Page 80 of A Night of Secret Surrender
‘Unlike Paris, London prides itself on the rigorous upholding of manners and decorum. We should not let the city down. Tante Adalicia and her sister will be in residence within the hour. It is my gift to you both.’
With various servants looking on and the doctor nodding his head vigorously, Shay had no way of insisting otherwise. He could only walk behind the procession of doctor and servants with Celeste in his arms as they led the way to the yellow bedchamber on the second floor of the Luxford town house.
* * *
She was finally alone.
All the prodding and stitching and bandaging had finished, the elixirs given, the candles lit, and beside her bed, well protected against the autumn cold, the old great-aunt of Aurelian de la Tomber sat, black shawl around her shoulders and drinking a generous brandy.
Celeste could hardly believe what had happened. Guy Bernard was dead, never to trouble her again, and Summer seemed to be having no trouble at all in digesting the fact that he’d killed him. She had also told him that he was beautiful in a way that would leave him with no doubt at all that she wanted more.
Her frown deepened for he had not replied or given her any compliment back. Granted, her timing was probably off, but still...
She looked across at Aurelian de la Tomber’s aunt and smiled, a stretched parody of a smile, she supposed, because all she truly wanted was Summer here in her bed, here where she might touch him and kiss him and...
‘My sister and I are quite elderly, Miss Fournier, and our usual retiring hour is long since reached, so I will bid you a good night. We both sleep very well and deeply and I hope that you shall, too.’
Celeste was not quite sure what the old lady was telling her.
‘Viscount Luxford speaks French remarkably well for an Englishman. His accent is that of a perfect Parisian gentleman, though when my sister quizzed him on his time in Provence his speech took on the musicality of that part as well. A man of many talents, my dear. A good man.’
‘He is.’
‘Our chambers lie on the first floor to the very back of the house. Lian insisted that we take such rooms because of the many stairs. A most insistent man, my great-nephew. And wily, too. I sometimes wonder whether the darker arts might have been more his calling than the banking he is involved in. I said as much to his mother many times, but I doubt she ever told him.’
For a moment Celeste could not quite find her voice. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly and on such short notice,madame.’
‘Oh, it is my pleasure, Miss Fournier. Respectability has its uses, my dear, as does putting on a fine face. It is just as well that we were here to be of assistance.’
When she left, Celeste sat up. Her arm had been pulled into a sling, the cotton soft against her skin. A nightgown had been procured from somewhere, as had a night jacket and warm woollen slippers. A maid had combed her hair and tied it into a ribbon and she had been bathed in lilac water and rose oil, the soap of lavender adding its bit to the potpourri of toilettes.
All in all, she smelt like a flower shop, albeit an expensive one. It had been a very long time since she had felt so very pampered and coddled. Underneath all the shock she liked the feeling, although she knew on the morrow she would return to Langley.
It was over. Danger. The past. Retribution. She was safe. They were safe, she and Loring and Summer. The absolute relief of it all made her heart sing.
‘Please God, let him come.’
She whispered this under her breath and was mindful of the quietening of the house around her: the last footfalls of the servants, the clock on the mantel ringing out the early hour of morning, one plaintive note at a time.
Then the door handle moved and the door opened and Summerley Shayborne, Viscount Luxford, stood there, newly bathed himself, his necktie loose and without any sort of a jacket.
‘May I come in?’
She nodded and he walked forward, holding a candle that was almost burned down to the wick.
He stopped a little distance from the bed, placing the candle down at her level on the small bedside table.
‘Is your arm feeling better?’
‘Much.’ She could barely say more.
‘Tell me about Nantes, Celeste. Let me hear the truth from you.’
‘You do not think Guy Bernard had the way of it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘He did and he didn’t. He didn’t know that the only time I have ever felt honourable was when you were with me. He couldn’t know that if you had died I would have, too, because seeing you safe was all I had left.’
