Chapter 30
May 26, 1814
Grey sat on the edge of Alexandre Beauvisage’s massive cherry desk, gazing out the windows of his office at the shipyards below. Both men had removed their coats and were indulging in glasses of Madeira. Spread across the desk were plans for ships.
“When this war is ended,” Alec was saying, “and I believe that will be soon, I can stop outfitting my vessels as warships and turn to more exciting designs. I think we’re about to enter a new age, when ships can be built to be faster and more efficient than ever. Have you seen the French luggers that have been trading in our waters recently? This newest design”—he pointed toward the central drawing—“is based on them.”
“Your work is fascinating,” Grey said. He stared intently at the plans, then looked up to find that Beauvisage was watching him. “No doubt your son will join you in business when the war is over.”
“I rather doubt it.” Alec smiled and gave a Gallic shrug. “Etienne seems to take after his maternal grandfather. Farming is his passion, and he and his wife, Marianne, have purchased land adjoining her family’s farm in northern New York State.”
“Are you disappointed, sir?”
“Not at all.” He wandered to the window and gazed down at the men toiling over the wooden skeletons of ships while the Delaware River glittered in the distance. “Etienne must do exactly as he pleases. It is his life, not mine, certainly, and my only wish is that he seek happiness and fulfillment.” Alec glanced back at the Englishman with a wry smile. “Of course, it would add to my happiness and fulfillment if I could find a young man who honestly loves this work and would enjoy learning from me, sharing with me, and eventually carrying on in my place.” He paused, then arched a brow meaningfully. “I don’t suppose, my good friend, that you have entertained any thoughts of remaining in Philadelphia?”
Grey felt a rush of emotion that had been unknown to him a season ago. When discussing their love, Natalya spoke of the grace of God, explaining that grace meant “unmerited favor.” He found himself thinking of that phrase almost hourly now that the cloud surrounding Francesca’s death had lifted and he and Natalya were planning their life together in earnest. He had no idea why God had blessed him with Natalya. The added gift of her openhearted family filled him with wonder.
“Yes, sir, I would like to remain in Philadelphia,” he answered the older man. “In fact, that is the reason I came to see you today. When you and Mrs. Beauvisage returned from Connecticut yesterday, there was so much to tell you—so much had transpired in your absence. Yet it didn’t seem right to discuss Natalya... our own romance, in the same conversation with Francesca’s plots.”
“And now?” Alec prodded gently.
“I have the honor of asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage, sir. She has taught me all that I know about love,” Grey said, a smile playing over his mouth, “and I shall do everything in my power to see that nothing dampens her natural joy in living. I have made one devil of a mistake already, and hope I have learned from it.”
“A worthy speech,” Beauvisage said approvingly, his turquoise eyes warm with pleasure and affection. Closing the space between them, he placed an arm about Grey’s shoulders. “I will dare to speak for Caro and tender our approval for this marriage on one condition...”
“Yes, sir?”
“That you’ll stop calling me ‘sir’ immediately!” He gave a shout of laughter. “You must call us Alec and Caro or, better still, Papa and Maman, but no more of this sir and Mrs. Beauvisage nonsense! Agreed?”
Grey was shocked to feel tears sting his eyes. “I—I am quite undone... Alec. In all honesty, I must tell you that my own father, my own family, is completely unlike this one. Formality is a very old habit, one I may not be able to break immediately.”
“I know,” Alec replied, with grim understanding. “Do not forget that I am acquainted with your father. In his defense, I should say that he doubtless could not give his children what he did not have. That formality you speak of was instilled in him from birth... but underneath it all, I believe Lord Hartford does have a heart. He saved my life, you know.”
“Odd, isn’t it—that thirty-year link between our two families?”
Beauvisage nodded, then turned to his desk and began rolling up the sheaf of papers. “You said that Lady Altburne was buried in St. Peter’s churchyard?”
“Yes. Natalya felt that she must have been mad, and therefore not responsible for the harm she tried to inflict. I tended to agree—that Francesca was mad, at any rate. It seemed the right thing to do, giving her a decent burial....” Grey’s eyes darkened. “I just wanted the matter resolved so that we could begin to move onward, away from the horrific memories.”
“And your brother?” Alec asked softly. “What’s to become of him?”
“Actually we’ve made a peace of sorts. I rather felt that Francesca had put a sort of spell on him that was broken when she ordered him to murder me. He’s had a difficult life, and I had a great many regrets when I thought he was dead. Natalya has helped me to see his behavior in a more positive light. It will take time, but I hope that eventually we can be brothers more truly than we were before the war.” Grey reached for his Madeira, took a drink, then turned the glass absently in his hands. “At any rate, I’m sending him home to England. The Wild Rover sails tomorrow, and David will have the unpleasant but unavoidable task of informing Francesca’s family of her death. I don’t know how he’ll explain his own role in it, or his whereabouts these past two years to our father.” One corner of his mouth quirked ironically. “Our father is difficult to shock, and believe me, I’ve tried. David may well get no more from him than: ‘So, you’re alive, after all. Good of you to inform me, and do let me know if you die again.’”
Alec chuckled and led the way toward the door. “I promised Caro that I’d come home early today. It seems that Kristin has someone she wants us to formally meet. I hope you’ll join us for supper as well. You must go through it all again, I fear, begging both of us for Natalya’s hand in marriage as if you and I never discussed it. Caro would have our heads if she thought we men had been conducting a secret conference!”
In the corridor, Grey shrugged into his coat, laughing as he tried to imagine Caroline in a fit of temper. Then he glanced back at the paneled door that bore Alec’s engraved nameplate. Above it was the bare strip left when Jean-Philippe Beauvisage’s plate had been removed after his death.
“I would be proud to see your name there one day, Grey,” Alec said simply, watching him. “Consider carefully, though, without regard for my feelings. You must join me only if that is your true heart’s desire.”
* * *
“Just exactly what are you two females plotting now?” Grey thundered in tones of mock outrage.
Natalya and Charlotte, who had spread swatches of fabric across his bed and were conferring intently, looked up in surprise at the sound of his voice. Charlotte literally jumped at the sight of Grey’s powerful body filling the doorway, his raven hair wind-ruffled and his eyes stormy as he glared at them.
“My lord!” she squeaked.
Natalya’s lips curved in a winsome smile. “Charlotte dear, you mustn’t call him that. You know that he is pretending to be a commoner.”
“I would venture to guess,” he accused, refusing to take her bait, “that the moment I was out the door this morning you two scurried up here and began scheming ways to change my bedchamber, my private domain, my bastion of—”
“You’re quite right, my love,” Natalya broke in, hurrying over to hug him. With her honey-hued curls and pale yellow gown, she resembled a sunbeam. “I thought we might do our bedchamber over in shades of Wedgwood blue and lemon. Come and look at the fabrics we have to choose from.” Pulling his hand, she drew him to the bed. “Charlotte is helping me tremendously. I intend that she shall never again have reason to doubt how much we need and appreciate her.”
Charlotte, seeing the mischievous light in Grey’s eyes, realized that he had been teasing all the time. It had been another of their love games, as Jasper Speed called the little dramas Grey and Natalya seemed to find so amusing.
“I suppose that means that I shall be denied the pleasure of dressing and undressing my wife?” Grey inquired, arching a brow at Charlotte.
The girl’s plump cheeks went crimson, but she summoned the pluck to retort, “You’re having me on, sir, and I know it! Do you mean for me to answer back in kind?”
“Bravo,” Natalya cried, clapping her hands merrily. “The victorious Miss Timkins!”
“I believe I’ll take myself off and see if Mrs. Pritchard needs help in the kitchen.” Charlotte backed toward the door, nearly lost her footing where the rug ended, and laughed. “Not that I’m any handier in the kitchen than I am anywhere else! I just hope that I can manage, after the two of you marry and I have to live here, to keep from falling headfirst down that treacherous staircase!”
When they were alone, Grey closed the door and returned to Natalya’s side. In the next instant she was lying across the bed, pinned beneath his hard, lithe body. “I have missed you,” he murmured suggestively.
“Surely, sir, you do not mean to ravish me in broad daylight,” Natalya exclaimed, beaming as his lips grazed her throat. “How dare you take such liberties! This is—oh!—shocking behavior!”
“And you love it....” Grey’s breath was warm and arousing against her ear.
Her giggles were muffled by his demanding kiss and her arms twined about his broad shoulders as passion flared and swept between their bodies like a brushfire. Grey always seemed to know exactly what she needed most at any given moment; now his fingers tugged at Natalya’s shallow bodice to free her aching breasts. His mouth and hands were tantalizingly gentle, then a little rough, then tender again, until Natalya was writhing beneath him, her gown drawn up around her thighs, her hips arching against the telltale stiffness concealed within his snug trousers. Her cheeks were pink, her lips moist, her response unabashedly ardent.
When at last his hand slipped down to stroke her swollen womanhood, she gazed into his eyes and began to unfasten his trousers. He seemed to be a more impressive each time they made love, and Natalya thrilled to feel him, warm and hard, in her small hands.
“Good God, what a woman you are,” Grey whispered hoarsely.
“All you’ll ever need, my love,” was her audacious reply.
“Conceited, too”—he chuckled—“but quite correct.” He thrust into her then, filling her until she gave a little cry.
Natalya matched his rhythm with a feverish intensity, as if the bond between them strengthened each time their bodies fused. Physical ecstasy came easily with Grey, sometimes just from a single kiss or caress, and now she felt the storm crest and break in a shower of pure bliss. Panting, her hands in his hair, she pressed hot kisses to his face and shoulders, until he paused only briefly, then drove suddenly into her to the hilt, and made the deep groaning sound she loved best.
Not long after that, Grey swung his legs over the side of the bed, strode to the mirror, and began to rearrange his clothes. “I nearly forgot the time,” he remarked.
Her curls in disarray and her gown crumpled, Natalya sat up and exclaimed, “Well, I feel rather ill used!”
“Do you?”
“No.” A dimple winked beside her mouth.
“Vixen.” As he retied his cravat, Grey commented, “As you know, the Wild Rover sails at dawn, and Fedbusk is going on board shortly. I must bid him farewell, and then I have a dinner engagement.”
“What! With whom?” she challenged.
“Your family.”
“Papa invited you? How lovely. I assume he agreed to our marriage?” Natalya rose and stood beside him, brushing out her hair.
“Yes, but he said that I must ask him and your mother together.” Glancing down, Grey smiled at her delicate, lively countenance and caressed the soft curve of her cheek. “As you predicted, my keen-witted minx, your father asked if I would care to join him in business. I feel as if I am standing under a shower of blessings.”
Natalya paused in the act of pinning up her hair. “That’s what you truly want, then? You wouldn’t prefer to return to England?”
“No.” He slipped into his coat. “I cannot predict how I will feel after my father dies, but that may be twenty years from now. He’s as healthy as a horse. What about you? Do you object to staying in Philadelphia?”
“Heavens, no! As I’ve told you before, I love being home again. It was the best thing for me, going away for years, because it made me see Philadelphia and my own family with fresh eyes. I shall adore living here in this house I love, married to you, and raising our children with their relatives so close by. I’ve already decided on the bedchamber that I shall transform into my study. It has the loveliest view of the garden. I cannot write without a view, you know!”
As they descended the elliptical staircase, Grey said, “Your father suggested that we wait to be married until the fall. Rumor has it that the British fleet will be attacking along the coastline this summer, and Philadelphia may be a target. It is Alec’s wish that we wait until the danger is past, so that as much of your family as possible can attend, including your brother and his wife and baby.” He gave her a sidelong grin. “I suspect that your papa has deduced that we have no intention of languishing in a state of chastity until our wedding night.”
“He knows we are far too hot-blooded for such nonsense,” Natalya agreed. “And I would rather wait until autumn. I actually feel as if we are already married, certainly in a spiritual sense, and the wedding will be an occasion to celebrate our love. I do want Etienne and his family to be with us, as well as my darling aunt Natalya, Papa’s sister, who lives in Charleston, and all the other family members I haven’t seen for so long.” On the bottom step, she waited for Grey to turn back and hold her in his arms. “I think that the added weeks of preparation will be good for us. I can divide my time between Belle Maison and here, preparing for our marriage more gradually, and you will have some time alone to adjust to your new life in America. That’s important.”
Although he yearned for her when they were apart, Grey knew she was right. “You’re very wise.”
“I may have lingered overlong on the vine, but I’ll be a better wife than some silly chit of eighteen,” Natalya declared, kissing him.
He smiled into her soft aqua eyes. “Believe me, love, if you had been plucked any earlier, you wouldn’t have been ripe. You’re delicious and fascinating now, and will only improve with each passing year....”
“Ahem!” Fedbusk stood impatiently at the edge of the stair hall, dressed in his favorite loose white breeches, striped jersey, blue coat with brass buttons, and a flat-brimmed hat of black canvas waterproofed with tar. “I been waitin’ to say good-bye.”
“Fedbusk, how grand you look!” Natalya cried, running to his side. “I know that you must be longing to be back on board the Rover, but I hope you will remember that we shall miss you, and that you have been a tremendous help to us here.”
He nodded, blinking as if something had gotten into his eyes. “Aye, miss. It’s good of you to say so.”
“You haven’t forgotten my letter? You’ll deliver it personally?”
“I promise.”
“What letter?” Grey interjected, standing behind his betrothed.
“Must you know everything?” She glanced up at him, then gave Fedbusk a conspiratorial wink. “I’m sending a letter to London with dear Fedbusk, that’s all. Where are the jewels?”
“David’s taking them on board. I had to trust him, but I’ve instructed Fedbusk to follow through and make certain they are returned safely to my father.”
“Well, I’d best be off,” Fedbusk said gruffly. “Never had any use for good-byes. Tell Speed I’ve gone, but I’ll be back.”
“You will?” Natalya could not contain her delight.
“’Course I will. The master needs me.” He looked up at Grey with piercing eyes. “Always has.”
“Exactly so,” Grey confirmed, reaching out to shake his friend’s weathered hand. “Have a safe voyage, old fellow, and return when you feel the urge.”
“When the time’s right,” Fedbusk agreed, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he gave Natalya a last look. Then he opened the door and marched out into the sunlit afternoon.
Natalya and Grey stood together in the stair hall. “I’ll miss him,” Grey said after a moment.
“The house won’t be quite the same without him,” she agreed, sighing. “Where is Speed?”
“I left him with David. My brother still seems dazed by all that’s happened, and I thought he could use a bit of assistance with his packing. Speed will return after he’s seen David on board the Rover.”
They wandered down the hallway, stopping in the kitchen to let Laviolet know that she could go home since Grey would be dining at Belle Maison. Natalya told Charlotte that they would be leaving soon and advised her to gather their fabric samples and the notes they had made.
Grey then took Natalya’s hand and led her into the garden. “We have a few minutes, and there is something I’d like to say to you before we join your family.”
They sat down on a bench bordered by oxeye daisies, and he stretched out his lean, muscular legs. Natalya enjoyed the sweetness of the silence between them as they watched mother birds gather food for their babies. Grey stroked her slim fingers, touching each one as if it were precious to him.
“We haven’t spoken very much about... that night,” he said. “I know that we’d both prefer to put that horror behind us, but I also know that you must think about it.”
Natalya hesitated, vulnerable in her desire to find the right words. “I do, yes, but somehow she does not seem connected to us. She was part of another life for you, and that night is rather like a nightmare that lingers long after one wakes.” She leaned against his shoulder. “It needn’t haunt us, though. What we have is made of love and light, and it was as if she came from a different world....”
“Yes. Hell, I believe it’s called,” Grey remarked, with a trace of irony, then squeezed her hand. “I suppose you’re right. That entire episode does seem like a nightmare, and although I cannot help feeling somewhat responsible—”
“Oh, no, you must not,” Natalya declared emphatically. “Francesca’s madness was her own; you had no part in it. All you did was marry her in haste, which was foolish, but nothing more than that.”
He shook his head. “When I remember what she did to you, how frightened you were, and how close she came to harming you...”A shadow of pain darkened his eyes.
“Perhaps that ought to be the lesson in that night,” Natalya mused. “If remembering it helps us to remain grateful for each other and our love, there may be some value in it after all.”
Reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat, Grey said, “I asked David to leave me one piece of the Hartford jewels.” He drew out a ring consisting of a simple, perfect, pear-shaped diamond set on a narrow band of gold. “David assured me that she never touched it because she considered it too plain, but I have always loved this ring. Will you wear it to mark our betrothal?”
Natalya stared at the exquisite heirloom Grey held between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh... It’s beautiful!” Her eyes brimmed with tears that spilled onto her pink-stained cheeks. “I love it, Grey, and I would be so proud to wear it!”
Smiling, he slipped it onto her slender finger, then gathered her onto his lap and held her fast. Natalya wept against his white shirt, hiccupping, then began to giggle softy.
“My own minx,” Grey murmured, framing her face between his bronzed hands and kissing her eyes, the tip of her nose, and finally her salty lips. “I may not be fit to be your husband, but I cannot contemplate a future without you. You are part of me. If I begin to behave like a brute—”
“I shall box your ears,” Natalya promised. “Never fear, however. We shall have such fun that you will soon forget how to be a scoundrel.”
Grey knew that this was an outrageous declaration, but he believed her.