....”
Natalya put her arms around her grandmother. “I understand! Oh, Grandmama, I beg your pardon for my selfishness, and I want you to know that I have only good wishes for you and Mr. Saunders. You see, I have finally opened my own heart to love, and I understand many things now that confused me before.”
“Is it Mr. St. James?” Antonia smiled in delight, her green eyes sparkling. “Aha! I sensed as much the moment I first saw the two of you together. Now then, Talya, what on earth possessed you to put on that ridiculous costume? The hat, in particular, is singularly unflattering.”
Laughing, Natalya kept an arm around her grandmother’s waist and steered her toward the library. “I fear that you are correct as usual, Grandmama. Why don’t we join the gentlemen so that we can all become better acquainted?”
“Nothing could please me more, my darling girl.”