Laura Matthews (30 page)

“Were you reserving them for yourself alone?” she asked innocently.

“No…yes. God help me, you’re distorting the whole situation, Olivia. You should be ashamed to have acted as you did.”

Olivia bowed her head and whispered, “I am, Noah.”

Startled, he rose from the bed and came to take her hand. “Then why did you do it?” he asked gently.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps because I was hurt and angry with you. Perhaps because Mr. Evans was so very attentive to me, and I was flattered. You know that it is easy to manipulate me, Noah, you said so yourself. When I spoke with Julianna just now, I thought I understood it a little better.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, we spoke of confidence, and embarrassment and pride, a number of things. I could not explain it, I fear, but at the time I thought my actions made more sense. Not that I was right,” she hastened to add. “You see...”

A tap at the door interrupted her and she bid Marie to enter. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Robert said Sir Noah must have this straight-away. A special messenger brought it.” She curtsied and presented Noah with a sealed, crested letter. When he had thanked and dismissed her he sought Olivia’s leave and broke the seal. She could tell by his expression that it was bad news and she braced herself.

At length Noah raised his eyes from the single sheet. “I will have to leave for France immediately.”

“Oh, no. Please, Noah, not again. Don’t you care at all about me and the baby? What have I done to deserve such treatment from you?”

“You don’t understand, Olivia,” he protested, his voice urgent. “I don’t want to leave you. The letter is from Viscount Mortley advising me that the Comte de Mauppard is in serious trouble. His sister Françoise intimated to the wrong person that Jacques was involved in a plot to spirit the King out of Paris. Mortley offers me his assistance in getting Jacques out of France, where he’s in hiding now. His life is in danger, Olivia.”

“But why would your friend have tried to get the King out of Paris?”

“I doubt that he actually planned to do so, unless there was an emergency. He and his friends discussed the matter when I was last in Paris. Their goal is a constitutional monarchy, but there are elements in France who would like to see the King dead, and a republic established. No doubt Françoise was not privy to their discussions but overheard talk of how to rescue the King if necessary. What a needless dilemma!”

He took her hand and pressed it. “Olivia, my friend has been of service not only to me but to our country. There is no one else who can help him just now. Lord Mortley assumed I would be willing and able to do so.”

“Then of course you will go.”

“I must, Olivia,” he said helplessly. “Wait here a moment.”

She watched him stride to the door of his dressing room and vanish within. The murmur of his voice, giving instructions to his valet, was not distinguishable as words. Dear Lord, he had not been home but a few hours, only long enough to hear of her stupid behavior. She had not even told him of the letter from Miss Stewart. In a trance she watched him return to her, an old pad of foolscap tucked under his arm.

“It will be dangerous for you in France, Noah, as a friend of Mauppard’s.”

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

“I’ll see that their estate is prepared.” She moistened her lips before asking hesitantly, “Do you suppose that you will be back before the child is born?”

“I’ll do everything in my power to be here,” he promised. “I’m to sail from Great Yarmouth with the morning tide; Mortley will have a ship there.”

“Then you had best be away, Noah.” Determinedly she gulped down a sob.

“Olivia, do you remember the day we dug up my treasure chest, the day after you agreed to marry me?”

She nodded.

Awkwardly he presented the pad of foolscap to her. ‘This was in the chest. A journal I kept then, as a boy. Perhaps ... you would be interested in looking at it. You needn’t, if it would be boring. No one else has ever seen it, probably no one ever wanted to.”

Olivia was too choked to say more than, “Thank you, Noah. I would like it of all things.”

“You do not think Mr. Evans will be in the area again soon, do you?”

“No, I am sure he won’t.”

“Good.” His relief was apparent. “When I return I’ll try to make up to you for all the time I’ve had to be away.” His valet appeared to announce that all was in readiness for his departure. Noah nodded a curt dismissal and turned to his wife. “Please give me a chance to make you happy, Olivia.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “Take care of yourself, my treasure.”

“I will, Noah. God-speed.”

Chapter Twenty-six

“I cannot believe he has left her again!” Julianna exclaimed exasperatedly to her mother. “Why, he was eager to get home to see her, I would swear to it. And he didn’t even come to take leave of me.”

“He was in a hurry. A message arrived informing him that the Comte de Mauppard’s life was in danger.”

Julianna frowned. “Then it isn’t safe for Noah to go there, Mama. Why would he do that when Olivia is to have her baby in only a month or so? Surely the worry cannot be good for her.”

“He’s aware of it and instructed me most earnestly to distract her mind from such thoughts. You must not let her see that you’re concerned.” Lady Lawrence sighed. “Noah operates under his own code of honor, as all men do. He could not abandon his friend, even with Olivia so near her time. Thank God we are here and can do our best to help her.”

“I’ll go and sit with her now, Mama.”

When Julianna entered Olivia’s room, she found her friend seated by the fire with an old pad of foolscap on her lap, her cheeks wet with tears. “Dearest Olivia, don’t cry. Noah will be back before you know it and there must be a thousand things to do before the baby arrives.”

“If there are, I cannot think of another one,” Olivia confessed, “but I must see that the estate purchased for the Comte de Mauppard is put in readiness for his arrival.”

“No, I should like to consider that my project, but you may help me if you wish. It would be good training for me, Olivia. John will be very impressed when I write him.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Olivia set aside the pad of foolscap and went to her escritoire. There would be plenty of time to continue her reading of Noah’s youthful thoughts and adventures. He could have done nothing which comforted her more than make her such an offering. Delightful as all the gifts he had brought her on his first return had been, they were nothing compared with this simple—yet extraordinary—gesture. Did he then have some special affection for her after all? Or was it the only way he could think of to combat her attraction to Mr. Evans? Was it his pride speaking again, a pride which could not allow his wife to turn to another man for comfort?

Brushing these thoughts aside, Olivia picked up a pen and dipped it in the standish. “We’ll make a list of the necessary work to be done, and decide how many servants must be hired for the household, Julianna. Do you think the comte and his sister would prefer to have a carriage at their disposal immediately, or choose their own when they arrive?”

There were, of course, no letters from Noah. He was in France incognito, in search of a man wanted by the more revolutionary element, and he had to be circumspect in his travels and his enquiries. The information Viscount Mortley had given him was out of date by the time he arrived and he traveled to Romilly only to find that Mauppard and his sister had moved to another, safer location.

From Romilly Noah left by barge for Rouen, and if it was a scenic way to travel and less conspicuous than hiring horses or carriages, it was not particularly swift. As the waterman poled the gaily-colored craft along the Seine, Noah found that he was spending long hours thinking of his wife.

It was true that he had not spent much time with her since they were married, but it had not been his choice. Did she not realize that he wanted nothing more than to be with her? He was staring moodily at the sluggish water when he made a startling discovery.

It was no longer a simple matter of pride which dictated that he endeavor to make his wife happy. And it was not a sense of outraged propriety which made his blood boil when he thought of her with Mr. Evans. He was jealous of the smooth-talking library cataloguer who had so easily attracted his wife’s confidence. Noah wanted Olivia to love
him,
as he loved and cherished her. The Françoises and the Lilas were all very well, but they did not gaze at you with those big trusting gray eyes of Olivia. They did not find the world an adventure and eagerly share with you their stumbling way through it

Would Olivia have read his journal when he returned? Would she have been interested in his own stumbling progress in the world?
He experienced a moment’s unease at the thought of someone reading his candid view of himself, though he knew that Olivia would not laugh. But when she understood him better, would she like him?

Noah’s thoughts continued to circle about his wife until he finally reached Rouen, where he forced himself to put them from him and concentrate on the problem of getting Mauppard and Françoise out of France. He had barely had a chance to greet his friend when Françoise burst into the room and pointed an accusatory finger at him, declaring, “This is all your fault.”

“Is it? I had no idea,” Noah replied equably.

Mauppard attempted to silence his sister but she would not heed him. “It is for associating with you, an Englishman, that we are forced to leave our home. And it is because the Vicomte de Preslin is annoyed with you that he will not... He would have married me.”

Noah and Mauppard exchanged mournful glances which only further inflamed Françoise. “It is true! You have ruined everything! Preslin is very angry that I brought you to his home. Now I shall have to live in England where it is cold and wet all the time, and the people are not civilized.”

When she had slammed her way from the room, Mauppard turned to his friend with a grimace. “She’ll not be an easy companion in our travels, I fear.”

Such superb understatement needed no elaboration in the days that followed. Françoise complained of the clothes she had to wear, the food she had to eat, the cart she had to ride in, and the beds in which she slept. When she refused to move after a stop for bread and cheese, Noah, exasperated, said, “My wife would not be so poor-spirited.”

The French woman glowered at him, but flounced to her feet. She did not miss the amused glance which passed between her brother and his friend, and she vowed to avenge herself on Noah. By the time they reached Oostende and the ship, she was speaking with neither of them and went directly below to repair her ravaged appearance. Her pride wounded, her dignity assailed, she determined that she would make Noah regret his rash words which belittled her in deference to his wife. She was not one to accept that she alone had precipitated the whole crisis; had turned all of their lives upside down for the chance to gossip about something she should not have eavesdropped on in the first place. Françoise held Noah responsible for her own rejection by the Vicomte de Preslin, and she would repair her vanity at his expense.

Christmas Day dawned on a very unsettled household at Welling Towers. Although unexpressed, the fears of each of the three women had risen as the time lengthened since Noah’s departure. Olivia expected to be confined shortly and her apprehension for her husband was great. The gifts were left unopened at Julianna’s suggestion. “We’ll wait until Noah can be with us,” she suggested with a forced smile.

They were seated at their dinner when Noah arrived, exhausted but exhilarated, with the refugees. He went directly to Olivia, whispering, “I see I am in time.”

“Thank God you’re safe, Noah. We’ve been so very worried and felt helpless to do anything.” She smiled radiantly before turning to be introduced to the comte and his sister.

“We can never express our gratitude to your husband, Lady Olivia,” the comte assured her, “nor to you for your patience with all our trials. No one was ever more fortunate in his friend than I.”

“I am relieved that you’re all safe. Now our Christmas can truly be joyous,” Olivia said happily, including the beautiful Françoise in her remark.

The Frenchwoman tossed her head haughtily and said only, “I would rather be in France.”

“Yes, it must be upsetting to leave your country. Noah’s mother is arranging for your rooms, and Julianna has seen to the preparation of your brother’s new estate. It’s but twenty miles from here, and no doubt you’ll be anxious to become acquainted with it.”

“Not I. I have traveled enough for a lifetime these last weeks, and I refuse to go another inch until I have sufficiently recovered,” she purred in her lilting English, as she laid a proprietary hand on Noah’s arm.

Startled, Olivia murmured, “Yes, well, we shall be happy to have you stay with us.”

When they were all seated around the table, Olivia and Julianna plied Noah with eager questions about his adventure, and he attempted
to answer them, but Françoise kept interrupting him.

She gazed about the room and said, “I would not have satin draperies here. They should be velvet, and a darker green, don’t you agree, Noah?”

He frowned at her. “No, I’m very fond of this room and find it entirely to my taste.”

In spite of her brother’s damping glare, Françoise continued in the same vein. “Surely, Noah, you would prefer a marble mantelpiece to that painted wooden one with all its lumps of fruit and vines.”

“It’s an Adams mantel, and a fine example of the style,” Noah retorted. He turned to Olivia with a smile. “I presume the nursery is changed out of all recognition. Will you show it to me later?”

Olivia beamed. “Oh, yes. Miss Stewart embroidered the most colorful...”

Apparently unaware that he was in the midst of a conversation, Françoise spoke again. “You must have a carpet brought over from France, Noah. This one has none of the subtlety of color of those in Jacques’ house.”

Her brother was seated next to Lady Lawrence and unable to give Françoise the kick he felt she deserved, and he did not wish to cause a scene at his friend’s table, so he sat silent but grim-faced. Polite at first, Noah became increasingly impatient with the young lady’s ploy. He had no doubt of her intention; he was familiar enough with her character to judge that she wished to embarrass him before his family for the wrongs she wished to believe he had caused her, and his callous disregard of her dignity on their escape from France.