No Greater Love (24 page)

“Cyril! You must not speak so! It is very bad to wish for such things. It is a terrible, terrible thing to lose a father. Just as bad as losing a mother, and this you already know about. But come, show me this house of yours, for I want to see all the things inside, and outside, and up and down! And then I would like to eat in the very grand dining room, and learn to play these billiards.”

“Very well, little m-monkey. Come along. I w-will show you.”

He took Pascal by the arm and pulled him along, explaining about the layout of the gardens, the exterior design of the house, its history. And as he did so he found that he was seeing it with fresh eyes. He loved Ravenswalk with an all-consuming passion, but he had resented the fact that it did not belong to him—not completely, as it should. It belonged to a broken, foolish shell of a man, and it was run by Jacqueline. The day that his father died it would be his, and Jacqueline would finally have to bow to his dictates instead of the other way around.

That would be a fine day indeed. That would be the day that he would finally be a true man. He would be the Earl of Raven, and the world would look up to him, would respect him. At the moment the only person who looked up to him was Pascal. He didn’t mind Pascal’s adulation in the least—in fact he enjoyed it extremely, for Pascal was the first person who had properly appreciated him in a great many years, the first person who he knew would not cast him to one side as his own family members had done. Pascal’s love for him was as all-consuming as Cyril’s own love for Ravenswalk. Immutable. Infallible. Eternal.

It was what happened when you saved someone’s life.

Nicholas was in the sitting room, reading through some papers in front of the fire, Raleigh at his feet. Georgia drew in a quick breath at the familiar scene. It was as if no time had gone by, and yet a lifetime had.

He looked up as she came in, and the smile faded from his face as he rose. “Georgia…” he said on a long exhale.

“Is something wrong?” she asked with dismay. “Do you not like my dress? It is the first of this kind I have made for myself … is it too daring?” She looked down at the neckline, wondering if she had cut the muslin too low after all. Shed been in an agony of indecision, for this was the sort of evening style that was worn by ladies, not the seamstresses who executed it. Shed never before put in such time on a dress for herself.

“Sweetheart, you look wonderful,” he said. “Absolutely glorious. It is only that I’ve never before seen you so that I stare. Come, sit down here with me. Talk to me. I have missed your conversation. I have, in fact, missed many things about you these last few days, given that I’ve slept so much. I suppose I have missed a great deal these last few weeks, but you must understand that it seems no time at all to me.”

“I know, Nicholas. I know. It’s not important anymore. I missed you most dreadfully, but you are here now. Nothing else matters.”

“No. It seems that very little matters other than the fact that I have you.”

“And the Close,” she added.

“Yes, but as I told you this morning, it all goes together. I used to worry so much about other things, things that now seem foolish. But life suddenly seems so simple. I can’t really explain it, sweetheart, save to say that I feel happy.”

“You were not happy before? Not at all?”

“It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy with you. I had just begun to realize that somehow in you I had stumbled on the most extraordinary good fortune, quite by accident. But deep down, I was still chasing shadows. And those shadows don’t seem to be there anymore. It’s not that the fears, or regrets, or even the anger have vanished. It’s more that they aren’t very important. I feel altered, as if something important happened to me, although I don’t know exactly what it was.” He took a deep breath and released it. “I suppose I feel at peace. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do to explain.”

“I think I understand,” she said, stroking the back of his hand. “I have felt that way for some time. When you took me away from Ravenswalk, I was chasing shadows too. And then you gave my life a substance, a happiness that hadn’t been there for a very long time.”

“But you are sure now?” he said, gathering her hand up in his. “Sure of that happiness, I mean?”

“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes steadily. “Very sure.”

“Georgia,” he started to say, when Binkley appeared in the doorway, and he sighed heavily.

“Dinner is served,” Binkley said in his grandest fashion, which was very grand indeed, Georgia thought with amusement. They might have been dining in state, and given the meal that Binkley had produced, they might well have been.

They were presented with salmon and Nicholas’ beloved side of beef. There were various baby vegetables and puddings. And there was also the wine to accompany it all, dark and full and heady. There wasn’t actually all that much time for conversation, for Nicholas was bent on eating. He put away plate after plate, and then, when he was finished, he looked over at her apologetically.

“I seem to have a prodigious appetite,” he said. “But I am duly ashamed of myself for having been such poor company. Speak, Georgia, and tell me what you are thinking. You are looking exceedingly dreamy.”

“It is most likely the wine. But I must confess, I was watching you, thinking how happy I am to see you sitting here again.” *

“And I am exceedingly happy to be here. Life positively bursts in my veins.”

“Does it, Nicholas? It is wonderful that you feel so.”

“Yes. It is.” He grinned. “I hope it is bursting in your veins as well.”

“I think it must be,” she said. “Along with all that happiness.”

“Oh, good. And given that, surely it must be time to go upstairs?”

“Already? Oh, yes, of course. I had forgotten. No doubt you want to go to bed.”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said with a smothered laugh. “Come along, Georgia.” He drank the last of his wine, then held out his hand to her. He stopped only to put a very disappointed Raleigh in the library.

“You do not want him in your room any longer?” she asked with faint surprise.

“I don’t particularly need an audience,” he replied enigmatically.

“Oh,” she said, thinking the wine had dulled her wits. She followed him up the stairs, and he started down the hall in the direction of his bedroom.

“No—wait. I have a surprise for you,” she said, stopping outside the front bedroom.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“Look and see for yourself.” She stood back and indicated the door.

He turned the handle and pushed the door open, then stopped in his tracks, stunned. Lamps burned brightly on the tables and a fire crackled in the hearth. The bed with its counterpane looked comfortable and inviting, and the new draperies were closed against the night.

“Dear Lord. Dear, deal Lord,” he said, taking it in, then turning to look at her. “How ever did you manage to do this?”

“We all did it. And you have Cyril to thank for the furniture and much of the labor.’’

He just shook his head. “I cannot tell you, sweetheart. I cannot tell you what this means to me. It is almost as it was when my parents lived in it.” He walked inside and looked some more, then sighed deeply. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“It gave us all hope when you were, ill, making something for you that you could enjoy for the future. And here you are.”

She came to stand next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “How I ever came to be so fortunate is completely beyond me. But I am not one to argue with good fortune.” He brushed her lips with his. “I really do thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her cheek. “You couldn’t have planned a nicer surprise for this night. I think you must have read my mind.”

“Well, I’m going to read your mind again,” she said, disentangling herself. “Binkley has moved all of your clothes, and you’ll find everything you need. Good night, Nicholas. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Nicholas?” he said incredulously, catching her wrist. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

“I thought you were tired,” she said, looking down at where his hand held her, then looking back up at him.

“I’m anything but tired. And even if I were tired, where were you intending on going?”

“To your old room. Don’t you want your bed to yourself, now that there is one to spare?”

“I certainly do not, not now or ever again. Unless we should have an argument and I need to sulk, in which case I will remove myself to my old room.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice.

“Or such time as you are brought to childbed,” he continued, “in which case I shall remove myself until such time as you welcome me back.”

“Childbed?” she said, bewildered. “I cannot see how that could happen.”

“Well, neither can I, if we don’t stop having this absurd discussion.”

“But, Nicholas,” she said, now truly confused. “You cannot have children.”

“I cannot?” he said, looking at her with a combination of amusement and exasperation. “May I ask why not?

”Georgia turned bright red. “Because … Oh, Nicholas, surely you must know how children are created?”

He frowned. “This has nothing to do with my recent illness, has it? Georgia, if it has, then you must tell me.”

“No, nothing like that. It is your impediment, Nicholas.”

“My impediment? What impediment?”

Her eyes dropped to his groin, then fell to the floor in an agony of embarrassment.

Nicholas followed the direction of her gaze, and then to her astonishment he burst into howls of laughter. He fell into one of the armchairs, gasping for breath. “Oh, dear God, Georgia, I have heard it called many things, but never an impediment.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment, unsuccessfully trying to sober. “Oh, please … please, no more.”

“I cannot think why you find this so funny,” she said. “I had thought you would be upset.”

“Why in heaven’s name would I be upset? I don’t think of it as an impediment in the least.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Why should I?” He started to laugh again. “Oh, I do love you, sweetheart. And what makes you think I cannot sire children? I am perfectly normal, you know.”

Georgia’s eyes flew to his face. “Normal?”

“Yes. Normal.” He grinned, and then his amusement faded as he took in her expression. “Georgia … you cannot possibly be a virgin, can you? After all, you were married for three years.”

Georgia looked away. “No. I am not a virgin.”.

“Then what, sweetheart? What is it?” He pushed a hand through his hair, regarding her quizzically. “If you’re not a virgin, then you must be familiar with male anatomy.’’

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “That’s just it…”

“Oh, dear heaven,” he said, grinning. He got to his feet and walked over to the window. “I’m afraid,” he finally said, “that there’s absolutely no room for delicacy here, not if we’re to get to the bottom of this.” He turned to face her. “I know you have seen me unclothed once before, and probably on a number of occasions I’m not aware of. And I do well remember the expression on your face on that first occasion. Somehow you have reached the extraordinary conclusion that I have … I have an…” His face screwed up again. He turned his head away for a moment, his shoulders shaking. And then he collected himself and looked back at her. “That there is a problem,” he managed to say with a relatively straight face. “Now, applying logic to an illogical situation, the only thing I can think of is that it is a question of … of proportion.”

Georgia nodded, wanting to drop straight through the floor.

“Very well. And applying further logic, I would assume that you feel I am, shall we say, too generously endowed to safely manage? Going by your previous experience, that is.”

Georgia looked at him as if he were completely mad. “Too generously endowed?”

“No? Oh, dear. I was sure that was it. I wish you would just out and out tell me, then, sweetheart, so that we don’t have to play guessing games all night.”

“It was quite the other way around,” she said, almost wishing Nicholas back in his stupor so that she didn’t have to answer any more humiliating questions. “I thought you couldn’t.”

Now Nicholas stared at her. “You can’t be serious?”

“Nicholas, please. Can we not—?”

“Georgia, forgive me, but you did see Baggie when he was not in a state of arousal, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, concentrating very hard on a knot in a floorboard. “That is why I thought you couldn’t.”

He slumped down in the chair again. “I see. Or at least I think I see. This conversation is so peculiar that I’m not quite sure I’m having it.”

“Then let’s not have it at all.”

“No, we’re going to finish it, Georgia, for I’m damned if I let Baggie Wells come between us anymore. I do love you, you know. Surely that counts for something.”

“And I love you, Nicholas, and that means everything tome.”

“Then let us stop all this nonsense and do something about it, now that we’ve established that I’m perfectly capable. I’ve been waiting months, sweetheart, and it’s been half-killing me.”

“You … you’re saying that you want to assert your marital rights?” she asked, her heart sinking.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” he said. “But I would like to make love to you.”

Georgia just nodded, her eyes still on the ground.

“You don’t look very enthusiastic, Georgia. What in the name of heaven is the problem here? This can’t possibly still be about you and Baggie, can it?”

“Oh, Nicholas, don’t you understand, I have no idea at all of how to feel in these circumstances!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I love you, I do, and I am sure that you will not smother my mouth with your hand, and you will probably ask me, rather than force my legs open, but I don’t know if I can bear having you tear me apart.”

Nicholas was across the room in a flash. He took her by the shoulders and lifted her face to his. He looked angry and upset, and even shaken. “Georgia. Georgia, what are you telling me?”

“It is only that I am afraid,” she said, tears falling down her cheeks. “But I will not refuse you, Nicholas. And I will try to be brave.”

“Sweetheart,” he said very gently. “Are you saying that this is what Baggie did to you?’’

She looked at him, bewildered, wondering if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions again. “Yes, of course.”

“Of course ?
And yet you loved him?’’

“Loved him?” she said, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t love him. I didn’t even hate him. I felt nothing at all.”

Nicholas looked away, stroking his eyebrow. “You’re going to have to give me a moment to absorb this.”

“But, Nicholas, I thought you understood that I had been very unhappy with him. It wasn’t really Baggie’s fault—he couldn’t help being what he was.”

“I think we had better have a talk,” he said, drawing her over to the sofa, and he sat her down. “I have been going at this completely backwards, haven’t I? Here I’ve been thinking all this time that you were deeply in love with some handsome farmer, living poorly but in wedded bliss.”

“The only thing that is true about that statement is that we were poor. Baggie was short and squat and stupid. And there was certainly nothing resembling wedded bliss.”

“Then why did you marry him? Please, Georgia, I need to understand this. I can see you don’t want to discuss it, but it’s important. It’s very important. I’ve been laboring under a gross misconception from the beginning, and behaving accordingly. You have been laboring under some misconceptions yourself. So let us have the truth out and be done with it. Start at the beginning. Why did you marry him?”

“If you really must know, I had no choice. Mrs. Provost—”

“The vicar’s wife?”

“Yes. She made up stories about me. She discovered that her husband had been chasing me about, and she accused me of trying to … to seduce him. Why she thought I would even want to look at a skinny old man with bad breath and a worse temperament, I cannot imagine, especially when I had done everything I could to evade him. But she locked me away anyway, and then after three weeks I was taken to church and married to Baggie. I didn’t even know him.”