Natalya (36 page)

"I've been wanting to see how he's doing," Caro agreed, "and this gives us a perfect excuse to stop by. Take care of yourself, Antonia, and we'll see you at the garden party."

When Caro and her daughter were in the carriage and Antonia had shut the front door, Natalya said, "I am worried about Grandmama. She's behaving very oddly."

"What nonsense," Caro replied, laughing. "She has never looked better."

"But this is the second time since my return that she has refused to allow a proper visit. Do you think she wants to be alone because she is still feeling melancholy about Grandpapa's death? If so, I can understand—"

"No, I don't think she is sitting in a darkened room and weeping for Jean-Philippe, nor would he want her to. My hope is that your grandmother is beginning to live again."

Natalya brushed a loose curl back from her temple. "Krissie suspects that Grandmama may have a
beau.
Can you imagine?"

"Yes, frankly, I can," her mother said gently.

"Maman! Why that's almost"—she groped for the right word—"blasphemy!"

"How absurd. Your grandmother is a woman, not a saint."

"But, even if it
were
true, why would she hide it from us?" Natalya felt numb with disbelief.

"Perhaps because she is afraid some of us might not be happy for her," Caro replied, her tone faintly accusatory. "In any event, she is free to do as she chooses, and to tell us only as much as she cares to, in her own time. Meanwhile, it is getting late and we must hurry to Spruce Street." She gave instructions to the coachman and they were on their way.

Sinking back against the upholstered seat, Natalya tried to subdue the flood of emotions that overwhelmed her. Normally she would have been brooding about her grandmother, but the prospect of seeing Grey within minutes overrode all else. As the coach clattered over the cobbles, past sturdy brick houses that seemed to glow in the gathering twilight, Natalya tried to decide how she would behave and what she would say to Grey St. James.

"Here we are," Caro said almost immediately.

Rodney, the coachman, helped them down, and as they approached the front door Natalya whispered, "I ought to warn you—Grey's butler is rather... unique."

"Is he?" her mother replied, brown eyes twinkling. "That sounds promising."

They had to knock twice before Fedbusk threw open the door. His cravat was tied in a style that had no name, and his black breeches sagged. "Can I help you?"

"It is I, Fedbusk—Natalya Beauvisage," she said, smiling in spite of the nervous drumming of her heart. "This is my mother, Mrs. Beauvisage. Is Mr. St. James in?"

Fedbusk nodded at Caro, then cleared his throat loudly, as if considering his answer with care. "Aye, the master's in... but I think he might be busy."

"Perhaps you could tell him that we are here, and have brought him a basket of strawberries from Belle Maison," Caro suggested, bestowing one of her most charming smiles upon the unwitting Fedbusk. "We merely wanted to pay our respects, and would not keep Mr. St. James above a few minutes."

The grizzled butler turned pink under his sunburn and very nearly smiled himself. "Well, mum... I suppose I could tell him that."

"We'll wait in the parlor," Natalya said firmly, setting the basket of strawberries on a carved Pembroke table.

As they crossed the entrance hall and watched Fedbusk mount the flying staircase, Caro murmured, "I do adore this house. Sometimes I would almost prefer living here to Belle Maison if only for the pleasure of going up and down the stairs all day long."

They entered the parlor and seated themselves on the chair-back settee that Caro had ordered from Ephraim Haines in 1807. Over the next few minutes Natalya managed to chat with her mother about the furniture, but her mind was running frantically upstairs after Fedbusk. Was Grey there? Would he come down to greet them? It seemed an eternity since she had said good-bye and left this house in the company of her father. Her feelings about Grey had undergone changes since that night, and it seemed reasonable to assume that his may have, too. Was that why he hadn't come to Belle Maison? Was he avoiding her? Did he regret what had passed between them? Or was he occupied with the mysterious woman Fedbusk had sighted on the street?

Questions and fears danced together in Natalya's imagination, while a flush stained her cheeks. She wished there were a mirror. Did she look pretty? When she and her mother had departed from Belle Maison, there had been no thought of seeing Grey, and in consequence she had worn a simple gown of ecru muslin with gold ribbons. Perhaps it did not suit her. Was her hair mussed? What if—

"What a pleasant surprise." Grey spoke from the doorway, and Natalya's heart leaped in response. He looked stunningly handsome as he crossed the parlor, the long muscles of his thighs flexing under his buff-colored trousers. His linen shirt was snow white, his cravat impeccably tied in the mathematical, and he wore a waistcoat of dark blue velvet that set off his silver-gray eyes and black hair.

"Mrs. Beauvisage," he said, bending over Caro's hand, "I am sorry that you had to seek me out. It is I who should have paid a call upon you before today."

"You must call me Caro, for we do not bother with such formalities in our family." Dimples winked at him when she smiled. "Talya and I have simply brought you a basket of strawberries and our regards. And I wanted to see for myself that you were comfortable here. If you need
anything,
you have only to ask."

"Strawberries! I love them better than anything. You and your family make me feel completely at home in Philadelphia, Caro, and I appreciate your kindness more than you know." He drew up a chair, sat down, and looked at Natalya. "Can I offer you ladies some refreshment? Lemonade, perhaps? Or—strawberries?"

Natalya was dismayed by her own shyness. She felt exactly as she had at fourteen, when she had been certain she was in love with Nathan Raveneau during a family visit to Pettipauge, Connecticut. She longed to search Grey's eyes for some sign of his feelings but could not summon the courage to meet his gaze. It seemed impossible that they had once been so close, quarreling across France, kissing in the back of a carriage in London, laughing over a picnic lunch on the
Rover'
s quarterdeck, and lying together naked, touching, kissing, making love....

"Talya?" Caro nudged her gently. "I said that it's time for us to go. Hyla will have dinner prepared, and your father will begin to worry if we don't start for Germantown now."

"Oh—yes!" Blushing, she glanced up and found that Grey was looking at her, his eyes unreadable. "It's nice to see you again... Grey."

He gave her his hand, careful to keep his touch light as she rose from the settee. "I'm sorry that you two have to rush off, but I do understand."

As they walked into the entrance hall, Caro inquired, "Will we see you at the Hampshires' party on Saturday?"

"Nothing could keep me away," Grey assured her. His gaze wandered to Natalya, who was walking in front of him, and he had to stop himself from reaching out to brush a rebellious curl from her brow. She gave him only a fleeting glance as good-byes were exchanged, and then he was alone again.

Grey returned to the parlor, staring pensively through the parted curtains as a young coachman helped Natalya and her mother into the handsome carriage. Staying in this house was driving him mad, but he knew that he had no choice, just as he had no choice regarding Natalya Beauvisage. He had to keep her at arm's length, both physically and mentally, until the matter with Francesca was resolved. Again he reminded himself that he was still a married man, and nothing must interfere with his revenge against his wife....

Chapter 23

May
15, 1814

Natalya stared at herself in the Queen Anne looking glass that hung on her bedroom wall. Her chemise-style gown, the loveliest of Madame Henricot's creations, was fashioned of thin pale pink jaconet muslin over a champagne-tinted taffeta slip. The bodice was daringly décolleté, and the sleeves puffed out at the shoulders, then fit close to her arms, covering the backs of her hands with two buttons undone. Straw-colored kid slippers peeked out from under the gown's lace-edged hem, and there were matching gloves on the bed next to a pink-and-champagne-striped parasol.

"Maman, are you certain I look all right?" Natalya inquired of Caro, who stood in the dressing room door.

"You are exquisite, love," she confirmed. "Your great-grandmere's choker is an ideal finishing touch. She would be so happy if she could see you today."

Natalya touched the pearl choker that encircled her graceful neck. Its rosy cameo centerpiece coordinated perfectly with her gown. "I adore it. Thank you for letting me wear it."

Caroline walked over and slipped an arm around her daughter's waist. She wore a simple, elegant gown of pale yellow muslin with primrose accents, and in the old, slightly hazy looking glass they appeared more like sisters than mother and daughter. "The choker is a gift, Talya, from Papa and me and your great-grandmere. She would want you to have it."

"Oh, Maman," she whispered, her eyes misting. "You are too good to me."

"You're my daughter and I love you." Caro fussed a little with the satin ribbons that wound through Natalya's artfully loose, upswept curls. "I want you to be happy... today of all days."

Natalya's mind and heart were full of Grey and the knowledge that she would see him today at the garden party. Lying awake during the night, she had realized that she was badly in need of advice, and now she took a deep breath and prepared to confide in her mother.

"Caro?" It was Alec, clad only in dark blue kerseymere trousers and a pleated white shirt. He stood on the threshold to the dressing rooms, a neckloth in each hand. "Aren't you coming back? I can't remember which cravat I'd decided to wear."

His wife laughed girlishly and shook her head. "Is this the same man who would not allow a woman to touch his clothes when I met him?"

Grinning at Natalya, Alec countered, "It's a plot, you know. A clandestine plot among wives! Somehow, we gullible husbands are hoodwinked into believing that we can no longer match colors or trust ourselves to know if a coat hangs properly once we've taken marriage vows. Before we realize what has happened, we've dismissed our valets because we don't want them poking about the bedchamber at odd hours, and we find ourselves depending shamelessly on our wives. It's a source of secret embarrassment to grown men, I can assure you!"

Still laughing, Caroline took Alec's arm to lead him back into the dressing room. He gave his daughter a wink in parting. "You're a vision, Talya," he called before disappearing. "It's clear that I'll have to spend the afternoon protecting you from frothing would-be suitors!"

"Thank you, Papa," Natalya replied, with a giggle. Then, gathering her gloves and parasol, she went across the hall to see if her sister had finished dressing. She wanted to put in a good word for Hollis Gladstone before they left for Hampshire House.

Meanwhile, Caro helped Alec choose a cravat and watched him tie it, her eyes pensive. He brushed back his white hair, slipped on a waistcoat of gold-and-blue figured silk, then sat before his shaving stand and drew her down on his lap. "Where have you gone,
cherie
?" he murmured. "Your thoughts are miles away."

"Years, actually," Caro amended, with a catch in her voice. "I was thinking back to the weeks after I first came here, not even knowing who I really was. I see myself in our darling Talya and remember when I slept in her field bed and dreamed of you across the walls. Oh, Alec, how quickly the years have sped away from us!" She gazed into his turquoise eyes and touched the face that was so dear to her. "It seems such a short while since I used to visit darling Grandmere in her cottage. How she loved to surprise us by appearing through the secret passageways." A tear slipped down Caro's cheek, and Alec kissed it away, holding her securely in his arms. "I remember our first Christmas, when you declared your love for me at last. What good times we had, dancing in the garden under the moonlight, ice-skating on the Delaware River, riding our horses over the meadows in the spring..."

"Darling Caro, we still do those things!"

"Yes, but there is something special about experiencing such things when you are young... and falling in love. The years pass so quickly. How can it be that we have been together more than three decades, that our son is now a father, and our daughters past twenty?" Her voice throbbed with emotion. "I want to tell Talya that she cannot afford to put her own needs and dreams aside. Each day is a precious gift that must be embraced, even if it holds challenges that are difficult to face!"

"How I love you," her husband murmured, kissing her. "As for Talya, take heart. Perhaps today will be the day our child summons the courage to embrace her life. You don't need to tell her; she's watched you do that very thing since the moment of her birth."

"You always say just the right thing...."

"Do I?" He brightened. "That's encouraging. I fear I'm too old to change even if you insisted on it."