The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
doubt, she moved inside. She was not about to give in to the narrow confines of Victorian rules, and besides, in the eyes of God they were married.
‘I am glad that you came.’
His house was well appointed, every piece of furniture in sight beautifully wrought. Because she was so nervous she picked up a small bowl on a side stand, admiring the colourful flowers that marched around the rim. It was the one thing that did not look eminently English.
‘I remember these designs from the marketplace at Perpignan. I always liked them.’
His eyes today were the shade of well-worn slate and warmer than usual. She wished he had been plainer, less intimidating and wished, too, that she might have worn some other dress than the one she had on, the starched blue silk too grand and stiff for this occasion.
‘I have a fire going in the middle salon and some white wine.’
Nodding, she followed him. The fire sounded inviting though she was determined to refuse any drink at all. Keep your wits about you, she said to herself, and understand that he will want explanation of what happened in Languedoc.
The new room was more imposing than the last. A rich floral carpet was laid on the floor, the deep colour in it matching the heavy curtains at the windows. All around every wall mirrors and pictures abounded and, as in his library, there were shelves of books stacked almost to the ceiling. A generous fireplace blazed at one end and it was here that he led her. Two leather seats had been positioned opposite each other, a small table between them with fluted glasses upon it.
The apprehension of being here was growing by the second. A portrait of a woman in full riding regalia graced the nearest wall, and when he saw her looking he smiled.
‘My mother loved horses.’
‘She was very beautiful.’
‘Indeed.’ The talk then tailed down into silence, a thousand other things to say beneath the polite banter and no way to voice them.
I love you. I never stopped loving you.
For one horrible moment Cassie thought she had blurted the words out, bare and naked in their truth, and shock crawled up her spine, caught in the gap of honesty.
‘Please, do sit down.’ He waited until she complied before doing so himself, pouring two drinks and placing one before her. ‘How is Miss Milgrew settling in?’
A different topic completely and one she was pleased to speak of. ‘Sarah has been a godsend and has begun teaching the other girls the fine art of sewing.’
‘Is there any sign of the sibling?’
‘No. It seems she has quite disappeared. You asked if she sewed for her sister the other night and I thought the question odd. Why was that?’
‘The bodies of two young women were pulled from the Thames a month back and no one claimed them. Both were dressed in finely sewn gowns.’
‘You think it could be her lost sister, then? I see.’
‘Do you, Sandrine? Do you see how searching out the damaged women of London may have more consequences than you can imagine? One day you could end up in the river yourself.’
‘I take every precaution...’
‘And you think that is enough against an opponent who is bigger and stronger than you.’ He no longer sounded as mellow. In fact, now when she caught his glance she looked away quickly, so much of Nathanael Colbert before her. The soldier. The lover. The man who had watched her betray him, blood running down his chin.
‘Where is the Colbert part of your name from?’
‘It is a lesser title of mine. The St Auburn earldom contains many and as the heir I have an entitlement to them.’
‘A real name? Not made up?’
‘Made up like Sandrine Mercier was, you mean?’
‘My cousin Celeste often called me Sandrine and Mercier was her surname.’
‘I know. I went back and spoke to what was left of the family. An uncle, Gilles Mercier, informed me of the demise of Celeste and her father, though he said nothing of you.’
‘Celeste had that knack of making everyone around her look invisible.’
‘Or you barely went out?’
This was running too close to the bone. Depression had kept her in bed for a long time, but she did not wish to recall that.
Even sitting, the breadth and height of Nathaniel Lindsay was substantial. She remembered how she had loved his largeness after the small men of Languedoc. She remembered his scent, too, an evocative mixture of plain soap and maleness.
‘Your sister visited me last week. Did you know that?’
‘Maureen came here?’ She could not keep her astonishment at bay.
‘She wanted to be assured that I was not threatening you in any way. She stood her ground and cautioned me that she would not tolerate anything that may hurt you. When I told her that I had pretended to bed you in order to help you from being discovered and compromised, she was happy.’
More unspoken words shimmered in the chasms.
Were pretence and lies all that once held us together?
Here it was harder to maintain the falsehood, even with the arguments Cassie could muster for carrying on with such a charade. She felt a choking want in the back of her throat and swallowed it down. The wine helped, a fine dry white that gave her hands something to fidget with and her mind something other than him to dwell upon. But secrets could be as damaging as any wound and her fingers tightened around the crystal glass.
All of a sudden she wished he might just reach out and take away choice. She wanted the feelings she had discovered in Saint Estelle and in Bagnères-de-Bigorre here in London, in the quiet warmth of his beautiful house, far away from others and from the responsibility of her everyday life.
Nathaniel made her believe in fantasy. That was it. He had before in southern France and he did again now, the muted sounds of the city far away and the clock showing eight-thirty in the evening. Still early. The blue in her gown shimmered as she shuffled back and sat up farther.
‘My sister feels it is her duty to protect all those about her.’
‘Then such obligation must run in your family.’
At that she laughed. ‘Perhaps it does in Maureen, but Papa is too busy with trying to understand the complexities of science and my other sister Anne is too preoccupied with her brood of children.’
‘There is also a brother?’
‘Rodney. He is the youngest.’
He had told her once that he was without siblings.
Alone. The word came with a forcefulness that made her blink. He was still like that; the solitary detachment of one who was careful not to anchor himself to another for fear of being disappointed. Oh, how well she knew that feeling.
The clock in the corner boomed out a further passage of time, and Nathanael finished his first drink and poured himself another, eyeing hers as he did so.
‘You do not like the wine?’ he commented.
* * *
She looked nervous and her hand shook as she made herself take a drink. Not just one sip, either, but three. Fortification. He wondered perhaps whether it had been a bad idea to invite her here because the ease that had always existed between them seemed dissipated tonight into a sheer and utter nervousness, her eyes skirting away from his and her body ramrod straight.
‘Albi de Clare is of the opinion that you and Maureen are two of the most beautiful women in London.’
She smiled. ‘Is his eyesight hampered, my lord?’
‘Many I have