Tallie's Knight Part 27

"But of course--' " No one, not even my husband, knows this secret,"

Tallie said hastily.

"Especially not my husband."

Carlotta's eyes gleamed.

"I swear by the robe of the Holy Virgin, I keep your secret to the

grave," she said, crossing her breast quickly.

She spat into her palm and offered it to Tallie, who shook it gingerly.

"I thought my parents died together in the coach accident, but a few

years ago I received a letter which said that my father was killed but my mother died a week before, in a small village."

Carlotta frowned.

"I have not heard of this."

Tallie continued in a rush."The letter said she died giving birth... to a little boy. It saidthat my father believed my mother had been unfaithful and that he wouldhave no foreigner's b.a.s.t.a.r.d foisted onto him." She fixed her eyes onCarlotta.

"The letter said he left the baby behind in the village where my mother was buried."

Carlotta looked stunned. She shook her head in disbelief at such goings-on.

"Carlotta, don't you realise? All my life I have been without a family, with no one in the world who belongs to me. No one who loves me."

"But your husb--' Tallie waved that aside. She didn't need to burden Carlotta with the knowledge that while Magnus might act possessively towards his wife he did not love her.

"It's not the same. But perhaps, in some small village not far from here, there is a small boy who also believes he belongs to no one. But if the letter is right, and there is such a boy, he has a sister--a sister who wants him, who will love him." Her eyes sheened with tears.

"I want to search for him, Carlotta, and I need your help."

"But why not wait until your husband is well?"

"He mustn't know."

"But why, caraT " I know we told you that we were Signer and Signora d'Arenville, but the truth is, in England, my husband is a great lord, from a proud and ancient family. It was bad enough that he chose a n.o.body for his wife, but what do you think his feelings would be if the n.o.body wanted to search for her b.a.s.t.a.r.d half brother? " Tallie shook her head. She loved her husband, but she was not blind. He had chosen a n.o.body because she would cause him the least amount of bother.

And the only child Magnus was interested in was an heir to carry on his family name. Certainly he would have no interest in a b.a.s.t.a.r.d child of unknown parentage, possibly half- foreign and raised in a small and probably dirty peasant village. She could just imagine what he--and everybody else-would say. But if she found her brother first. Magnus was not the only one who could be stubborn.

"Do you honestly think my husband would help me? Or would he hurry me back to England and thus prevent a scandal?"

Carlotta's eyes were sombre. She nodded.

"I will help you, car a. I know of these great proud lords. If we can, we will find your little brother. But are you sure Signer Magnus would deny him shelter?"

"Shelter, no," said Tallie with feeling.

"In an orphanage or school, perhaps. Or he might pay a tenant to keep him. But if I do have a little brother, I want more for him. I never had a home of my own, but I will do everything in my power to ensure my brother has one. And if my husband doesn't like it..." Her eyes filled with tears.

"I do not know what I will do--but I will not give up on my brother--b.a.s.t.a.r.d or not."

Chapter Fourteen.

Jo, John Black and Monique and Carlotta's nephews and I will travel to Turin with your letters of credit and introduction, and you'll stay here with Carlotta. " Tallie patted the reticule containing the letters. She was dressed for immediate travel.

"But--' Magnus glowered at her from the bed. He was not at all happy about her travelling without him. But Tallie was determined.

"Magnus, you know it is the only possible thing to do. We cannot all go, for then Carlotta will think we mean to run out on her, when she has already been to so much trouble and expense on our behalf. And besides, I'll be perfectly safe with Carlotta's nephews and John Black--and if you cannot trust him, who can you trust?"

"Yes, but--' " Would you prefer I stay behind, then--by myself? While you risk your health and possibly your life? Or perhaps it suits you to continue to allow a lone widow to support us and our servants. To be sure, she has not yet begun to dun us, so perhaps--' Magnus looked frustrated.

"No, of course I do not wish it. It galls me past bearing, but--' " Very well, it is agreed," Tallie said decisively.

"You need not worry, Magnus. I am not at all tempted to take your purse and continue my journey. I have no intention of abandoning you."

The look of blank shock on his face told her he had not even considered such a thing. But now he was, if the black frown was any indicator. Tallie hid a smile.

"And you could not possibly be lonely, with dear Father Astuto visiting you so often. I wonder if he could visit more frequently while I am away?"

A low growl erupted from the bed.

"Saddle me with any more of that blasted priest, madam, and you will rue the day you wed me."

"Will I? And are you so sure I do not do so already?" she said lightly, and, planting a quick kiss on his mouth, she hurried from the room, leaving Magnus frustrated and uneasy.

Curse it, but there was a vast deal of decision about his wife these days. What the devil had happened to the dependent little creature he had married? He missed her. She was fast turning into an impertinent baggage. He swung his legs out of bed and tried to rise. Blast--he was still as weak as a kitten. He had to get his strength back quickly, or the way things were going his wife would consider it was she who wore the pantaloons in this family. She was already wearing the drawers.

He felt his body stir as he recalled the sight of her in those d.a.m.ned alluring pink drawers. He settled back into bed, prepared to indulge himself in a fantasy where his wife was standing over him, clad in nothing but her pink drawers, her hair tumbled around her pert, naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Ah, Signer d'Arenville, you are awake, I see."

"Father Astuto," groaned Magnus.

"Repose yourself, my son, and I will tell you of the Holy City and my audience with His Eminence," said the priest with a gentle, reminiscent smile.

"It was a cold, wet day..."

Magnus closed his eyes and tried to recapture his fantasy about his wife in the pink drawers with their very erotic slit. "I was wearing a new ca.s.sock--that is the correct term, yes?--which I had purchased especially for the audience..."

It was no good. It was simply not possible to indulge oneself with an erotic fantasy when one was entrapped by an elderly, unworldly, celibate, stupefyingly dull priest.

Magnus closed his eyes and prayed that sleep would come soon.

"And of course I had prepared a small speech to make to the Holy Father. To this day, I still remember--it went like this..."

Magnus hunched down in his bed, trying to block out the priest's rambling. But sleep eluded him. He was kept awake by his wife's last comment.

Did she rue the day she had wed him? It was an unsettling thought. She seemed to him to be quite happy. but you never could tell with women. Women were natural actresses, in his experience. They never said what they meant. Although his wife was not like most women. She was different. but how different? Could she feign happiness so consistently? He pondered the notion. Now he thought about it, there were times he had caught her looking at him as if. d.a.m.n it, what was that look she got sometimes? Sad? Wistful? Pensive?

This wretched weakness of his--he hated the idea of her heading off to Turin alone, with none but John Black and a gaggle of Cariotta's nephews to protect her. What if there were more banditti on the road?

They would not be so gallant as that blasted Irishman. Magnus snorted. A bandit who kissed women's hands! And who did that fellow think he was--rot him--to compliment Magnus on his wife? None of his business what sort of wife Magnus had. Shouldn't even be looking at another fellow's wife, blasted bandit. Blasted green-eyed bandit.

Magnus closed his eyes, reliving the moment when he had realised that the bandit was taking Tallie up into the mountains to hold her hostage. It still haunted him. He had never in his life felt so furious. or so terrified. -or so helpless.

If he lived to be a hundred years old he would never forget that brave little smile she'd given him as she kissed him goodbye. I love you, Magnus. And then she'd hugged him as if he was the most precious thing in the world.

She'd offered to go. To take his place as hostage. Like a heroine in a Greek drama. Because she'd thought if they took him he would die of his fever in the mountains. And she would have gone, too, quite happily if that maid of hers hadn't said what she'd said.

Pregnant. Every time he thought of it, he felt. He didn't know what he felt. Breathless? Joyful? Proud? Obviously. Then why did it feel so much like terror? Lord, what was the matter with him these days? He should be over the moon-after all, a child of his own was the reason he'd decided to take a wife. He tried to envisage a child, a child of Tallie's. A little girl with glossy honey-coloured curls and big amber eyes. A miniature tip-tilted nose and teeth like tiny pearls, one of them endearingly crooked. But all he could think of was that women died in childbirth all the time. He broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. Pregnant. Oh, Lord.

He thought of her playful threat to abandon him. After the first shock, he hadn't actually believed it for a moment. Of course she wouldn't leave him. He knew it as well as he knew himself. She'd do exactly what she'd said she would--go straight to Turin, get the money and return to him immediately. With a start, it occurred to Magnus that he trusted her; he actually trusted a woman.

No--he didn't just trust a woman--he trusted Tallie.

Good G.o.d! When had that happened? When she had offered to take his place? No. He thought back. He couldn't pin a time on it, but it had started well before then. He trusted her. The realisation was shattering. His heart thudded faster in his chest and he s.h.i.+vered, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. What if she? -No, he wouldn't think about that. There was no point in dredging up the past--she was different; his wife was different. Somehow, by some incredible, wonderful stroke of luck, he'd got himself a wife who was different from any other woman he had known. And he was overwhelmingly grateful for it.

He trusted his wife.

And she was increasing. But, oh. Lord. what if he lost her?

The priest's voice droned on in the background. Magnus wrestled with his demons, plunging from exhilaration, to doubt, to despair, then back to exhilaration, until at last, in the middle of a description of the vestments worn by a bishop at a ma.s.s Father Astuto had attended forty years before, Magnus finally dozed off.

"What the devil do you mean, the mistress isn't with you? Where the h.e.l.l is she, then? Don't tell me you left her on her own in Turin--you know better than that, John!" Magnus stared at his coachman, baffled and not a little worried. Of course he didn't believe for a moment that his wife had gone off and left him. but where the h.e.l.l was she?

John Black s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. For the first time in twelve years he failed to look his master in the eye. Magnus felt a cold hand steal around his heart. She couldn't possibly have left him. She couldn't.

She wouldn't. But where was she? He braced himself."Out with it, man, where is she?""The mistress never went to Turin," said John Black at last."Never went to Turin? What do you mean? I saw her leave."John Black nodded."Went with me a dozen miles or so, then turned up into the mountains."

Magnus felt as if he'd been hit in the chest with a hammer. Thatd.a.m.ned green-eyed, hand-kissing b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"And you just let her go? By herself?" It was more than a week ago.He'd never be able to catch her now. His insides felt hollow."No, my lord, of course not," said John Black indignantly."I hope I know better than that. She had that French wench with her, and a half-dozen of the Italian widder-woman's relatives, including one

old woman." "What?" Magnus stared at his-coachman. Something eased slightly in his chest. It was one thing to suspect his wife had run off with some d.a.m.ned good-looking bandit, but quite another to imagine her taking her maid, an old Italian lady and half a dozen relatives of the eminently respectable Carlotta with her. It was not the usual way of elopements. But then his wife was not the usual sort of wife.

"If she was escorted by the widow's relatives, the widow will no doubt be able to cast some light on the matter." Magnus strode to the door and flung it open.

"Carlotta," he roared.

She came immediately.

"What the devil have you done with my wife?"

Carlotta looked at him for a moment and smiled.

"Do not worry Signer d'Arenville, your wife is perfectly safe. She has

gone on a visit with the wife of my husband's oldest brother. Shewished to visit her uncle, you understand.""Her uncle?" Magnus was dumbfounded."She never she told me she had an uncle living in Italy."

Carlotta laughed.

"Not your wife's uncle, signer. The uncle of my husband's sister-in-law."

"The uncle of your sister-in-law's husband? But why on earth-?"

Carlotta laughed again.

"No, not the uncle of my sister-inlaw's husband--he lives in

Chiomonte--he is the stonemason, you understand? No, your wife has gone to visit the uncle of my husband's sister-in-law. The uncle of my sister-in-law's husband is a very unpleasant man. The uncle of my husband's sister-in-law is--' "I don't give a h.e.l.l's b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.n about your blasted relatives, madam. / want my wife." Carlotta drew herself up and gave him a look of magnificent Italian scorn.

"I do not care for cursing in my house, signer. No matter if you are a

great lord in England." She sniffed, turned her back, and with immensedignity began to depart.Magnus groaned."Carlotta." He laid a hand on her shoulder. It remained stiff and averted. Magnus took a deep breath and counted to ten.

"Signora-- Carlotta." He forced himself to use a much softer voice.