No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 (7 page)

He gave her a long look. “I am originally from France,” he finally said, his tone neutral. “However, my home is in Sussex.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I doubt very much that you do, and I’m not inclined to explain just now. I imagine much will be made clear tomorrow.”

Lily couldn’t imagine anything being made clear, but she was too tired and overwrought to argue. She turned her head away, and before too long the rocking of the carriage and her own exhaustion sent her to sleep.

Lily glanced over at her husband, who was successfully ignoring her, his attention fully on a thick book that he held in front of him. He had not bothered making polite conversation since the afternoon before. Their evening meal had passed in almost complete silence, and she had breakfasted alone. But he had kept his word and stayed away from her room, and for that she was grateful.

She glanced at him again, completely baffled, trying to work out what he might be playing at, for she knew there was definitely some sort of game afoot. She was certain that he was bluffing about her money. No one chose to live in poverty, so his statement to the contrary did not concern her overmuch. But not to insist on his marital rights?

A thick lock of hair had fallen over his brow, and he absently reached up and brushed it away. She noticed his hands for the first time. They were well made, the fingers long and squared, and although they were clean, she could see that the skin just under the base of the fingers was callused from work. The backs of his hands were bronzed from the outdoors, as bronzed as his neck and face.

She couldn’t see his eyes, only the sweep of his long lashes, the profile of high cheekbone, and the long, highbridged, slightly arched nose typical of the French. Jean-Jacques had a nose that was not dissimilar, but her brother had none of the other features that were arranged in such a way as to make this man so terrifyingly handsome. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, intriguingly wide, yet finely etched, the lower lip full and beautifully shaped, with a small square indentation in the middle. He was freshly shaven, but a faint shadow of beard surrounded his mouth and ran over his lean cheeks and strong, square chin.

A sudden chill took hold of her and she shuddered, then dragged her gaze away, quickly looking out the window at the distant line of the shore. The countryside had begun to change, and she could almost taste the salt in the air. And then the carriage swung slightly north, and the coastline with its plunging cliffs disappeared as meadow and forest came into view. Not too much later they approached an impressive pair of gates, and Pascal closed his book and put it away in his satchel.

“We’re here,” he said.

Lily looked about her for a cottage, but there was nothing to be seen. The carriage swung through the gates, then continued down a long drive bordered on one side by a broad sweep of lawn and on the other by a thick wood. They were obviously traveling through someone’s estate, although she had no idea whose. She swallowed nervously, hoping they were not trespassing.

An enormous house finally came into view, and with a jolt of surprise Lily suddenly realized where they were, for she had seen drawings of Ravenswalk, seat of the Earl of Raven and considered to be one of the finest examples of Baroque architecture in the country. But what they were doing on the property she could not imagine. She hoped to heaven they would not encounter either Lord or Lady Raven, for Lily knew they would not be pleased to see her. She licked her lips.

“Um, Mr. LaMartine, don’t you think it’s a little rude to be using Lord Raven’s front drive?”

“Why? It’s the most direct way.”

“Nevertheless, the back entrance would be more fitting.”

“Oh, you know the estate then?”

“No, I have only heard of it. Where do you live? On one of the tenant farms?”

“No. I live here,” he said as the carriage pulled up in front of the house.

Lily stared at him. “Here?” she repeated in a strangled whisper. Servants did not approach a house by its front door, ever. The nerve of the man! Just then a footman opened the door and put down the steps, and the wretch put his hand out to bar her.

“Stay here,” he said and climbed out.

“Mister Pascal!” the delighted footman exclaimed the moment he saw him. “We were not expecting you. Welcome home, sir. It has been far too long.”

Lily watched incredulously as her husband smiled—actually smiled—and shook the footman’s hand. “Thank you, James. It’s nice to be back. How is your wife?”

“Thriving now, Mister Pascal. Her spirits will soar when she hears you are home. She’s never forgotten what you did for her.”

“It was nothing. Is either Lord or Lady Raven at home?”

“His lordship is in his study and her ladyship is out gardening. Oh, they will be pleased…”

“Pascal!” A fair-haired woman of about forty dropped the basket of flowers she’d been carrying and ran across the driveway, and with a sinking heart Lily saw that it was Georgia, Countess of Raven. “Pascal!”

“Madame.” He held his arms out to her and she ran directly into them, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.

“I don’t believe it.” She looked up at him with a huge smile, brushing away the tears in her eyes. “I simply don’t believe it.”

“Madame,” he said, smiling tenderly. “It is good to see you.

“And you,
cheri,
you have no idea—this is the most wonderful surprise. It’s been over two years, you beast. I was beginning to think you were never coming back. The children are going to be so happy—you won’t believe how they’ve grown. Charlie has taken the others on a fishing expedition, so you’ll have to wait until later to see for yourself. James, you must fetch my husband immediately!”

“No …” Pascal said
, staying the footman. “No, madame, I’ll go to him. I must speak to you both, and it’s better to do it privately.”

The smile faded from her face. “Trouble?” she asked softly, examining his face more closely.

“That is a matter of interpretation. I have another surprise for you.” He walked over to the carriage, where Lily was still sitting, and he held out his hand. She took it, her stomach sinking, and climbed out of the carriage.

“Allow me to introduce my wife to you. Elizabeth, Lady Raven.”

Georgia’s face reflected her shock as her eyes flew to Lily. “Your wife? Why—why, it’s Elizabeth Bowes, of all people. My dear, how nice to see you again.” She didn’t sound at all sure that she meant it, and Lily colored, for she knew just what Georgia must be thinking. Lily had not created a favorable impression among London society. She knew; she’d heard the talk behind her back. Still, she was embarrassed for Georgia to see the level to which she had sunk.

“Thank you, Lady Raven,” Lily said and stared at the ground.

Georgia turned back to Pascal. “But when did this happen? Never mind…” she said, taking in the tight expression on Pascal’s face. “Perhaps you had better both come inside.” She patted Pascal’s arm, then turned and led the way up the front steps.

Lily followed, still in a state of shock, wondering why the wretch had received such a warm welcome.

Pascal sent Lily off to wait in the conservatory, as he didn’t feel there was any point in having her present while he spoke with Nicholas and Georgia. She would only make a fool out of herself in front of them.

Nicholas was as delighted to see him as he was to see Nicholas, although he had no way of knowing how Nicholas was going to react to his news.

“… And so,” Pascal said, “there we were, looking extremely foolish. There was only one thing to be done.”

“Wait,” Nicholas said, rubbing his nose and looking as if he were going to burst into laughter. “Do I have this right? You are trying to tell me that you were accused of attempting to ravish Elizabeth Bowes?”

“I was.”

“And you are also telling me that someone actually believed it? Really, Pascal. I find that hard to credit.”

The shadow of a smile touched Pascal’s face. “Do you insult me, good monsieur?”

“I would never think to insult you, dear boy, but given everything, it surprises me that anyone who knows you, most especially Dom Benetard, would think anything other than the obvious.”

“He didn’t think it, once I’d explained the real reason that I’d been discovered lying on top of a disheveled female.”

Nicholas suppressed a choke of laughter. “I—I’m sorry. Forgive me. It is only that the entire situation seems so ludicrous. I am not sure how you have ended up here. Did Elizabeth not disabuse Dom Benetard of this absurd notion?” He tried very hard to keep a straight face.

“No. She was the one who made the accusation, believing it to be true.”

“Oh, dear,” Georgia murmured, her own amusement vanishing. “How unfortunate.”

“Yes. In any case, I thought it would be best if I brought Elizabeth here. To be honest, I had no other idea what to do.”

“Goodness,” Georgia said. “Yes, I can imagine, and we are very glad you did, Pascal.”

“I can see what a dilemma you have on your hands.” Nicholas folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them.

“No, monsieur. There’s no dilemma. We’ve been married. We’ll remain married. It’s only that I felt I owed you both the complete truth. If in any way this brings disgrace upon you, then naturally I shall remove myself from the family.”

“You will do no such thing,” Nicholas said with exasperation. “I wish you would stop being so blasted noble all the time, Pascal, for it becomes exceedingly tedious. When Georgia and I took you into this family it was a permanent arrangement. I’m afraid you can’t back out now or at any other time.”

“Thank you,” Pascal said with a slight smile. “I had thought that was what you would say, but I felt obliged to offer.”

Nicholas inclined his head. “Naturally you did. I am sure if I insisted, you would throw yourself off a bridge.”

“Only if I felt you had good reason. You may consider me overly noble, but I’m not suicidal,” Pascal said dryly.

“It is a relief to hear. Now, as to your accommodations. Why do you not move back into the Close? It’s stood empty since you last left, and I’m sure it would be better off for being inhabited.”

“Please do, Pascal,” Georgia pressed. “There is more than enough room here, of course, but the Close is really your home.”

“But I cannot—as I have told you before, it wouldn’t be right. Charlie must have it, and then Willy when the time comes. It’s not for me.”

Nicholas gave Pascal an amused look. “As I do not plan to die for some time, and as Charlie is planning to go to India to be trained in the family business, and Willy is all of twelve, the Close will continue to stand empty. I don’t insist that you move into it for all time, only while you have need of it, for however long that might be. In any case, as I have told
you
before, you are by all rights, save for the tedious laws of birth and inheritance, my eldest son. Surely I may dictate to my son as I please?”

Pascal shook his head. “You, monsieur, are as impossible as ever.”

“And you are as stubborn as ever. However, I insist, and you are obliged to obey me.”

“Very well, if you insist, then yes, we will stay at the Close—it is less damaging than flinging myself off a bridge,” Pascal said. “But we’ll stay at the Close with the understanding that it’s only until I have my feet more firmly on the ground.”

“An interesting place for them to be,” Nicholas murmured. He put an arm around Pascal’s shoulder. “Welcome home—we’re mightily glad you’re back. Now that you’re here, do try to leave behind these habits of raping and plundering that you learned at the monastery, will you? We don’t want to have you influencing Charlie adversely. He’s already wild enough as it is.”

“Thank you for your understanding, monsieur,” Pascal said. “And you also, madame, for I know this news must have been upsetting for you.”

“I can’t think as upsetting as it has been for you,” Georgia answered quietly.

“I’ve accepted my fate,” he said with a little shrug, closing the subject. “You’ve both been very kind. By the way, the monk who came with me?”

They both looked at him.

“It was Julien.”

Georgia gave a little gasp. Nicholas simply nodded. “I would understand his loyalty. Naturally he would have seen you through to the end of this.”

“He is well?” Georgia asked with concern.

“He is well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch my wife and install her at the Close.”

“I’ll send some of the servants over immediately to open the house and help you unpack,” Georgia said.

“No, please,” Pascal said quickly, “don’t send any servants over just yet. I know where the key is, and I need some time alone. Elizabeth surely can do without a maid for an hour or two? After all, she has managed for one night already. I can air the linens and carry water.”

“As you wish,” Georgia said with a little smile. “I can easily understand your desire to be private.” Pascal didn’t reply, and Georgia quickly changed direction. “We dine at eight. You will join us, won’t you? The children will want to see you, and they’ll be anxious to meet your wife. In any case, Nicholas should welcome her properly to the family.”

“You are right,” Pascal said. “Elizabeth should meet her new family. Trust me, it is far superior to the one she has come from.”

Nicholas nodded. “I have met her father. It was enough. I don’t envy you the last two weeks.”

“I thought you might understand.” Pascal went out, softly shutting the door after him.

Georgia turned to Nicholas the instant they were alone. “Imagine. Pascal, married. I never thought I’d see the day, although I’m sorry it had to be to Elizabeth Bowes. Poor Pascal.”

Nicholas grinned. “Poor Pascal, indeed. The girl’s a hellion.”

“Hellion only half covers it. You were not there last year at the Amesleys’ ball when she embarrassed poor James Knighthorn in front of half of London by telling him he wasn’t fit to kiss her boots, let alone her hand.”

“Oh? Well, she wasn’t far off. I can’t abide James Knighthorn. Further, he has no chin.”

“Nicholas, you are missing the point.”

“Not in the least. As it happens, I am feeling rather pleased with Elizabeth Bowes.” Nicholas came around his desk to slip his arms around his wife’s waist.

“Pleased?”
Georgia said, pulling back to give him a hard look. “How could you possibly be pleased with the girl? She’s a disaster!”

“Maybe, but thank God something saved Pascal from himself. I think we should crown Elizabeth for her unbelievable idiocy—and thinking of that, do you realize that Pascal has gone and married one of the richest women in England? It’s a damned comedy, Georgia.” He released her and idly picked up a quill, turning it round in his fingers, then brushed it under her chin. “Just think of it—all those greedy fools chasing after the untouchable Elizabeth Bowes—James Knighthorn included. And look what comes of it: she marries the last man in the world who would care about any of it. She marries a would-be
monk,
for God’s sake.”