Mary Jo Putney (58 page)

He pulled the blanket up to tuck it around her shoulders tenderly. "I still can't understand that."

Diana had never tried to define why she loved him, even to herself, but after a moment's reflection, she said, "Around you, I feel... safe and protected. I knew that if you could ever bring yourself to love me, you would never stop. That you would always be there for me in the future. That I would always be able to rely on you."

A dark expression showed in his eyes, and she knew he was remembering both Mull and his blind assault of the night before. She raised a hand and cupped his cheek, feeling a faint prickle of whiskers under her palm.

"To be human is to be capable of violence under extreme circumstances," she said gravely. "I am no more a saint than you. I abhor violence and am a coward. I doubt I could have killed Veseul to save my own life. Yet I could kill for the life of someone I love."

"For which I'm very grateful!"

Diana frowned. "I've just realized that I wouldn't change what happened on Mull even if I could. If not for that night, I wouldn't have Geoffrey, and I wouldn't have you. Surviving the pain and anger has given me the love and the life I'd dreamed of as a child." She gave Gervase a smile of infinite sweetness. "I always knew that if you would let me in behind those walls, you would shelter me forever."

He rubbed his face against her palm. "You were right. You knew a great deal more about how my mind works than I did."

"Not your mind," she said gently. "Your heart."

His expression became still. "Once more you're right. I didn't realize myself how much I had tangled lust and love together." He toyed with a strand of her hair, twining it around his finger as he thought. "You became an obsession. It frightened me because I felt that I was losing control, that I would be at your mercy. That fear came out as jealousy and possessiveness."

He stroked back a larger tress of hair, exposing her shapely neck. "You have a dangerous kind of beauty, Diana. It's almost impossible for a man to think clearly near you. For months I persuaded myself that my need for you was merely physical desire."

He bent for another kiss, his breath mingling with hers. "But what really drew me was your warmth. Your endless, blessed warmth, like a life-saving fire in a night of eternal dark and cold. Even when desire is temporarily exhausted, I want and need you as much as I ever have. That has nothing to do with lust, and everything to do with love."

"Your strength and my warmth." She lifted her hand and lightly touched the shallow scrape on his ribs where Veseul's sword had grazed him. Oh, yes, Gervase was strong, his strength so much a part of him that he was not even aware of it. But she was aware, and felt safer now than she ever had before. "Today we saved each other. Now do you believe me about fate? That as unlikely as it seemed when we first met, we were meant to be together?"

With wry humor he said, "This is all too improbable to be chance, so I think I must believe you." More seriously, he continued, "The first time I saw you in London, you touched my heart, but I had to call it by a different name. Chance might have produced the wedding in Mull, but perhaps only divine plan could have made our marriage real after such a disastrous beginning."

Wrapping one arm around his chest to pull herself even closer, she said what should have been said months earlier, when he had needed to hear it. "You need never be jealous about me, Gervase. I came to London to find a man, and after we met, I knew that man was you. There had never been anyone else before, and there never will be again."

"Because I believe that," he said, his deep voice thick with emotion, "the obsession is gone. Jealousy came from fear of losing you. It's vanished in the presence of love and trust."

Diana raised her face for another kiss, then rolled over, her back fitting against his front in the way that was so particularly comfortable. As she was settling in, she remembered what the count had said. "I'm not sure what he meant, but Veseul was raving about destroying Wellesley."

As closely as possible she repeated what he had said, adding, "Do you think it means anything?"

Frowning, Gervase evaluated her words. "I hadn't the evidence to prove it, but I've believed that Veseul was the most dangerous French spy in England, a man who called himself the Phoenix. He was clever and he was received everywhere. It's quite conceivable that he was plotting against Wellesley. I think the army inquiry will acquit him and he will be given another command, but Veseul could have fabricated some scandal that would discredit Wellesley permanently."

His voice hard, he added, "There will be no more damage from that direction." One of his hands cupped her breast as his mind continued to work. "I suspect that he overheard us talking in Vauxhall that night before I left, which is how the French knew I was coming. As for the information that I left overnight in your drawing room being discovered... is there any servant in your house who might be an informant for Veseul?"

As pleasurable sensations spread from her breast, it was hard for Diana to think clearly, but she tried. "We have a French cook. She talked her way into the position and I've never understood why. She is good enough to command the kitchen of a much larger establishment."

"Perhaps that's the answer," Gervase agreed, his hand stroking lower on her body. "Now that Veseul is dead it probably doesn't matter, especially since you will be leaving the house on Charles Street."

She rolled on her back, making it easier for his hand to rove over her, and for hers to rove back. "Does that mean you want me to move in with you?"

"Was there any question?" he asked with surprise. "I assumed you and Geoffrey and Edith would come to St. Aubyn House. It could use some life and laughter." He smiled. "I imagine that Farnsworth has other plans for Madeline."

She laughed. "I just wanted to hear you say it. I enjoyed being your mistress, but I am looking forward even more to being your wife."

"Not half as much as I'm looking forward to that," he said, his voice rich with happiness. "I don't ever want to spend another night apart from you."

He leaned over to capture her mouth as his hand probed the moist, waiting depths of her. She moaned, wanting to dissolve in the rising tide of pleasure, but knowing one more matter must be mentioned. "There is something I must tell you."

His hand stilled and she opened her eyes to see him regarding her questioningly. Before his imagination could conjure up anything too lurid, she said shyly, "I... I think I'm pregnant again. I know that it is too early to be sure"—she unconsciously touched a sensitive breast—"but I felt the same way with Geoffrey."

She had thought he would be pleased, but seeing the expression on his face, she was no longer sure. "I'm sorry," she said uncertainly. "It was the night you returned from the Continent. I wasn't expecting you so I wasn't prepared. Are you angry?"

"What right do I have to be angry? We are equally responsible." His voice was light, but when he raised his hand to her cheek his fingers were cold and she saw the fear in his eyes. "You said you almost died when Geoffrey was born."

Understanding, she relaxed. "That was because I was young and small for my age, still growing. It won't be like that this time. The midwife said that since I was strong enough to survive that first delivery, I shouldn't have problems in the future."

She saw the shadow of anxiety still in his eyes, and laid her hand over his. "I promise it will be all right."

His answering smile was sheepish. "I have the feeling this pregnancy is going to be much harder on me than on you. But this time I will be there at the end as well as at the beginning."

"I talked to Geoffrey's physician about whether another child of ours might have seizures."

"And...?"

She shrugged. "He said it was possible. Not likely, but there's no way to be sure."

Gervase relaxed. "If another child turns out half as well as Geoffrey, I'll be satisfied, seizures or no seizures. Whatever comes, together we can deal with it."

Worries allayed, he became more enthusiastic. "I hope that this time it's a girl," he said thoughtfully. "With lapis-blue eyes and the ability to enchant any man who comes near her."

Diana linked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Or with gray eyes and a stubborn streak. Or twins. It doesn't matter."

Sliding her hand under the blanket, she gloried in the passionate response that she found. "At the moment I'm far more interested in the present than the future. Aren't you?"

* * *

In the morning they joined Geoffrey in the nursery for breakfast. Their son beamed, as proud as if he had been the one to invent the idea of "family." He beamed even more when he learned that soon he would no longer be the smallest Brandelin.

With half the government under Gervase's roof, it was easy to put out the story that the distinguished French royalist, the Count de Veseul, had succumbed to a sudden heart seizure. No one was anxious to let it be known that a spy had been intimate with so many important men.

When she heard the news, the French cook hastily decamped from the town house at 17 Charles Street.

Francis Brandelin and his friend left England unshadowed by scandal. His letters from Greece were filled with the usual tourist talk of temples and antiquities, but their real subject was happiness.

In late autumn Madeline became Lady Farnsworth in a quiet ceremony attended by Lord and Lady St. Aubyn. Though the new Lady Farnsworth's past was obscure, her disposition was so agreeable that only the most ferociously snobbish refused to receive her. And Maddy and Nicholas didn't give a damn about them.

General Sir Arthur Wellesley was cleared in the military inquiry in November and sent back to the Peninsula. After his tremendous victory at the Battle of Talavera in July 1809, he was created a viscount. The title he chose was Wellington.

Gervase gave Diana a free hand to make St. Aubyn House more welcoming, a task she accomplished to his complete satisfaction. One of her first acts was to install a fitted tub in the master suite.

Several months later, when browsing in the library, Diana came upon a verse written by Jonathan Swift. The lines had been scribbled on the certificate of a marriage Dean Swift had performed, and they were so perfectly, ironically amusing that Diana had them engraved inside the lid of a silver box, which she gave to Gervase for their second Christmas together. The lines read:

Under an oak, in stormy weather,

I joined this rogue and whore together;

And none but he who rules the thunder

Can put this rogue and whore asunder.

The End

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Historical Note

Gervase's mission to Denmark was based on an actual event. However, instead of a tall, dark, and handsome aristocrat, the real hero was a "short, stout, merry little monk," a Scottish Benedictine named James Robertson. Sir Arthur Wellesley, the future Duke of Wellington, himself commended Robertson to Foreign Minister Canning. Later Robertson did diplomatic work for Wellington. Later still, he was known for his pioneering work with the deaf and the blind.