Then show me where I can freshen up. I'll see if I can repair my appearance sufficiently to ensure the guards' cooperation at the Tower."
Jeremy had to smile at that. The Marchioness of Sandhurst might be a bit dusty, and her curls were tangled, but her eyes sparkled with a new kind of passion. She looked simply dazzling.
* * *
The Tower of London was far more than just one building. The name referred to an entire fortress, with the turreted, whitewashed palace keep built by William the Conqueror at its center. This was known as the White Tower, but there were many other buildings within the ramparted walls, as well as many other towers, which were used for everything from housing the king's menagerie of lions and other exotic beasts to sheltering prisoners of the crown.
Exactly what sort of existence a prisoner suffered in the Tower depended largely on who he was. If a man had rank and privilege in life, he usually was given fairly comfortable quarters. In Sandhurst's case, these consisted of a large stone room in the Garden Tower, with windows that overlooked the Thames, the moat, and the Traitor's Gate on one side and the Tower Green, where condemned prisoners were beheaded, on the other. He had a bed, table, and chairs, and a chest for storage. Best of all, if Sandhurst had been disposed to look on the bright side, his guard was unusually amiable and brought him adequate amounts of food. He'd barely touched it this first day, but realized that in time he would be grateful for the fact that he wouldn't suffer from starvation before meeting the headsman.
There was even a seemingly endless supply of candles. Andrew had too much on his mind to sleep, in spite of the fact that he'd lain awake the night before. Sitting in one chair, his booted legs propped on the other, he stared at the guttering candle flame and tried for the hundredth time to unravel the coil in which he found himself tangled.
" 'Ey there, yer lordship!" It was Carson, the guard, his key clattering in the lock before he threw open the door to the tower room. "Look what I found wandering about on the Water Lane! Such a pretty thing, none of the guards've been able to resist her pleas to see you. Almost makes me wish I were a prisoner!"
"What are you driveling about, Carson?" Sandhurst straightened, but his voice broke off at the sight of Micheline, haloed in the torchlight. "Good Lord."
"Against the rules, you know, havin' visitors at this late hour, but you aren't the first. The lieutenant'd have my head if he knew—" Carson paused here to guffaw at his own joke. "But this seems a special case. I'll allow you a quarter hour with your wife."
The burly man took his leave then, eyes a-twinkle, and Sandhurst stood slowly, scarcely able to believe that Micheline was real.
"Can it be you?" he wondered hoarsely.
Clad in a summer gown of apricot silk, her cognac-colored hair shining as it spilled over her shoulders, Micheline looked beautiful—and totally out of place in what were supposed to be surroundings of utter deprivation.
Meanwhile, her eyes were feasting on the sight of him. In view of all the trouble Rupert and Patience had caused within twenty-four hours, it seemed a miracle that Sandhurst was standing here, whole and strong, before her. He wore boots, buff breeches, and a white linen shirt without a doublet in the balmy June night. Micheline searched his face for clues to his mood. Might Andrew still be angry with her?
"I'm very real, but do you want me?" she asked softly in reply to his first words. Crossing the floor, Micheline knelt suddenly on the damp stones a few feet away from her husband. "My lord, I beg your pardon and your forgiveness for every wrong word I spoke night before last. I was cruelly in error."
Sandhurst quickly lifted her up into his strong arms, burying his face in her fragrant hair. "Forget about it, fondling. I have." Their mouths came together and both of them were jolted by a powerful current of feeling. "God's death, Michelle, how can you be here?"
Tears glistened in her eyes. "How could I be anywhere else? Oh, Andrew, I wish we could spend this time mending the trouble I caused the other night, but there are more urgent matters to deal with. We'd better sit down. I have so much to tell you!"
Holding fast to