Blood Marriage (14 page)

He was rewarded with a wry half-smile. It pleased him to see her anger toward him ease. He refused to dwell on the fact that her present goodwill would probably not survive the coming night.

The orchestra began to play a lively country ditty and the crowd moved to seat themselves at the tables. The room was alive with color and motion. Footmen carrying trays heavy with roasted meats, golden breads, and expensive fruits dashed among the tables dodging the jugglers and magicians intent on entertaining the ladies and gentlemen. Maids dressed in somber black, but with faces bright with excitement, trotted behind the footmen, dispensing wine from a bottle in one hand and water from a jug in the other.

"Tell your fortune, my lady?" A gypsy woman appeared beside Elizabeth, a small stool grasped in her wrinkled hands. She placed it on the floor, seated herself, and took Elizabeth's hand, turning it palm up. With one finger she traced the lines there. "I see you will be married many years and bear many healthy dark-haired children," she began. 

Nicholas saw Elizabeth's brow crease and shook his head at the gypsy. The woman shrugged. "The present then?" she asked. Nicholas nodded. 

"I see a dark, handsome man and a night of great passion," the woman said. 

Elizabeth snatched back her hand, her cheeks stained red. The gypsy and Nicholas exchanged knowing looks. Nicholas pressed a coin into the old woman's hand. She said her thanks and moved on to the next table where Harriet, the duke and the lady in the blue dress sat with members of the local gentry.

Footmen appeared with their meal. Amanda and Leo took seats on either side of the newlyweds. Amanda chatted to Elizabeth about the wedding. Leo seemed intent on entertaining Nicholas as well. But Nicholas's mind was not on what his friend was saying. It was on his wife and how the pink roses on her dress matched exactly the shade of the blush that continued to glow in her cheeks.

"You will marry a man of great wealth and power," the gypsy woman was saying over Harriet's hand at the next table. Harriet nodded, a smug smile on her lips. The lady in the blue dress pouted.

"Will he be handsome? What color will his hair be?" Harriet demanded, peering at the blond duke out of the corners of her eyes.

"Yes," the gypsy's tone turned sly. "He will be quite handsome...for a man of his advanced years. And what remains of his hair, will be the same charming shade of red as your own."

Harriet made a huffing sound. The lady in the blue dress clapped her hands in delight before producing a generous number of coins for the gypsy. The duke had the good sense to become even more interested in his wine than usual.

The smile that had been forming on Nicholas's lips at the gypsy woman's insolence died suddenly. Across the room, Dr. Bergen leaned against a pillared wall, his expression stormy. His attention was fixed on the French doors which led outside to a low terrace and the small rustic gardens beyond. With amazing speed the doctor pushed away from the wall, moving to intercept Lucy and Randall as they entered the ballroom from the terrace. Nicholas shot to his feet, colliding with the arm of a nearby entertainer, sending the plates the juggler had been balancing on sticks crashing to the floor.

"Devlin?" Elizabeth sounded concerned.

Randall and Lucy paused just inside terrace doors. Lucy's lips were blood red, her dress disheveled. The waistband of Randall's trousers was askew and a small red stain marred his rumpled cravat. Nicholas swore beneath his breath. He began weaving swiftly through the crowd, hoping to reach the terrace doors before Bergen did. 

He was too late.

Bergen's fist connected with Randall's jaw, knocking the gap-toothed smile from his face. Randall flew back through the open door, landing with a dull thud on the stone terrace outside. Bergen was through the door after him. Lucy's maroon skirts disappeared out into the night as well. Off to his right, Nicholas caught sight of Father Vlad's black robes moving across the ballroom, a flash of moonlight silk behind them. 

Whether Bergen had dragged Randall off the terrace onto the lawn beyond, or caught up with the man there as he'd tried to flee, Nicholas didn't know. But by the time Nicholas passed through the French doors, the doctor had Count Glenbury pinned in the grass, one knee crushed against his neck. Lucy stood at the edge of the terrace, her eyes glittering, while Randall thrashed wildly with his arms and legs trying to dislodge the doctor. Bergen slapped the attacking limbs aside as easily as a horse might swat a fly with its tail. Nicholas planted his boots near Randall's head.

"Let him go, Bergen. It isn't worth the trouble it will cause," Nicholas said.

"It isn't your woman he--"

"Neither is it yours!" Vlad came out onto the terrace.

Elizabeth followed, pulling the doors closed behind her. Through the windows, Nicholas could see his father, Leo and a small army of footmen with their backs to the terrace doors, shooing curious guests back to their tables. 

The glow of a cheroot hung suspended in the air at one end of the terrace. The gypsy woman, the one who'd told Elizabeth's fortune, stood there still as stone, save for the cheroot trapped between trembling fingers. The old woman's eyes, wide with fear, darted between Lucy and the men on the ground.

Elizabeth's expression was confused as she left the doors and moved to the edge of the terrace, several yards down from Lucy.

"Neither is it yours,
mea frate
," Vlad repeated. "Not anymore." Clutching his crucifix, the priest made a wide arc around Lucy and stopped opposite Nicholas at Randall's head.

"Get him off m-," Randall's words ended in a choking sputter as Bergen's knee shoved harder into his throat.

"Bergen," Nicholas began, but Vlad didn't let him finish.

"She is lost to you,
mea frate
. To us all.
Diavol
. Let her go."

At the far end of the terrace the gypsy woman gasped at the word
diavol
and began murmuring in an unfamiliar language, her words whimpering and prayerful.

Lucy had lost interest in the men and was creeping with cat-like intensity toward the gypsy. The red end of the cheroot bobbed wildly between the old woman's fingers. Nicholas held his breath. If the old woman panicked and tried to use that stick of fire...

"Lucy." Nicholas kept his voice friendly, his tone even. He leapt up onto the terrace just a few feet behind her. "Perhaps, you'd like to go to your room now."

Behind him Randall coughed and scrambled to his feet. Bergen had released him. Lucy swung around to face Nicholas. Her expression softened.

"It would please you?" she asked.

"Yes."

Lucy's smile widened. 

"Perhaps you could use the front door." Nicholas motioned toward the front of the house.

Lucy dipped her head to him, an indulgent smile on her red mouth. Without another glance at the gypsy, she left the terrace. Randall stumbled along behind her. When Bergen looked as if he might follow, Vlad caught him in his arms, speaking low into his ear. Bergen finally nodded. Father Vlad opened the terrace doors and the two men went back into the ballroom together. Nicholas looked around. The gypsy had fled. Only Elizabeth remained.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Our guests will think us rude. We should return to the party," Nicholas said.

"You will tell me later?" 

"One man should never slice open another's wound for display." Nicholas opened the terrace door. He held it wide for her, feeling ashamed of himself for making her blush with embarrassment, as if her interest had been unreasonable or vulgar.

He tried to make it up to her by being particularly attentive, returning her to her seat and motioning the footmen to replace the food grown cold in their absence with warmer, more appetizing fare. Whether out of guilt or good grace, she seemed more in charity with him, allowing him to wait on her -- cutting her meat, pouring her wine -- even smiling at his jokes.

The drop of liquid Nicholas added to Elizabeth's wine glass a few minutes later wasn't enough to put her to sleep. Tonight he wanted her wide-awake. But it was enough to ease the pain he saw in her eyes. And later, when the last of the wedding guest's carriages had rattled off down the drive and Leo, his father and Dr. Bergen insisted he come to the study for a 'final drink', it was still enough to allow her to climb the stairs with the female houseguests without too much difficulty.

He watched her go before allowing the men to drag him off to the study. They laughed at the way he bolted his drink and bid them a firm goodnight, but Nicholas didn't care that they thought him an overeager bridegroom. He was more concerned about where his bride was and who was with her. Harriet, being an unmarried lady, would be sent directly to bed. But the look in Countess Glenbury's eyes as she'd mounted the stairs with Elizabeth and Amanda had been disturbing.

Nicholas knew Leo well enough to believe Amanda would have nothing but good things to say about the pleasures shared between man and wife. It was what the countess might be saying to his bride that concerned him. The wedding celebration seemed to have softened Elizabeth's anger toward him. Having her terrified by Countess Glenbury before he even got close to her might well rekindle it.

Nicholas took the stairs two at a time. He'd barely reached the landing when the countess came storming down the hall. Amanda followed more sedately, mischief sparkling in her eyes. The countess's door closed with a bang. Amanda stopped before Nicholas, but looked past his shoulder. Leo was coming up the stairs.

"Is Elizabeth...?" Nicholas glanced down the long hallway toward the countess's door and frowned, not sure how he wanted to finish the sentence.

Amanda looked like a cat that'd swallowed a mouse. She pushed her glasses higher on her nose with one finger and pressed her lips against a smile.

"Did it work?" Leo asked. He'd reached the landing.

"It did," Amanda said. "The old windbag never even got to speak to her. I pulled Countess Glenbury aside out in the hall before she had a chance to follow Elizabeth into the room."

"So what did you say?" Leo asked.

Nicholas had no idea what they were talking about, but curiosity kept him quiet.

Amanda dropped her chin and looked up at her husband with wide, innocent eyes. "I just told her she needn't talk to Elizabeth about 'it', because being her close friend and a married lady myself, I'd already taken care of educating her."

"And what did the old gal say to that?" Leo asked.

"She asked me exactly what I'd told
our bride
."

"And?"

"I said I told Elizabeth the truth. That if her Nicholas was anything like my Leo, he'd really know how to ring a girl's bells." 

Both men stared at Amanda in stunned silence. Then Leo made a grab for his wife. Amanda squealed and ran down the hall.

"Uh, sorry, Nick. She's a handful." Leo took off after his wife.

Nicholas knocked on the door to Elizabeth's room. Down the hall he could hear Amanda's shrieking laughter. Leo must have caught up to her. A distant door closed and the sounds died away. Nicholas knocked again. There was no answer. He tried the doorknob, taking it as a good sign when the door opened easily. She hadn't locked it against him.

A lamp glowed on the table beside the bed. A bottle of his father's best wine and two glasses waited on the dresser. The bed covers had been turned down and a white negligee lay draped across the foot of the bed.

The room was empty.

Apparently his bride hadn't been spending her time preparing herself for his arrival. It didn't matter. Nicholas knew where he would find her.

In his new mother-in-law's room only a single lamp had been lit, but the pink curtains were open and the glow of the full moon made the room day-bright. Elizabeth was seated in a chair beside the bed, holding her mother's hand. Mrs. Smith was propped up with half a dozen pillows. Her silver-streaked hair had been braided and pinned to form a crown on her head. She'd been bathed with sweet lavender water and dressed in a new nightgown of warm green flannel. Thin gold piping decorated the neck and sleeves. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of sleep.

Nicholas went to stand on the opposite side of the bed from where his wife sat.

"She looks so beautiful. Did you do this?" Elizabeth's eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"I ordered it done."

"Why?"

"It's our wedding day, Elizabeth, and she's your mother. It was only right she should be dressed for the occasion."

"She was awake when I came in. I told her about the wedding. She was so happy." A tear rolled down Elizabeth's cheek. A second followed. With her free hand she brushed them away.

"Thank you," she whispered. 

Somewhere in the house a clock was striking eleven. 

"Come with me now, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth released her mother's hand and stood, her fingers seeking the ruby ring that had been joined today by a thin gold wedding band. "There is something I need to tell you first," she said, her fingers twisting the rings.

"It can wait."

"No, it can't."

"It must. Come." He walked to the door that led to her room and held it open.

She hesitated. "The girl Cook usually sends to stay with mother hasn't come yet, perhaps I should stay."

"You'll see your mother again before you sleep," Nicholas promised. 

Elizabeth nodded and walked past him into their bedchamber. The hall door leading to her mother's room opened almost immediately and a man in a long black cloak entered. He pulled the bed covers off the sleeping form of Mrs. Smith, wrapped her in a thick wool blanket and lifted her from the bed. Nicholas watched him carry his bundle out of the room, then he closed the hall door behind the departing pair. He blew out the lamp and followed his lovely new bride into their bedchamber.

Chapter Twenty

The side door of the inn, the one the locals used, banged open. From his table in a secluded corner Fielding watched Lennie pause in the doorway and spit tobacco juice neatly over his shoulder to the ground outside. Fielding jabbed his spoon into his bowl of thick brown stew and pushed it away unfinished. He already missed Maria's cooking. Lennie hunkered into the seat across from him.