No Greater Love (34 page)

“I think I’m dead,” Nicholas finally said when he could speak at all. “I must be dead.”

She kissed him with soft, warm lips, her arms resting about his neck, her thighs still enclosing him. “Your heart beats. Your lungs are taking in air. I think you might still be alive, Nicholas.”

“No, it is not possible. Not possible. No man can survive such pleasure. It’s not natural.” He rested his forehead on hers. “When I explained about passion, I was misrepresenting it. It wasn’t deliberate misrepresentation, mind you. I didn’t know myself that it could be quite so life-threatening.”

“Mrs. Provost didn’t know it either. She was under the impression that it was more like having a tooth pulled.”

Nicholas raised himself up on his forearms and looked down at her. “Mrs. Provost didn’t know a damned thing about anything.”

“I am beginning to think you are absolutely right.”

“Naturally I’m right. Am I not always right?”

“Not always, but very often,” she conceded.

“A minor victory. I must make love to you more often. It makes you so compliant.”

Georgia smothered a laugh against his shoulder. “I love you, Nicholas Daventry,” she said.

“And I love you, Georgia Daventry.” He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “More than I can say. Now, sleep, sweet wife, and do not worry another moment about anything.” He slipped out of her and turned her against him so that her back rested against his chest and her hips were cradled securely in the hollow of his own. Her breathing gradually slowed until he knew she was asleep. Nicholas lay awake for some time, thinking about the woman in his arms, his seed in her body, her love in his heart, and despite everything else, he couldn’t help but count his blessings.

Georgia looked up from her conversation with Pascal. Nicholas had been quiet and distracted all day, and she more than understood. The river Thames had just appeared, and she could well imagine the direction of his thoughts. Cyril’s thoughts were not so easy to divine. He sat silent, looking out the window of the carriage. His face was as unreadable as his older cousin’s. Her heart went out to him, but there was nothing she could say or do to ease his misery, for she knew he would not welcome the realization that she knew of his situation.

“It is a very exciting journey, is it not, monsieur?” Pascal said with enthusiasm, and Nicholas tore himself away from his thoughts.

“I am sure it is a very exciting journey, Pascal, for one who has never made it before.”

“Ah, yes, it must be your business that makes you so solemn. It weighs heavily, the business, my father always said.”

“My business? Oh, yes. I suppose it is just that, Pascal.”

“But you cannot do your business all of the time, monsieur. Perhaps you will come to the gardens with us. Madame and I have just been having a very satisfying discussion about botany. We shall see many new plants and decide which ones to buy and bring home. I cannot say I am happy to be leaving our own garden exactly in this moment, but Martin and Lily will look after things, and who cannot be happy about seeing London! You are happy, are you not, Cyril? You have been monstrous quiet.”

“Monstrous quiet? Where did you learn that expression, Pascal?” Cyril asked. “You sound like a fop.”

Pascal looked extremely pleased with himself, and Nicholas shook his head with a small smile.

“I learned it from the man at the posting inn this morning, the one with the coat with the very, very many capes. He said the inn was monstrous full. And what is this fop?”

“A man who wears too many capes on his cloak,” Nicholas said.

“Ah, it is not good, this, not fashionable?”

“It is perhaps slightly too fashionable. Clothes are meant to be useful, not to deck a man out like a peacock.”

“Ah,” Pascal said. “It is best to be simple. Yes, this I can see. You and madame, you are very simple.”

Georgia gave Nicholas an amused glance. “I’m not so sure, Pascal,” she said. “You have a few surprises in store for you, I think.”

“But I like surprises very much,” Pascal said, pressing his nose against the window as the carriage rattled through the busy streets. “This is not like Paris, not at all. I was born in Paris, monsieur, did you know?”

“Yes, I did.”

“My English, it is monstrous good, is it not? My mother was English and she made me learn to speak her tongue.”

“And she would have been horrified to hear you speak so. Your English is excellent, Pascal, and will remain so, if you please. I would appreciate your not picking up any vulgarisms in the name of questionable fashion.”

“Whatever you wish, monsieur,” Pascal said, crushed. “I did not mean to offend.”

“You do not offend, Pascal. And I mean only to instruct, so you must not take my words so much to heart. Now, pay careful attention, and I shall point out to you some of the interesting sights of the city…”

The house was magnificent. It was built of white stone and was situated on Upper Brook Street, overlooking Hyde Park. Georgia drew in a sharp breath of surprise as Binkley stopped the carriage in front of it and jumped down, going to the front door and inserting a key in the door.

‘‘This
is your house?” Georgia said faintly.

“I bought it at the same time that I purchased our marriage license, although one was considerably more expensive than the other. Do you like it?”

“I don’t quite know yet,” she said, her hands crossed at her throat. “It’s … it’s very grand.”

Cyril gave his cousin an extremely interested look. “You own this? It is a p-prime p-piece of p-property.”

“It is, isn’t it? I wanted to impress Georgia. But then she insisted I be poor, so I couldn’t really bring her to it without offending her sensibilities.”

Georgia looked over at Pascal, whose mouth was hanging open in wonderment, and then she looked at Nicholas, who appeared extremely pleased with himself. “You are outrageous,” she said.

“Only rich as a nabob,” he teased. “Actually it’s a good investment, and I purchased it at an extremely low price. But say the word, my love, and I shall trade it for a shack.”

“I think I can make do,” she said, swallowing. “It is far grander than Lord Herton’s house, Nicholas, and that’s the grandest I’ve ever been in, next to Ravenswalk.’’

“Good. Here comes Binkley. I am sure he would be very gratified if we all behaved as if we were completely unimpressed.” He climbed out and offered Georgia his hand, then lifted Pascal down.

Cyril was the last out. “F-full of surprises, aren’t you, Nichol,” he said, looking the house over with approval.

“And ever surprised,” Nicholas said. “You haven’t called me that for ten years. It’s astonishingly nice to hear it again. Come, coz, let us go in and see how things have progressed. The house came furnished, but I had some changes made and I’m curious to see how they came out.”

He offered Georgia his arm, took Pascal’s hand firmly in his own, and walked up the steps like a man who belonged.

“It is quite perfect,” Marguerite declared the next afternoon, sitting down in the drawing room, having made a thorough inspection of Number Two, Upper Brook Street. “It will make exactly the right impression. Not too opulent, beautifully situated, everything done in the finest of taste. Now, to you, my dear. We must launch into our plans. It is just as well Nicholas has gone out for the day, for we shall be at this for hours, and we would bore him to tears.”

Georgia had not yet adjusted to any of this change of fortune, and she found it a little bewildering. Footmen and chambermaids and scullery maids she was accustomed to, as she had been one of their number. But to have them deferring to her was a strange sensation. It was a good thing she’d had Binkley, and even Lily, over the last few months or she should have been overwhelmed. Nicholas had been extremely amused by her shocked reaction that morning, when she had come down for breakfast only to see a sideboard laden with dishes of fish, eggs, meats, bread, and a variety of other foods, when they had been accustomed to such simplicity. Nicholas had laughingly told her that Binkley felt he had a great deal to make up for, and it was only fair to give him his head until he had worked his indignation out of his system.

Georgia had to suppress a laugh as Binkley appeared in the drawing room with a laden tray. “Tea, madam,” Binkley said, placing the tray down. “You dine at a late hour this evening, and so I took the liberty of bringing you nourishment.”

“Thank you, Binkley,” Georgia said solemnly. “You are most thoughtful.”

“Would her ladyship prefer ratafia?”

“No, thank you, Binkley,” Marguerite said, equally seriously. “A cup of tea will be most refreshing.”

Binkley bowed and discreetly disappeared again.

“He is a marvel of good taste,” Marguerite said with wry amusement, and Georgia soon had her in stitches as she described how Binkley had acquired Nicholas in India.

“And not only did Binkley take Nicholas in hand and see to it that he behaved himself as Binkley saw fit,” Georgia added, “but Binkley has also been training me for months to be a suitable wife for Nicholas. I wonder if he thinks I haven’t noticed. A proper lady does not interfere in the kitchen. A proper lady does not sit on the floor, even if there is no chair available. A proper lady does not view her husband in an undressed state. I am not sure about behind the bedroom door. He has never addressed the point, or at least I don’t think he has. Binkley is also a marvel of subtlety.”

“Oh,” Marguerite gasped. “It is too good to be true.”

“I am truly very grateful to him, for there are hundreds of small things that I should never have known. Did you know that a proper lady never—but never—sits at the same table with the servants? She certainly does not attempt to wash the dinner dishes. I told him that more hands make lighter work, and I thought he was going to have the vapors. He told me that a lady’s hands were meant for other things. What do you suppose he meant by that?”

Marguerite wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “I cannot begin to imagine, my dear.”

“Well, neither could I. But really, he has been most gracious about accepting me. After all, Nicholas might have married a proper lady and spared him all that trouble.”

“I doubt very much that Binkley regrets his master’s marriage in any way.” She started to laugh again. “Oh, I do wish I could have been a fly on the wall over the last months. Having seen how you and Nicholas have been living, Binkley must have been thwarted at every turn.”

“Well, I don’t know if he was thwarted, exactly. Binkley puts me in mind of a soldier on a battlefield: he does what needs doing, regardless of personal sacrifice, and he obeys his superior officer in all matters, while gently guiding him to the correct decisions. Above all, he is the guardian of rules and regulations.”

“I think you have it exactly. But if we are to complete the image Binkley has worked so hard to create, then we must turn our heads to business. Otherwise, I shall laugh the rest of the afternoon away.’’ Marguerite accepted the cup Georgia handed her. “You will need a complete wardrobe, of course, and there simply isn’t time to have one made. So, as I have far more clothes than I can possibly use, all made by the superb Madame Girondaise, I have assembled a selection that I think will suit you. It is a good thing we are much of a size, although I am slightly taller, I believe. Between your skill with a needle and my own, we will have you seen to in no time. I have asked the footmen to carry a trunk up to your dressing room. When we are finished with our tea, we will go up and inspect its contents.”

“But I couldn’t possibly accept!” Georgia said, her hand stopping in midair.

“Naturally you will accept, my dear. If I am to take you under my wing, then you have to bow to my judgment. As I said, there is no time to demur. I have given the situation a great deal of thought, and we must move quickly if we are to forestall Jacqueline. Soon enough word will be out that you have come to town, and I wish to make the first move.”

“But what sort of move?”

“I have spoken to my husband, and he agrees with me on all points. We cannot ignore Jacqueline’s actions anymore. He also agrees that we must offer you our full patronage and scotch these foolish stories. We are giving a ball next week, and I think it would be the perfect time to introduce you. All the
ton
will see that you and Nicholas have our unqualified approval. What can Jacqueline do?”

“She will be there?”

“She will indeed be there. We must keep you out of sight until that time, of course, for forewarned is forearmed.”

“I did promise Pascal I would take him out to see various things…” Georgia said, worrying her lip with her teeth.

“But that is easy. It is only places that Jacqueline might frequent that you must avoid, social engagements which would alert her to your presence. But as for going about with Pascal, no one would know you anyway.”

“That is true. And as I am in no hurry to begin making social calls, I do not feel in the least deprived. Preparing for a ball is quite enough to worry about.”

“I understand. But perhaps you and Nicholas would dine with us next Wednesday? Our evenings are filled until then, but I should so like for you to meet my husband, and I know it would give Nicholas very great pleasure to see George again, and George is naturally very anxious to see Nicholas. And now, let us go up to your chambers and see to a dress for the ball, for I have included one that I think will be perfect. I never managed to wear it last season, and it is still
le dernier cri.”

“You are far too good,” Georgia said, overwhelmed by Marguerite’s kindness. “I do not know what to say. Here, on Nicholas’ behalf, you have taken me on when you know me not at all, when I am nothing in your world.”

“But, Georgia,” Marguerite said gently, “you do not give yourself enough credit. You may have married above your touch, but no less so than I did when I married my husband. I was poor, I had nothing. I, too, was employed in the household. It is easy enough to understand how you feel, although at least I had the benefit of having been born to the aristocracy. And I also did not have to face rumors, for Jacqueline was not going to muddy her own family name, as much as she tried to eliminate any trace of her accent.” Marguerite gave a most unladylike snort. “She did not want people remembering she was a poor 6migree, only that she was born a de Give.”