Thirteen
Feeling as if she were in a dream, Beatrice allowed herself to be bathed and dressed in a pale buttercup gown. She heard none of her maid’s chattering comments of the beauty of the day or the excitement of the workmen awaiting her arrival.
Instead, she meekly allowed herself to be dressed and her hair arranged as she basked in a glow of deep contentment.
Saints above. She had never expected to feel so . . . satisfied.
It was not just the pleasure that Gabriel had given to her. Although that had been wonderful, indeed. It was more the sheer intimacy between them. All of the barriers they had built between them had been suddenly shattered. They had been two vulnerable souls who had sought completion and found it beyond all expectation.
She had never felt so close to another, she acknowledged with an unwitting smile. There had been occasions during the night when it had been impossible to determine where she ended and Gabriel began. She had felt as if they were truly one. Two halves becoming a whole.
Did all women feel such a connection to their lovers? she wondered. Did they always experience such a thrilling sense of wonder and utter satisfaction?
She firmly suppressed an urge to laugh giddily.
It was hardly a subject she could discuss with others. Well, perhaps Addy or Victoria, she conceded. It would be interesting to discover their views of marriage and the marital bed.
A hint of revealing color touched her cheeks.
But not yet.
Her intimate emotions were too new, too vulnerable, to be discussed with anyone.
Anyone except Gabriel, she swiftly corrected. She now realized she could discuss anything with her husband. He was the one person who truly understood her. Who never made her feel foolish or awkward. Instead, he was patient and kind and so very tender.
Abruptly realizing she was staring into empty space as her maid regarded her with lifted brows, Beatrice gave herself a mental shake.
Good heavens, the servants would begin to fear she was daft if she continued to moon about in such a fashion.
Or worse, realize she was still in shock after a night spent in the arms of her husband.
That thought brought her abruptly to her feet. The last thing she desired was the servants gossiping about how she spent her nights.
Hoping that her cheeks were not as flushed as they felt, Beatrice swept calmly from the room and made her way down the hall to her husband’s chambers. Not bothering to knock, she stepped inside to discover Gabriel standing before a mirror as he calmly tied his cravat.
Assuring herself Gabriel’s valet had already been dismissed, she strolled to stand at his side. In the mirror their gazes met and Beatrice lifted a teasing brow.
“Good heavens, Gabriel, how long could it possibly take to tie a simple cravat?”
His lips twitched at her sudden ease in his company, but he made his expression stern.
“I shall have you know, my impatient wench, that a gentleman can devote several hours to achieving the perfect knot.”
“Fustian.” She wrinkled her nose at such foolishness. Thankfully Gabriel had never been one of those ridiculous dandies who wasted his days upon his attire. She had no patience with such coxcombs. “We are merely going downstairs, not having dinner with the Prince. What do the workmen care for your knot?”
“I am not trying to impress the workmen.” He turned, reaching out to grasp her shoulders and pull her to face him. “I am attempting to impress my wife.”
Familiar flutters raced through her as he gazed warmly down at her upturned countenance.
“Oh.”
“Do you think she will approve?”
Beatrice slowly smiled, delighting in the manner he regarded her. Never had she considered herself beautiful. She had been a wallflower for too long not to fear she was displeasing to gentlemen. But last night Gabriel had taught her that she was indeed desirable.
“I believe she would approve no matter how your cravat was tied,” she said huskily.
The hazel eyes glinted with pleasure. “Ah, but I especially wish to dazzle her.”
“Indeed? And why is that?”
His hands gently traced the line of her shoulders. “Because she has made me an extraordinarily happy gentleman.”
She shivered, breathing deeply of the warm scent that surrounded her. Already her knees were feeling decidedly weak.
“And how did she accomplish such a feat?”
“She has given me a gift beyond price.”
“What gift?” she demanded in soft tones.
“Her trust.”
Beatrice’s heart halted before it staggered back to life with a jerky motion.
Why?
Why had she waited so long to put aside her anger?
Why had she punished both of them when it did nothing more than make her miserable?
Lifting her hand, she placed it against his cheek. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened as he shifted to encircle her in his warm arms.
“And I wish her to know that I shall value her gift forever.”
Feeling cherished and utterly safe in his embrace, she offered him a trembling smile.
“Will you?”
“Oh, yes.” His arms tightened as a rather wicked expression touched his handsome features. “Do you know, my dear, I have a most delightful notion.”
Beatrice chuckled, easily able to guess the direction of his thoughts.
In truth, her own thoughts were threatening to go down a similar path.
“What notion would that be?”
He brushed his lips over her brow. “That I forget my cravat and you forget the mysterious door and we both concentrate upon a more enticing means of spending our day.”
Beatrice could not deny she was tempted. She did not doubt spending the day alone with Gabriel would be far more pleasurable than dealing with her workers. Unfortunately, the knowledge that all work upon the house would halt until she had inspected their discovery was bound to prey upon her mind.
Besides, she was curious about the door whether Gabriel was or not.
“But the workmen cannot continue until I give my approval,” she said reluctantly.
He nuzzled the tender skin of her temple. “Then let them have a holiday.”
She snuggled briefly against him before heaving a rueful sigh.
“You know, the sooner they finish their work, the sooner they will be gone from Falcon Park forever.”
He pressed her tighter before stepping back with a grimace. Beatrice barely kept herself from tossing herself back into his arms and sending the workers to the devil.
Later, she silently promised herself.
They would have ample time to be together later.
She tingled in anticipation.
“Very well, you have made your point,” he conceded with a faint smile. “Although I see that I shall have to have the grotto repaired with all possible speed. I must have some place of privacy with my wife. But only after I teach you to swim.”
Oddly, the thought did not bring with it the usual panic. Perhaps her trial upon the storm-tossed water had helped to cure her terror. Not that she had any intention of testing her theory, she silently acknowledged. She was perfectly content to remain upon dry land like a sensible person.
“I fear it would be a hopeless task,” she said firmly.
He sent her a telling look as he took her arm and led her from the room.
“I have discovered no task is hopeless,” he informed her with a pointed glance.
She gave a sudden laugh. “True enough.”
They moved toward the stairs at a leisurely pace, neither in a hurry to bring an end to their privacy
“You know, I have been thinking.” He at last broke the silence.
“A worthy task.”
He flashed her a dry smile. “Yes. It occurs to me that we shall have to make a few arrangements to our chambers.”
“But they were just refurbished,” she retorted in startled tones.
“Quite nicely refurbished,” he agreed, “but I do not desire to have you so far from me. I wish you in my bed at night and close at hand even when you are dressing.”
Every night.
Her toes curled with delight.
“You are very demanding,” she teased, not at all put out by his desire.
“I am indeed. And I have the perfect notion of what to do with your current chambers.”
“What is that?”
“We shall have them made into a nursery.”
Beatrice nearly tumbled down the stairs. “Oh.”
Appearing not to notice her shock at the mere thought of carrying his child within her, Gabriel sent her an indulgent glance.
“I have come to know you very well, my little bully, and I do not believe for a moment you will allow your child to be hidden an entire floor away from you. Would it not be more sensible to have the nurse and baby just down the hall from us?”
Her shock slowly eased, and instead, a rather warm glow entered her heart.
She had not dared to allow herself to think of possessing children. Gabriel’s children. It was far too painful. Now an odd longing stirred to life deep within her.
How extraordinary to have a baby growing within her. To feel it move and breathe as it prepared to make its entrance into the world.
She might even now carry such a miracle within her.
A smile curved her lips. “Or we could have a bed prepared in your chambers. There is ample room.”
“No, absolutely not,” he declared firmly.
Well aware he would be as fiercely devoted to their child as herself, Beatrice did not fret at his refusal.
“We shall see.”
“Minx,” he chided, then, as he paused upon the landing, he gave a tilt of his head. “Ah, I believe I hear the babble of voices. This way.”
Still holding her arm, they moved to enter the library, where several men stood in a circle, loudly voicing their views on what could be behind the hidden door. At their entrance, however, a sudden silence descended and the harried architect moved forward.
“My lady, thank goodness you have come.”
“What is it?”
“We had just begun to remove the paneling, when we discovered the doorway. It is sealed and we did not wish to proceed without your approval.”
“You did quite right. Thank you.”
The man gave a pleased bow. “My pleasure, my lady.”
With her curiosity fully piqued, Beatrice moved toward the door that was clearly visible without its cover of paneling. Set into the stone wall, it was small but obviously large enough to be entered. She ran her hands over the ancient wood, wondering who would have placed the door in the library and why.
She slanted a glance toward Gabriel, who had joined her.
“Did you know of this door?” she demanded.
He shook his head, although there was a rather bemused expression upon his countenance.
“Not precisely, but my mother often spoke of a secret cubby that she presumed to be a priest’s hole.”
“She never revealed it to you?” she questioned in surprise.
“No.” He gave a low chuckle. “I believe she enjoyed watching me search for it when I was a child. It was one of the games we played when my father and brother were out hunting or losing our fortune at the card table.” There was a short pause. “It is odd, though.”
Beatrice lifted her brows. “What is?”
“When my mother laid upon her deathbed she called for me,” he said, obviously dredging up memories long buried. “She told me to keep searching for the priest’s hole.”
A flare of excitement surged through her. Surely this had to be important for it to be upon Lady Faulconer’s mind even upon her deathbed?
“Why did she not tell you where to find it?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I always assumed that she desired me to continue our pleasant game even though she would no longer be at my side. But perhaps . . .”
“What?” she prompted as his words trailed away.
“Perhaps she did not wish to reveal the secret before the servants.”
“Yes,” Beatrice breathed, her eyes shimmering. “Because she must have hidden something of value.”
He gave a rueful shake of his head at her hopeful tone. “A charming notion, but highly doubtful. By that time my father had already run through his inheritance and was swiftly selling off my mother’s jewels and any artwork worth a grout.”
Not about to be discouraged, Beatrice offered him a challenging glance.
“There is only one means of discovering the truth.”
“Yes.” He turned to regard the door. “Shall we have the workmen break it open?”
“Oh, no, we do not want it destroyed,” she protested in horror. “We shall search for the means to open it.”
He regarded her flushed features before giving a sudden laugh. “You are enjoying this, are you not?”
“Well, it is rather exciting,” she admitted. “Like something from one of those Gothic novels.”
“If it were one of those Gothic novels, then you will no doubt discover a moldering skeleton behind the door and I shall be branded a murderer,” he said in dry tones.
“Yes, indeed.” She readily played along, ignoring the numerous workmen regarding their teasing banter with growing impatience. “Perhaps you are not Lord Faulconer at all. You might be an impostor who killed the true earl and hid his body in the priest’s hole.”
He merely grimaced at her accusation. “Unfortunately, I resemble my father too closely to deny he is my sire.”
She pretended to be disappointed. “Yes, there is that.”
“I am sorry. I fear that all we are bound to discover is a bounty of cobwebs and dust.”
“Well, we will discover nothing simply standing here. Shall we begin our search?”
He offered her an elegant bow. “As you wish.”
Moving in separate directions, they carefully began examining the walls, shelves, and even furniture for signs of a secret lever. It was exciting but at the same moment extraordinarily frustrating. She did not even know precisely what she was searching for and was well aware that she might overlook the key to opening the door a dozen times without even realizing what she had done.
A considerable number of moments passed before she impatiently moved aside a tall urn set beside the fireplace. The movement caught the edge of the tattered carpet, flipping it back to expose a small round stone set directly in the center of a flagstone.
“Here,” she breathed softly.
In the blink of an eye, Gabriel was at her side. “What is it?”
She pointed to the stone. “It looks to be the lever.”
“Since you are the one to discover it, it is only fitting that you perform the honors,” he said with a smile.
Cautiously Beatrice reached out to press upon the stone, her heart racing as the stone easily slid downward. There was a faint groan behind her, and turning her head, she discovered the hidden door slowly opening.
“It worked,” she cried in delight.
“Yes.” Helping her to her feet, Gabriel glanced toward a nearby workman. “A candle, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
With hurried movements the young man fumbled with his flint, then, lighting a nearby candle, he handed it to Gabriel.
“Thank you.” Holding Beatrice’s arm, Gabriel moved to the door, stooping downward to make his way through the cramped opening. “Gads, I warned you there would be cobwebs.”
Indifferent to the sticky strands that clung to her gown, Beatrice entered the chamber to glance around in interest. It was larger than she had expected, as large as her own dressing room, but disappointingly empty. Then the candle flickered and she caught sight of a heavy blanket covering something in the far corner.
She tugged at Gabriel’s sleeve. “Look, there is something over there.”
He smiled indulgently, although he regarded the thick dust upon the floor with a wrinkle of his nose.
“You will ruin your gown.”
“It will not be the first,” she retorted impatiently, moving toward the cover and dramatically tossing it aside. A cloud of dust briefly blinded her, then she gave a choked cry of disbelief. “Oh.”
“What is it?” Gabriel moved hurriedly forward, only to halt as the candlelight fell upon the piles of pictures, statues, silver, and jewelry boxes. “Good God.”
With shaking hands Beatrice lowered herself and reached out to grasp one of the framed pictures with reverent care.
“I told you we would find a treasure.”
“You did indeed,” Gabriel agreed in distracted tones, reaching to pick up one of the carved boxes and flipping open the lid to reveal a magnificent diamond necklace complete with tiara and heavy bracelets. “My mother’s jewels.”
Still sifting through the numerous canvases, Beatrice asked in wonderment. “How did they get here? Your father?”
He gave a sharp laugh. “Gads, no. If my father had known of these, he would have sold them long ago.”
“Then your mother?”
“It must have been.”
“But why?”
Gabriel cast a bemused glance over the priceless mound of bounty.
“I suppose she realized that my father and brother were determined to bring the estate to ruin and she did what she could to preserve a few of the more notable heirlooms.”
Notable, indeed, Beatrice acknowledged, easily able to detect the work of a master hand.
“These are Rubenses and that is a Van Dyke. Dear heavens, they are worth a fortune.”
“Yes.” He gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. “All this time I have blamed my father for depriving Falcon Park of its treasures, and they have been here all along.”
Beatrice sat back on her heels, absently brushing a cobweb from her cheek.
“Surely your father must have been suspicious when these items disappeared?”
Even in the muted candlelight Beatrice could detect the sudden hardening of Gabriel’s features.
“No doubt he presumed it was the work of my brother, or even that he had sold them himself in a drunken stupor. He once called in the magistrate to find his stolen carriage and precious bays, only to learn he had lost them in a game of hazard the evening before.”
She reached out to lightly touch his hand. “Your mother was very wise.”
He clutched her hand, an odd glitter suddenly shimmering in the hazel eyes.
“She has given me the inheritance that I thought lost forever. It is truly amazing.”
Beatrice stilled at his fierce words, suddenly struck by the rather terrible irony of the situation.
“Yes.”
Perhaps sensing her air of reserve, he regarded her with a faint frown.
“What is it, Beatrice?”
“I was just thinking . . .”
“What?”
She was forced to clear an odd lump that threatened to settle in her throat.
“Had your mother revealed her secret, you would never have been forced to wed me.”
He stiffened as the truth in her words sank in.
“No, I would not have. I had the means of saving Falcon Park in my own hands.”
Perhaps expecting him to dismiss her words with a teasing grin, Beatrice discovered her heart flinching in pain.
“Yes,” she said in low tones, desperately wishing she could read his thoughts.
For a moment he merely regarded his unexpected treasure in silence, then without warning he straightened and wiped his hands upon a handkerchief.
“You must excuse me, my dear.”
Struck by a ridiculous sense of panic, Beatrice scrambled to her feet.
“Where are you going?”
“I have something I must do.”
“Now?”
“It cannot wait another moment,” he retorted in firm tones, leaning forward to brush a hasty kiss upon her cheek. “I shall see you later.”
Clutching her skirts with stiff fingers, Beatrice watched his hurried departure with a sudden chill.
Something had changed within Gabriel.
Something that she feared might very well alter their relationship forever.