Scandalous Brides: In Scandal in Venice\The Spanish Bride (41 page)

Not certain what that could mean, she plunged on, telling him all she had longed to say for so long. “I think it happened on the night that we—we gave in to our feelings, after that kiss on the riverbank. Or perhaps on our wedding night. I did not realize until, well, until everything had happened and I was on my way back to Seville. I thought at first that I was ill from grief. Isabella was very tenacious to survive so much before she was even born! She stayed with me when I ran about the countryside, wounded and ill, hiding with friendly families and in gypsy camps.” She paused, uncertain now what to say, what to tell next.

Without looking at her, Peter whispered, “Tell me more.”

“She was born a bit early,” Carmen continued, lost in her own bittersweet memories. “She was so very small. Esperanza, my old duenna, thought she would not live. She sent for the priest. But I knew, when I held her in my arms, that my girl would live and be strong. She
was
very small, but she was fierce, a true warrior; she would wave her little fists in the air both night and day, never silent. It was as if she knew what she faced, and she was fighting to live. I knew then that she was like you, with a will of iron, and that she would be fine.”

A small smile touched Peter’s lips. “A true Everdean.”

“Oh, yes! She is very much your daughter, so stubborn, so certain of her own mind. But she is so very sweet and loving, so full of laughter. We have a grand time together.” She paused. “When I thought you were dead, I wanted nothing more than to die myself. I thought I could never enjoy my life again. Isabella changed all that. She was a part of you, a gift from you, and that gave me the will to live on. Eventually I did come to enjoy my life, to appreciate a fine day, a ride on a good horse, a dance. That is entirely thanks to Isabella.”

Suddenly exhausted, Carmen fell back onto her chair, trembling with emotion at all she had poured forth. Despite any lingering apprehension, she felt a very deep sense of relief. Peter knew everything, at last. Now, whatever was meant to happen could happen.

“For God’s sake, Carmen!” Peter suddenly snapped. “I have a
daughter.
Why did you not tell me this sooner? Why did you not tell me the very instant we met again?”

Carmen laughed bitterly. “At the Dacey ball, you mean? And when should I have announced that we have a child together? When you were shaking me? Or when I slapped your face?”

Peter grimaced.
“Touché,
my dear. Yes, I was quite overcome with shock and anger when I first saw you again. But after we had come to an understanding, you could have told me at any time. This is so very enormous—why did you wait until now? You could have told me that day in my library.”

“Elizabeth and Nicholas interrupted us, and . . .” Carmen broke off, shaking her head. “No, that is a mere excuse. I should have said something earlier, I know. I was frightened.”

“Frightened? Of me?”

“You needn’t look so incredulous,
querido.
You can be very intimidating, you know!”

He laughed reluctantly. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“Indeed you do! And even though things appeared to be mended between us—well, disaster has come upon us unexpectedly before. Isabella was too important to risk.” She reached for the bottle and poured herself another measure of brandy, taking a comforting amber swallow before she continued. “I swore to her on the day that she was born that I would always protect her, that she would never face the things I had seen. I was not certain of what you might do when you learned of her existence. You could have married Lady Deidra, and taken Isabella away to be raised by her, and I could have done little about it! Children, after all, legally belong to their fathers only. I could not risk that.”

“Ah. What a sad pair we are, Carmen. I doubt even lovers in romantic novels could have been as wrapped up in half-truths and self-deceits as we have been.” He held out his hand to her, and she slowly slid hers into its warmth. His fingers closed over hers. “Do you not know by now, my darling, that I could never, from the day I found you again, have wed Lady Deidra? Or indeed anyone else?”

“If it is because of our wedding, I am sure an annulment would be easy to obtain for a Catholic ceremony . . .”

His other hand came up, one finger pressed to her lips to stop the flow of words. “It is because I love you. There has never been another woman like you in the history of the world, I am sure, and no other could ever tolerate me.” He grinned at her crookedly.

Carmen very much feared she would soon start crying again, and she had no handkerchief at hand. She reached up and moved his finger from her lips. “Do you truly mean that? Do you still love me?”

“I do.”

Carmen kissed his hand gently and disentangled herself from his grasp. She rose and went to the window, leaning her cheek against the cool glass. Below her, the garden slept all silvery beneath the moon, an ocean of peace.

And, at last, her own heart knew just such a perfect tranquility.

“I love you, too,” she answered. “I always have.”

He came up behind her. “Then, you will marry me again? At Clifton Manor, in front of all our friends and our daughter?”

Carmen closed her eyes and thought. She loved the Peter she had married six years ago, and she knew that now she loved the man he had become. As complicated and maddening as he could be! She wanted to quarrel with him and misunderstand him and kiss him until they were ninety and surrounded by grandchildren.

She turned to face him. “Yes. I will marry you again.”

“Carmen!” In one step he had her in his arms, held against him so tightly that her feet left the carpet entirely. She buried her face in the silk of his golden hair and laughed aloud.

“We
will
be happy now,” he said fiercely. “As we should have been all these years.”

“So you are
willing
happiness on us now?”

“I am. I believe we are richly deserving of it.”

“I believe you are right! But I have dreamed of this moment so many times, only to have it vanish in the daylight. What if this is a dream?”

He lowered her slowly to her feet. His hands came up to gently cradle the back of her head, his fingers in the soft curls. “My darling. Does this feel like a dream?” And he kissed her, his lips warm and soft on hers, as gentle as a spring day.

Carmen sighed and smiled as he lifted his head to look down at her. “It feels like heaven.”

“I want to meet Isabella. Soon.”

“Of course. I will write to Esperanza tomorrow and ask her to bring her here. Isabella will be ecstatic to come and see Elizabeth, and she will
adore
you, I am sure.”

“And I will surely adore her.” He laid his cheek against her hair and hugged her close. “Ah, Carmen, I can scarce fathom it! I am a father; I have a child, a daughter.”

“One who is the very image of you—tall, golden, and stubborn as a bull! I cannot wait for you to meet.” Carmen rested her head on Peter’s shoulder, listening to the soft, ocean-wave sound of his breathing through the thin linen of his shirt.

She was sure she could feel the stirrings of some long-buried emotion—joy.

Chapter Sixteen

“C
armen! Is it really true?” The door to the library flew open, and Elizabeth rushed in, the fringed ends of her shawl swinging.

Carmen looked up from the letter she was writing, and smiled a radiant welcome. All the world seemed gloriously sunlit to her that morning, despite the fact that it was raining outside. “Is what true?”

“Come now, do not tease me! I was just talking with my brother. Are you going to be my ‘official’ sister?”

Carmen giggled like a schoolgirl. “It is true—sister.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth threw her arms about her ‘sister.’ “I simply knew how it would be! I knew it would all work out beautifully, and so it has. Nick told me not to fly into the boughs, that the two of you had been apart so long that perhaps you no longer wished to be married. I said that was fustian, that of course you wanted to be married! And you do!”

“Yes,” Carmen interrupted happily. “We talked all last night, and everything is settled between us.”

“I am glad. I would so much rather have
you
for a sister than that Lady Deidra Clearbridge! I never had a happier hour than when she went back to London. But only think what a dash you and I will cut together in Society! And now you
must
let me paint your portrait.”

Carmen laughed. Surely life would never be dull with such a sister and brother-in-law as Elizabeth and Nicholas! “Indeed I shall! But not yet. We have a wedding to plan. And you are not to say a word to anyone yet. Peter wishes to wait to make an announcement until after he has met Isabella.”

“I will be silent as tombs. Except to Nick.” Elizabeth’s expression turned suddenly serious. “Peter does know about Isabella, then? That she is his child?”

“Oh, yes. I told him last night.”

“And was there a row?”

“Not at all. It was all much—simpler than I had supposed. He was a bit angry at first, to be sure. But I think that the happiness of the news quite overcame his anger. He is most eager to meet his new daughter.”

“Well,” Elizabeth breathed. “No tantrum. My brother must be maturing.”

“I believe so!”

“When is he to meet Isabella?”

“That is what I wished to speak with you about.” Carmen held up the letter she was writing. “I am writing to Esperanza, asking her to bring Isabella here for a few days. I thought perhaps it would be easier for her and for Peter to meet here in the country, where it is quiet and they can talk, rather than in Town.”

“Yes, quite right.”

“Of course, that means we must impose on your hospitality for a few days longer. Esperanza could not possibly arrive here before the end of your party. I know you have your work to return to ...”

Elizabeth waved away her apologies. “Not at all! Nick and I were planning to stay here until next month. I am sure he will be delighted to have you and Peter and Isabella with us. And, of course, you must visit Clifton when you are so near.”

“That is so kind of you, Lizzie.”

“Nonsense! It will be great fun. A family holiday.” Elizabeth gathered up her shawl and prepared to depart. “This afternoon Georgina and I are going up to the attics to look for costumes. The former owners left simply piles of trunks and boxes! You must join us.”

“That sounds delightful! I will see you later, Lizzie.” Carmen waved to Elizabeth as she left the room, then turned back to seal and address her letter to Esperanza.

As she did so, she thought of the blackmailing letters she had tucked away in the bottom of her trunk, the ones sealed in black wax. She still had not found their writer, and that fact cast the one dark pall over her new happiness. She was always waiting for another missive to be delivered, for the sword of Damocles to drop on her head and all to be revealed to the scandal-loving
ton.

A scandal, always to be avoided, was unthinkable now that she was soon to be presented as the Countess of Clifton, with her daughter the child of an English earl. Carmen could never bear to bring disgrace on Peter’s head, of harming his promising political career and the name of his family.

She had, in her mind, ruled out Robert Means as the culprit. But if not him, then who?

The attics of Evanstone Park were not as Carmen remembered the attics at her home in Seville—dark, dusty, musty. They were wide and clean, with the smell of new wood and polish, lined with trunks left by the former owners, as well as a few that had belonged to Elizabeth’s mother and grandmother.

Carmen, Elizabeth, and Georgina dug through this bounty, spreading silks, satins, and velvets across the floor in search of suitable costumes for the tableaux.

Georgina held up an elaborate gown of bright blue taffeta, its silk flower-trimmed skirts spreading wide in the style of the last century. “What do you think, ladies? Would this be quite suitable for Hera, descending from the heavens like a great bluebell?”

Elizabeth laughed and swirled a velvet cloak over her shoulders. “I like this one! I shall sweep onstage, covered from head to toe. Then I shall drop the cloak and reveal, hmm ...” She pulled out a transparent chemise. “This! Et
voila
!
”

“Quel scandale!”
Georgina cried. She fanned herself with a large painted silk fan. “I declare I shall swoon from the shock. No vouchers for you!”

Elizabeth pushed her playfully. “You were never shocked in all your life, Georgie Beaumont! Remember that costume ball in Venice, where you wore a lady pirate gown with a skirt that ended quite at your knees?”

“I never!” Georgina gasped.

Carmen laughed at their antics, then turned back to the trunk she was excavating. It must have belonged to Elizabeth’s mother rather than her grandmother, for it contained clothes of a slightly more recent vintage. And it seemed that Elizabeth’s mother had been dashing indeed.

She took out a long, shimmering, one-shouldered column of silver tissue. It was almost of the right length on Carmen, and quite appropriately classical in appearance.

She held it up to her and examined the effect in the tall mirror set up in the corner.

It was beautiful, almost like a fall of liquid silver, flowing and sparkling.

She wondered what Peter would think, if he saw her in it.

She smiled softly.

Elizabeth came up beside her, to touch the magical fabric gently with her small hand. “My mother wore this to a masquerade ball when I was a small child,” she said. “It was even before she married Peter’s father. I remember watching her dress for the ball. She wore a mask of white feathers and long diamond earrings. I thought her such a magical creature in it, all gold and silver. Almost like a swan!”

“Oh.” Carmen held the gown away from her. “Then, I must not wear it, not if it was a very special gown of your mother’s.”

“No, you
must
wear it, for that very reason. It should not be hidden away in a trunk forever.” She smiled mischievously. “And just imagine the look on my brother’s face when he sees you in it!”