Page 111 of Ordered Home for the Holidays
“How?” she whispered when they next surfaced for air. “How did you find him?”
“Let us join the others and hear his story.” He stripped off his riding gloves and tossed them on the table beside his hat, hung up his dusty cloak, then twined his fingers with hers as she led him to the parlor.
“A moment.” He paused in the doorway of the room that had become a swirling confection of sound and color and joyful cries as the family welcomed their prodigal son home. Garrick lifted his brows and nodded toward the kissing bough above their heads. “You owe me, don’t you recall? From Christmas.”
“Rogue,” Madeline murmured and drew his head down to hers.
She fell into his kiss and let everything else fall away. All she required was Garrick’s solid shoulders beneath her hands, his warm weight holding her upright, his hands stroking her shoulders, her arms, the backs of her hands as if he could not get enough of touching her. His warm mouth lit a fire that arced through her body like a falling star, lighting her up from the center. There was no doubt left: only a simple truth. She loved him, and that was all.
The sudden silence pulled them apart. Constantin looked appalled.
“Must I call Warin out for that?”
“Oh, they’re to be married.” Maman waved a dismissive hand. “He took the title and proposed to your sister almostimmediately. It’s as if he only needed means to support her before he made his suit.”
“My son could have his pick of women,” Agnes reminded her friend. “And has, actually.” The wassail bowl had clearly augmented Agnes’s natural frankness.
“But no one will love him like my daughter does,” Maman said firmly. She turned back to her son. “But why were you in prison?”
Constantin rubbed the back of his head, as if a spot there were tender. “I was caught up in the Champs du Mars massacre in July. Lafayette and his National Guard thought I was one of those petitioning for a republic and the downfall of the king. There was a great deal of mistrust after the royal family tried to flee Paris and were caught at Varennes—”
“We know,” Madelina said. “Barty was making inquiries for us. He was very faithful about reporting news.”
Constantin shook his head. “Barty. Poor sap. I think he was trying to argue on my behalf, but he didn’t have important enough friends. The members of the Assembly thought I was associated with the Cordeliers and didn’t want to allow Vallon’s coffers to fund the radicals’ cause. I couldn’t persuade them I had thrown in my lot with the Girondins until Garrick stepped in.”
Madelina, startled, let her gaze fly to Garrick’s face. He was watching her.
“But why should the new Lord Warin be able to influence your cause?” Maman demanded.
Constantin tipped his head in Garrick’s direction. “Becausehehas important friends.”
Maman, Agnes, Georgette, indeed everyone suddenly contemplated Garrick with a curious new respect.
“So I was right to search your desk,” Madeline murmured.
He smiled and squeezed her hand, which he held as if he never meant to let go.
“In future, I’ll tell you the truth, Mad. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I thought I had to keep secrets to keep you safe, but your brother, of all people, was the one to persuade me otherwise.”
Madelina pressed his fingers in return, her throat too narrow to admit air. He would talk to her. Confide in her. If he were honest with her, and she could trust him…that changed everything.
“And Vallon?” her father asked roughly. He beheld his son with brimming eyes, as if he didn’t yet trust the vision that had appeared in his house.
“Secure, Papa. Warin provided the support I needed for the committee to acknowledge my claim. They acknowledge I am not a traitor to France, that I support the constitutional monarchy and the Assembly, and I have official permission to travel to England to visit my relations, with the assurance that I will return.”
Silence hung in the room after this declaration. Constantin would be leaving them again, to return to France where it seemed danger was growing every day and the violence could sweep him up again.
The Vicomte embraced his son. “You are safe, and you have secured your inheritance. God bless you, my clever boy.”
“But how did Lord Warin manage all this in the span of a few days?” Madelina inquired.
Constantin grinned at his neighbor and friend. “Rode like the devil to reach me. Didn’t stop but to change horses, I believe. Dragged officials across Paris out of their bed at night, in Yuletide no less, to get the papers stamped. Then, once he sprung me, turned around and we rode home like the devil was on our heels.”
“Had a fair wind for the crossing to Calais,” Garrick said, “and then the wind turned and pushed us to Dover. Good fortune, both times.”
“Pact with a demon, I don’t doubt,” Constantin said. “But it worked to my favor, so I won’t complain.” He turned to embrace his aunt. “Tante Victorie. Want to return with me and see the old place? Rub elbows with your friend Marie Antoinette?”
“I won’t have a thing to do with that vicious harpy.” Victoire sniffed and allowed her nephew to kiss her cheek. “But it would be lovely to see Vallon again. I am so glad you saved it. And to hear Lord Warin was the one who restored you to us!” She blinked at Garrick as if seeing him with fresh eyes.
