Page 77 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
Minutes later, she dismissed the maids. Then, submerged to the roots of her hair, she allowed the water to wash away her regrets. Her regret she hadn’t recognized what Charmaine had planned or manipulated. Her regret that she had not stopped Diane’s abduction. Her regret that she had no idea of the depths to which Charmaine could go to aggrandize herself.
Then, at once, she went still, the waters swirling around her.
She sat straight up. The bathwater sloshed over the sides.
She had always known Charmaine was interested only in herself. But her sister was cunning. Had been her whole life. No wonder Vaillancourt had seen it.
“But I didn’t.”Neither did Mama. Nor, it would seem, Diane.
So then. For myself, I accept I was unaware or too naïve to notice Charmaine’s actions. I can regret for the rest of my life that I did not recognize what she did, and I did not call her out. But the responsibility for what happened to Diane is solely Charmaine’s.
She rose from the tub and grabbed two towels the maids had left for her to dry off. They had taken her clothes away to wash, but left a clean shift for her on her bed. Her damp hair hanging over her shoulders, she stood gazing at the mirror and knew what she had to do.
In her bare feet, she padded to the sitting room and entered Tate’s bedroom. In the adjacent boudoir she heard him bathing in his own tub. When she heard splashes, she assumed he was climbing out. Anxiety gnawed at her, and she could not wait for him to appear.
She walked in just as he was emerging from the water. All slick skin over rippling muscles, he used a towel to dry his torso. But at the sight of her, he paused.
“I have not been able to discuss what I learned with Vaillancourt,” she managed. “Forgive me. Amid those revelations, I am lost.”
He dropped the towel to the tile floor and came toward her, naked and beautiful and forgiving. Then he wrapped her against his might and, with kisses to her wet hair, held her tightly. “You look for ways to accept what happened. I have seen your search. I applaud it. But you must not apologize to me for any lapse. There is none. You are here with me, and we go onward to home and a future together.”
She reached up on her toes to kiss him. In his fervent response, she knew his acceptance of her every word. “I want that new life, untarnished by the past. I want to find…” She shook her head.
He brushed tendrils of her wet hair from her cheeks. Then he swooped her up into his arms and took her to his bed.
There he slid her garment over her wet hair and lay down beside her. Curling her close, he kissed her lips then smiled at her.
“In happiness and sadness, through life’s turmoil and joy, you and I will be together. True to each other.”
“And in love,” she said. But she could not yet declare that she was worthy to have such grace.
“Stay here with me tonight,” he said, and tucked her against his warm body. “I need you beside me as much as you need me.”
*
The next morning,they boarded a boat owned by Lord Fournier’s cousins. They were princes of the Rhine and owned small territories all along the river north. She and Tate traveled in comfort, cozy in warm cabins with good food and no threat of any arrests by French gendarmes.
They arrived in a small fishing village near Antwerp six days later. The next morning they were ferried out to a waiting ship, a Dutch merchantman accepting passengers sailing for Dover. Blown off course by a wild storm in the channel, the vessel pulled into docks south of Ipswich four days later. Tate hired a private carriage and took them twenty miles north to Cantrell Manor and the land Viv had cherished for more than a decade as her most peaceful home.
Chapter Sixteen
Two days later,Tate and Viv left Cantrell Manor for London. The day before, Tate had announced their betrothal to his household staff, and later he’d walked down to his tenants’ cottages in the vale and done the same to them. He returned to Viv to tell her how happy they were and how they encouraged her to go visit them when she returned as the lady of the manor.
“I hope by then I may feel as though I merit their regard,” she told him.
She’d grown more tormented since Tate and she had arrived at his estate. Once, she had lived here as a refugee, an immigrant, a girl without a home and only a few of her family left. Those in Tate’s little cottages had befriended her, made her one of their own despite her background and her language and her vain older sister. Viv had built a life here. A good one. Filled with laughter and accomplishment. She had learned how to raise chickens and ducks. Fat ones who were good layers. She had acquired an old donkey, whom she adored as much as the dear old gentleman loved her. She would not present herself to them until she was repaired of the rift in her heart and renewed in her soul. The only way to do that was to confront Charmaine, and she had impressed on Tate her desire to go south to see her sister as soon as possible.
“They welcome you to visit them soon. Especially Fred.”
She laughed.
“He gave me a loud talking-to about your whereabouts.”
“I long to see him, too,” she said, holding back tears. “When I am myself, it will happen.”
*
Two mornings later,they climbed into Tate’s traveling coach and headed south. Two of his maids had donated a few items of clothing to Viv. Save for her serviceable cloak, her clothes from the journey were nigh unto rags. As for Tate, he fared no better. But he would take items from his own dressing room in London. He also told her he would hire a modiste to attend her and create a garment for their wedding. The wedding, Tate and she assured each other, was more about what they would become to each other than any items they would wear for the occasion.
