“My lord March. What a long time it has been. A pleasure to see you again, my lord, a pleasure indeed.” He bowed, all gracious compliance and deference.
“Good evening, Perchon. Your establishment prospers, I see. This is my wife, and it is her first visit to your beautiful country.”
Monsieur Perchon beamed, bowed, and turned to give instructions in rapid French to two of his henchmen.
“Now, my lord, my lady, if you will please to follow me. Your accommodations, I assure you, are quite in order.”
She was somewhat surprised that Monsieur Perchon spoke English so well. She was soon to discover that he spoke French, German, and Italian with equal ease.
A slender, brown-eyed maid, who reminded Kate of a small, timid doe, was assigned to see to her comfort, and as she prepared to follow the maid up the winding wooden stairs to her chamber, Julien called to her, “Put on a warm cloak, Kate, and we’ll explore before dinner.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had no such warm cloak, when Julien, apparently guessing her objection, added smoothly, “You’ll find such a cloak in your large trunk, my dear. It is, I believe, of blue velvet and lined with ermine.”
Ha, he’d bought it for her. She’d see him in hell before she’d wear any of the clothes he’d bought her. “The pelisse I’m wearing will be perfectly adequate, thank you, sir.”
She felt rather deflated when he turned away from her and said over his shoulder, “As you wish. Surely you know best. I will appreciate having a hot-blooded woman for my wife. I’ll expect you in the parlor in five minutes.”
She untied the strings on her pelisse and tossed it, not without some violence, onto the bed. She moved to the small, blazing fire and warmed her hands for a moment before flinging herself down into a chair. Orders, nothing but orders from his lordship. She gnawed at her thumbnail and tried to cool her anger, for she had learned through painful and humiliating experience that such violent emotion dulled her wits and slowed her tongue. She forced herself to relax and settle back into the chair. She looked dispassionately at her chewed nail and thought, not without satisfaction, that the last three days had been more of a trial to Julien than to her, for after their brief and violent scene in the chaise, she’d treated him with a kind of indifferent courtesy. Instinctively she knew it was her best weapon against him. It had, at least, kept him in check.
“Excuse me, my lady, can I help you change?”
Kate jerked her head up, thinking that she had dawdled a sufficient length of time, and rather proudly smoothed her travel-stained gown. She rose, grinning. “No, thank you. I believe I look fine as a five pence. Ah, yes, please give me my pelisse.”
There was a rather dubious look in the maid’s soft brown eyes, for she’d unpacked many of the lovely gowns. She bobbed a curtsy and handed Kate her worn pelisse.
As Kate swept past the smiling landlord into the private parlor, she rather hoped that Julien would be irritated, since a good half-hour had passed. She pulled up short in the middle of the room to find him seated comfortably before a blazing fire, engrossed in reading a paper.
Julien finally raised his eyes from the paper and said with some surprise, “Good heavens, that was indeed a short five minutes. How very impolite of me. My pardon, my dear. Have you been waiting for me long?”
“You are the most—” She caught herself just in time. She yawned and quickly changed her tone. “If you wish to continue with your paper, it would be quite shabby of me to take you away to what one might consider a boring pastime.”
“Ah, but it would surely be ill-bred of me to prefer the company of a newspaper over that of my charming bride. Do allow me a few minutes to put on my greatcoat and we’ll be off.”
He rose and drew on his coat and gloves in a leisurely manner. He sauntered over to her and murmured ironically, “Do forgive me for making you wait, my dear. It takes such a damnably long time to pull on one’s gloves. Shall we go?”
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