She expected to find a maid. Instead, Charles stood in the hallway. One corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile that set her heart racing. Without a word, she opened the door wider to allow him to enter.
“Is there a reason for the personal escort tonight, Your Grace?” she asked, pitching her voice low. “What if someone sees us making our way to your bedroom? I don’t think they’d believe we were both headed downstairs for a second helping of the syllabub.”
The heat that entered his eyes caused a shiver to race down her spine. She was in a bad way if a mere look from this man could turn her into a puddle of longing.
“I thought it might make a nice change of pace to continue our… endeavors… here tonight.”
She made her agreement clear by way of locking the door before turning to face him again. “Are you sure you can keep your voice down? Unlike your chambers, my room isn’t flanked by several unoccupied bedrooms, and I’ve made up my mind that tonight is the night you’ll lose control. It’s only fair, after all.”
He was about to protest, but she cut him off. She’d rehearsed this speech in her head and she wouldn’t be denied. “I know this was supposed to be about me. You’ve proven your point that not all men are selfish boors in the bedroom. But now, more than anything, I want to know what it is to make love to a man. One who doesn’t just go about his business atop me and then leave the room without a word. Unless, of course, you don’t think you’re up to the challenge.”
He caught hold of one of her hands and drew her against him. “I think you’ll find that I’m more than up to the challenge.” The hard press of his erection against her belly gave proof to his words. “The more important question is whether you can keep from crying out.”
Ellen twined her hands through the hair at the base of his neck. “I’m not certain I can make that promise, but I’m willing to try.”
That was all the encouragement Charles needed before lowering his head and capturing her mouth in a kiss that told her without words that he was more than ready to consummate their affair.
Their lovemaking that night was surprising for reasons other than the new location. Ellen couldn’t help thinking that Charles wanted to tell her something. He gazed down at her with a possessive intensity as he slid into her, and she barely remembered to clamp her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
She’d expected roughness from him given the way he’d been abstaining from seeking his own release over the past week, but he surprised her by moving slowly. He delayed her release until she wanted to weep from frustration. She would have complained, but it was clear he was torturing himself as much as her. When she finally reached her peak, he held himself in check long enough to allow her tremors to cease before pulling out of her and finding his own end on the sheets.
He remained over her, his arms caging her head and holding his weight from crushing her. Their foreheads touched as they both struggled to catch their breath. Charles’s eyes searched hers, and Ellen couldn’t stop feeling she should be concerned. The way he looked at her, the care he’d taken… She couldn’t help but wonder if this was to be their last night together. It was probably for the best they end things now before their friendship was compromised irrevocably—if it wasn’t already—but she couldn’t deny she wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet.
Charles rolled onto his side and drew Ellen against him so that her head rested on his shoulder. It was unwise of her to become so sentimental, but she closed her eyes and allowed herself to revel in the way his body felt against hers. Not even in the beginning, when her husband had first taken her after they’d wed, had she felt this close to another person. That thought should have alarmed her, but she’d deal with the repercussions later. For now she was content to enjoy the moment, knowing it would end soon. She doubted she’d ever find this sense of peace again with another.
His hands stroked over her back, their heat seeping through to her bones. She was on the edge of falling asleep when his voice broke into the silence.
“We might not be able to do this once we reach Brighton. I don’t know where we’ll be sleeping, and I’m not sure it would be wise to risk being caught.”
Ellen lifted her head and met his gaze. “Then perhaps we shouldn’t go to Brighton.”
Her desire to stay right here with this man surprised her, but she didn’t regret her words. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to wrest whatever happiness she could from their short time together.
“And disappoint Jane? I know you wouldn’t want to do that.”
Ellen sighed. Aiming for levity, she said, “Take note of this moment. I’m about to admit something you likely won’t hear from my lips again, but you’re correct.”
His laughter rumbled through her where their bodies still touched. “Just in case we’re placed at opposite ends of the house, it might be wise to make up for lost time before we join them.”
In reply, Ellen traced a hand down his torso and took hold of his erection, surprised he was already hard again. If this week was to be the last time they’d have together, she planned to make the most of it.
Chapter 22
Castlefield made his way back to his own bed a little before dawn. When he entered his bedroom, he didn’t even glance at the bed. He wouldn’t be getting any more sleep now that he’d left Ellen’s side.
He’d been able to push away his guilt while he was with her, but he could no longer avoid the consequences of his actions. He’d been selfish. He’d almost convinced himself he wouldn’t make love to Ellen until after he’d revealed the truth about his part in her husband’s death. But when faced with the fear that she might never forgive him for keeping the secret, he’d pushed aside the inner voice that cautioned him to stop and finally claimed Ellen for his own.
Every smile she’d given him, every contented sigh, had called forth a dark certainty that this might be the last time she allowed him near her.
He’d put it off as long as he could. It was time to tell her the truth.
He couldn’t tell her everything, of course. The events leading up to his duel with Laughton weren’t his secret to reveal. Still, he needed to tell her that her husband hadn’t died in a hunting accident but by his hand.
He should have told her everything long before now. Pure selfishness had kept him from doing so prior to their relationship becoming physical. But he knew without a doubt that telling her about their duel would have doomed any chance to show Ellen he wasn’t like Laughton. That they could have something special that was vastly different from her first marriage.
He’d gambled with respect to when to tell her the truth. Now it was time to reveal what he could and hope any feelings she’d developed for him were enough to keep him from losing the woman he loved.
He was on edge, pacing in an attempt to relieve some of his disquiet when his valet entered the room at his customary time. He gave himself up to the familiarity of his morning routine and sometime later was making his way toward the breakfast room. He waited in the hallway, listening to the sounds of Jane and her family taking their leave of the other guests.
When his sister’s family stepped into the hallway, he smiled in greeting and followed the group to the front hallway. Henry held Eddings’s hand while Hope was perched on his sister’s hip. As he said his goodbyes, he tried not to think about having to say goodbye to Ellen as well.
He waited, his mother by his side, as the group stepped into the carriage that awaited outside, their excitement to finally be off to Brighton and their new estate palpable. Once the carriage started down the driveway, he returned to the breakfast room. His mother had murmured something about having letters to write before making her way upstairs.
His eyes met Ellen’s as he entered the room, and he didn’t miss the way they lit for a brief moment, betraying her interest, before she looked away. Rose was seated next to her with Brantford at his wife’s other side.
Rose had glanced at Ellen when he entered the room, and he w
as sure she’d seen Ellen’s reaction at his arrival. When he turned his gaze to Brantford, inclining his head in greeting, the other man gave him a solemn nod. How Brantford always knew exactly what was on his mind was a mystery he’d long since given up trying to solve.
Brantford murmured something about needing to steal his wife away for a moment, and before Castlefield fully realized the man’s intent, he was alone with Ellen.
He wasn’t ready for this conversation, but it was time to stop avoiding it. He dismissed the footman stationed by the sideboard with nothing more than a nod before turning to look at Ellen again.
Her brows drew together as she looked after the departing figures of her brother and his wife before she released her breath in a soft sigh.
“Brantford knows about us.” She met his eyes. “Did you tell him?”
Castlefield shook his head. “There’s very little that man doesn’t know. But yes, he knows about my interest. I certainly didn’t tell him things had progressed beyond that, though he knows I planned to court you.”
“Good heavens, did you ask his permission?”
“I didn’t need to. Your brother has known for some time that I care for you, though he only recently realized it went beyond friendship.”
“Do you think he knows…?”
She didn’t have to finish the question. “About the recent development in our relationship? I certainly didn’t tell him, but in all likelihood, yes.”
“I’d guessed as much, but I’d hoped I was wrong.” Ellen gave her head a small shake before smiling at him. “Normally you’ve already broken your fast by this time and disappeared for the morning. I didn’t wear you out last night, did I?”
He laughed, her expression of exaggerated innocence lifting his spirits. “It was a near thing. But no, I wanted to spend the morning with you.”
He knew he was acting the coward, but he went to the sideboard and filled a plate before returning to take the seat Rose had vacated. He moved the empty dish to the side and replaced it with his own. The food tasted like straw, but he wasn’t about to give up this moment to spend time alone with Ellen.
The conversation turned to the subject of his sister’s recent departure and their plans to join her in Brighton. For fifteen minutes he pretended this might not be the last civil conversation he’d ever have with this woman.
“Something is bothering you,” Ellen said when he finally pushed his plate away.
“What makes you say that?”
“We’ve known each other many years. I don’t need my brother’s uncanny gift for reading people to know when you’re thinking about something else. Or rather, trying hard not to think about it.”
There was no point in denying it. He rose and held out a hand to her. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Ellen didn’t even hesitate as she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. He tucked her hand into his elbow and led her toward the back of the house and out to the gardens.
The rose garden had always been Ellen’s favorite, and so he turned her in that direction when they emerged from the house.
Ellen didn’t prod further, waiting for him to break the silence. Far too soon for his liking, they were settling onto a bench on the far side of the fragrant garden. They’d be visible to anyone looking out the windows from the house, but their conversation would be private.
“I have struggled with how to tell you this, but it can no longer wait.”
Ellen looked away. She held her hands in her lap, but he didn’t miss the way she clenched them together before forcing herself to relax. “I understand. We both knew our… liaison would never last. I went into this affair knowing as much.”
A pang of regret pierced him. Ellen still didn’t trust him. How could she not realize her own worth? Or how completely she’d captivated him?
“I don’t want this to end, Ellen.”
Her head swung toward him, her eyes wide. “Please don’t propose. I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I will ever be.”
He wished that convincing her to marry him was the only thing on his mind.
“I hope one day you’ll change your mind, but that wasn’t what I wanted to say. I only hope that after we have this conversation, you’ll still be willing to allow me to court you, never mind actually ask you to be my wife.”
She tilted her head to the side as though trying to make sense of his words.
He took a deep breath and continued. “I need to tell you the truth about what happened the day your husband died. It wasn’t a hunting accident, as Brantford told you. Laughton died after fighting a duel.”
She didn’t seem surprised. It was just the sort of foolish behavior in which her husband had often engaged. “I should have realized as much. Given how many men he’d cuckolded during the ten years of our marriage, I suppose it was inevitable. I’m not sure why Lucien kept the information from me, however. He knows I didn’t care that Laughton turned his attention elsewhere.” She shook her head. “Never mind that now. So, tell me, who do I have to thank for freeing me?”
Ellen was putting up a good front, but Castlefield could see that his words had unsettled her. He’d lay odds, however, that she was more upset by the fact her brother hadn’t been honest with her than the discovery her husband hadn’t died in a hunting accident.
“Me,” he said, meeting her incredulous gaze head-on.
Chapter 23
For several seconds time itself seemed to stop. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Why would Charles have fought a duel with her husband?
But all too soon, thoughts and emotions bombarded her, and she struggled under their weight. Ellen rose to her feet and turned away, desperately needing a moment to sort through her feelings. She heard Charles stand, but he waited without a word. The silence threatened to suffocate her.
Above everything was her desire to flee. Instead, she turned to face the man who had so casually upended her world. First by introducing her to feelings she’d long thought out of her reach, then by throwing it all away with one word.
He stood tall and silent, waiting for her to speak. The emotion in his dark eyes spoke of his own conflicted feelings. He was so handsome, so dear to her, and a part of her longed to throw herself into his arms. But she refused to give in to that impulse. She’d been so careless with her emotions, and only now, when she realized she might love this man, had she discovered he’d lied to her. Just like her husband had done when he’d courted her.
“I need to go,” she said. “I need time to think.”
He gave his head a sharp shake. “Stay, Ellen. We have to talk about this.”
Sadness. Yes, that’s what she was feeling, along with a healthy dose of disbelief that she’d allowed another man to use her emotions against her. Angry at herself for her weakness, she could only lash out at him. “The time to discuss the fact you fought a duel with my husband—one which led to his death—would have been before we became intimate. Tell me, was this all just a game to you?”
She had to give him his due. If she didn’t know better, she’d think what she saw reflected in his eyes was grief.
“We both know if I’d told you about the duel before I had the chance to prove I’m nothing like Laughton, you never would have given me that opportunity.”
She could only shake her head, incredulous. “You are exactly like my husband.”
Charles flinched at the accusation, but she was too angry to stop. A small inner voice urged her to exercise caution, that she shouldn’t be lashing out before she’d taken the time to think through the entire situation. She ignored that voice. Charles wanted to talk about this now, and so she’d tell him exactly what she was thinking.
“Like you, Laughton wooed me with sweet words and sweet kisses. But the entire time he was lying about who he really was and what marriage to him would be like. How is what you’ve done any different? If you could keep this from me, what else will you keep from me?”
“You must know that I care fo
r you. I want honesty between us, which is why I’m telling you this now. You can still walk away, but I’m hoping with every fiber of my being that you don’t because what we have is something that most people never find.”
She wanted to believe him, but experience had taught her that a man’s actions spoke far more about his intentions than mere words ever could. She couldn’t understand why her brother had kept this a secret from her. Given everything she’d told him about her marriage, he would have known she didn’t care how Laughton had died. He must have hidden the details because Castlefield didn’t want anyone to know about his involvement.
“Tell me, would you have told me the truth if my brother weren’t here? Did he keep this from me because you asked him to? Is he forcing you to tell me the truth now when you should have done so from the beginning?”
Castlefield shook his head. “Brantford isn’t forcing me to do anything.”
There was something about his air that told her he still held something back. She crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.
Castlefield blew out of harsh breath. “If you must know, we did talk about this matter and how I needed to tell you the truth. But no, he didn’t force my hand. I’m telling you what I told him—I always intended to tell you about the role I played in your husband’s death.”
“And you thought the appropriate time was after we’d become intimate.”
She didn’t miss the way his hands clenched as he spoke. “You hated me, Ellen, because of the distance I’d stupidly put between us when we were younger. You wanted nothing to do with me. Is it so foolish that I wanted to remind you of our friendship? To show you that I’ve regretted pushing you away every day for the past twelve years? The very last thing I wanted when you’d finally consented to spend time with me was to tell you I’d fought a duel with your husband and that he’d died at my hands.”
She didn’t even try to keep her voice down. “I would have given you a damn medal. I was content to live a life alone, putting in the occasional appearance with Laughton to save face. All I wanted was for him to leave me alone, and I had that. But when he died…” She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Heaven help me, but I rejoiced when I learned he’d died in a hunting accident. I would have thanked you for freeing me from that man.”
The Unsuitable Duke Page 12