Court of Foxes by Christianna Brand Page A

his right forced back her head till her mouth touched his, lip to lip. ‘We’ll be married tomorrow, next day, whenever you will. No one shall know. It shall be just as you say. Only never again, for God’s sake, refuse me your kisses…’ And his lips fastened down upon hers and triumph for a moment struggled with shame, and she thought: What an actress I am, what a sham it all is! And then it was a sham no longer, there came again that leaping flame, that wild surge of excitement, her hands grasped his coat sleeves, she strained herself to him, gave her mouth to his, was lost — lost to all but the thrilling pain of his arms so fierce and hard about her, his mouth so mercilessly pressing down on hers; his face looming above her, gone so strange and pale. When at last he let her go, she leaned trembling against a chair while he flung across the room and cooled his burning forehead on the chill glass of the window pane. He said: ‘I’ll ride to Wales tomorrow. I must arrange things there. But I’ll be back within the week. Meanwhile — I’ll arrange a marriage licence. Today is Monday. Next Monday: will that do?’
    She answered, too shaken inwardly for further triumph, humbly: ‘Monday? Yes, my lord.’
    ‘Say nothing to anyone. If the secret gets out, we’re lost. Can you trust your servants?’
    ‘My servants? — oh, yes, certainly.’
    ‘To deflect suspicion, let your household here continue a little while, let your servants continue to say you are indisposed. That will throw any enquirers off the scent. Meanwhile, once married we’ll go straight down to Carmarthenshire.’
    She was stricken out of acquiescence. ‘To Wales?’
    ‘We shall hardly keep our secret by setting up home in the family house in Hanover Square.’
    ‘I suppose not,’ she said doubtfully. Once they were married, did it matter to her that the secret be kept at all? But then again, was not the whole thing too overwhelming altogether? It would be best to have time on her side. He said, rather edgily: ‘You seem not over eager to come to Castell Cothi. But after all, this is to be your home.’
    She pulled herself together. ‘You must make allowance for me. I am but an urban creature, used only to cities. And—’ She affected a rueful laughter, turning it all back upon herself, a deprecatory little joke. ‘I can’t help thinking of my duenna, as you call her. She will rot away in — I mean, she’ll be quite lost, without the familiar link lights and cobble-stones of town.’
    ‘She’ll be necessary here. You can’t leave the business in the hands of your cook and your footman; if your woman shows herself, then none will doubt that you are really sick a-bed. I’ll bring back a Welsh girl to attend you to Wales.’
    ‘A Welsh girl?’
    ‘Welsh girls are what we have in Wales,’ he said, again with a sharp touch to his voice. But he controlled himself. ‘Have no fear, the girl I think of is accustomed to this work, my sister employed her for some time.’ He appeared to consider the matter as settled — and she dared not argue further. ‘We’ll be married as early as the priest is astir and, by using six horses, may lie that night at Cheltenham.’
    ‘At Cheltenham? Drive off a hundred miles or more without so much as a wedding breakfast?’
    ‘It was you who didn’t wish for a wedding breakfast.’
    ‘I have no objection to eating one myself,’ she said crossly.
    ‘We needn’t go hungry; but by cutting short such ceremony we may reach Castell Cothi by the second night.’ He looked at her, astonished. ‘Does this plan not appeal to you? It was you that wished so much for discretion.’
    ‘Discretion, yes. But not to creep out of bed, waken up some unshaven cleric to couple us up; and then rattle away in a carriage to Cheltenham.’ What use, she had said to the family, a great fortune if they were not to enjoy the spending of it? — and what sort of start to the spending of it was this? ‘Is that your