Tallie's Knight (10 page)

It had occurred to
him a week before that she would very likely not possess any adequate
jewellery. It was unthinkable that his bride wear cheap or shoddy jewellery at
her wedding, so Magnus had looked through his late mother’s jewel case until he
had found a very pretty rope of matched pearls, earrings, and a bracelet —just
right for a young bride.

Simple enough to look
modest and maidenly, yet the rope was very long and the pearls priceless. They
were the perfect betrothal gift —and would be bound to go with whatever she had
decided to wear.

From the little he had
seen of her clothing, Miss Robinson preferred an odd style of garment, but
Laetitia’s taste was exquisite, and she would have ensured that his bride would
not wear anything outrageous.

And after they were
married he’d supervise her wardrobe himself. The rest of his mother’s jewels he
would present to her as and when she deserved it.

“Lord d’Arenville?”

Magnus rose and
turned quickly. He bowed slightly. “Miss Robinson.” His eyes were cold, his
patrician features impassive.

Tallie closed the
door to the summerhouse behind her. Her heart was pounding as if she had been
running and her hands felt clammy. She curtsied automatically, trying not to
stare. Gracious, she’d forgotten how very handsome he was. It made it so much
harder to remember how cold he was.

“I was under the
impression that you wished to converse with me, but perhaps you merely wished
to see for yourself that I had returned.”

His tone was
blighting.

“Oh, no,” Tallie
responded instantly. “I believed Lucy when she told me you’d arrived. Lucy is a
very truthful girl.”

He missed her irony.

“Lucy?”

“The maid.” Tallie
seated herself on a bench beside a wall.

Lord d’Arenville
folded his arms, leaned against the wall and regarded her sardonically. He was
looming again, Tallie thought resentfully, and obviously had no intention of
making this any easier.

“I wished to see you
in private because there are things we need to have clear before the wedding,”
she said in a rush.

Have clear? His eyes
narrowed.

“Are there indeed?”

“Yes. You left so
suddenly I had no chance to talk to you about them.”

“Well, I am here now,”
Magnus drawled.

“Th… they are very
important to me, and I could not agree to marry you unless we do so.”

“I was under the
impression that you had already agreed to marry me, madam,” he said silkily.

“Well, I did, yes,
but we had not finished our discussion when you rushed out, and I only
discovered later that you had gone to d’An… d’Anvil…” She stumbled over the
word in her nervousness.

“D’Arenville Hall,
madam. You had best learn the name, as it will be your home for the rest of
your life.”

This veiled allusion
to the rural imprisonment he planned for her threw Tallie into a temper. He did
not know she had overheard him in the library that night, telling his cousin
his plans for a bride and an heir. She recognised his threat.

“It is not my home
yet.” Tallie bared her teeth in what she hoped would look like a smile. “And
there are issues to resolve before I agree to make it so —several conditions,
in fact.”

Conditions! Magnus
was outraged. The chit was trying to blackmail him. Threatening to jilt him
unless he agreed to her demands. The day before the wedding, when guests would
be arriving at any moment. By God she had a cheek!

With difficulty he
held onto his temper, kept his face impassive. He would wait until he had heard
her ‘conditions’ —then he’d show her who was master here! He’d march her to the
church and marry her out of hand, and then set about teaching Miss Thalia
Robinson a lesson she’d never forget! Gritting his teeth, he coolly inclined his
head, inviting her to continue.

Tallie regarded him
nervously. He was leaning casually against the wall, seemingly relaxed and at
ease, but his jaw was clenched tight, and there was a most disturbing look in
his eyes. She should not have spoken of conditions, should have put it more
tactfully. He was annoyed. Still, this was her only opportunity to ensure that
not all her dreams ended in the dust. A betrothed female still had some power —a
wife had none.

“There are a number
of cond… matters that we need to agree on. The first concerns children.”

He stared at her and
his frown darkened.

“Go on.”

“I… I know you want
children… but I must tell you that I will not…” Tallie gulped at the black look
on his face, but forced herself to continue. “I will not allow you to send them
away to school.”

Magnus blinked. Her
statement had taken him unawares. He’d thought she was going to refuse to bear
his children, refuse to share his bed.

Not send them to
school? Did she think it a threat?

“And why should our
children not be sent to school? Do you wish them to grow up ignorant and
uneducated?”

“Of course not,” she
flashed indignantly. “They shall be taught at home, of course, by the very best
and kindest governesses and tutors. I am not saying they shall never go to
school, only not when they are still babies. When they are eleven or twelve,
perhaps, but no younger than that.”

Magnus opened his
mouth to agree to this extraordinary request, but was cut off.

“No, you need not argue —I am absolutely
adamant on this point. I won’t have my children sent off to be reared by
strangers. Not until they are old enough. And
I
will decide when that is.” She clenched her fists and glared at
him defiantly, a mulish set to her jaw, and continued, “Oh, you need not think
I wish to tie them to my apron strings —I value strength and independence and
will nourish these qualities in my children— but you can have no idea the
damage it does to very young children to be away from all that is familiar and
those who love them, and I will not have my children feeling unloved and unwanted.”
Her voice quavered with emotion and she stopped to catch her breath.

Magnus stared. He
recalled the devastating loneliness he had first felt when sent off to school
himself at the age of six. A lump in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

“I accept,” he said
coldly.

Tallie blinked in
surprise and relaxed slightly. The first hurdle had been unexpectedly easy. No
argument at all. She supposed he didn’t particularly care what happened to the
children, as long as he had an heir. The next would be a little more difficult,
for she could not let on she had overheard his infamous plan to immure her at d’Arenville
Hall for ten years.

“You said I would be
living at d’Arenville Hall for the rest of my life…”

He nodded curtly.

“Well, I wish to come
up to London for a short visit once a year —no more than two or three weeks,”
she added hurriedly.

The black frown was
back again.

“I realise you’d
prefer me to stay at d’Arenville Hall, and for the most part I will, but I have
never been to London and would very much like to visit it.”

He said nothing. He
was going to refuse; Tallie could sense it. She hurried on, “Your children’s
mother should not be totally ignorant of the world they will move in.”

Magnus was puzzled.
On the contrary, he expected his children’s mother to learn the ways of the
polite world as soon as possible. Why would he wish her ignorant? He didn’t see
her point. It had something to do with visiting London. For a few weeks only.
Was she trying to tell him she didn’t wish to go out in society? The chit made
no sense.

Well, he would not
take no for an answer on this one —he had every intention of taking her to
London immediately, to order her new clothing, introduce her to society and
teach her how his Countess should conduct herself.

And the sooner Miss
Thalia Robinson accepted that, the better. He did not want society to think the
mother of his children was an obscure, ignorant rag-bag. He knew full well the
gossip that had already arisen about his bride as a result of the house party.

“If you lock me away;
people will gossip, and I would not want my children to discover that people
think their mother is strange or odd or even mad,” concluded Tallie
desperately.

Lock her away? Did
the silly chit think he had a dungeon at d’Arenville Hall? Her eyes were fixed
anxiously on his face. She looked rather appealing. Magnus frowned.

“I have every
intention of taking you to London. I have no desire to have my wife thought an
eccentric social recluse, madam, and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

Tallie was amazed.
Somewhere along the line he must have changed his mind about keeping her at d’Arenville
Hall for ten years —or perhaps he planned to change his mind back again after
the wedding.

“Do I have your word
on it, sir?”

Magnus stiffened. He
was not accustomed to having his word questioned. By anyone. And certainly not
by an ill- dressed poor relation attempting to blackmail him.

“You do, madam,” he
grated.

“Good.” Tallie smiled
triumphantly. His anger at her question had confirmed her suspicions. He had
planned to change his mind, but she’d been too clever for him. She’d gained his
agreement to the most important things. Now there was just the matter of the
bride trip. It would be the most difficult, she knew.

“Now, my next request
you may find a little unusual… and possibly a trifle expensive,” she said.

Magnus mentally
braced himself. The last two ‘requests’ had, as he’d expected, been mere
bagatelles, intended to soften him up. This one would be the cruncher.

“I have always wished
to travel,” Tallie began, “and I was hoping that you would agree that on the
honey… on my bride trip we could visit some of the places I have always dreamed
of seeing.” She clasped her hands in unconscious supplication. “On the
Continent.”

Magnus relaxed.

So that was it. The
girl wished to go to Paris. Not surprising. Every woman he’d ever known
preferred French gowns, French hats and French perfumes. And the war was over…
He shrugged mentally. It would be no hardship to take her to Paris and purchase
her new wardrobe there.

It might even be a
good thing allow her to acquire a touch of town bronze in Parisian society
before she made her entrance in London.

He shrugged
indifferently.

“All right. If you
wish to brave the Channel crossing, we shall.”

Tallie was
incredulous.

“You do not mind?”

Magnus shrugged
again.

“Not at all.” He
wondered what her final request would be. He shifted, and felt the bump of the
jewel case in his pocket.

“The trip will take
some time,” said Tallie. “You may not care for the inconvenience. You are sure?”

The chit was
questioning his word again, damn her!

“You have my word on
it, Miss Robinson,” he snapped.

Tallie beamed.

“Then may I prepare
an itinerary?”

Magnus inclined his
head.

“I can speak several
languages, you know,” she said confidingly. “French, of course, and Italian,
but also German and a little Dutch, for there was a girl from the Low Countries
at school, and she taught me some Dutch and some Flemish, too.”

“What the devil are
you talking about? You won’t need all those languages in Paris.”

Tallie laughed.

“Not in Paris —for
Italy— and elsewhere, of course. I won’t need an interpreter in Paris. I told
you —I speak French fluently. And Italian.”

“Do you mean to tell
me you wish to travel to Italy?”

Tallie nodded. “Yes…
and Germany, Switzerland, and perhaps we can visit the Low Countries on our way
back to England.” Anywhere, as long as we go to Italy, where poor Mama died.
And then, perhaps, I will be able to find out —for certain— if…

“That is The Grand
Tour,” said Magnus, in a forbidding tone.

“Yes. I have wanted
to take it for years.”

“Quite impossible!
And too dangerous —Europe is still at sixes and sevens because of the war.”

“Nonsense. It is
perfectly safe since the Peace Treaty was signed at Amiens,” retorted Tallie
triumphantly. “Several of my cousin’s acquaintances departed for Paris even
before it was signed, and they are all surviving nicely.”

Magnus glared at her.
Ladies were supposed to know nothing of political matters. She ought not to
question his judgement.

“And if it is so
terribly dangerous, why did you agree to take me to Paris?” she added.

“Paris is one thing —The
Grand Tour another. Ladies do not take The Grand Tour,” he stated coldly.

“They do,” Tallie
contradicted him. “I know of several.”

Magnus stared down
his nose at her.

“Perhaps you are
speaking of females,” he said. “I was referring to ladies.”

“Well, so was I!”
retorted Tallie. “Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Lady Featherstonehaugh, and… and
Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, who embarked on The Grand Tour with her husband, in the
very year that Robespierre was guillotined —the same year her Mysteries of Udolfo
was published, I believe.”

Magnus was
exasperated.

“That damned silly
book—”

“It is not a silly
book! It is utterly thrilling, as anyone who did not have ice-water in his
veins—”

“We are not speaking
of Lady Mary Montagu or Lady Featherstonehaugh or Mrs. Radcliffe. We are
speaking of my wife.”

“I am not your wife
yet!” Tallie interrupted him. “And you gave your word!”

“I gave my word to
take you to Paris, but no further.”

“I never mentioned
Paris, and neither did you,” argued Tallie. “Not until after you gave your
word.”

Magnus thought back.
Damn it —the chit was right!

“The rigours and
difficulties of The Grand Tour make it too exhausting and dangerous for females
to attempt.” His voice brooked no argument.