Did I push Augusta too far with my effort to be intimate?
He flicked back through his memories. Their kisses, their stolen moments away from the chaperone, and the day in the summer house, it had all been instigated by him. Not that she hadn’t participated, as she had kissed him back with just as much fervor, but it was as though he saw each memory in a new light for a moment.
Was that why she ended the engagement? Was I too… eager?
He nearly dropped the plans for the garden in his hands as the thought struck him. He had let his desire for her run away with him all those years ago, just as he had done last week the night of the storm. He had lured her into the kiss, at a moment where she was arguably vulnerable. Alone in a house with him, hiding out from the storm. He should have been a gentleman with her, but once again, his desire had won out.
“What have I done?” He murmured to himself, spinning on the spot and hurrying back to the house.
He had to apologize to her. He should have been in control of himself, not a slave to his passions.
He would collect Markus from her house that afternoon in person and there he would apologize to her. He just hoped she would accept the meeting.
Chapter Nine
Augusta had been congratulating herself all week on her attempt to escape Loftus. She had spent five wonderful days in Markus’ company without having to put herself in the agonizing situation of being faced with his father once again.
Together, she and Markus did many things. They played the harpsichord, they explored the garden and the glasshouse, they read more literature together and played games too. Everyday Augusta found herself growing more attached to the child.
Their friendship progressed so well together that Markus was no longer formal with her. They were close friends who held hands as they walked in the garden and shared special smiles whilst Augusta spoke to him, chattering away and putting him at ease. More than once, Markus fell asleep on her lap as they were reading in the library, showing his comfort at being around her.
When the maid brought them tea or lemonade to share, Markus began to grow more comfortable too. He seemed to cotton on rather quickly to Augusta’s idea to keep speaking to him, almost as though the maid was not there – to try to normalize the situation and not bring his attention to it. At the beginning of the week, he was jittery and still hiding behind chairs to escape the maid, but by the end of the week, he was happy to sit by Augusta as their drinks were served and he did not make an attempt to escape.
On the fifth day, Augusta drew the maid into her conversation. It greatly surprised Markus, who normally took part in their chatter just with nods and facial expressions, but this time he glanced between Augusta and the maid with evident nerves, waiting to see what would happen next. To Augusta’s relief, he did not attempt to hide when the maid passed him his lemonade. Amazingly, he took the glass from her hands. This was a huge step that brought a staggering smile to Augusta’s cheeks.
He is making such good progress!
He could not raise his eyes to the maid, but to accept the glass from her hands would have been an impossible task just the week before. It showed how well he was doing.
Seeing him change so much within just a short space of time brought a kind of happiness to Augusta she had not known before. It was one of pride – pride for Markus and the great steps forward he was making.
Occasionally when she looked at Markus, his green eyes and similar nose reminded her of Loftus. She would lose herself in thoughts of the boy’s father for a moment before reprimanding herself and turning her attention back to the boy.
I have risked my heart enough times for one lifetime. I do not need to see Loftus again.
This was what she told herself each time she thought of Loftus, but to her surprise, her plan to avoid him was flawed. Everyday Markus had been collected by the footman with the carriage, but not on the fifth day.
Augusta was bewildered as Loftus walked into her drawing room. She had not expected him to be the one to come and collect Markus that day. He stood tall, his green eyes darting between her and his son, his manner far from at ease with the situation.
She stepped away at his entrance, struggling for a moment to gather herself and push past her fear of seeing him. She felt such anger initially for him to invade her privacy. He had come to her house without warning, but what had she expected? He had come to collect his own son after all. She pushed away her anger, determined to be civil in front of Markus. It would be too much of a cruelty to the boy to show him how much Loftus could rile her.
“Ah, Baron Bardolf,” she attempted formality as she curtsied and the Baron bowed, glancing towards Markus who was at the corner of the room, playing on a small harpsichord piano. It was not the grand piano that was at Loftus’ house, nor did it match the scale of the pianoforte Augusta used to own that had been sold for James’ debts, but it did the job and Markus had been happily trying to play the harpsichord for a couple of hours. “Markus is turning into quite the musician,” she attempted to keep her tone jovial as she pointed towards the boy and walked a little distance away from Loftus.
Markus looked up from the harpsichord at his father’s entrance. His own green eyes were alight, sparkling with glee and happiness. He waved to his father, pleased with himself before returning his attention to the instrument. He had been practicing the same simple tune for a while now and was growing better at it with each attempt.
“That is good to hear,” Loftus nodded, his countenance just as awkward as Augusta’s own. He fidgeted on the spot for a moment, just as she did, both trying to think of something to say.
Augusta’s eyes drifted behind him to the maid that had announced his arrival. The maid appeared to understand her silent glance and nodded, curtsying before disappearing from the room and heading back to the servants’ quarters.
Augusta wished she had asked the maid to stay as a chaperone, but they were understaffed due to James’ debts and the maid was needed elsewhere. James was also out of the house, so she could not request another’s presence. She tried to reassure herself that Markus’ presence ensured there would not be a repeat of what had happened the week before.
The only option available to her was to be civil. She would speak of Markus and his progress, then usher the Baron out of her house, and out of her life, as soon as possible.
He cannot be oblivious to my attempt to avoid him this last week. Why has he come here?
She raised her chin, pushing away her whirring thoughts and attempted normal conversation.
“It has been a lovely afternoon,” she continued with her false, upbeat tone and walked away from Loftus. “As well as the harpsichord, Markus and I have also been exploring the glasshouse. There are some fine plants in there and I have been teaching him some of the names of the plants –” Before she could finish her attempt at a nonchalant conversation, Loftus walked around the other side of the divan chair she had been walking towards, blocking her path surprisingly easily and bringing them face to face.
The sight of him so close to her had her breath hitching, though she did not stumble back straight away. That same excitement she had felt before their kiss the week before returned. She tried to stamp down on it.
“Forgive me, Miss Creassey,” his voice was low, barely above a whisper to ensure Markus could not hear them from across the other side of the room. “I must talk to you about last week.” His green eyes were almost piercing, fixing her with the strength of his words.
“No, you do not,” she whispered firmly with a shake of her head, desperate to be far away from both the conversation and from him. She decided to try to walk away from him then, around the other side of the divan chair and make her escape, but he too walked around, blocking her path once again.
“Please, Augusta. I am trying to apologize to you.” His use of her first name brought her to a halt. She paused in her attempt to run from him.
“Apologize to me?” She repeated, her eyebrows raised in surpr
ise.
Loftus looked distinctly uncomfortable, his cheeks were red, and he brushed back the brown tendrils of hair from his forehead with an anxious manner. He looked towards his son, apparently checking to see if the music was loud enough to mask their conversation before returning his focus to her.
“That night, we were placed in an unforeseen circumstance, and I did not behave as I should have done,” he lowered his green eyes from her, down to his feet for a moment, his discomfort radiating plainly. “I do not want you to think that I was taking advantage of you or the situation.”
Augusta turned her head away, glancing back to Markus to ensure he was not paying attention to them, but the boy was much more concerned with the harpsichord. The tune he was playing was disconnected from them, surprisingly upbeat compared to their discussion.
“Is this really the moment for this conversation?” She looked back to Loftus, feeling her anger spike once more as her voice took on a harsh yet quite tone. “Your son is here.”
“He is busy at present and as it is abundantly clear you are trying to avoid me then I must take this moment to make my apology, for I fear I will not have another opportunity to do so,” he explained in a hurried whisper.
She turned away from him, desperate to find some distance, and sat on the edge of the divan chair, her head turned from him. He paused for a moment, before taking hold of a nearby footstool and bringing it close to her, the better to sit in front of her and try to regain her focus.
“Will you listen to my apology?” He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
“It seems that I cannot escape from this moment, so what choice do I have?” She looked back to him, the smallest of smirks tweaking her lips. She wanted desperately to be away, but she knew she had no option to run.
“Last week…” He began, running his hands through his hair with agitation and drawing her gaze to look at the brown tendrils. So many times, over the last few days, she had thought of doing the same thing to his hair. She forced her gaze away from his action, down to his face, but she grew distracted in admiring his handsome countenance.
“I allowed my desire to make me mad for a moment.”
His words made Augusta’s spine straighten a little with surprise. She looked at him, watching him closely.
“Your… desire?” She repeated.
“Yes, there seems little point in attempting to hide that particular fact from you now,” he shrugged, his eyes back on his fidgeting hands. She looked towards Markus again, but he was still focused on playing the harpsichord and was not paying them any attention. “Allow me to explain a little,” Loftus continued. “It seems I have failed in attempting to hide my desire from you, but last week I should not have relented to it. Please believe me when I say that it was never my intention to compromise you or put you in a position that you did not want to be in.”
Augusta was barely listening to his words; her mind was too much alive with his confession that he did still truly desire her.
“What passed between us last week is our secret,” he lowered his voice even more, so much so that she had to lean towards him straining to hear his words. “Your reputation is safe and will remain so.” He looked up again, his face impassive and with that same picture of formality and distance he had summoned on their initial meeting a couple of weeks ago.
“You think that is what concerns me? My chance at a future marriage?” She scoffed with a whisper, too surprised to consider restraining her words. In response, his eyebrows raised with his own shock. “Baron Bardolf, I have no intention to marry in my life now. Have you not heard? I am quite the spinster – everyone says so, all of my friends.” To her sharp words, he was frowning again. She felt the need to explain herself. She tried to lower the sudden harshness that had come into her voice and moved to the edge of the divan, dropping her voice even more just for him to hear. “You misunderstand if you think my behavior last week and my… escape was from concern of my reputation.”
He did not reply, he merely kept staring at her, his green eyes watching her carefully. She admired his eyes for a moment, feeling mesmerized by them before lowering her gaze to her own hands. She fidgeted with them in her lap for a few minutes.
His attempt to apologize brought a new feeling within her to the forefront.
“I do appreciate what you are saying though, and I thank you,” she raised her eyes to his again, attempting a small smile. “Thank you for taking the time to come and make the apology.”
Has he matured since I last knew him?
This was a side of Loftus she had not seen before. A new and more grown up version of him, someone who was trying to take responsibility for his actions. She considered for a moment how he had grown, he was certainly different in a few ways to the man she had known before, more businesslike, and more responsible.
“You deserve my apology,” he nodded. “I should not have behaved as I did last week, and I cannot apologize enough for it. I was…” He grappled for the right words, rearranging on the stool until they were very close. With him leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, there was only a short distance between them. “I was not the gentleman I should have been. I should have kept the passion I felt hidden from you.”
The mention of passion again had them locking gazes. Augusta breathed deeply for a moment, unable to tear her eyes from his.
“Please do not trouble yourself with worrying anymore,” she glanced back to Markus, before returning her eyes to his. “I would be lying to accuse you of being the only one succumbing to their desires last week. I am not angry at you for it. Perhaps we should just both accept that we acted in a moment of passion and move on.”
She had thought her words would be able to close the conversation, bring it to a conclusive end, yet there now seemed to be a chasm opened between them. This open space where it was suddenly acceptable for the two of them to talk of what passion was.
His green eyes dropped to her lips briefly before lifting to her eyes once again. She saw it. It made her stomach coil with excitement.
Does he wish to kiss me again?
“It seems after eight years, my desire for you has not faded,” he confessed, his words the barest of whispers. She thought she had heard him wrong and leaned even more towards him to hear him.
“We should not talk so,” she whispered back, but there was no strength to her words.
“Perhaps not, but you have just as good as told me that your passions are unchanged too.” He smiled slightly. Augusta felt that image of the tinderbox returning to her mind, Loftus had created that spark between them.
She was certain he was about to kiss her. There was so little distance between them as they sat together and she was leaning towards him, almost encouraging it, waiting to see if it would happen.
She remembered Markus was in the room, then grew aware that the sounds of him trying to play the harpsichord had stopped. She turned her head away from Loftus to see Markus stood not far from the two of them, looking up at them with wide eyes.
“Miss Creassey, are you to be my new mother?” Markus spoke for the first time to her.
Chapter Ten
Augusta’s jaw slackened in shock and her mouth was agape.
Markus spoke?
This was the first realization, one of delight. Yet what quickly followed on its tale was the astonishment at the exact words he had said.
His mother? He thinks I will be his new mother!
She felt humiliated, completely so. Her hands flew up to her face, attempting to cover her cheeks that she was certain had never been so bright red in her life.
Her eyes flicked to Loftus. He was glancing between her and the boy, apparently making no attempt to answer him. He did not seem to suffer her embarrassment, but his eyes were wide with shock.
“Markus!” He looked back to the boy with a sudden wide smile. “You spoke, my boy!” He rushed toward the lad and picked him up in his hands, holding him tightly in a warm embrace. T
he boy held his father back for a moment.
Augusta continued to clutch to her face, looking at the man and the boy before her, realizing what they had done to poor Markus. By putting him with her for so long and for so many days, he had naturally assumed she was to be a part of their lives.
What have I done to the poor boy?
She had to hurry their departure as quickly as possible. Had to make them leave so she could process what had just happened and make a new plan. She stood to her feet, adjusting her dress so that she had something else to focus on for a moment.
“Papa?” The boy said again as Loftus held him in his arms, but now leaning back from their embrace as Markus pointed at Augusta.
“Ah, well…” Loftus was struggling for words, looking between the boy and her. “As for your question about Miss Creassey…”
In the Baron's Debt: Historical Regency Romance Page 9