GypsyDukeEpub (39 page)

She sighed. She found the entire dilemma most distressing. Something everyone in the household did their best to avoid. They most often refused to discuss John or his continued absence, claiming that the doctor ordered her complete rest and no worries, including worries about her errant spouse.

Her only recourse was continued prayer. God would protect John, and he would come to a saving knowledge of Jesus. Then she would tell him about the babe.

She held her hands over the precious life growing in her womb. "I love you, my darling. And your papa will too. I just know it."

The long, grinding haul in the back of a wagon seemed to take forever but was closer to several weeks. The ragtag group of "gypsies" avoided main thoroughfares and stayed as much as possible to back country roads. The going was harder and the journey longer, but hopefully, safer.

Thoughts of Kitty's welfare consumed John. He grew more and more sorry he'd promised God never to see her again. There was no way to send correspondence from France to England.

Mayhap it would be all right to see her. He should make sure there was nothing she needed, for she was still his responsibility. No matter what Kitty did with the freedom he'd given her, he would always feel responsible for her.

No, it was more than that. He loved her and always would.

The peasant folk they met on the back roads of France were more courteous to gypsies than the town folk. Many times, they were offered a night in a barn or some food if they would shoe and tend horses.

Of course, John was the only one experienced in such things, which was laughable to the others. He was the highest-ranking nobleman in their group.

Under the watchful eye of his daughter, Nicholai's health improved. John observed the close bond between father and daughter and wondered at it. What he wouldn't give to have experienced that with the duke, or now with Ardaix, for that matter.

Would he ever again find a place he truly belonged?

Much to his dismay, another bond grew. Robert and Katerina could often be seen, dark heads together, laughing and talking. It was something John hadn't expected to see for many years, Robert Westley bowled over by a woman, a mere slip of a girl at that.

Had Robert faced the probability that he'd never marry a gypsy girl?
His father, Viscount Newburn, was likely to disinherit him if he did.

If only the girl's mother was a noblewoman. He would find out.

One afternoon, while Robert drove the wagon, Katerina sat in the back with her father. John watched them for some time. Now was the right time to ask questions.

He crawled to the end of the wagon, leaning his legs out the back so his voice carried away from the others.

"I would like to speak with you, if I may."

He directed his question at neither of them in particular, but Nicholai responded. "I'm surprised you waited this long. What would you like to know?"

"How did you end up here? How are we related? Where is your wife, Katerina's mother?"

Katerina chuckled. "Well, your grace, when you finally open up, the floods come in."

"Katerina. Of course he has questions. I have questions as well." His eyes met John's. "My wife is dead, killed during the revolution."

"I do not understand. Why would they kill a gypsy? I thought only the aristocrats…"

"She was of the aristocracy. I thought she would be safe, while I went to help my brethren leave the country. When I returned, she had been taken. Katerina was saved by our servants, hidden among them as a peasant child. It was months before I learned of her existence, by then, my wife had been executed."

"I'm sorry."

How small it sounded in the face of their loss. A loving look passed between them.

"Many lost loved ones. We have each other." He looked up at John again. "You see how I ended up here. I met Katerina's mother and left the gypsies. And now, for your other question…As you might have guessed, Csinka is my mother. She is also the mother of Ardaix and Dago, though Dago has a different father, a gypsy."

"Dago was killed a year ago, trying to arrange your release. I…am sorry to be the one to tell you."

"Thank you. How did he die? Did he come to France?"

John turned to look at Newport in the front of the wagon with Jorgan, the urchin child, who had cleaned up very nicely after Katerina took a hand to him. Newport didn't appear aware of their conversation, but John knew better from the tense set of the man's shoulders. He strained to hear every word.

"No. He was approached by a representative of the French government. They promised if he agreed to carry information for them in and out of England, they would free you."

"Tell me he did not do such a thing."

John shrugged. "For a short while. But through Newport's help, we turned the spying against them. Dago made a list of everyone involved. He turned it in. Unfortunately, he was killed one night at an exchange."

"At least he died with honor."

"He did. Many traitors to England were apprehended because of his intervention. But, you were saying...you and Ardaix had a different father…"

"Of course. Csinka was a lovely woman as a young girl, shining black hair, bright blue eyes...unusual in a gypsy. Her family often traveled near Somerset Park for the harvest, and that is how she met the lord of the manor, the Duke of Somerset."

She became his mistress. His wife, it was believed, was barren. When Ardaix and I were born…"

"Then you are twins?"

"Yes, though not identical. The duke took us into his household. Ardaix was the first-born. He was to inherit everything...until the duchess found herself with child. She had two children in the years that followed. Although we grew up in the household of a duke, we were no longer…"

"Welcome?" asked John.

"More like…we were now guests instead of heirs. But it mattered little to Ardaix. I returned to the gypsies at fifteen, Ardaix stayed with the duke's family until the year before the duke's death. He was nineteen, I believe."

This was the part of the story John had been waiting for. It should include his mother. "What happened?"

"Ardaix had a disagreement with Richard over a woman. They fought. Ardaix left. Richard married her, your mother, actually."

"But why? Why did he leave? What about me? Who is really my father?"

Nicholai gave that characteristic Gallic shrug. "Does it matter? They both wanted you as the next duke, and you are. Both of their blood flows in your veins. From what I hear, they both had a hand in raising you."

John snorted. "They both used their hands all right. Usually against my head or whatever was closest at the time. Though the duke preferred to leave marks where they wouldn't be seen. He used a cane."

"That is unfortunate. But it doesn't mean neither of them cared for
you. You would have had to know our father to understand. Duty was all that mattered to him. He would not divorce his wife to marry Csinka, and Csinka would not remain as the plaything of a rich man. Ardaix, and then Richard, when he came along as the rightful heir, was indoctrinated with the importance of responsibility. There is a bit too much of the gypsy wanderlust in me, so I left. Ardaix stayed because of your mother, I believe. She was promised to Richard, but Ardaix loved her, and she him."

Nicholai continued to speak of John's family, life with the gypsies, how he'd met and married Katerina's mother, and many other things, until his voice grew weak. Katerina admonished him many times to lie down. At last, he listened.

She bundled him in the forward section of the wagon so he could sleep then she returned to sit beside John.

"Did you learn what you wanted?"

Had he learned enough to change who he was? He didn't know. Ardaix had to be his father. He hadn't denied it when Robert announced it, and his blue eyes did match John's. So, where did that leave John?

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Are you a duke or a gypsy?"

"I was a duke until I was eight and ten. I've been hiding with the gypsies ever since, but I only discovered that Ardaix was my father about…" John counted up, shocked with his results. "About four months ago."

"So, you sent your poor wife away."

John scowled. Robert had told Katerina too much. "It isn't safe here."

"Perhaps not, but her husband is here. Her heart is here. And Robert says she is a woman of faith. Do you not trust God as your wife does?"

John shook his head. "Not really. And I don't see how you can after all that's happened to your family."

Katerina laughed. "You are such a man."

Usually, that was a good thing. When Katerina said it, why did it sound like a curse?

"That's been the general impression all my life."

"Perhaps that is your problem. Men see only what's right in front of them. And sometimes, not even that. How is it that you never noticed you look like Ardaix and not the duke?"

"It never occurred to me that I wasn't who I thought I was."

"It is the same with God." She poked him in the chest. "It should
never occur to you that he is not who he says he is."

John felt his head jerk back at her vehemence, and then she smiled. "You asked me how I can believe after all I have seen? How can I not? The French rebelled against the aristocracy, but it was much worse than that. They rebelled against God. They killed the priests, the monks...every man of God, and they tore down the churches. All, so they could have their rights. Look at us now. We are at war with the world, still fighting for our rights when the rights that God gave us have always been there."

She shook her head, tossing her long, dark braid about her shoulder. "If you shut God out of your life, you lose everything he offers. I see what I've lost, but I also see how God moved heaven and earth to bring my father and me back together, how he orchestrated your life to be exactly where he wanted you to be to help my father. I see his hand on your life, even if you do not. And if God says you are a duke, who are you to argue?"

What a strange way she had of looking at things. Was this how Kitty saw life, as one huge opportunity for God to work on your behalf? It would explain her faith.

"I prayed several times…for Kitty. And the last time, I promised God I would let her go, if he would save her."

"Did he ask for that promise? I think he saved her because you asked him to, not because of your promise to leave her. He takes a rather dim view of abandoning the wife of your youth."

Katerina reached for his arm and squeezed then she climbed across the hay to the front of the wagon where she pushed aside the covering to sit beside Robert.

John noted the delighted look on Robert's face when he saw her. He laughed to himself. Robert had fallen hard, and if Katerina's mother was an aristocrat, there might be possibilities for her and Robert.

John leaned back on the hay. The light was fading quickly from the sky. Soon, they would have to stop for the night, and John would have chores...tend the horses or make a fire, cook food, find water. For now, he could think about what Katerina had said.

He was whoever God said he was. That had always been enough for Kitty. It was obviously enough for God, too. Those simple prayers of his had been answered. God answered when John needed him. And if Kitty and Katerina were to be believed, God had been working in his life whether or not he asked for help.

He'd been a fool. All the things he'd thought were his own ideas, his brilliance, were God's way of taking care of him. He remembered all the hours of sermons his mother and Kitty had dragged him to.

From what he remembered, God loved him so much he sacrificed his own Son so that all men could be reconciled to Him. Kitty told him just before she left that he needed God's forgiveness. He did. He'd been living his life the way he saw fit instead of using the power of his
inheritance for the glory of God. That was something he could do, especially with Kitty to help him.

John closed his eyes and made his peace with God. He could look forward to his life. He could be who God said he was, not what others told him, not even what they saw. But first, he had to make things right with his wife.

Kitty stood at the head of the stairs and gazed down the long flight of steps. She was under strict orders not to climb anything, not even one step. But, she so hated being carried from one place to another.

She rang the bell placed at the top of the stairs for her use and waited. Grayson appeared without delay.

"Good morning, your grace. Would you care to come downstairs? There's a bright fire in the drawing room or would you prefer to sit in the conservatory?"

When he lifted her off her feet, she felt as light as a butterfly, though the constricting hold he kept on her felt more like the cocoon.

"I should like to sit in the drawing room. Has the dowager come yet?"

"No, your grace. She sent a message she would come for tea."

How disappointing. That meant several hours of her own company, unless her mother or father came to visit. "Has the post come?"

Each day she asked that question, and each day her servants tried to smile when they informed her that no letter had come.