Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 08] - Sanguinet's Crown (46 page)

Mrs. Nayland came in to take the tray and levelled another
steady stare at Mitchell.

"Guy," he said, promptly, "we must be on our way, I'm afraid.
But before we leave, I would like to ask you something… if it is not
too personal a matter. I, er, have wondered for some time—"

"What it was that my brother hold over me—no?" Guy nodded,
caressing Little Patches, but with his eyes frowning into the past.
"You have hear," he said slowly, "my brother address me as the bastard.
This was truth, but not quite in the way you may think. Claude and
Parnell have the same mother, you see, Papa's first wife. My mama was a
very gentle lady who died soon after I was born. Her mother, my
grandmere, was most beautiful, but very proud. She had loved her
daughter deeply, and because they were fine aristocrats but poor,
had—how you say this?—had bragged a little, telling her friends how
well her Lorraine have marry, how fine is her home, how devoted her
husband. My grandmere, you must know, was very dear to me. Always, she
was kind. And I"—he shrugged and said in a deprecating fashion, "well,
I was a rather lonely little boy. One day, Grandmere was sleeping in
her small house in Paris, and the wind it blow one of her pretty
scarves too near the candle. The room catch fire, and my poor grandmere
was very badly burned. Papa made some small provision for her, but
there are many bills for very much. After my father died, Claude,
naturellement
,
was head of the house. He find out quite soon that he can make me do
what he want, by threatening to withhold the funds for Grandmere. She
was…" His right hand clenched suddenly. "She was blind, and in much
pain. And I was all she have, do you see?"

Mitchell muttered something under his breath.

"My God!" whispered Charity. "How savage he was!"

Guy said quietly, "And so it go on, and I am made to stay
because I have the head for figures and detail and am useful to Claude.
Only when I learn he have deceive your sister, little one, and means to
force her to wed him so as to have the highly born English wife, I tell
him—no more! Grandmere and I, we will survive, somehow! But then…" He
paused, a little pulse beginning to twitch beside his mouth.

"Never mind, Guy,'' said Mitchell. "I had no right to upset
you. It is of no importance and—"

Guy lifted his hand. "I am all right. You will hear it all,
and you may not then, I hope, despise me so badly. Claude told me, you
see, that contrary to my grandmere's beliefs, my father had never
married Mama. He knew how proud Grandmere was, how deeply religious she
was, and that such news would break her heart and her spirit." He put a
trembling hand across his eyes and because he was still far from well,
his voice broke. "I—could not, you see. I just—could not…"

Appalled, Mitchell stared at him.

Charity knelt beside Guy's chair and clasped his hand. "Is—is
your dear grandmama still living?" she asked.

"No. She went to be with Mama some months ago. Claude did not
tell me of it."

Pressing his thin hand to her cheek, Charity murmured, "My
dear, oh, my dear! I am so sorry. But how could you think we despised
you? Always, Rachel and I thought you kind and honourable. Always, we
knew that whatever the hold Claude had over you, it must be something
very strong indeed, to keep you bound to him."

"
Merci. Merci, ma chérie. "
Guy kissed
her hand and with a rather shaken laugh added, "You will not call me
out, Mitchell, for speaking so to your lovely wife? I know you are the
very dangerous duellist."

Mitchell stood and helped Charity to her feet. "My duelling
days are done, friend. This little rascal"—he tugged one of Charity's
bright curls—"would have my ears did I dare think of such a thing!''

They left soon afterwards, Mitchell tossing Charity into her
saddle, then swinging astride his big bay, and both of them turning at
the top of the drivepath to wave at the man who sat there in his chair,
waving gaily, bravely, back at them.

As they watched, a small tricolour shape tore from the house,
raced three times around the chair, then flung itself onto the man's
lap and ran to butt a small head against his chin.

The sunset was glorious, painting the river scarlet as it
meandered past the beautiful old half-timbered structure that was Moire
Grange and brightening the blush on Charity's cheeks. She lay in her
husband's arms on top of the hill, shivering deliciously because of the
kisses that, having progressed down her throat, were now moving lower,
and—"Mitchell!" she gasped, slapping his hand.

"What's this?" he demanded, persisting.

"Oh! How naughty you are! And our wedding day yet a month
away!"

"I wonder you did not remind me of that fact last night," he
murmured, drawing the golden chain from her bosom.

Her blush deepened and her lashes drooped before his adoring
gaze. "Wicked, wicked rake! How ungallant in you to remind me of my…
disgraceful abandonment."

"Your glorious abandonment," he corrected, bending to kiss her
soft lips and then add wickedly, "In the event, beloved, that you very
logically present me with
un petit paquet
, we may
have to offer considerable explanations some time next March…" And
laughing into her shy eyes, he said, "Good God! Why do you keep this
miserable thing?"

Her fingers at once clamped over the old wedding ring he had
bought for her in Carlisle. "Do not
dare
to steal
it from me, sir!"

"Devil I won't! I shall buy you a far more suitable ring when—"

"No! Please, darling, no ring in the world could be more
suitable than this one…" Kissing the little ring and tucking it back
under her bodice, she added saucily, "Even though you did trick me into
wearing it."

Mitchell forgot the ring, leaning to her worshipfully, and
Charity reached to pull down his dark head, whispering, just as his
lips claimed hers, "Oh, Mitchell… my love… my—"

"Enough of that, my girl!" exclaimed Mitchell, sitting up
abruptly after a heavenly interval and running what he mistakenly
believed to be a tidying hand through his rumpled locks. "I'll not be
responsible, else! To the more mundane aspects—what do you think of
Moire? Now that Harry has deeded it over to me, we should live here,
eh?"

"But of course," she said, rearranging her dress with rather
belated propriety. "You love it, and I think it a delightful old house."

He sighed. "Trouble is, the old place is so large. Costs a
veritable fortune to keep up, you know. And we"—he hesitated—"well,
we're not exactly poor, but—"

"Poor! But you are Baron Redmond of Moire, and—"

"And that's the sum total of it." He nodded glumly. "Prinny
gave me the title, but there are no funds or additional lands or
whatever!
En effet
, I am baron of my own estate.
Sorry, love."

She stared at him, then gave a ripple of laughter. "Oh, but
how very ridiculous! Well, we can live at the Hall, then. Justin has
often told me it is mine when I marry, and you do not object to the
house, do you, love?"

"Object to it! I think it a splendid old place. But there's
not a great deal to choose between them for size."

Charity smiled and, refraining from pointing out that she was
a considerable heiress, said, "But then you have married a lady who
knows how to hold household, my lord."

Dismayed, he said, "I must get used to that form of address, I
collect. Perhaps we can keep the title secret so they'll not know."

"So who will not know?"

"Why, my tutor and the fellows up at Oxford. They're sure to
give me the very devil if—" He saw that she was staring at him in a
shocked way. It had been a sly means of breaking it to her, and he said
repentantly, "My beloved, shall you mind very much? I really would like
to go back and try for a fellowship."

"Well! If ever I heard the like! So I'm to be married to some
stuffy professor of ancient history and live surrounded by musty old
tomes and bothersome students, am I?"

He said, eyeing her askance, "Not if you really object, of
course. Only I thought—Well, you love history too, and— and—''

She chuckled and snuggled closer against him. "Foolish
creature."

Relieved, he hugged her. "Poor girl, such a life you will
lead. When I begin to study again, you will find me to be a most
irritating fellow, apt to forget everything but my research, and always
with my head stuck in a book."

She drew back and looked up at him. The acid twist to the fine
mouth was gone. The hauteur in the grey eyes was replaced by a warm
tenderness that made her heart beat faster. She thought, "How blessed I
am," and said, "My consolation will be to dream of seeing you take your
seat in the House."

Mitchell gave a start. "By Jove! You're right." He gazed at
the distant Home Wood and murmured thoughtfully, "I'll have a say in
how the old homeland is run… I wonder…"

Charity reached up and began to twist a strand of his hair
into an elf lock. When he remained silent, she probed curiously,
"Wonder what, dear?"

"Well…" He glanced at her rather diffidently. "You know how I
feel about the Black Country. Do you suppose— I mean, if I stood up and
spoke like a sensible man—do you think they might… listen to me?"

"Oh, Mitch! I think it a superb notion! Why not? You might be
able to stop the factory owners from so wounding the land. And the
people. Or at least—
try
!"

"I shall!" he said, his eyes glinting. "By God! This is a
heaven-sent opportunity! If I could start them to thinking about the
decent people now so abused and exploited; about the helpless children…"

She saw the spark of anger return to his eyes, and she knew
that he would fight. "They will hate him for it,'' she thought. And
that very thought deepened her love and her pride.

Glancing down at her, the visionary light faded from
Mitchell's eyes. "My main task in life must be to make you happy, my
most valiant love," he said tenderly.

She smiled and said on a sigh,"There is just one difficulty,
my dearest dear…"

"No—what is it?" he asked, holding her ever nearer. ''I cannot
but wonder,'' said Charity demurely, "whether an ignorant warthog with
tall feet could possibly find happiness with… a fieldmouse…"

Lord Mitchell Redmond, ex-rake and duellist, promptly bent his
full and not inconsiderable expertise to convincing his bride that this
most unlikely union could be a very happy one indeed.