Chapter 22
The Pearlers had already finished dinner and dessert, but the butler brought Greg and Hermy a tray of the most delightful treats. Despite the late hour, Eve Pearler had welcomed them as only a mother would her children, ordering tea and embracing Hermy with such a warm hug that Hermy wanted to crack and weep on her lap.
This was what Greg was fighting for; the safe haven at the Pearlers was also his safe haven. Although Hermy had been welcomed at his house with all the pomp and circumstance of an aristocratic household, tonight, Greg had brought her home.
When the ladies retreated to the green parlor room for a sherry, they invited Hermy to join them.
“I don’t like sherry,” Rachel whispered. “Would you like to try some herbal liquor from the Alps?” She walked to the silver tray holding three crystal decanters, one with a round belly filled with a dark brown-reddish liquid, the sherry. Another was tall, thin, and filled with colorless liquor that smelled like anise.
“This is from Portugal, very sweet. It doesn’t go with the meal we just had,” Rachel said as she twisted the crystal cap off the third rectangular decanter. Smell!”
Hermy leaned forward, and Rachel waved over the bottle opening. An evocative mixture of scents surprised Hermy with a bold, herbal freshness reminiscent of a densely forested area right after a rainstorm. This was followed by layers of warm, spicy scents such as clove and cinnamon and a subtle citrusy brightness that lingered after the earthy tones dissipated.
“What is that?”
“A digestive aid.” Rachel smiled. “Perhaps a bit of an antiseptic, too.” Rachel chuckled.
“Don’t give her that!” Hannah rushed to Hermy’s side and took her arm. “It’s very strong.”
“I’d like to try some, please.” Hermy picked one of the crystal glasses, which was shaped like wine glasses but about a quarter of the size, and held it out to Rachel.
Hannah frowned.
“L’chaim!” Rachel raised her glass and downed it.
“It means ‘to life,’” Hannah explained. She quirked a brow when Hermy lifted her glass to her lips. “Cheers!”
At first, the depth of the aroma surprised Hermy with a pleasant tingle. As the cool liquor mixed with the warmth of her mouth, however, Hermy began to realize that Hannah had a point about the burn. When she finally swallowed, she coughed.
Rachel laughed. “You’ll get used to it. Next time, the anise!”
“Don’t get her tipsy. I have to take her upstairs.” Lizzie turned to Hermy. “Do you have time now? I’m afraid I only have half an hour until the children need to go to bed.”
Rachel and Hannah looked at the mantel clock and nodded in unison.
Right, they were all mothers, so their children’s schedules dictated their time, yet it seemed wonderful having one’s life filled with the love and laughter of little people every single day. Hermy hoped she’d be lucky enough to have children to read bedtime stories to at night one day.
The burn of the digestive from the Alps continued in her chest as she followed Lizzie up two flights of stairs and around the corner into a lovely hallway with dark green damask wallpaper and crystal wall sconces matching the chandeliers. Rachel stopped in front of a door, and Hermy heard a loud thud from upstairs.
Then another.
“The men have an unlimited amount of energy,” Lizzie said when Hannah stared at the ceiling.
“One more of these, and the chandelier will fall off,” Rachel said as she opened the door.
Thud!
Wham!
“What are they doing?” Hermy asked.
“Go look.” Hannah slipped into the room after Rachel.
“They probably left the door open. But come back, I have a few things to show you,” Lizzie said, leaving the door ajar.
At first, Hermy didn’t dare venture upstairs toward the noise, but she’d known Lizzie since they were children, as had Greg, so curiosity won over caution. Her hand trailed along the smooth wooden handrail while even louder metal clanks accompanied loud groans and grunts. When she finally reached the top of the stairs, she peered through the open door.
The room had parquet floors, white-painted walls, and plain lamps on the high ceiling. It was bare except for a variety of rods, sabers, metal discs, ropes, and various other odd things on hooks. It was an attic, except that it had been finished. No raw wooden pillars held up the roof, but horizontal beams with handles nailed on.
Hermy was drawn to the four male figures in white breeches, shirts, and mesh masks, fencing like musketeers under King Louis XIII of France.
Swish!A sword nearly touched both legs of one of the men, but he jumped up, pulled his feet into the air, and clung to the bars on the beams, evading the slice with athletic grace. Next, he swung his legs perfectly synchronously, made a backward slate, and landed squarely on his feet.
“My point!” Greg called. Hermy couldn’t see them, but she could recognize their voices.
With the speed of a tiger, one of the other men pounced at the one who’d just landed, but that one ducked and rolled the tiger off his back. The tiger fell on his feet, bent low, and twisted around his own axis like a compass, knocking the feet out from under the other two. All four men collapsed in laughter on the parquet.
“Good one, Caleb.” Arnold, shaking with mirth, lifted his mask.
Caleb also lifted his mask. “We have an audience, so I wanted to ensure you had a chance to show off.”
The other two revealed their faces, Fave and—Hermy gulped—the fencing Hercules who’d hung from the ceiling was Greg.
“We were just training a little after dessert.” Greg rose and came to the door, greeting Hermy with a bone-meltingly handsome smile and hair so disheveled that she wished to wrap her naked body around him and muss it some more. She didn’t expect him to be in such athletic shape outside the chess battlefield, but he was a warrior who’d conquered her heart in every way.
“Shouldn’t you drink whisky and play cards like other gentlemen after dinner?”
Greg looked over his shoulder at the others, who nodded and smiled. Then he turned back to Hermy and came so close that the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up. “I’m not a typical gentleman.”
“That’s it for me. It’s time to read Maia a story.” Fave hung his mask and sword on the wall, followed by Caleb and Arnold.
“Me, too!”
“I promised Izaac another story about the crying dragons of Genalore,” Arnold said.
“Is that even real?” Caleb asked.
“No, he’s making the stories up. I’m reading Maia Greek mythology,” Fave said as he bowed to Hermy and walked past her, disappearing downstairs.
Arnold and Caleb followed with a polite wish for a good night.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hermione.” Caleb bowed. Oh dear, he was handsome.
“What are you looking at?” Greg asked when Hermy watched the three men disappear down the stairs.
“He could have injured you,” Hermy said when Greg cupped her face.
“He didn’t.”
“Could have,” she insisted.
“I can fight him.” Greg came closer. “I’m in good shape.”
“How good?”
“Would you like to judge for yourself?”
She tore her eyes wide open. “Here?”
Greg gave her a toothy smile, a perfect one that reached into her chest and squeezed the resolve not to let him seduce her into nothing but a laudable idea.
“Perhaps at home?”
She parted her lips but couldn’t find the right words. It was scandalous for a well-born lady to be so … so free. Yes, those were the right words for how she felt at the Pearler’s house. The Ton hated and envied this large family under one roof, where they’d created a family’s paradise within their circle of love. And somehow, Greg was part of it; because of him, she’d been welcomed. Instead of the countless rules of etiquette and expectations for formality, no rules were necessary because everyone abided by an unwritten code of honorable conduct; respect and love were implied. A safer home she’d never known. A lovelier family she couldn’t imagine.
“They treat you like one of them,” she whispered when Greg gave her a chaste but lingering kiss on the forehead and wrapped his arms around her.
“They are the only family I have left.” He sighed.
Hm! Hermy would change that as soon as she could.