Page 79 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
She’d be in the Loire by then. A friend of hers and Amber’s lived in Blois along the river. She was married to a gentleman who had been a close friend of Amber’s husband, Maurice St. Antoine. Giselle would happily have her for a few weeks. Gus would create some story to cover her need to stay out of Paris.
Kane sipped his coffee from a chair by the fire. “You are quiet. No need to be concerned. By the time we are back in Paris and married, no one will be able to touch you.”
Anger and a tinge of fear for their future had her whirling on him. She had more reasons to point out. “You do not listen. You need not marry me.”
“Need? Yes, I do need you. But I want you more as my wife and my lover, Gus.”
“No, no. Kane, please. Be reasonable. Last night, you did not give your seed.” She blushed to say it.
He locked his gaze on hers. “That which I did was no guarantee you are not with child. And I will have no bastards.”
“There is no point of honor you must perform here, Kane. You did not deflower me.”
He rose to his feet, a nerve in his jaw jumping as he strode over to their bed and threw back the quilts. He pointed to the spot of red on the sheets. “On the contrary, Gus, there was blood. That deputy minister of justice did less than you imagined.”
That had her flexing her fingers. “No marriage can be legal. We are not in England. We have no vicar to do the service or bless the marriage. No church register to record the union.”
“I will see that it is legal. We’ll have the temporary man, Minister Anthony Merry, do the ceremony. Later, I’ll find a vicar or a man of some cloth to do the service.”
She shook her head, weary of this argument. “Why marry me, Kane? I do not want a husband.”
“I did not want a wife, either. Then I found you.” He strolled back to his chair and their breakfast. “Come eat. I’ll go talk to our coachman and groom.”
“Yes. Get them to hurry.” She did not want to sit with him in a confined carriage again for three or more days. The lure of his person, the mellifluous sound of his voice, the way his fabulous lips formed words, the power of his hands that she wanted on her again as they had been last night—all too much to contemplate. Alone and ever so near, he was her tormenting temptation. “As soon as they’re ready, let’s leave for Paris.”
*
Kane stepped outof their carriage at the broad steps of Countess Nugent’s mansion on Île Saint-Louis. Dusk shaded the grand ivory stone mansions of the Paris island in shades of blues. Offering up his hand to Gus, he wondered if she’d take it.
“I’ll call tomorrow at four o’clock to confirm the time for the ceremony. We arrive so late this evening, I will not be able tocall upon Merry until tomorrow.” The British envoy would be the one to marry them.
Gathering up her skirts, she lifted her chin in defiance. “Send a note to me.”
The two of them had already fought over the issue of Kane going to her aunt to divulge their plans. That Gus had decided that she would marry him after all was the bigger victory. Kane was not about to question that or belabor the point he’d already won.
She climbed the steps to the front door, and the countess’smajordomwas at the ready, standing aside the open portal for Gus to enter.
Kane knew there was many a slip that could occur before he had Gus before Merry. She could leave Paris, escape to anywhere, and he would not be able to find her easily or quickly. But at least for now, she seemed to have concluded that marrying him was the best choice she had. Going into the world alone was the other, and that did not appeal.
He left her at the door. “Tomorrow, then. A note.”
He was down the steps, telling himself he trusted Gus to keep to her promise to marry him. They had progressed far in two weeks. From sparring partners, to friends, to lovers.
*
Gus raced upthe stairs with a word to themajordomthat she would see her aunt at once if she was free. She’d lose not a minute in informing Aunt Cecily about Kane’s and her trip north. The lady would want immediate news, despite Gus’s need for a bath and clean clothes after so many days in a carriage.
Her aunt sat in her library writing her social correspondence. At the sight of Gus, she rose and strode to her, arms out ingreeting. “Tell me the news quickly before I faint from lack,ma cherie.”
“I will wed Ashley day after tomorrow in front of Anthony Merry.” The more she’d thought of the prospect, the more she coveted him as hers. Hers alone. She’d never wanted another man. This one was too unique to let go. She would have him—and she would still be herself, unchanged, belonging to herself as she had always been. “We ask you to attend as our witness.”
“You will not be sorry. Perhaps even very happy with such a virile husband in your bed.” Her aunt cocked her head. “I do not fully approve, and you know it. But I will not argue. Tell me your other news.”
Summarizing Amber’s association with Lord Ramsey and a description of Kane’s and her travels, Gus watched her aunt imbibe it all with composure.
Gus stared at her aunt’s stoic expression. As often before when her aunt had lost a friend to illness or death, the lady showed no public display of grief or despair. Once more, Gus marveled at her dispassion. For decades in the midst of chaos, her aunt had endured so much. The loss of her first lover, the Prince of Wales, to convention. The loss of her second lover, the Duc d’Orleans, to the guillotine. The near loss of her own life, imprisonment during the Terror. Now this loss of one of her two “beloved girls”—and the continuing lack of Amber’s return to normal existence.
“But you know not precisely where they are?” her aunt asked, hands clasped before her as she faced the fireplace unmoving.
