Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Genevieve pulled herself out of the dark to the sound of Kendrick’s voice.
“‘And so the good lady spake and said, ‘Bold wanderer, I bid you welcome to this hall, and offer you a cup of mead in hospitality. All I ask is that you tell me all you know of Sigestan, once my childhood companion and now gone from this place to gain glory and honor among men…’’”
Genevieve slowly sat up and removed her bonnet, pulling her fingers through her disarranged hair.
“Miss! You’re awake!” The exclamation ended in a cough.
Kendrick paused in his reading.
Genevieve smiled at Fletcher and stood. “I am. Are you feeling better?”
“Still full of gunk,” the boy said disgustedly.
She felt his forehead. “Your fever is lower, though. What have you been listening to?”
“There’s a bloke what’s named Si—Sig—”
“Sigestan,” Kendrick said.
“And he’s not allowed to marry the girl he’s in love with, so he’s going ’round doing lots of great deeds.”
Genevieve nodded. “I was fond of Sigestan, though he has a little too much pride for my taste.”
“We’re only on chapter three,” Kendrick said. “The lad keeps falling asleep.” To prove his point, Fletcher yawned.
“Have you taken your medicine?” Genevieve asked.
“Tastes blinking awful,” the boy mumbled.
“He has. If you want to keep reading, I’ll get Joseph to come look at him before he falls asleep again.” Kendrick stood and handed the book over to her, pointing to where they had stopped.
Genevieve took his place and picked up the narrative until Joseph came in. “Good evening, Fletcher. My name is Joseph. I’m a doctor. We met yesterday, but you were very sick. I am glad to see you doing better.”
“Can’t I eat something besides soup?” Fletcher complained. “I’m starving to death, I am.”
“Tomorrow,” Joseph promised. He checked him over quickly and praised him for the medicine he had taken with only mild to moderate complaining. “Kendrick said he had a few things to see to, and he would be back later. Let me know if you need me. Robbie and I are overseeing deliveries for the house.”
“What deliveries?” Genevieve asked.
“Furniture, mostly, but other amenities too, to replace what’s missing. He said to let me know if there was anything in particular you wanted for the house.”
“I can’t think of anything,” she said honestly. “We’ll be all right, won’t we, Fletcher? We’ve got a chapter to finish.”
She read until the end of the chapter when Fletcher drifted off into a dreamless sleep, different from his restless, muttering fever-fueled slumber of the previous night. She remained sitting by him, the book in her lap, as she thought about what she had agreed to.
“Will you marry me, Genevieve?”
“Yes, please.”
Yes, please? As if he had offered a choice of different colored ribbons? Gracious. She pressed a hand to her face. And he hadn’t said a word about it when she’d woken. And now he was gone—
Stop it, she scolded herself. There is no point to this hen-wittedness. No point in wishing she had been a little more sophisticated when accepting her marriage proposal.
He had offered and she had accepted, and that was all that mattered. They would be stepping forward into the unknown, trying to forge a new path for the Ossuary. But they’d do it together.
She reached for the fringes of her talent. It was an automatic impulse to gather it about herself and disappear until she had gathered her composure. But strangely, it took far more effort to accomplish than normal.
Genevieve swallowed and dropped the intangible cloak of invisibility, repeating the action several times.
Where once drawing her talent about her had been as easy as breathing, she now fumbled for it.
Was she out of practice? Ordinarily, she used her talent every night.
How long had it been since she had felt the need?
She had never heard of a vampire’s talent growing rusty.
She swallowed back the unease, even as part of her mind reminded her, Your talent was born from fear. Kendrick’s promised you won’t have to be afraid anymore.
She clung to that thought.
A little past midnight, Elspeth entered the room with a quiet knock on the door. “Genevieve? This came for you.”
“For me?” She turned—and stared at the pile of boxes Elspeth carried. “What on earth…?”
“They’re from Kendrick.” Elspeth piled the boxes of all different sizes and types on the side table and handed her the note.
Jenny,
If you are agreeable, we can be married before dawn. I have made all the arrangements. Be ready an hour before daylight. Here are some things I hoped you might like. I will see you then.
K
Genevieve blew out an incredulous breath. How high-handed of him. But—efficient.
Will I really get married? Tonight? she thought a bit wildly.
But logic and reason intruded. As Kendrick said, why wait? Change requires it. And he understood your reservations. Kendrick won’t push you into things you aren’t ready for.
Genevieve crossed to the boxes and lifted the lids. A stylish hat, in blue. A dress in the fashions of this year, in blue as well. All the underpinnings such a dress would need. A new pair of soft kid boots. And—
“Gloves,” Genevieve said, swallowing. Several pairs of gloves in silk and cotton, white and black and dyed to match the dress.
“He has a good eye,” Elspeth said softly. “The clothes will fit like a dream. And there are boxes for Sparrow and me, too. That was kind of him.” Her voice had a strange note to it.
Genevieve’s eyes flew up to meet hers. “I said yes, Elspeth.”
Elspeth took her hand. “If there’s one thing I’ll say for the man, once he sets his mind to something, he moves fast.”
“What on earth shall I do?” Genevieve asked a little helplessly.
“Well, first, I think you should put the dress on.”
“It’s blue.” Genevieve swept her hands over her streaked, black skirts.
“A dark blue, one you’ll look lovely in. And every woman should look well at her wedding.” Elspeth hugged her. “I’ll sit with the boy. Go on.”
“You’re bringing that?”
Kendrick raised an eyebrow and left off adjusting the sword baldric over the cut of his morning coat. “Why not?”
“Your prospective bride might not want the bridegroom bringing a sword to the wedding,” Etienne said, adjusting his cuffs.
“I’ll ask her, then. Are you ready, Dominic?”
“Explain to me again how you managed this,” Dominic said, smoothing his cravat.
He had pulled out his best embroidered silk coat and hose for the occasion.
Etienne had kept his comments about the anachronism to himself so far, but Kendrick could tell it was a struggle.
Etienne hated being seen as a man out of time.
“I’m charming and people like me,” Kendrick said.
“Not the arrangements with the vicar. With the woman.”
“I’m charming and Genevieve likes me.”
“No accounting for taste,” Etienne said dryly as a knock came on the door.
“Are you all decent? Moonset is not far off,” Addie warned.
Kendrick had sent a note to Etienne and Addie as well as Dominic before he had left on his rounds, warning of his intentions and his timetable, and asked if they would stand up with him.
They had gathered at Fernside, Dominic’s home, to get ready.
“All dressed. Decent is debatable,” Kendrick called.
Addie laughed and opened the door. “Are you ready to go? You don’t want your bride to think you’ve forgotten her.”
“Not possible,” Kendrick said. How could he? She was never far from his thoughts.
In the early morning, London was as still as it ever was. The air was cold, but the wind had stilled. It took no time at all to walk from Dominic’s house to what Kendrick must start thinking of his house.
Joseph opened the door and admitted them. “They’re nearly ready,” he said.
“Thank you.” He shook Joseph’s hand and Robbie’s. “Not just for this. You’ve done a wonderful job on this house. It barely looks like the same building.”
Everything shone, lit by candles and lamps. Floors had been scrubbed, new wallpaper hung, bannisters polished, and furniture dusted. New life breathed into it.
“There’s more to do,” Robbie said modestly. “But it’s a start.”
A rustle of fabric caught Kendrick’s attention. He lifted his gaze to the top of the stair.
A vision in blue.
Gone were the mourning blacks. Genevieve wore the blue gown he had found with its straight skirt and bustle, long-sleeved, as were most dresses for the season, a smart and attractive hat pinned to her head.
Her brown locks had been arranged around her face and the strands brushed her neck.
She clutched the stair rail with a white-gloved hand and worried at her lip as she slowly descended.
Kendrick went to meet her at the base of the stairs, taking her hand gloved in new silk. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand, tasting the silk. “You look beautiful, Genevieve.”
He didn’t think there would be anything better than seeing the light kindle in her eyes at his words. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Are you ready?”
She lifted her chin, and that was answer enough.