Her Highness, My Wife (29 page)

Would he indeed be willing to return to Avalonia with her? To live by her side in that odd position accorded to men who marry women of power? It scarcely mattered. Her jaw clenched. She would not allow it. She acknowledged that Matthew was not Phillipe and she had no doubt Matthew would manage to make a useful life for himself at court. But in spite of the strength of character he possessed, she was afraid of turning him into something less than what he was. Something less than the man she loved. A lapdog.

And Lady Stanwick did not believe Matthew would accept her decision to give up her title. Not that Tatiana planned to either ask him or tell him until the deed was done. It was a simple matter, contingent more upon the will of her father than anything else. He could well refuse to accept her abdication on paper, although in practice she had no intention of living the rest of her life in Avalonia. She could arrange everything when she returned home with the Heavens. If she found the Heavens.

She blew a long, frustrated breath. No one Sophia had trusted had even heard of the Heavens. According to Alexei, Beaumont knew nothing of them either. It was unreasonable to expect that Sophia’s daughter was any more knowledgeable than her grandson.

Valentina would use the loss of the jewels to foment unrest. Alexei had just managed to restore confidence in the throne and the House of Pruzinsky, but was it enough to deflect any new threat by their cousin?

And how could Tatiana abandon her country if that should happen?

“You were gone by the time I came back,” Matthew said behind her. “I never did find that fan of hers.”

“She already had it,” Tatiana said absently. “It was tucked beneath the arm of the chair.”

“I should have known.” He enfolded her in his arms, pulled her back against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Are we looking at anything in particular?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Everything.”

“Everything?” Matthew shuddered, but his voice was light. “You make it sound so dire.”

“Sometimes it feels dire.”

“You’re worried about finding those blasted jewels of yours, aren’t you?” he said softly.

“Yes.” It was not a complete lie. It was indeed one of the things she worried about.

“You will have the opportunity to talk to Sophia’s daughter. An invitation arrived this afternoon for a reception she’s giving in London to mark the marriage of her son and his betrothed.”

“No doubt we have Her Grace to thank for that,” Tatiana said wryly. “I fully expect she told the viscount everything.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. She and my grandmother follow their own rules. Probably why they’re

friends.”

“That and blackmail.”

“It is a two-day drive back to London from here. We shall have to begin, again, first thing in the morning. Does it strike you this adventure of yours consists of nothing more than traveling from one end of England to the other?”

“It does seem that way.”

“Although I suppose we are fortunate that my balloon was destroyed before I could try your Avalonian brandy as a source of fuel. We have more than enough for the journey.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It is not very good, is it?”

“No, my love, it isn’t.” He paused for a moment. “But I suspect it is highly flammable.”

She smiled and rested her head back against his chest, letting let his warmth soak into her.

“How bad will it be if your jewels aren’t found?” he said quietly. “Your family has thwarted Valentina before.”

“And I have faith in the ability of my father and brother to do so again. But the absence of the Heavens gives her a powerful weapon.”

“That’s not all that’s bothering you though, is it?”

She thought for a moment. “When I started this quest, the Heavens were an important symbol to my people, of course, but they were a personal talisman for me as well. I thought”—she searched for the right words—“if I could return them to Avalonia I would earn the right to live as I chose because I had, in some measure, lived up to the expectations set for my life. By finding the Heavens I would somehow fulfill my obligations to my title and my heritage. I would have earned my freedom.”

“Your freedom?”

“You could not possibly understand, Matthew. You are perhaps the freest, most unfettered man I have ever met.”

“You’re just saying that because you like a man who teaches you to fly.” His voice held a teasing note and she laughed in spite of herself.

“That is it, of course. You know me far too well.”

“Not at all, Princess. I daresay you will always be able to surprise me.”

“And is that a good thing?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Tatiana…” he hesitated, as if uncertain of his next words. “If you don’t find the Heavens, will you claim that freedom you seek?”

“The Heavens were a crutch. Nothing more than an excuse. A substitute, if you will, for courage.
And
yes.” She twisted in his arms to face him. “I will claim that freedom.”

His gaze searched hers. “Do not do anything in haste.”

“Matthew.” She gazed into his blue eyes and her melancholy lifted. He was her match. Her fate. She had found her way back into his life and his heart and she would not allow the Heavens or anything else on earth to pull them apart. “It has taken me more than fifteen long, lonely, disheartening months to know where my destiny lies and find the courage to claim it.” She drew his lips down to hers. “I will not lose that courage again.”

“Now, my love”—her words murmured against his lips—“once again, teach me to fly.”

The return to London was uneventful. Stephen accompanied them. Tatiana slept. Upon their arrival, they moved into the sizable townhouse Matthew’s brothers shared when their duties or interests took them to London. There was a distinctly male air about the place, and Tatiana suspected their grandmother rarely, if ever, visited. Indeed, the servants seemed rather surprised by Tatiana’s presence. Tatiana then paid a brief visit to Katerina. There had been no word from Dimitri or Avalonia and neither woman was certain if that was a blessing or a portent of disaster. Tatiana should have gone to meet Sophia’s daughter at once, but she could not bring herself to do so. She and Matthew were on a holiday of sorts and she hated to see it end. Whether Lady Beaumont knew about the jewels or not, Tatiana and Matthew’s adventure would be over. She would have to return home to face her family and her future. The thought was at once exciting and terrifying. And nothing would ever be the same again.

She and Matthew relived their time together in Paris without the secrets that had separated them before. She learned of his childhood and his days at sea. He shared his thoughts and feelings about the past and, better, the future. She told him of her life before Phillipe and after. She talked of her country and her people and her private joys and fears. They spoke of books and art and they disagreed as often as not. And even their disputes were glorious and passionate and ended in each other’s arms. As much as she believed these days with him were but the beginning of their life together, she sensed an odd desperation in Matthew’s manner and look and touch. It was vague and elusive, and when she tried to speak of it he laughed off her concerns and teased her about not enjoying each moment as it came. He was, as always, a poor liar.

And she could not shake a terrible sense of foreboding.

Chapter 20

“Now, this, Matthew, is indeed an adventure.” Tatiana cast her gaze over the crowd milling through the elegant London townhouse.

“An adventure?” Matthew sipped his champagne. “Hardly. This is an obligatory social event of the kind I have been fortunate enough to avoid up until now. The room is stuffy, the men obviously bored and the

ladies overly curious.” He shook his head mournfully. “Apparently I have failed you, if you consider this to be the height of adventure.”

“Nonsense,” she said, still scanning the gathering. “I feel as though I were a spy or something equally exciting. Here under false pretenses. Using an assumed name.” She flashed Matthew a smile. “Not that it is assumed, of course; it simply feels that way.”

“Well, there is a world of difference between a royal princess and the mere wife of the youngest son of a marquess.” His tone was dry and cynical, and she glanced at him. He too studied the crowd, his expression cool, even uninterested. His tone was probably of no significance.

She turned her attention back to the crowd. Viscount Beaumont and his wife were easy to spot, although they seemed to have eyes only for each other. The depth of their feelings was obvious and her heart melted at the sight. She wondered if people would think the same of her and Matthew someday, if someday ever came. She noted the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Roxborough, the Marquess and Marchioness of Helmsley and others she had met at Effington Hall. She and Matthew had presented their invitation upon their arrival, but had managed to avoid the receiving line. Tatiana wished to observe Sophia’s daughter, the Dowager Viscountess Beaumont, Natasha, before approaching her.

At the moment, Lady Beaumont stood on the far side of the room, exchanging words with guests and surveying the scene with a satisfied smile. She was taller than Tatiana, with a graceful bearing, still-lovely face and figure and appeared considerably younger than her fifty-some years. It was obvious, even to the untrained eye, that this woman had the blood of royalty flowing in her veins. Lady Beaumont’s gaze drifted over the gathering, meeting Tatiana’s briefly, then continuing. A scant second later, the lady’s eyes widened and her gaze snapped back to Tatiana’s. She stared for a shocked second, then a slow smile spread across her face. A smile of acknowledgment and welcome.

“Matthew,” Tatiana said in an aside to her husband. “I am going to speak to Lady Beaumont.”

“I’m going with you.”

She shook her head. “It is not necessary.”

“Are you mad?” He scoffed. “Necessary or not, you’ve dragged me across half of England. One way or another, this is the end of your search, and I have no intention of missing it.”

“Matthew.” Her voice was firm.

He was just as firm. “Don’t bother to protest. I am your husband. Lord and master and all that.”

“You can be so annoying,” she muttered.

“It’s one of my finest qualities.” He plucked her empty glass from her hand and passed their glasses to a nearby footman, then took her elbow and steered her toward Lady Beaumont.

“I have the most horrid feeling of turmoil in my stomach,” she said quietly.

“Nerves, my love.” He glanced down at her. “A brandy would settle your stomach or at least provide false courage. Have you ever had brandy that wasn’t made in Avalonia?”

“No, never. Brandy holds no particular appeal.”

“I can see why.”

They reached Lady Beaumont, but before they could say a word, the older woman grasped Tatiana’s hands in hers and kissed her on both cheeks.

“My dear cousin, I would have known you anywhere.” Her gaze skimmed over Tatiana’s face. “The resemblance is extraordinary. You are as lovely as my mother was.”

A flush spread up Tatiana’s face. She was not entirely sure what she expected, but the affection in her cousin’s greeting warmed her heart. “It is good to meet you at last, Lady Beaumont.”

“My dear, Your Highness, do call me Natasha. We are cousins, and there are not so many of us that we can afford to be standoffish.” Natasha cast her a brilliant smile, then turned toward Matthew, offering him her hand. “And you are obviously the Lord Matthew Weston.”

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Matthew took her hand and brushed a polite kiss across it.

“Natasha, Cousin,” she said firmly.

“Natasha.” He smiled and glanced from one woman to the other. “I gather from your greeting, you know precisely why we are here.”

“Of course.” She laughed. “Surely you didn’t think Her Grace could resist sending me a note with every detail.”

Tatiana’s brows pulled together. “Does everyone know?”

“Dear me, no.” Natasha shook her head. “The duke is the only one who knows all—besides his mother and myself. Even my son is still unaware of who you are. I can scarce believe you are finally here. I was just telling my father that the world is filled with wonderful possibilities, and then you appeared.”

“Your father?” Matthew’s brow furrowed with confusion.

Natasha nodded toward a small portrait on the wall beside her. It was no more than nine inches square, displayed in an elaborate carved and gilded frame.

“It is the painting Sophia carried with her from Avalonia, is it not?” Tatiana stepped closer and examined the portrait.

“Indeed it is. Her husband, my father.”

“I had no idea he was so young.” The man staring back at her could not possibly be much older than Tatiana was now. He was handsome and dashing and had an air of confidence about him, if as he were invulnerable.

“This was painted a few months before his death. The portrait was at Worthington Castle until recently.”

Natasha laughed softly. “I used to speak with him, or rather his portrait, often when I was a child, and it appears to be a habit I have failed to break.”

“It must have been difficult for your mother to haul this across Europe.” Matthew moved to Tatiana’s side and peered closely at the frame. “It looks rather cumbersome.”