They both nod, and we fall silent for a moment. I know they’re thinking of Grandmother Riquet.
“If she is dead, I wish they could have found her body,” I murmur. “So we could give her a memorial rite and a burial.”
Anne nods, and Mama says, “I wish the same. We owe her more than we could ever repay.”
I’m still curious about what Mama’s arrangement was with Grandmother Riquet, how they met, and what kind of influence she wielded over the forest, but this is neither the time nor the place for those questions.
Beresford returns to the table, but instead of sitting down in his chair, he leans over the back of mine and bends close to my ear. “What if we took a stroll, you and I?”
“A stroll?” Anne gives him a bland stare. “Just say you can’t keep your hands off her any longer.”
Beresford chuckles. “Fine. I need her. May I carry her off to my house?”
“Only if you promise to love her as she deserves.” Mama keeps her tone light, but there’s an edge to it.
“I already promised that during the ceremony,” he answers.
“Yes, but now you’re promising it to me.” Mama rises from her place. She’s much shorter than him, but there’s a keenness to her gaze, a fearless dominance in every line of her body, a challenge in the set of her mouth. “Some women have fathers toprotect them. My girl has no father, but she has a mother. And trust me, I am far more formidable than her father ever was. You hurt her, and I will not only take your life—I will destroy your soul.”
Stunned by the ferocity in her tone, I look from my mother to my husband and back again.
“Mama.” Anne lays a hand on her arm. “This is their wedding.”
“I am fucking aware,” my mother says. “I support the union, and I rejoice in your happiness. But I will also make it clear to my son-in-law where I stand.”
Beresford gives her a half-bow, his face sober. “I respect you for it. You may not believe that I value Sybil’s happiness and health above all else, but I hope that over the years, my actions will prove it to you.”
“That’s all I ask.” Mama nods to him, then kisses my cheek. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m going to find Iserac and dance.”
She strides away. Anne shakes her head, looking after her. “Well… that’s over. I think you got off easy. I will simply add my congratulations.” She kisses me as well, her lips trembling a little. “Dearest sister. Don’t make us wait too long for an invitation to come and see you, or I may be tempted to run up to your door unasked.”
“Three days,” I tell her. “Only three, and then you’ll come visit.”
She smiles and moves away, going only a half-dozen steps before Henry Partridge claims her for a dance.
“The way is clear,” Beresford murmurs to me. “Shall we make our escape before any more well-wishers approach us?”
“Yes, let’s.” I take his hand, and we sidle toward the edge of the pavilion slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion. We duck through an archway, descend a few steps, and emerge onto one of the pathways leading back toward the temple.
“I think we have gotten away clean.” Beresford gives me a wink. “Let’s find my carriage.”
His driver is nowhere to be seen, but Beresford tells me the man can get a ride back to the estate with the other staff. He takes the small driver’s perch behind the horse, while I climb into the coach. I wish we could ride together, but this horse apparently doesn’t know the way to the mansion instinctively, like the horse that picked me up for the first orgy.
I doze off during the drive to the estate. When the carriage jolts over the threshold of the gate at Valenkirk, I have just enough time to wipe a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth and smooth my hair before we come to a stop.
“The servants and stable hands are still at the wedding,” Beresford informs me as he helps me out of the carriage. “That’s as it should be. I want them to have a good time. But I’ll have to put the horse away myself. Go ahead and step inside, but don’t go past the foyer. I don’t want to miss your reaction to anything.”
He closes the carriage door and turns his attention to the horse. Clutching the skirts of my scarlet wedding gown, I walk toward the entrance of my new home.
10
Beresford’s mansion is nothing if not dramatic, featuring towers and turrets worthy of a castle. Above the arched entrance with its massive double doors, a balcony stretches from tower to tower. Every window is framed with beautiful stonework and set with dozens of panes of glass in elaborate patterns. Vines clamber up the towers, and their leaves flutter in hues of scarlet, bronze, and gold.
Since the house is set on a knoll, it provides a sweeping view of the autumnal landscape, including the bristling wall of Wormsloe Wood in the far distance, beyond the grounds. I take a moment to look around me, noting the stables off to the right and another building farther away. It looks rather like a tenement house—well-constructed and attractive, but not as ostentatious as the mansion itself. The servants’ quarters, perhaps?
Turning my attention back to the house, I square my shoulders and take hold of the left door handle.
“Home,” I say aloud as I enter.
