Chapter Forty-four #2
“Perhaps you read into her words what you wanted to.”
The dowager’s jaw set and she glared at him. “It is all my fault, then? Everyone else is a saint?”
He went down on one knee and took a clenched hand. “No one was a saint, but no one was a devil, either. Cry peace, my dear, and as Genova says, let us build.”
My dear. Only the worst families have no happy memories, and this was not the worst family. There must have been many happy times.
“You expect me to turn my gown and dig potatoes?” the dowager grumbled.
“An unlikely picture,” he said, laughter in his voice, “though you are equal to it. As I said, I have the offer of help and advice from the Mallorens, and I intend to take it. I intend to claim the rights of kinship.”
Genova winced at the ruthlessness of that, and the dowager’s nostrils flared. One hand formed a claw on the arm of her chair.
Perhaps she mellowed, or perhaps she recognized a will even stronger than her own, but she snapped, “I’m old! I’ve rattled through the night in our second-best carriage. I want hot tea and a warm bed!”
Ash looked up. “Genova?”
Grateful for escape, Genova left the room, wondering how a suitable room could be found in this full house, and what would happen next.
She didn’t believe that the dowager would give up the fight so easily, and there were true grievances on the other side.
The old woman had done her best to hurt the Mallorens.
Genova found Rothgar and Lady Arradale in the hall.
Hovering, one might even say.
“It’s going to be all right, I think,” Genova said, rather breathlessly. Reaction and bliss were taking their toll. She realized that she was also damp, sticky, and smelling of spiced plums.
She brushed at her bodice, but then gave up. “She wants tea and a bed. The dowager, I mean. I think she intends to stay!”
Instead of looking shocked, they both smiled. The old lady was Lord Rothgar’s grandmother, but all the same, he and Lady Arradale showed noble forgiveness.
“She can have my room,” Lady Arradale said. “I’ll suffer in the cause and sleep with my husband.”
The look she shared with Lord Rothgar before hurrying away indicated that one or the other bed was often empty anyway.
Genova blew out a breath and looked around. “I’m sorry. We made rather a mess, and it’s the servants’ holiday.”
“If we were saints, we’d clean it up. As it is, I intend to leave it until tomorrow.”
Genova suspected that plums might damage the wood if left that long, and resolved to deal with it. She wouldn’t bother him with it, however. It wasn’t his mess.
“What happened to Miss Myddleton?” she asked.
“After Fitzroger prevented her from trying to tear you from Ashart’s arms? She fell into a fit, and is now lying down with a vinegar cloth on her head, recovering from a momentary dementia brought on by greensickness.”
“That won’t work, will it? So many heard her.”
“All Mallorens. They will be discreet.”
“I feel a little sorry for her. I think the dowager did tell her she was to be his bride.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“I’m surprised Miss Myddleton doesn’t want to flee the house.”
“She did. I persuaded her otherwise.”
She frowned at him. “Is that kind?”
“It’s necessary. When she appears composed, and accepts your betrothal, people will adjust their memory. However, Uncle Henry and Aunt Jane can’t be pleasant guardians. It’s not surprising if Miss Myddleton is desperate to marry. Matters must be better arranged.”
She gave him a look. “Ensuring that the world turns smoothly, my lord?”
He smiled. “It’s a fatal obsession, Miss Smith. You are warned. Which reminds me, I must go among my guests and make sure the gossip is already growing in the right direction.”
Genova watched him go upstairs, presumably to the drawing room, then turned her mind to cleaning.
The nursery and schoolroom were deserted, and they would have the necessaries.
She hurried up there and returned victorious with a bucket and cloths, having filled the bucket with her own used washing water.
Ingenuity could solve most problems.
She had to duck out of the way before descending the last stairs, however, because Ash was escorting his grandmother up them.
The dowager looked fierce and unhappy, but even so, her love for Ash was obvious, and Genova loved him even more for his kindness to the old dragon.
Once they’d passed, she hurried down and cleaned up the mess she’d created, grinning at the memories. Without the happy result, the fight would still be a memory she’d cherish. How could she have known how much fun it would be? How could she find an excuse to do it again?
She turned with the bucket to see Ash staring at her. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up the mess we made.”
“There are servants…. No, not in this madhouse, of course. But really, Genni!”
She put down her bucket, eying him. “Am I not suited to be a marchioness, then?”
He came toward her. “You won’t trap me that way.”
She danced backward. “I was hoping for another fight.”
“You like cleaning?”
“I don’t mind. I’m not a fine lady, after all.”
“You’re a fine enough lady for me.”
“You’re mad.”
“It’s this house. It drives Trayces insane.”
“No, in this case, it restores sanity.” She let him catch her. “I adore you, Ash.”
As their lips touched, they heard, “Oh, Ashart! Genova, dear!”
With a rueful look, they turned to see Lady Thalia waving from the balcony. Hand in hand they went up to her.
“I just wanted to be sure you hadn’t hurt yourself too badly, dear,” she said to Ash.
“In falling? No, and Genova’s fine, too.”
“Oh, no, not that, though it was most entertaining. I mean last night.”
He shared a puzzled look with Genova, then looked back at his great-aunt. “You must be confused, Thalia. No one has been hurt. Don’t worry.”
She crinkled her brow at him. “But Regeanne told me that there was blood on the sheets you sent to the laundry. Was it poor Mr. Fitzroger? I must go and see. Such a charming young man!”
She turned and trotted off, long ribbons on her lacy cap fluttering behind her.
Genova stood frozen, not sure what would happen now. Why hadn’t she realized that even with so little pain there might be some blood?
“Genni?”
She turned to him because she must. This shouldn’t damage anything, but she felt it might. He was frowning.
“How could I not have known you were a virgin?”
“I gather some women…”
He shook his head. “I mean your nature, your honor. I’m such a fool. And I tried to persuade you to be my mistress!”
She grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “Don’t buy a hair shirt yet. Barbary pirates, my bold manner, my language, my kisses. I went to your bed never expecting marriage, Ash. I will be hurt if you begin to suggest that I would have been a lesser woman if I had not been a virgin.”
“You’re tying me in knots again. And Thalia spilled that little bit of information deliberately. Women!”
Genova laughed, bringing his hands to her lips to kiss them. “We’re a terrible challenge, aren’t we? I think she believes in honesty as much as we do. She was right. Don’t you agree it’s better to have this straight?”
“Yes. It doesn’t change how I love you, but I’d have behaved differently…. It didn’t hurt?”
“Only a twinge that I scarcely noticed.” But she glanced around, knowing her cheeks were red. “We can’t talk about things like this here!”
Smile turned to grin. “You’re bashful.”
“I am not. I’m discreet.”
He turned her hand and kissed her palm. “Very well, I’ll be discreet, too. For now. Come back down with me. I have something to show you.”
She let him draw her down the stairs, accompanied by tinkling bells, and across to the presepe. There, he took something out of his pocket. His handkerchief. No, something wrapped in his handkerchief. He gave it to her.
“A ring?” she asked. “Do you carry around a selection of ladies’ rings?”
“No, you’ll have to wait until I can have the perfect one made for you.”
Puzzled, she unwrapped the handkerchief to find, not a ring, but a tiny dove, carved out of pale wood. A dove of peace, wings spread.
“You missed a new figure for the presepe on your birthday,” he said, “so I rose early and begged the house carpenter to whittle this for me. He’ll paint it white….”
She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision. “You are the most wonderful man.” She fixed the dove on the peak of the stable roof, then turned back to go into his arms.
“No,” he said. “But with you by my side, I can try.”
Lady Thalia watched from the landing. “There, see,” she said to her open locket. “Did I not say it would be so? Love will have its way, dearest. It only needs a little help.”