I've Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm (The Lords of Worth) (26 page)

Chapter 26

I
t was Miss Hughes who came to help Gisele dress. Nearly all of the duchess’s staff had been commandeered from her town house to help with the ball at Breckenridge, and it wasn’t a surprise to see Eleanor’s companion poke her head into the room. What was a surprise was that Jenna’s attire was nearly identical to her own and that her dark hair was once again hidden underneath a pale-blond wig. Wearing masks, the two women might be easily confused at a glance.

Jenna caught Gisele’s stare. “Her Grace told me what you are planning to do,” she said. “I want to help.”

Gisele remained silent as Jenna went about the task of helping her into her gown.

“You don’t have to,” Gisele said, meeting the woman’s pale-blue eyes in the mirror once she had finished.

“I know.” Jenna motioned for her to sit so that she could dress her hair.

“It might be dangerous.”

Jenna smiled faintly, gathering Gisele’s hair into a simple, elegant twist. “I know.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because at some point in the evening you might need me to be noticeable and convincing again.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Jenna’s hands stilled, and her eyes grew cold. “Because people like the Marquess of Valence ruin lives without thought, and they are allowed to do so simply by the accident of their birth. And that is not acceptable.”

Gisele watched her for a moment, wondering if she might say more. But Jenna fell silent, concentrating on the last pins and curls.

“Thank you then,” Gisele said.

Jenna inclined her head. “You’re welcome.” She rose and saw herself to the door. “I’ll let Her Grace know you’re ready.”

Gisele returned her attention to the mirror.

The woman looking back at her was unrecognizable as the woman who had last been dressed this way. Four years ago the ashen reflection staring back had been draped in pearls and diamonds and satin from the top of her perfectly styled hair to the toes of her slippers, none of which had hidden her despair. On this night she was again draped in silks and jewels, yet it was there the likeness ended.

She’d thought she would be nervous. She was playing with fire tonight, exposing herself more than she ever had in the last four years. But there was no doubt. No anxiety, no fear. All that stared back at her was a visage of determination and resolve. An immovable courage quietly fueled by the knowledge that she was not alone.

“You look more beautiful than you ever have,” Eleanor said from the door.

Gisele turned, meeting her eyes. The duchess was already dressed in a deep-rose gown, powdered and pampered and ready for battle.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Gisele teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“
Hmpph
,” Eleanor huffed. “I’m thinking of abandoning the chickens. They are truly stupid, stupid creatures. No wonder everyone prefers them with sauce on a plate.” She tapped her chin in consideration. “I was considering moving on to badgers.”

“Badgers?” Gisele nearly slipped from her chair.

“They
are
delightfully stripy. And I have been given the impression they are quite aggressive. I wonder if they could be trained to bite on command?”

“Trained?” Gisele asked faintly.

“I’m joking, dear. I think.” She closed the door behind her and crossed the room, her face becoming serious. “Are you sure you are ready to do this?”

“Yes. I have been waiting a long time to do this.”

Eleanor sighed. “This is a risk. The setting is uncontrolled. Things could go wrong.”

Gisele laughed a humorless laugh. “Things went wrong a long time ago. This is about stopping the cycle. And if the worst happens? If I am revealed, then what?”

Eleanor went pale beneath her powder. “That won’t happen.”

“It might. I’ve acknowledged that. And if it is a choice between Lady Julia and me, it won’t be a choice. At least I have my eyes wide open.”

“James will kill Valence before that happens,” the duchess snapped.

“No,” Gisele said fiercely. “If the worst happens tonight, have Jamie tied up, knocked out, or drugged, I don’t care. But he cannot sacrifice himself for me. Promise me you will not let it happen.”

Eleanor stared at her.

“He has a family.”

“Of course he does. The Duke of Reddyck is his—”

“No.” Gisele took a steadying breath. “He has a nephew. Richard. He’s not even one yet, but he looks just like Jamie, and in eighteen years, he will have become a strong, kind, decent man because his uncle will have taught him how. He will need Jamie more than anyone because Jamie will be the one person who will be able to tell the boy just how generously his father loved and how brilliantly his father lived right up to the day when he died trying to save another’s life.”

The duchess put a hand to her chest.

“Promise me I will not need to tell Richard that his uncle died in the same way. Trying to save my life.”

Eleanor nodded silently.

“Jamie protects what and who he loves, and he assumes that responsibility to a fault. He will go to extremes and think nothing of it. It’s why I love him beyond measure, and it’s what scares me the most. I am terrified he will do something irrevocable if pushed too far.”

“I understand.”

There was a knock on the door. “Your guests have started to arrive, Your Grace,” came the disembodied voice of a servant through the heavy door.

Eleanor held Gisele’s eyes for a long minute before reaching for her hands. “It will turn out all right,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t blow anything up. Inside Breckenridge, at least. I’m rather fond of this heap.”

It earned a weak smile. “I promise, Your Grace.”

The duchess stood then, straightening her skirts.

“Thank you,” Gisele said as Eleanor reached the door.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done. For everything you are doing.”

The duchess looked directly at her. “No, the gratitude is mine. You are an inspiration.”

Because Adam no longer owned his own carriage and coachman, or even his own horse, he was forced to accept the assumed invitation to travel to Breckenridge with the Earl of Boden and his insufferable family. But Adam reminded himself that to endure a single carriage ride for his Gisele was a small price to pay.

The Earl of Boden had commandeered the early conversation, a loud dissertation on the miserable weather and the miserable crops that were sure to follow. Boden’s countess, perched like a nervous magpie, her head swiveling back and forth among the carriage occupants, chattered loudly to fill any conversational gaps the earl might have left behind. Huston sat in stony silence, his eyes occasionally lighting on Adam in critical hostility, while his sisters carried on breathless speculation about the identity of the mystery woman the dashing Mr. James Montcrief was to wed.

All of which might have driven Adam to the edge of violence on any other night, but now, so close to his Gisele, he found himself indifferent to all their suspicion and stupidity. He didn’t need to hear the gossip that Montcrief’s bride-to-be bore a shocking resemblance to his late wife or that she was an exceptional beauty. He already knew very well who the woman was, and Adam felt feverish and flushed with anticipation at what waited for him. Four years of grief and pain and aching loneliness and
tonight he would realize his dream of having his Gisele back where she belonged.

As soon as the carriage stopped in front of Breckenridge’s wide stone steps, the marquess snapped open the door and took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to look back, even as Boden bellowed after him. His future was not behind him, stuffed into the crested carriage. The heart of his future waited for him somewhere inside Breckenridge. And it was time to go and find her and bring her home.

Jamie paused in the hall outside Gisele’s door. He was dressed in his suffocating evening clothes again, though tonight he barely noticed them. Instead he felt much the same as he did waiting for dawn to break over a battlefield, waiting for the light to lay bare the enemy he would be forced to conquer. Anxious, determined, and more than a little terrified it would all go wrong, and that, as he had been a year ago, he would be helpless to keep the one he loved safe.

Jamie took a deep breath. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes, tops. And then Gisele would be back upstairs, locked safely away from the madman. And if this did not work—if the marquess did not seize upon the notion that he might have his beloved Gisele back and render himself suitably unfit for anywhere or anyone save Bedlam, Jamie would do the next best thing. He would call the bastard out for what he had done. Swords or pistols, it mattered not. He was more than competent with both, and either would end with the marquess dead. He would do whatever it took to keep Gisele safe and her identity a secret.

He tapped on the door lightly.

“Come in,” she called, and he let himself into the room.

She rose from the chair in front of the dressing table. And in that moment, he could understand the marquess’s complete obsession with possessing this woman. She was an ethereal angel, serene and composed, watching him with luminous eyes. Jamie had had a whole array of clever and witty compliments on his tongue in preparation for seeing her dressed in all the trappings of a lady for the first time, yet every one died unspoken, unable to justify the vision before him.

Her gown was of the palest gold silk, the fabric caressing her body like the touch of a lover. The front of her bodice traveled low across the tops of her breasts, which had been pushed up to display them to their full advantage. Her hair had been swept back, ringlets trailing down, exposing her graceful neck and shoulders and framing her face with flaxen perfection. Long gloves covered her arms, and she wore only a simple pair of earrings, dainty emeralds that emphasized the green in her eyes. Eyes that were looking at him with a love that stole whatever remained of any rational thought.

He shut the door behind him and strode over to where she waited. He searched her eyes and her face before bending to kiss her reverently.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, knowing how insubstantial those words sounded.

“Thank you,” she replied anyway.

They stood there in silence for a long minute, neither wishing to relinquish the last seconds of solitude. Finally Jamie moved away from her, certain that if he didn’t do something purposeful he wouldn’t be able to go through
with this. Wouldn’t be able to allow
her
to go through with this.

Jamie picked up the mask sitting on the dressing table. He moved to her back, watching her in the looking glass, and very carefully he fitted the mask to her face, pulling the ribbons tight around the back of her head. It covered almost her entire face, making her unrecognizable to anyone who didn’t already know who she was.

Jamie pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “Are you ready?” His voice was hoarse.

“Yes.”

At least one of them was.

“I love you, Jamie,” she said, turning to face him. “No matter what happens, no matter what has happened, I love you.” Her eyes glittered with emotion.

“I love you too,” he said. “And I won’t let anything happen to you tonight. You’ll just do as we discussed. No more, no less. And you’ll let me do the rest. Malcolm and Sebastien won’t be far, and if things get thoroughly catastrophic, then the duchess can always throw another chicken into the crowd.”