Desiring Lady Caro (25 page)

Horatia took out her notebook. “The Maison des Têtes and the Romanesque Cathedral of Saint-Apollinaire. That shouldn’t take long. Two nights, I think. When we arrive in Lyon, we shall plan to stay several days. It’s a large city with many interesting things to see, and shops.”

He hopped down from the carriage, now halted in the yard of their hotel. “I’d also like to have a few repairs done on a couple of the coaches.”

Horatia waited for him to lift her down. “Nothing serious, I trust.”

“No. At least, La Valle doesn’t think so.” He escorted her into the hotel lobby, where her major domo waited to show them their rooms. Most of the time, their group occupied the entire building.

Horatia came to him every night and didn’t leave until she was ready to dress in the morning. La Valle began to defer to John, and the rest of her servants treated him as their new master. The more he found himself acting the part of her husband, the more he wanted the role in truth. With all the English supposedly traveling on the Continent, one would think he’d have run across a clergyman.

A little way from the hotel stood a park, bordered on one side by the Rhône river. He and Horatia walked along the outer path to the water. On the way back, they stopped at a café, where they enjoyed coffee with
les Suisses
. The waiter explained that the sweet, orange-flower flavored pastries were made in the shape of the Swiss Guard stationed in the city to protect the remains of the exiled Pope Pius VI.

“Well, I think them very tasty,” Horatia said as she finished off hers.

“I agree. We’ll tell everyone else about them.”

Despite the sun, she shivered. “It is becoming colder. I must have Risher find my cloak. When we reach Lyon, I’ll have everyone shop for warmer clothing.”

Something was wrong. Though they’d become physically intimate, her mind seemed more distant. As though she was purposely remaining apart from him. What was she up to now?

 

H
oratia claimed John’s mouth as he thrust into her one last time before he groaned. Her skirts were bunched around her waist as she straddled his lap, sated. All too soon, the coach began to slow.

He reached over, pushing the leather curtain aside. “We’re entering Dijon. It won’t take long to reach the hotel.”

She swung her legs around to sit on the seat again, then buttoned her gown and donned her pelisse. She put the last pin back in her hair and covered the mess with her bonnet.

“Try to stand and I’ll straighten your gown,” John said. “You can’t leave the carriage looking like you’ve been through a storm.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” Horatia tried to make her tone severe, but grinned. He was just as disheveled as she. Once he’d tugged her gown in place, she leaned forward. “Your cravat is a mess.”

“If anyone says anything, I’ll tell them it’s a new fashion.”

A giggle escaped her. “Ah yes.
L’ébouriffé
. If we see any of our countrymen, they’ll be so impressed they’ll try to emulate you.”

The look he speared her with was so hot, she almost demanded he kiss her, but the coach slowed and went through an old arched entrance way. “I think we have arrived.”

She hurriedly smoothed John’s neckcloth before the door opened.

A middle-aged man with a large mustache bowed. “Milady, milord,
bienvenus à l’Hostellerie le Sauvage.
We have all in readiness.”

Horatia allowed him to assist her from the coach. “Thank you, monsieur.” She glanced around and was immediately entranced by the ancient building. The bottom level was of worn gray stone and the upper stories of wattle and daub. Long mullioned windows graced the front façade. “How beautiful!”

La Valle stood at the bottom of the steps into the building. “My lady. A light nuncheon and a bath have been ordered.”

As it appeared her major domo wasn’t quite finished, she said, “Go on.”

“I have discussed our journey with the landlord and he advised us to use the road from here to Paris rather than from Nancy to Paris. It is much shorter and in better repair.”

John came to stand next to her. “What do you think, La Valle?”

His attention shifted to John. “I have studied the maps and agree. If we continue to Nancy, we will either have to return here or take a much longer route to the north.”

Horatia nodded. “I’ll send a note to Caro and Huntley to meet us here.”

Later that day, she lay in John’s arms, drawing patterns on his chest with her finger. She did so like a man with chest hair. They’d been betrothed for over two weeks now, and he’d still not broached the subject of his earldom. What was he waiting for, or was he afraid to tell her the estate was practically bankrupt?

No matter, he needed to leave before her nephew and goddaughter arrived; otherwise Horatia’s life could become even more complicated. Huntley, she suspected, would take John’s side and Caro might, as well.

Well, if John was not going to mention it . . . “My love, when are you going to tell me you are an earl?”

The muscles in his chest tightened and he sucked in a sharp breath. “How did you know?”

His tone was somewhere between tense and resigned.

“I do receive mail, and your brother’s death occurred at a particularly slow time for gossip. I had it from two of my correspondents.” She turned herself so she could watch his expression. “When?”

He grimaced. “After we married.”

Horatia planted both palms on his chest and pushed up. “
After
we were wed? Are you mad? Have you not yet realized you cannot marry me?”

John’s sharp gaze pierced her. “
That
is precisely the reason I didn’t plan to tell you until afterwards. I knew you’d get some sort of damned stupid idea like that into your pretty head.”

Oh, that was it. He could leave to-day. “
Stupid?
If I am so dim-witted,
my lord
, I am amazed you wish to marry me.”

“I didn’t say you were dim, I said your idea was.”

She struggled to rise, but her legs were caught in the sheets and he’d clamped his legs around them. “Unhand me.”

He raised his hands as if in surrender, and even though he still glared at her, a twinkle appeared in his eyes.

“You know what I mean.” She wiggled her legs, trying to get out from between his. “Let me go. I am leaving.”

The next thing she knew, she was on her back. His strong grip held her hands stretched over her head. She squirmed and he tightened his grip, trapping her.

A heavy frown settled over his countenance and he growled, “No, you are not. You, my lady, aren’t going anywhere until we settle this matter.”

She moved, and John’s lower body rested lightly on hers. Horatia suspected that if she tried to escape he could easily stop her. She raised her chin and used the coldest tone she could muster under the circumstances. “It
is
settled. You need a wife who can bear you children, and I will not be your mistress.”

“
Mistress?
Dratted, stubborn, obdurate woman.” He blew out a puff of air. “You’re right. You will not be my mistress. You will be my
wife
.” His eyes narrowed to green slits. “What do think you’ve been playing at these last weeks, gracing my bed?”

That was a question she didn’t want to answer. Her cheeks burned, but how she felt did not matter. She had to stop him from making a grave mistake. One he’d grow to regret.

“You are impossible.” She tried to sit up and his body, all of it hard muscle, lowered onto her. He must be made to listen to reason. “You need at least an opportunity to have an heir. I want you to have that chance.”

John glared at her and said in a hard voice, “Tell me, Horatia. If you didn’t plan to marry me, why did you accept me, and why are you here now?”

That must be the tone he used with his crew. Well, the plaguy man did not rule her. Doing her best to be indignant, which was really very hard to do lying naked beneath him, his nether parts touching her, she raised her chin. “I did it for your own good. So that you could see how wrong I am for the position.”

John almost laughed out loud and struggled to keep his lips firm. He could already feel the heat from between her thighs. All he’d have to do is bend his head, take one of her luscious pink-tipped mounds in his mouth, and the conversation would end. But that wouldn’t solve the problem. “This is one hell of a way to show me. Allowing me to take you anytime I wished.”

She huffed. “You did not. I took you just as often.”

Damn her for looking so adorable, and for being so mulish. He had to make her see what she was doing. He changed his tone from firm to an insulting drawl. “But why, Horatia? To act as my whore?”

“How dare you?” This time she struggled against him in earnest. Tears filled her eyes.

Finally, a reaction he could deal with. Kissing her eyelids, tasting the salty tears seeping from beneath them, he softened his voice. “Why?”

She turned her head and sobbed. “Because I love you, and I wanted just a little of you before you found a suitable bride.”

His heart ached for her. She needed to see her own worth.

He moved off her, drawing Horatia to him. “My poor love. Do you think I could ever marry someone else after knowing you?” He stroked her long curls falling around them. “I need you. Where would I find another woman who has the strength and intelligence to help me undo the damage my father and brother did to the estates and dependents?”

She shook her head and stared at him. “But, John, you
must
have an heir. I do not—”

He captured her lips, setting siege to her mouth. Ripping her breath and arguments from her. Horatia clung to him, voraciously returning his kisses and demanding more.

When he finally lifted his head, her lips followed. “My love, the truth is, I don’t know, and neither do you, if you can have children or not. All I know is George never did.”

Horatia’s eyes opened and seemed to gaze at nothing. “But he said he . . .”

“He did support some children, but they were not his.”

Frowning, she pushed back her hair and took a breath. “You mean all this time I might have been able to become pregnant and—and he allowed me to think I could not?” She sat up and rubbed her face. “Why? Why would he do that?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question since you first told me you were unable to conceive. Perhaps he needed to believe it wasn’t him. Or that you’d think you had been cheated out of children by marrying him.” John caressed her back. “The truth is, I just don’t know.”

She was still for several moments before her eyes grew wide. “This means I could be—I could be
breeding
?”

He laughed and drew her down against him. “It’s only been a couple of weeks. Though I suppose there’s a possibility.”

“No, you don’t understand. The old healers say there is a certain time a woman can conceive, and this past week was during that time.”

His breath left him like he’d been punched. “You mean you really might be with child?”

Horatia shrugged. “If they’re correct.”

A baby? They could be having a child. “We need to find a vicar or a reverend or some sort of English clergyman now. The sooner we’re married the better.”

Laughing, she snuggled down on top of him. “It does take some time for the whole process to be complete.
If
I’m increasing, that is.”

“I am well aware of that, but I’m not giving you any chance of escape.”

She walked her fingers up his chest. “I think we should wait to marry until I know I am able to give you an heir.”

Horatia was out of her mind if she thought he’d let her go. “No.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned. “It’s a perfectly reasonable suggestion.”

Enough was enough. What would it take to get through to her? He flipped her on her back and drew her under him. “I mean, no. My love, if I don’t marry you, I will not marry anyone. I was perfectly truthful when I told you my other brothers have done their duty. In fact, they’re probably hoping I will not sire children.”

Her chin firmed and it was clear she wasn’t done with her arguments. “But would you not like one of your own?”

He searched for something to say and touched her stomach. “My love, the only one I want will come from here.”

Her eyes misted. “I—”

He touched a finger to her lips, stopping her. “Only you.”

Finally all the tension seemed to leave her body. She nodded and smiled. “In that case, I will marry you, my lord.”

Thank God
. This time she was telling the truth. “I’ll start sending out inquiries concerning a cleric, but first, since you want me to have an heir so badly, we should probably practice some more.”

Horatia’s arms came around his neck. “You’ll need to tell everyone you are an earl.”

“It will make Smyth very happy. I’ll have him attend to it.”

He lowered his head to kiss her.

“I love you, John, but I’ve never been in love before, and I don’t know exactly how to go on.”

He kissed her lightly. “Nor have I. We’ll figure it out together. I’m sure it can’t be that complicated.”

He was determined to find someone to marry them as soon as possible. Who knew how long she’d be in this conveniently docile frame of mind? If he left it too long, she was sure to find some other reason she wasn’t worthy to be his wife. It was a good thing George was dead. Right now, John would kill him for allowing her to think she should never wed again.
The bloody bugger
.

Later that afternoon, John inquired of the innkeeper if there were any English clergy in the area. He also wrote the embassy in Paris. After having sent the dispatch off by special messenger, he returned to his chamber. Unfortunately, Horatia was gone, and his valet was laying out his evening kit. “Smyth, you may now tell the rest of our group I’m an earl.”

It was below Smyth’s dignity to smile, but John thought he detected a movement in his valet’s lips as he bowed.

“Yes, my lord. I take it her ladyship is fully apprised of your situation.”

John couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “She is indeed, and I’m in desperate need of a vicar, or rector, or something like that.” He stripped down to his pantaloons before washing his face and neck. “I want to have this wedding over and done with before her nephew shows up. I know nothing about him, but if he’s anything like his grand sire . . . And with my brother and father’s reputations, suffice it to say, I don’t want any trouble.”

His valet nodded. “Yes, my lord. There are other English travelers in the town. Mr. La Valle and I will do our best to endeavor to discover their haunts.”

John drew his shirt over his head. “Thank you.”

If there was a person able to marry them between here and Paris, Smyth would find him and drag him back.

The next day after luncheon, while his betrothed was resting, John was summoned downstairs. A short, slender, neatly dressed gentleman waited for him in a parlor. John held out his hand. “Good day to you, sir. How may I help you?”

The gentleman bowed and gave a slight smile. “I believe it is I who can assist you.”

John raised a brow. Could this be a clergyman? “Indeed, how is that?”

“I have been informed, my lord,” the man said, “by a few different sources, that you wish to marry.”

John gave thanks to the Deity and smiled. “That’s correct, and as soon as possible.”

The other man nodded. “In that case, as soon as I have determined your affianced bride is of the same mind, we can make the arrangements.”

John stepped to the door and caught one of the maids. “Please bring refreshments and have her ladyship attend me.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.