Fortune's Bride Part 12

This cowardly idea was so attractive that Esmeralda turned back toward the door and was actually reaching to open it when she remembered why she had only stuck her head out in the first place. She was stark naked. She hurried to pick up her shift from the floor, but the act reminded her of the way Robert had looked at her, and inadvertently she cast her eyes down at her own body-and gasped. Her thighs were all streaked with the brown stains of dried blood.

For a moment she stood paralyzed, but not because she was afraid she had suffered an injury, she remembered immediately the sharp, tearing pain when Robert had penetrated her and the color of the stains was proof enough that the bleeding had stopped hours ago. Her escape route was closed. Robert, too, must be covered with bloodstains. It was impossible for him not to wonder where they had come from and then to remember.

Instinctively Esmeralda began to pull on her clothing, delaying the inevitable for just a few minutes more. Her mind scurried about seeking another escape route, but none presented itself and she did not dare spend any extra time thinking about it, for she could see the sky was growing lighter It would only make things worse if Robert were late and Sir Arthur reprimanded him. Drawing a deep breath to steady herself, she leaned over the bed and shook his shoulder gently.

"Robert. Robert. It's dawn. You must get up."

His first response was a heartrending groan. Esmeralda bit her lip and fought back tears, thinking the sound to be an expression of regret. Nonetheless, she persisted, shaking him again, a little less gently, and repeating, somewhat louder, that he had to get back to camp. As she said it she realized that she had no idea what had happened in the battle. Had Robert been drinking to drown the sorrow of a defeat?

"My head," he moaned. "Don't. Oh G.o.d, my head."

Esmeralda bit her lip again, but this time to stifle a giggle. How foolish she was. She had forgotten the morning punishment for drinking too much the night before. Her father had very rarely drunk to excess, but occasionally he had done so. Robert's plaint recalled the results of that overindulgence to her mind. And then a brilliant thought occurred to her. Perhaps Molly knew of a remedy. At least, she could say she was going to ask for one. Then she could allow Robert to remember what had happened on his own. She would not have to see his first, unguarded reaction.

"You must get up," she repeated. "Sir Arthur will expect to see you at six o'clock. I am going down to find out whether Molly knows of something that will help your head."

She fled the room as Robert rolled over toward the edge of the bed, groaning pitifully and reaching blindly for the chamber pot. As she closed the door, she wondered whether she was being unkind. If he was going to be sick, should she have stayed to hold his head? She would not have minded doing so but thought that it might embarra.s.s Robert. Somehow being sick seemed a rather unromantic first contact with one's bride, even on a delayed wedding morning.

Esmeralda's spirits had risen mercurially. She was delighted with the excuse she had found to leave the room, which had permitted her to act just exactly as a good, loving wife should act and still would allow Robert to remember in her absence that he had consummated their marriage. Even if he were appalled at what he had done, he would be far too kind to show it once he had mastered his first shock of realization. And if he showed no open rejection of the situation, that would provide time-time for her to show what a good wife she could be in every sense, since it would be ridiculous now that she was no longer a virgin for them to continue to live apart, and time for him to grow accustomed to the idea that she was a permanent acquisition rather than a temporary one.

Presented with a most moving description of the sufferer's anguish, Molly laughed. "Ah, weel," she said indulgently, "he's no doin' it often, 'nd he's no mean with it, is he?"

The last two words were a trifle pointed, but Esmeralda only looked puzzled. "Mean?" she repeated.

"Theer's men as git to foightin' or hittin' theer woives whin they drink," Molly remarked.

"M'Guire?" Esmeralda asked, shocked.

Molly laughed again, for it was plain that her mistress could not even a.s.sociate such an idea with her husband. "No, niver M'Guire," she a.s.sured Esmeralda, "nor me first man, but me da wuzn't above it, though no often. He's dead, G.o.d rest him, 'nd G.o.d forgive him, too. Now, whut the captain'll be needin' is a hair o' th' dog wit a wee boite to it. Jist let me gi' a thought to whut's heer."

"Yes, and you had better show me," Esmeralda said. "It's just luck that you are here this morning instead of in camp with M'Guire. If it should happen again, I want to know what to do right away."

Upstairs, Robert had indeed been sick, although it was mostly dry heaves that shook him. After the first spasms were over, he opened his eyes cautiously. The dimness of the predawn light seeping into the room was helpful. A stronger light would have intensified the lances of pain that stabbed through his head and made him sick again. The half dark permitted him to look straight ahead without any new disaster overtaking him, although he was sure that if he moved his head or his eyes, he would expire at once.

What he saw was so startling, however, that he temporarily ceased to feel his physical symptoms. There were his boots, neatly side by side, but in the middle of the floor. On the other hand, his coat, shirt, and breeches were strewn about in untidy heaps here and there. His smalls were nowhere to be seen at all. Robert stared around the room. He knew he had been very, very drunk, but he had been very, very drunk many times before. Occasionally he had slept in his clothing, but never had he thrown it hither and thither. Nearly ten years of military service had ingrained in him certain habits. One of them was to fold his clothing neatly when he took it off, particularly when he had been drinking heavily. That way he could find his things and get them on no matter how sick or blind with pain he was, and he would look tidy outside no matter what the wreckage inside.

Surprise still holding back pain and nausea, Robert bent his head to look closer to the bedside for his smalls, and in sweeping from the foot toward the head of the bed, his gaze pa.s.sed over his own naked thighs. He gasped with shock at the brown stains on his skin and the clotted blood that matted the golden curls of his pubic hair.

"Oh, my G.o.d," he whispered. "Merry."

But there was no regret in his voice, and a definite feeling of triumph swept over him. Perhaps he should not have done it, but she was his now, for good. As the thought came and he remembered more clearly the events of the previous night, his shaft stirred and began to rise. Robert laughed shakily. He wished he were not on duty so he could get Merry back into bed. The notion lingered pleasantly for a moment or two, Robert even toying with the idea of sending Carlos to headquarters with a note to say...

He grinned at the thought of requesting a day's leave to continue making love to his wife. He could imagine Sir Arthur's face as he read the note. It was never a serious intention. Robert would not really consider sending a young boy unfamiliar with the area alone through a countryside where a battle had been fought. Then the grin froze on his face as it occurred to him for the first time that Merry might not be willing.

There was evidence that he had not been very gentle with her. He got up, wincing at the renewed pain in his head, and walked unsteadily to the stand that held a basin and pitcher of water for washing. What the devil was he to say to Merry? he wondered, as he poured water into the basin and washed away the dried blood. When he stooped to pour the soiled water into the slop pail, he almost fell, shuddering as he fought a renewed desire to retch.

Better leave the bowl. He shoved it onto the stand and staggered back to the bed. His smalls must be under the bed, he thought, shuddering again at the notion of bending down to retrieve them. However, before he could put this hazardous enterprise into motion, there was a brief tap and the door opened. Robert barely had time to sit down and pull part of the tumbled blanket across his lap when Merry was in the room.

"Here is a horrible concoction that Molly says will put you to rights," she said.

Her voice was light, but she was blushing furiously. Robert stared at her, almost ready to weep with grat.i.tude. There was no woman in the world like Merry, he thought. No matter what, she never made a fuss. Whatever happened, she picked up the pieces and went ahead as brave and steady as the best trooper. He saw her glance at his naked body and shift her eyes, and he blushed, too.

"I couldn't find my...my..."

Ridiculously, Robert could not say the word, even though he knew Merry had packed and unpacked his undergarments. Besides, it was a crazy thing to say. He had meant the statement as an apology for his nakedness, but the words came out almost as an accusation, as if he were blaming her for misplacing his garments. She came closer without speaking, but hesitated at about arm's length and held out the mug she was carrying. Robert took it from her. His gorge rose at the idea of trying to swallow anything, and his hand shook so that some of the contents slopped over. Merry took another step forward and put both her hands over his and the mug to steady them.

"Never mind about the clothes," she said softly. "I'll bring you clean ones. Those will have to be washed and mended before you wear them again anyway. Oh, Robert, Molly told me you beat the French. It's wonderful!"

He had been looking at the liquid in the mug, trying to nerve himself to take a pull at it, while at the back of his mind he wondered if it would frighten Merry if he kissed her hands. He looked up as she spoke, just catching her eyes as they lifted from his body. She was red as fire again in an instant and turned away quickly. Robert swallowed and tried to speak, but nothing came out on his first attempt.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Merry," he said desperately, just as her hand fell on the door latch.

She stiffened, almost as if to withstand a physical blow, and the remainder of what Robert intended to say, a.s.surances that he would be more gentle in the future, apologies for his drunkenness, died in his throat because she so quickly turned back toward him and smiled, although the expression was rather strained.

"We haven't time enough to talk now," Esmeralda said rapidly. "Molly told me Lord Burghersh and some others were with you. You'll have to find out whether they went back last night. If they didn't, you might have to wake them. You'll be late on duty, and Sir Arthur won't like that." She was not sure whether the stricken expression on his face was owing to his physical discomfort, to regret, or to her seeming rejection of his apology-and she was afraid to find out-but she could not bear it. "Don't worry so, Robert," she added softly, and then went out before he could speak.

The gentle a.s.surance almost brought tears to Robert's eyes again, and he felt silly for being so emotional. Merry was just being herself. What the devil had ever possessed him to mention the possibility of an annulment back in Oporto? Why hadn't he realized then how lovely she was and how perfect? And then his conscience lashed him. Did he have the right to ask Merry to follow the drum? But she seemed to love it. Or was that only another instance of her not making a fuss?

Robert's head whirled, and he knew he was too dizzy and too sick to think straight. And he had forgotten all about his convivial companions again. If they had been as drunk as he was, they would never have made it back to Cazal da Sprega. Besides, he seemed to remember someone saying they intended to return to the wine shop and finish the wine they had ordered. Oh G.o.d, they would be in prime and plummy order this morning!

He looked with loathing at the liquid in the mug, but decided that despite the smell it could not make him feel worse, even if it were poison. Better if it was. If it killed him, at least his troubles would be over. Taking a deep breath, he gulped at it.

Raw fire exploded in his mouth and throat as it went down, and the breath he had taken whooshed out of him in an anguished moan. He tensed, expecting a volcanic eruption from his stomach, but he really felt no urge to bring up the hot lava he had swallowed. There were certainly fireworks-Robert let out another huge breath almost expecting to see flames spew from his mouth-but the fireworks seemed to be beneficent. Sighing like a martyr, he closed his eyes and downed the rest of the fiery liquid.

Meanwhile, with shaking hands Esmeralda gathered up fresh clothing for Robert, but she had difficulty fixing her mind to the task and ended up with four stockings, two pairs of smalls, two coats, and no shirt or breeches. She had to put everything down and begin again. It was ridiculous, she thought, that Robert's bare body should have so violent an effect on her. She had seen him nearly naked before. It was true that the sight had always affected her, but the experience of making love had heightened her reaction to him almost unbearably. She had had a nearly irresistible impulse to touch him, to run her lips and tongue over him as he had run his over her And he had caught her looking at him twice! He would think her more abandoned than any light-skirt.

And what had that apology meant? Was he sorry only about hurting her? If that were so, Esmeralda thought, she would have achieved a state close to heaven. She knew, however, that she had cut him off before he finished what he intended to say. Perhaps that had been wrong. Perhaps he would have said what she wanted to hear, but perhaps he would have said just the opposite. She had not dared take the chance.

Poor Robert, he had looked so ghastly. It was obvious he could not think straight about anything. Later in the day he would feel better. He would have a chance to consider the ramifications of what he had done and also have a chance to adjust to the situation. After that, she would no longer be able to avoid talking to him about the future. That thought was so sobering that Esmeralda gathered up a full complement of clothing without any more romantic tremors.

When she reentered the room Robert was still sitting on the bed, but she saw the mug was empty and that his complexion had lost its earlier green tinge. True, his eyes were tearing and he was breathing out as if he had eaten something too hot for comfort, but all in all he looked better. He held her gaze steadily only once. As soon as she blushed, hating herself for her inability to keep her color steady, he dropped his eyes.

"I will come back as soon as I can," he said. "I don't think there will be any more action for a day or two, and I will ask to be excused from mess tonight."

"It will be pleasant to have dinner together," Esmeralda ventured.

"Merry-" he began, flashing a glance at her and then biting his lip. "No," he went on, "you are quite right. We don't have time to talk. Will you send Molly for Carlos, please? I left my horse at the wine shop last night, and I haven't the faintest idea of how to get back there."

"I can send him to fetch the horse so you can rest a few minutes longer," she suggested.

Robert hesitated, then said no. He didn't dare shake his head yet, although he did feel less as if it would fly off if he did. "The walk will do me good, I think. I just hope someone had sense enough to unsaddle Apollo and give him something to eat and drink." He glanced up again fleetingly, flushed, and reached for the pile of clothing Esmeralda was still holding.

Silently she gave it to him and fled, just barely biting back an offer to help him dress. Had the offer come to her mind out of kindness, she could have said the words. Unfortunately, Esmeralda knew her motives were not in the least of such purity as kindness. Her desire to help Robert dress had been born solely out of a most immodest l.u.s.t, and she probably would have been more hindrance than help in getting his clothing on.

It was dreadful. Esmeralda was well aware that she should be ashamed of such raw sensuality, but she was not. She had not run away to put temptation behind her but to prevent Robert from finding out what a coa.r.s.e wretch she was. The fear drove her not only down the stairs but out of the house. Instead of sending Molly to wake Carlos, she went herself to the stable and shook the boy, telling him to go up to the bedchamber to help Captain Moreton dress if he needed help.

Then sternly admonishing herself, Esmeralda went to the kitchen to tell Molly it was possible Robert would be back for dinner. They were talking about what to buy that could be cooked and then kept for a day or two without spoiling if he could not get leave after all, when his booted feet came down the stairs. Esmeralda dropped the spoon with which she had been fiddling and bent down to pick it up so that Molly could not see her face and so her flush would seem to have a natural cause. It was dreadful to blush every time she saw Robert or even expected to see him. Esmeralda wished miserably that she could stop.

However, Robert did not come in. Although he felt a flicker of disappointment and worry when Esmeralda did not appear even briefly to say goodbye, he buried the emotions quickly under a determined effort to remember enough about the wine shop to permit Carlos to find it. Robert knew his physical condition was affecting both his emotions and his ability to reason, and he was resolved not to think about Merry until he felt human again.

To his surprise, as soon as Carlos led him to the main street of the town, he recognized the wine shop. He had the devil of a time routing out his companions and bitterly regretted that he had not asked Molly to make a gallon of her volcanic restorative. It was not that he felt well, his head still pounded and occasionally his stomach made threatening noises, but he was at least ambulatory and did not have to lean off his horse every few minutes to vomit. Worse yet, the party that had remained in obidos was not in much better condition.

Naturally, they were all late reporting to duty. Sir Arthur glared and spoke very coldly, but Robert, who was the only one in any state to notice, detected a definite twinkle in his eyes. Although he no longer indulged in such behavior, Robert was well aware that Sir Arthur had been there before them. There were tales of baccha.n.a.ls during the early years of Wellesley's Indian service that made his ADCs' celebration sound like a nursery tea.

Sir Arthur might not have been quite as understanding if he had not had some good news just before his young gentlemen arrived. He had learned that General Acland's brigade was offsh.o.r.e and General Anstruther's was close behind, which meant four thousand men would be added to his force. This was of considerable importance, since he had reason to believe that the original estimates of the men available to Junot were too low. Better yet, both brigades could be put ash.o.r.e at Porto Novo at the mouth of the little river Maceira only about ten miles south of where they were. To protect the landing, the army would take up a position on the heights east of the mouth of the river with headquarters in the largest village in the area, Vimeiro. With more than eighteen thousand troops, five thousand of which had proved themselves in action and all of whom were in high spirits, Sir Arthur felt his situation to be good.

Some of the army was already in motion toward Vimeiro, but there was work enough for the ADCs in transmitting Sir Arthur's commands to the remainder, making arrangements for the worst wounded who could not be moved and for those who could be shipped home in the emptied transports, plus seeing that the inexperienced commissary agents would have food and other necessities available, setting up quarters for staff and line officers who would need to be close to Sir Arthur-endless details. As the least disabled, Robert was busiest, but he found that he had lost his ability to concentrate his mind on military business to the exclusion of everything else.

The first thing he did as soon as he understood the situation was to ask Sir Arthur's permission to absent himself from the mess dinner that evening. The second was to find M'Guire, arrange the loan of a troop horse for him, and send him back to Caldas to see that Merry and the others followed the army to Vimeiro. The third was to make sure Fitzroy Somerset knew that Merry was on her way so that there would be quarters waiting for them. Then and only then did he set about the errand upon which Sir Arthur had sent him. True, there was no great urgency about the errand, but never before in his military life had Robert set a personal consideration before even the smallest duty. Now Robert understood very clearly why, aside from the hardships they must undergo, Sir Arthur was so antagonistic to the idea of wives accompanying their husbands into the field. And he also understood why some officers would ignore their commanders' displeasure. Despite p.r.i.c.ks from his conscience, which he soothed by reminding himself that he had several times urged Merry to go to England and it was she who had begged to remain in Portugal, he had not the slightest intention of parting with his wife unless danger threatened.

Chapter Nineteen.

M'Guire arrived at Esmeralda's lodging midmorning. Although Robert had described the place as best he could, it had taken M'Guire some time to find it, since he spoke no Portuguese. By then Esmeralda had finished the shopping and Molly had finished cleaning Robert's clothes. Both Molly and Esmeralda asked eager questions concerning why they were going and where, but aside from the name of the place, M'Guire knew nothing. The captain, he said, had been in a tearing hurry and sharper tempered than usual. He had said no more than that they must catch up with the army and get to a village called Vimeiro.

Esmeralda's heart sank right down into her slippers, which she ran to change to riding boots, but really she was too busy to spend much time worrying. She had to pay for the lodging, write and send off a note to Dom Aleixo with thanks and farewells, help Molly pack, make sure M'Guire and Carlos did not load Luisa in such a way that fragile or perishable objects were under heavy ones, and see to it that nothing was left behind.

It was not until they had pa.s.sed obidos that she remembered the attack of the previous day. As it came into her mind, she also remembered that she had not yet confessed her spying to Robert, and she hesitated about confiding in M'Guire. Second thoughts convinced her that she must tell Robert for safety's sake. Then she discovered that, despite Carlos's limited English, he had already managed to communicate both to Molly and M'Guire the most exciting and important event that had taken place-at least, as far as he was concerned-since Robert had agreed he could accompany the British. M'Guire smiled shyly at Esmeralda and a.s.sured her that there was nothing to fear now. Troops had been out to sweep the area and to spread the word of the English victory. Any Frenchmen left behind had been happy to come out of hiding and go along with the English because they knew they would certainly be tortured and killed if they were found by the Portuguese.

Whether or not M'Guire was right, no one interfered with their small party. They arrived quite safely in Vimeiro about five o'clock. They had traveled unusually quickly because Molly and M'Guire had taken turns riding the troop horse, with Carlos intermittently in front of them on the saddle bow. Thus, no one had to walk the whole twenty or so miles, and one rest period to allow the mule and horses to drink and Esmeralda to stretch her legs was sufficient.

Although the whole area was a swarming ma.s.s of men and animals by the time Esmeralda and her party arrived, there was less actual confusion than there had been at Figueira. The largest house in the place had already been commandeered for Sir Arthur. Orderlies and ADCs came and went. Lord Fitzroy's efficiency and attention to detail were already becoming a byword, and because he had been on duty the preceding night, he was not half dead like those who had accompanied Robert.

M'Guire got the direction of Captain Moreton's quarters, which were back-to-back with Sir Arthur's, and in half an hour Molly and Esmeralda were hard at work. Molly started dinner while Esmeralda went up to look over their quarters, see whether they needed to be cleaned, and unpack necessary items. To her relief, the large room seemed to be in perfect order, and with great joy she saw there was a double bed. Holding her breath, she pulled back the covers to inspect the sheets. They were not fresh, but that did not matter. If there were no fresh sheets in the house, Esmeralda now had her own. What was important was that they were not all spotted with blood, which meant that the bed was probably not infested with fleas or bedbugs.

To her greater joy, she discovered that the one room was all they had been allotted. Because Sir Arthur felt it was possible that the French would attempt to interfere with the landing and in any case that there might be renewed action at any time, he wanted his commanding line officers close by for planning. Their rank ent.i.tled them to s.p.a.cious quarters, and room had to be available for their staffs also, thus, Sir Arthur's ADCs were crammed in as tightly as possible.

Esmeralda could not have been better pleased. Her one doubt was what to do about Robert's cot. Not to set it up, she was afraid, would be too blatant an invitation; on the other hand, setting it up might be taken as a signal that she was unwilling to share her bed with him. Then she thought that it would sound reasonable if she said she considered it more important that M'Guire get Boa Viagem and Luisa fed, watered, and rubbed down than to be setting up a cot, which could be done later. And Molly had not really seen her husband for several days. Surely it would be a kindness to dismiss her to attend to him as soon as she had dinner at a stage where Esmeralda could watch over it.

She sent M'Guire off with the animals at once and told him that he need not come back unless she sent a message with Carlos. Nor did it take long to get rid of Molly. Then she realized that, if she wanted privacy, they would have to eat in the bedchamber. What would Robert think of that? Would he accept the excuse that it was too hot in the kitchen? Would he notice at once that the extra cot was not set up? Should she change from her riding dress? Esmeralda hesitated, suddenly regretting that she had sent Molly away. If only she had not, she could have arranged to be half-undressed when Robert came up.

The thought was so pleasant and had so insidiously slipped into her mind that Esmeralda was well on her way to devising another method of achieving the same purpose before she realized how shocking it was. And just as she became aware of how appallingly immoral her true nature was, Robert appeared in the doorway. It was as if her guilty conscience had taken flesh to reprimand her. Esmeralda gasped and stepped back.

"For G.o.d's sake, Merry," Robert said, "don't be afraid of me."

"Oh, no," she said breathlessly, "I'm not. Really, I'm not. I was only startled. I was thinking about something."

Those words were unwise because, of course, they brought what she had been thinking about clearly to mind and she blushed hotly. Robert was distressed. For the first time a horrible notion leapt into his head. Had he forced Merry? He remembered now that she had cried for help several times. Had she been screaming? It had sounded soft to him, ecstatic, but he had been so drunk! He stood staring at her, appalled.

Frightened by his expression, Merry took a step forward. "What is it?" she cried. "Robert, what's wrong?"

"D-did I...? Merry...did I force you?"

Of all the questions he could have asked, that was the most unwelcome, the most embarra.s.sing, but Esmeralda knew she must answer. Yet if she said no, she was a wh.o.r.e, and if she said yes, Robert would never come near her again. Clearly stated in her mind, Esmeralda knew at once which was the more dreadful to her and cast her reputation to the wind without a second thought.

"No," she said firmly, and then, trying to salvage something, she added, "you are my husband, Robert. You have been so kind, have done so much for me. How could I refuse?"

"That's..." He tried to smile. "Well, I certainly am your husband now. Annulment's out. Right?" The last words were uncertain.

For a bare instant Esmeralda hesitated again. Then she said, "Yes, I agree."

She had tricked and manipulated her father for years without a single qualm of conscience, but to do it to Robert, who was himself so transparently honest, was horrible. With a few words, she could free him from a burden that he did not seem to welcome. But Esmeralda knew that those few words would be final. Robert would never think of making love to her again if he believed annulment was still possible, and that would cause so great a strain in their relationship as to make any continuance of it impossible. Not yet, she thought as she spoke. I can always offer him his freedom. I must try to make a complete marriage work first.

Although Robert was far from the most perceptive of men where women were concerned, his sensitivity with regard to Esmeralda had been greatly heightened because of his desire for her and his guilt about having possibly mistreated her. The slight hesitation before she answered, which he would not have noticed under other circ.u.mstances, was markedly apparent to him in this case. He felt an odd sinking in his midsection, thinking that, even if he had not forced her physically, she had had little choice, then or now. He would make it up to her, he vowed to himself. He would make her happy.

His troubled expression wrung Esmeralda's heart. She put out her hand to him, saying, "Robert..."

He took the hand and drew on it, very gently, very tentatively, as if he were afraid she would resist coming closer, or as if he hoped she would resist. Esmeralda pushed that second thought out of her mind and yielded to the hint of a pull, smiling up at him.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Robert said, his voice as soft and as uncertain as his grip.

"Is that what's worrying you?" she asked hopefully. "Because if it is, I wish you would forget about it. You must have noticed that I survived."

Her cheeks were pink again, but Robert saw with intense relief that her eyes were amused. "Well," he began with renewed confidence, "it's been on my mind, you see, because I...er..." The confidence trickled away as Robert sought for what he considered proper words for what he wished to say.

"Yes?" Esmeralda asked encouragingly.

"I...ah...I hope I have not...er...given you a...a distaste...a permanent distaste..."

"Oh dear," Esmeralda said, and then feeling Robert stiffen slightly, and his grip on her hand, which had tightened, loosen again, she said quickly, "No. Oh, Robert, I don't know how to answer you, not because I don't know what I wish to say but because I don't know the way to say it. My mama died before I was old enough to have the proper mode of response explained to me."

"The proper mode of response," Robert repeated in a much more natural voice. "What the devil does that mean?"

"I am not very sure," Esmeralda replied doubtfully. "Are there not correct ways, I mean ladylike ways, of responding? I obtained a book of manners to learn the correct modes for entertaining when I was in India, and it had pages and pages of proper responses, even one for marriage, but not for...oh dear, I...I would not wish to seem coa.r.s.e or...or to shock you."

Robert burst out laughing. If Merry didn't wish to shock him, she could not intend to refuse him. He had no experience at all with "ladies", but, from what he had heard from other men and the plays he had seen, he knew that refusal was always proper and modest. Only acceptance could be shocking.

"Well, I can't tell you the proper mode." He chuckled. "My mama never explained it to me, either." He hesitated, and then went on, much more seriously, "And to tell the truth I don't care what mode you use so long as...so long as you say yes...I mean, so long as you say you are willing to be my wife."

He seemed so earnest and sincere that Esmeralda's heart leapt with joy. "Yes, indeed, I am willing," she replied eagerly. Then she giggled. "And it is most fortunate that we have come to this agreement just now, because we have only been a.s.signed a single bedchamber. It would have been very awkward... I did not know how to explain to M'Guire so...so..."

Robert pulled her closer. "It may not be exactly correct, but I like your mode very much," he murmured, and kissed her.

For a very little while Esmeralda remained pa.s.sive, but she found the embrace so much to her taste that she soon attempted to wrap her arms around Robert. She had forgotten that she was holding a basting spoon, which rapped him smartly on the ear as she brought her arms up. He lifted his head in surprise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, her eyes wide with fright because Robert might have thought the blow deliberate.

"Now that," he said, chuckling, "I can say outright, was not the proper mode."

Esmeralda's expression changed from fright to laughter. "I am not so sure," she remarked merrily. "It seems appropriate, now that I think about it. If a gentleman a.s.saults a maid in the kitchen, a rap with a spoon-"

Robert interrupted her by seizing her and kissing her again. This time she dropped the spoon, and it fell to the stone floor with a loud clatter. He released her, uttered an exaggerated sigh, and took a step backward.