A Baron in Her Bed (30 page)

Geneviève didn’t suffer any such hesitation. With a flood of incomprehensible French, she placed both hands on her brother’s waistcoat. “I talked Horatia into following you last night,
Gee
. It was me. I brought the clothes.” She clutched his coat and peered up at him.

Guy winced and eased her away. “That was rash of you, Geneviève.”

Horatia saw the pain in his eyes. “Guy! You’re hurt,” Horatia cried.

Before Guy could respond, Horatia’s father and Eustace appeared.

“Might I have a word, my lord?” her father asked.

Horatia’s rush toward the bookroom was abruptly halted when her father held up his hand. “Alone!”

The colonel greeted Guy with disappointment writ large on his face. Despite his concerns, the thought he might put a stop to the wedding was unthinkable.

Closeted in a room piled high with tomes of poetry, Colonel Cavendish was at pains to express his displeasure. He had depended on Guy to take care of Horatia in his absence. He shook his head. “I would never have allowed her to come to London otherwise.”

“I am
désolé
, Colonel, that I’ve fallen so far in your estimation,” Guy said in a tired voice. “But your daughter is quite spirited, you know.”

The colonel flushed and looked chastened. “That is indeed true. I have failed also, my lord. I can hardly blame you, can I, when Horatia rode my stallion around the countryside without my knowledge? And goodness knows what else.”

Guy moved painfully on the seat. The gash over his ribs throbbed. He could only be glad that Horatia’s father couldn’t possibly be aware of the half of it.

The colonel formed a steeple with his fingers. “Firstly, I must offer you my condolences on the death of your brother. How extraordinary. It must have been dreadful for you. I’d like to learn more when it’s less painful for you.”

Guy nodded. “I’d like that, Colonel.”

“Horatia tells me you have been on a dangerous mission for the government. I understand you cannot tell me more. I am impressed by your bravery. Most impressed. And I’m glad you’ve emerged from the mission unscathed. Mighty glad.”

“
Merci.
You are too kind, Colonel.”

“Eustace had expressed doubts as to your claim to the title. But now that your sister has arrived in London that has quickly been put to rights.”

With Guy’s nod, he went quickly on. “Excellent. Quite right. Horatia is to return to Digswell today with me. Mrs. Illingworth and I plan to wed next week. We extend an invitation to you to attend, my boy, so don’t look so down in the mouth.”

Congratulations, sir,” Guy said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good.” Colonel Cavendish climbed to his feet. “Come and see Horatia. I was so angry when I saw her dressed as she was last night, without even shoes on her feet! I led her to believe I opposed your marriage. I do not, but you two must talk.” He frowned. “She is impulsive, but a good girl, of whom I remain very proud. You must begin the way you wish to go forward, Guy. Lay down some rules.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Colonel,” Guy said with a grin of relief. He felt lighter and more sure of the future. He didn’t want a marriage governed by rules, but he and Horatia did need to talk.

In the parlor, Horatia wished she could put her ear to the library door, but Geneviève and Eustace sat beside her. When Geneviève put her mind to it, she could charm any male living; Horatia was certain. Geneviève patted Eustace on the hand, sympathizing with him about his gout in her voluble Gallic manner. Eustace, who was on close speaking terms with the Prince of Wales no less, was flushed with a foolish smile. At least the problem of Guy’s claim to the title had been put to rest, Horatia thought, turning back to the library door. Her aunt had gone off to the kitchen to arrange luncheon, expressing the notion that when everyone was talked out they would be hungry.

The bookroom door opened, and her father emerged, followed by Guy. He looked serious and very pale. She leapt to her feet.

Guy took her by the hand. “I must speak with you.” With a nod to those watching open-mouthed, he drew her into the empty bookroom and shut the door.

“You have attempted to save me again, Horatia.”

Horatia’s stomach clenched, and she felt a bit sick. “Yes, but I don’t think you’re going to thank me for it.”

“You are never to do anything like that again, do you hear me?”

“To be honest, I didn’t really want to do it. I’ve had quite enough excitement of late…”

“Promise me,” he said firmly, tipping up her chin and searching her eyes.

“I promise,” Horatia said, her gaze sliding away.

“
Bon.
Come and sit down.”

Settled beside him on the small sofa, she studied him closely. His features looked finely drawn, making him appear even more elegant and devastating. She had a strong urge to hug him, mother him, make love to him. The force of her feelings made her suck in a deep sigh. “Did that brigand, Smith, shoot you?”

“No, he did not.”

“But you are badly hurt.”

“Not badly. A mere graze.”

“I can see the pain in your eyes, and your jaw is working. You do that when you’re distressed.”

“I am distressed, Horatia, because I don’t want a wife who goes off half-cocked at every little thing.”

“I don’t go off half-cocked, as you put it. I have no desire to behave in an outrageous manner, at least not anymore.” She bit her bottom lip. “I tried to help you.”

“Then please don’t. Not even if you feel I am in need of rescuing. I want your promise. I don’t wish to sound like a tyrant. I just don’t want you to take risks on my account.”

“Then you have it,” she said. If Guy were ever in trouble again, she would not be able to keep such a promise. But there was no sense in telling him that now. She trusted there would never be any need.

Guy smiled and tipped up her chin with a finger. “Don’t make the mistake you can fool me, Horatia.” He planted a hard kiss on her mouth.

“Silly,” she said with a sigh, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “As if I would.”

“There’s another thing. And this is most important. I want you to understand what marriage to me will be like. I wish to live in the country, at least for a time. Eventually, I’ll need to travel to inspect my other properties and take my place in the House of Lords. But for now, I only wish to remain in Digswell. Do you mind rusticating?”

“Of course not.” She raised her head. “But Father is taking me home today, Guy.”

He nodded. “To attend his wedding. He told me.”

“And after that?” she asked, needing some confirmation of his feelings.

“We shall be married. In Digswell.”

She gave a small smile. “Oh.”

“Do you still wish for a London wedding?”

“I don’t care where we marry, as long as we’re together.”

“
Tres bien
.” He smiled and kissed her hand. “Now that we settled that, let’s join the others.”

It was settled, but she wasn’t entirely reassured. It might be because he was tired and hurt, but Guy wasn’t himself.

Eustace took Guy aside. “I’m sorry we got off to such a bad start.”

“You were right to be cautious,” Guy said.

“I know you’ve been disappointed in the condition of the Hall.”

“I’ve become more aware of the problems here,” Guy said, striving for diplomacy.

Eustace shuffled his feet and refused to meet Guy’s eyes. He obviously struggled to come to terms with events. “I plan to move out of Rosecroft Hall after your wedding.”

Guy felt a grudging sympathy for him; it couldn’t be easy. “You are family and will always be welcome under my roof, Eustace, as I’ve said.”

Eustace’s lips firmed in a determined line. He shook his head. “Now that my health needs the constant attention of a doctor, I shall remain in London.” He smiled. “You are to bring your new bride home, Guy. You don’t need Horatia’s old godfather lurking in corners.”

Guy returned the smile. “But you will visit us. I know Horatia would wish it.”

“Once in a while perhaps, to visit friends. There’s another thing I should mention. When a thief began stealing from the big houses in the county, I sent paintings and statuary
to London for safekeeping. Some of the
Meissen
and
Sévres
china, too. I will have it returned.”

“
Merci
.” Guy bowed, marveling at his ability to hold his tongue. Relieved that some had survived being sold to finance Eustace’s gambling debts, the wagers and iou’s of which he’d discovered in Eustace’s library drawer, he decided never to utter a word of reproof. Horatia loved this man.

“Ah. I see luncheon is served,” Eustace said with obvious relief as the maid opened the dining room door. “Emily tells me it’s to be soup, cold meats, and salad. I admit to being rather peckish.”

Still beset by low spirits, Guy returned to find Horatia chatting with Geneviève. She rose with her sweet smile, took his arm, and they walked into the dining room together.

Chapter Twenty One

Her father’s wedding was a simple affair, the church pews filled with villagers and special friends. Horatia thought Marina looked composed and elegant in a lilac-grey gown. The guests mingled at Malforth Manor where the wedding breakfast was held. They enjoyed a tasty breakfast and the fiddler who played a merry tune for the country dancing. The colonel and Marina left early to make the long trip to Cornwall for a week’s honeymoon, leaving the guests still enjoying themselves.

Horatia sat down next to Fanny, who was to be her bridesmaid. Fanny had arrived at Digswell the day before, ebullient and filled with confidence, having won the battle with her mother. She was soon to wed Mr. James Bonneville. Horatia was pleased for her. Fanny was to marry the man she loved. And her overbearing mother had failed to manipulate her. It appeared that Fanny had begun to exhibit more of her mother’s forceful personality.

“Mother is furious, but she could do little after Uncle Jasper took my side,” Fanny said with a laugh, “because he is the head of the family and quite wealthy. He has no children and dotes on me.”

Lady Kemble detached herself from a group of ladies and came to her daughter’s side. “You are a quiet one, Miss Horatia, to have kept your courtship a secret from us.”

“It was a wonderful surprise to get your letter,” Fanny said. “But now that I think of it, the baron could not take his eyes off you at Mother’s dinner party. Even while he danced with me.”

“What nonsense,” Lady Kemble said with a frown. “I’m sure Horatia has been much in his lordship’s company over the past months. She is Mr. Fennimore’s goddaughter, after all.” Her frown vanished as Geneviève came to join them. “I confess to being quite envious of your costume, Your Grace. The splendid cut of the sleeves and the richness of three rows of embroidery around the hem are perfection.”

“You are too kind
,
Lady Kemble,” Geneviève said.

“I wonder if you could provide me with the name of your modiste. I gather she resides in Paris?”

As Geneviève and Lady Kemble discussed fashion, Fanny took Horatia’s arm and drew her away. “You must forgive Mother. It is her disappointment that makes her waspish.”

“Think no more of it, Fanny.” Horatia watched Guy over her friend’s shoulder as he talked to the vicar. He was at least a head taller than all the men present and far more handsome. Nothing could hurt her today, not even Lady Kemble’s ungenerous comments. “No doubt when your mother comes to know Mr. Bonneville, she will warm to him. Where do you plan to live after you are married?”

“With Mother in Digswell for a time. James is to inherit from an elderly aunt, but at this moment, he is rather squeezed of funds.”

“That means we shall see more of each other.”

“Yes, won’t it be wonderful?”

“Fanny? We are leaving,” called Lady Kemble.

After Horatia and her aunt saw off the rest of the guests they turned their attention to her wedding.

Horatia persuaded her aunt to accompany her to Rosecroft Hall the following day. She wished to have a quiet talk with Guy alone. Everything was in readiness, the banns had been read, and the settlement had been signed. Her pin money was most generous. There was nothing to worry her specifically, and yet she did worry.

Rosecroft bustled with a horde of newly acquired servants as faded drapes were replaced, others taken down to be laundered, windows polished, and carpets removed to be cleaned. Work had been done to the gardens, but it would not be until next spring that the full effect would be seen.

It should have been an exciting time, but she found Guy still subdued. Not being able to reach him made Horatia uneasy. He was quiet, and the brilliant blue of his eyes had dimmed. She searched for that devastating look he used to give her, the one that made her weak at the knees without him having to say a word. She couldn’t find it. There was no spark of humor when she gently teased him. It was clear he grieved for his brother, and she wondered if marrying so soon was wise.

She yearned to hold him and draw him out. If only he could talk, rather than bottling it up inside, he might feel better. Seeing him alone, however, had become extremely difficult. Mortified by her laxity as Horatia’s chaperone, Aunt Emily was determined to rectify it now. She’d become as diligent as a Spanish duenna.

Horatia seized the moment when they all sat in the drawing room after luncheon. Her aunt and Geneviève were engaged in conversation while Eustace nodded by the fire. “I haven’t seen all of the house. Could you show me our bedchamber?” she asked Guy in a low voice.

He raised a dark brow at her request but climbed to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Aunt Emily called.

“Guy is showing me more of the house,” Horatia said, giving her a warning look.

“I should like to see the house too,” her aunt responded.

Geneviève followed along as the four of them toured the house.

Guy threw open a door. “Eustace has kindly vacated the blue suite. The servants have made it ready for us.”