Jervis paused, then replied in a rush, “TheM? That’s for the captain’s father, the brush belonged to him.”
Alix noticed his stumble, and pursed her lips. Rafe’sfather indeed. More likely a pretty remembrance of some woman, Margot, Marguerite, Marianne. No doubt, some common hussy. Monsieur Harcrest was mistaken if he thought she was going to blithely join their ranks. Thinking of Rafe reminded Alix of a question that had been niggling at her. “And just where is Monsieur Harcrest this morning?”
“Oh,” said Jervis breezily, “he’s gone over to the Hôtel de Ville to get the marriage license.”
Alix jerked forward so suddenly that one of the tresses Jervis had been pinning slipped loose. “A marriage license?” she yelped, her head feeling as though it would split. “But surely he can’t get a marriage license on such short notice?”
Jervis chortled and recaptured the stray lock. “Oh, mademoiselle, welcome to thenewFrance. It’s an amazing thing, wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. All you have to do to get married in Paris these days is walk into the municipal offices at the Hôtel de Ville, announce your intentions, fill out some forms, get some stamps, then show up for the ceremony at the Place de la Grève.”
Alix put her aching head in her hands.
“The captain figured you wouldn’t be too comfortable going to the Hôtel with him, it being the meeting place for all them government committees and all. Not that you should have any trouble with your new identity papers,” he added reassuringly. “Dubois is a master. It’s just that he thought, being who you are, you might not want mingle with all them National Assembly members.”
She needed to think of a plan, if only her head would stop throbbing!
“Said he’d be by later this afternoon to pick us up for the ceremony and that I should have you dressed, packed, and ready to go. Soon as I finish here, I’m going to checkon the coach arrangements to Calais. I tell you, I’m not much of a sailor, but the sooner I’ve got the boards of a ship bound for England beneath my feet, the better.”
“But is such a marriage even legal?” she managed, finally lifting her head. Her queasiness was fast turning into fury. Rafe had moved ahead without discussing things further with her.
“I dunno,” Jervis admitted, scratching his head. “But,” he added brightly, “it is in France and that’s the important thing.”
Perhaps she could have it annulled as soon as they reached London, Alix speculated furiously.
“There now,” Jervis said, stepping back to admire his handiwork, “you look fine.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said a voice from across the room.
Alix turned to see Rafe leaning indolently against the doorframe. “You,” Alix said rising to her feet, “You and I, monsieur, need to have a serious talk.”
He cocked an eyebrow at Jervis. “Why is it that when a woman says that a man immediately knows he’s in trouble?”
“I think I best be checking on those travel arrangements,” Jervis muttered. He snatched up his jacket and tricorne and sped out the door.
“Because youarein trouble,” Alix snapped. “Howdareyou fetch a marriage license without my consent?”
Rafe dropped into a chair and regarded her questioningly. “You’ve come up with a better idea since we last spoke?” He continued without pause. “It’s simple really. I’ve booked passage for us on a ship leaving Calais in three days time. With valid papers proving you’re the wife an English citizen, we should have no trouble reaching the port. No hiding in barns, no crouching among chickens, no pretending to be someone you’re not.”
“And when we reach England?” she asked.
“I will settle a suitable allowance on you, and you can choose to live either in the city or countryside, whichever pleases you best. I will place few demands on you and, in return, I shall expect you to comport yourself with dignity and discretion.”
“And that is all you will require of me?”
“I will occasionally expect your attendance at certain social functions, and of course, your assistance in getting an heir.”
He stood watching her, waiting for her response. He was making her a generous offer, saving her life, and setting her up comfortably. It was an offer most women of the ton would have leapt to accept, but not, it seemed, Alix.
He felt an odd twisting in his chest as she turned away from him, staring out the window as if fascinated by the activity in the stable yard. His eyes roved over the slim line of her back, the slender waist, the stiffly held shoulders. Sunlight drifted across her hair, making it look like polished mahogany, richly threaded with russet and gold. Rafe was seized with the desire to unpin Jervis’s painstaking coiffure and feel the silken strands slide across his fingers.
Instead, he rose and stood behind her, his hands clasping her upper arms. “Alix,” he said gently, “if I could think of another way to help you out of France I would. We’ve managed pretty well so far. Would it really be so awful, being married to me?” It occurred to him that he could dangle his title in front of her, tempt her with life as a countess and yet, brushing unpleasant memories of Lady Anne from his mind, he wanted to hear her say yes to Rafe Harcrest and not to the Earl of Moreham.
“It’s not you Rafe,” she said softly.
“Then what is it Alix?”
“I don’t know.” She gave a shaky laugh. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined my wedding day.”
He stroked her arms. “Alix,” he said, “in a few hours, just across the Seine, the tumbrels will begin to roll and people will die.” He felt her shudder but he continued, his voice insistent. “You know what their greatest mistake was?” She remained unmoving. “They couldn’t imagine that times were changing and they couldn’t change with them. You understand that, Alix, it’s the reason why you didn’t remain at Valcour to perish alongside your father. It’s what’s brought you this far. You can’t stop now. Take another step forward, Alix, come with me.”
