Tallie's Knight by Anne Gracíe

once.”
    Tallie chewed her
lip. She was strong. Her mother had managed it. So could she. And if she really
was ill, she supposed there would be no point in travelling.
    “Very well,” she
agreed grudgingly.
    Magnus refrained from
nibbing his hands in triumph. He had every intention of getting her with child
before there was any question of travelling beyond Paris. He would take her to
Paris, show her the sights, purchase gowns and hats and perfumes and all manner
of feminine fripperies, then whisk her home to d’Arenville Hall to await the
birth of their child.
    Their child. He could
not wait. But first he had to get the wedding over with.
    “And what is your
next condition”, may I ask?” he said.
    “Next condition?
There are none. You have agreed to everything, more or less.” Tallie was still
worrying about the wedding night.
    Magnus was stunned,
and vaguely suspicious. He’d been certain that she was building up to something
truly outrageous.
    Tallie stood up to
leave.
    “Thank you for
agreeing to speak to me. You have relieved my mind… about some things.” And
frightened me to pieces about others. She opened the door.
    Magnus recalled the
jewel case in his pocket.
    “Miss Robinson, a
moment longer, if you please.”
    “Yes?” She turned
back and looked at him, wide-eyed and pale.
    “You may wish to wear
these at your wedding. They belonged to my mother.” He held out the box.
    Tallie opened it.
    “Pearls, how pretty,”
she said dully. “Thank you very much. I shall wear them tomorrow, since you
ask.”
    She shut the box and
left the summerhouse. Magnus stood watching her cross the lawn and enter the
house, frowning. He’d never had a woman accept jewellery in quite that manner.
There’d been no squeals of joy, no excited hugs or kisses, no play-acting and
flirtation. Not that he wanted that sort of response from the woman he would
take to wife, Magnus told himself. Not at all.
    He should be happy to
discover his intended bride wasn’t greedy or grasping. He was happy. Her cool
acceptance was well-bred and ladylike. It was, in fact, exactly how his mother
had accepted jewels from his father.
    And why did that
thought annoy him so much?
    Nonsense! He was not
annoyed. There was no reason to be annoyed.
    She’d answered him
perfectly politely.
    Too politely.
    She’d accepted his
gift of priceless pearls like a child accepting an apple, with polite,
mechanical thanks, quite as if she was thinking about something else.
    Damn it all, but this
girl was an enigma to him. Magnus didn’t like enigmas. And he was very annoyed.

Chapter Five
    Mr. Penworthy, the
organist, plays the opening chord, so softly that at first the congregation is
barely aware of it. Gradually the music swells, filling the ancient and
beautiful church with a glorious torrent of sound. The bride has arrived.
    The pews are crowded
to bursting point, mostly with friends of the bride, well-wishers from the
village and from much farther afield.
    There are foreign
dignitaries, resplendent in silk hats, glittering with medals and imperial
orders —men who knew the bride’s father abroad, who come to her wedding
representing princes, dukes —even an emperor.
    Outside in the
churchyard, tall, handsome men watch from a distance, loitering palely, some
gnashing their teeth, others silent and crushed with despair —their hopes and
hearts dashed for ever by the bride’s acceptance of another.
    In the lane beyond
the churchyard wall sit two elegant carriages.
    Rumour has it each
carriage contains an aristocratic lady, each one an heiress and a diamond of
the first water. Screened from the stares of the vulgar by delicate black
netting, the ladies weep. Their beauty, their riches and their rank serve them
naught, for the groom has chosen his bride, and she is no famous beauty, nor
even rich or aristocratic.
    But she offers him a
prize he values beyond earthly riches —her heart.
    And he gives her his
in return.
    The first chord draws
to a