Page 38 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
She’d grown out of her morning sickness a week or more ago and the flush of pregnancy gave her rosy cheeks and the giggles. Affected by the challenges of living in war-ravaged Paris, she rejoiced at her new circumstances. How she wished she could spread the wealth to others. But she had learned years ago in medical school with many resentful males that happiness began inside one’s soul, accepting with steadfast resolution what was and changing what could be changed.
Last night over dinner with Nate downstairs, she had deluged him with her research about psychiatric therapies for badly wounded soldiers. “It’s so necessary to find new ways to help those who’ve been so deeply affected by the war. Body and soul, a soldier cannot help but be shocked and paralyzed in so many ways from the fear and horror. Add to that he must learn how to cope with new ways to live with himself, his family and in his wider world. I want to learn more about what has been done for these men. Aurore makes masks to help them adjust to their condition. But beneath the mask, a man must learn to face the world with acceptance in his soul and hopefully, with joy for his survival in his heart.”
Nate picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. “And to help him realize the person he was before and may become again is a noble task.”
“You don’t mind that your wife has a profession?” She knew that at base, he did not. But she had no idea where her studies or her interests might take her.
“I haven’t known one woman in my family who has sat back and let the world wait on her.”
“I’m eager to meet them.” The Hanniford women were celebrated for their independent streak. Fitz, the butler in London, had told her some. As a group, they sounded like they supported each other and she needed to find women who did that day in and out.
“There’s not one who is like the other. My aunt Lily runs dispensaries on my uncle Julian’s estates. She’s opened a hospital for wounded in her grand salon at the country house in Kent. Killian’s second wife Olivia was a noted interior decorator long before she married him. Ada, Lily’s younger sister, is a women’s rights advocate. So is Olivia’s daughter, Camille, who has always said she’d like to run for Parliament. Until women can vote, she campaigns for women’s rights while she maintains her status as a prolific author of gothic romances. Marianne is our famous artist. Aurore, our doctor who helps the wounded walk among us. You, my darling, will be a welcome addition to a long line of women who think and do for themselves.”
“First and foremost, I will be a good mother to Everett. He needs to know how wonderful his father is.”
Nate squeezed her hand. “He’s a quiet little boy, easy to love. If we have a challenge with him, it will be leaving Aunt Lily. She was my saving grace when I was thrust into their care at age three, and she’s been Everett’s substitute mama as well.”
“We’ll give him the full loving family he deserves,” she told him.
An hour later, she and Nate stood before the chaplain to the British embassy. Nate looked rested and dashing in his uniform, the shock of red-brown hair over his brow deliberately combed into line, his shining eyes upon hers as she entered the room.
“Thank you for the bouquet,” she whispered and raised the nosegay of four pink roses. “They smell divine.”
“They’re not as lovely as you,” he said.
Behind her stood Alice Durlinski and two of the nurses from the Neuilly hospital. Aurore had come, too, all smiles and bearing apologies from her parents who had declined to attend because the journey north to Paris was too much for them. Dylan, whom Nate had cabled with news of their wedding, had ordered champagne from the concierge at the Ritz delivered to the embassy for a toast in celebration after the ceremony. Two clerks of the embassy also attended. They had obtained the necessary documents—Katrina’s birth certificate, her passport and citizenship records from the United States State Department as well as Nate’s from London. His commanding officer in Horse Guards had sent over his approval of his marriage, a necessity in time of war, along with a note that he hoped the ambassador would host a wedding luncheon.
“We take heart at happy occasions such as this,” the ambassador told them as she and Nate took their leave of him afterward, “because we need to keep on with the celebrations of ordinary life, don’t we?”
“Indeed we do,” Nate agreed and thanked him for his aid.
In the flick of an eye, they bid their friends goodbye and took the embassy car to the Gare de L’Est station.
“The ambassador has another gift for us,” Nate announced as they boarded the first class car. “He’s booked us in a private compartment here and on the steamer across the Channel.”
“It’s good to have friends who can wave a wand and make miracles happen!”
“You,” he said as he pulled closed the door to the private sitting room and swept her into his arms, “are my miracle.”
“We won’t talk about magic wands.”
He plunked his hands on his hips and stared at her. “Do I detect you have a risqué side to you, Countess?”
She widened her eyes. “The things you will learn about me, my lord, are ever so many.”
“How do you suggest I begin?”
She ran her palms over his chest, full of ribbons and cords, then sank her fingers up into the lush satin of his hair. “Kiss me.”
He caught his breath and let her brush her lips over his. “Once I start, I may never stop.”
“Please don’t. We have days to make up for.”
“And years to anticipate.”
* * *
Meeting Nate’s family worried Katrina. She’d had only three in her own family, her mother and father and her Grandmother Schubert. Each of them was known for their disinclination to complain and their dedication to a long day’s work. Ready with a good joke or a tall tale told over a leisurely dinner, they always had smiles for each other. Not all families were like that and Katrina wondered how the large group of Hannifords, each so accomplished in different professions and backgrounds, might present as individuals to a newcomer.
