Dangerous Escapade (18 page)

“Anthony...ah,
Anthony...I have missed you!” she sobbed against his shoulder. “But why have
you come? Did I not beg you not to?”

He smiled
tenderly, stroking her hair with a gentle hand. “Why, my sweet, are you not
pleased to see me?”

“How can you
ask? You know I love you so!”

Debenham's
arms tightened and, with one white hand, he turned her face up towards his. At
the ardour in his gaze, her eyes dropped, and she blushed rosily. But when his
lips found hers, she felt herself swept along by his passion, and she returned
his kisses eagerly, thankful for the strong arms that held her close at last.

After long
moments, he lifted his head. “Well, my love, will you run from me again?” he
asked softly.

“No, never! I cannot
summon so much courage twice.”

“Then it is
fortunate, my Kitty, that there is no necessity for you to leave me ever again.
Amelia has released me from our engagement. I am free.”

The expression
of wonder in her face made him laugh again, and he bent his head to set another
kiss upon her lips. She questioned him, demanding an explanation, but still he
teased her with kisses and laughter. Later, as she sat with her head against
his shoulder and her hand tucked in his, she asked him again and learned that it
was to the Comtesse de Longueville's good offices that he owed his release.

She snuggled
her head into the hollow of his shoulder and stroked the hand that held hers in
a strong clasp. “Why should dear Madame de Longueville have done such a thing?”
she asked him, “We scarcely know her, after all.” Debenham hesitated. He had
perforce heard the whole story of Kitty's birth from her mother, but he was not
anxious to be the one to break the news to her. Moreover, he thought it the Comtesse’s
privilege to keep her secret if she so wished.

“I believe she
will tell you that herself, my love. I am charged to take you to her from here,
for she accompanied me here to act as your chaperone.”

“Is not Lady
Horatia in Paris then, Sir?” she asked surprised.

“My good aunt was
unfortunately quite prostrated by your escapade and, in any event, we were not
absolutely sure we would find you. She had to remain in London lest you
returned.”

“Oh, I am
sorry that poor Lady Horatia is unwell. But I shall be happy to see the
Comtesse again. When shall we go?”

“'We shall go
now, my ward, for I am impatient to have you to myself. What do you say to
marrying me here in Paris, my love? Can you do without bridesmaids and wedding
visits and wed me tonight, here, with only the Comtesse to witness it?”

She raised glowing
eyes to his face. “Yes, Dearest, it would please me so much!”

He took her
hand, and together they went in search of Hélène to bid her farewell.
 
Tearful embraces were exchanged by
 
the
 
two
 
women as Debenham looked on indulgently.
Then he wrapped his bride in a shawl and led her out into the sunshine, where his
carriage awaited them.

The Comtesse
was watching for them in some anxiety, but as they arrived one glance at their
faces was enough to reassure her. She clasped Kitty in her arms, scolding her
affectionately for the worry she had caused them. Kitty apologized prettily and
was forgiven.

The Comtesse
received with great joy the news that the wedding was to take place from her
house and immediately swept Kitty off to her bedchamber in order to help her
choose a gown in which she could be married. The Earl had brought
 
much of Kitty's wardrobe with him, but the
Comtesse dismissed all her gowns and insisted upon presenting Kitty with one of
her own, never yet worn, which far surpassed in grandeur anything Kitty had
worn before.

“Dear Ma'am, this
is a lovely gown, but are you sure you really wish to part with it? Why should
you give me such an expensive present?”

Tears filled the
older woman's eyes, and her lips trembled. “Ah,
ma petite
, if you only knew. I have more right than any other to
give you anything you desire.”

Kitty gazed at
the distressed Comtesse wonderingly. “What can you mean, Ma'am? I do not
understand!”

Madame de Longueville
possessed herself of Kitty's hand and, taking a deep breath, she announced
bravely, “I have the right, Kitty, because…because…I am your mother.”

“My mother?”

“Yes,
petite
, I gave you birth, but you were
taken from me. I could do nothing. Please believe that
—
nothing.”
She was crying now, holding her daughter in her arms and rocking her as though
she were an infant once more. “You do believe me, do you not...? I would not
have given you up...they forced me to it. Then your father found you, and I was
content. He loved you, my little one, did he not? He was good to you?”

“Always, always!
But, Ma'am...I mean...Mother, I still do not understand. Please tell me
everything.”

The Comtesse
flushed with pleasure when she heard her child name her Mother and, holding her
yet closer, she embarked for her daughter's edification upon the history of
that wild affair so long ago.

“And now I have
my child once more,” she concluded, “only to lose her to her husband this very
night. Believe me, my love, I could not let you go again to anyone else, but
your Earl is charming. Now, enough of this sentiment. Your lover awaits you.
You must be gowned.”

Rather relieved
by her mother's change of mood, Kitty allowed herself to be arrayed in the gown
the Comtesse had chosen. She would happily have wed her guardian in the simple
gown of Hélène’s providing but, when she saw herself in the dress the Comtesse
had chosen, she was delighted and pirouetted before the mirror, laughing at her
reflection in the glass. In truth, the shimmering gown of silver tissue, cut
low across the breast and adorned with velvet love knots, became her admirably.
And when the Comtesse had, with her own hands, dressed her silky ringlets,
Kitty ran down to greet Lord Debenham in a flush of glad confidence.

He was waiting
for her at the bottom of the stairs, his own happiness radiating across his
face, rendering him even handsomer than before. “Well, my ward, are you finally
ready?”

With a queenly
gesture, she gave him her hand, her head held high.

“Yes, my
guardian. I am ready.”

It was late autumn
when the Earl and Countess of Debenham returned to their ancestral acres.
Together they trotted over the rise and saw the estate laid out before them,
the house peaceful and gracious in the golden haze of the afternoon. They paused,
hand in hand, to drink in its beauty, and then they turned to each other and
smiled, remembering. Joyously, they urged their mounts forward, happy to be
together, happy to be in England, but most of all, happy to be home.

The
End