She smiled, a brilliant, ethereal smile. “One more time before everything changes,” she said.
He took her in his arms. How could he ever bear to let her go?
• • •
Rachel felt Colin’s awkwardness as he stumbled through the steps of what had turned out to be one of the newer dances. It didn’t matter. He was a country gentleman, he eschewed poetry—except the few snippets he had memorized to try to impress her when she was younger—and he preferred a plain dish over French cooking. She loved London and poetry and elegance. She liked parties and balls and pretty gowns. And none of it mattered.
She knew his heart. And yet, what she was about to do was take a calculated risk. She would look ridiculous, and appearances had always mattered to her so much. As they danced, she glanced around the ballroom. Some of the ton’s fiercest gossips were there, and before too long her outré behavior would be the talk of many a visit the next day.
She gazed up at Colin. How had she come to know her own heart? Had it really started with an unfamiliar jolt of physical attraction? It had made her think about Colin more closely, certainly, to find that his presence made her tremble. She had had to explore why such a weird phenomenon was occurring to her.
As the music died she reached up one gloved hand and touched his cheek, tracing the hard line of his strong jaw. He gazed down at her, his dark brows drawn down, puzzlement in his eyes. Andromeda and Parnell, both aware of what was about to happen, were close by.
“Colin,” Rachel said in a loud, unnatural tone. “I have something to say to you, and I wish to say it in front of everyone here.”
Lady Codstead, near the band, shushed them, her green eyes avid and staring. Always on the fringes of the ton, always wanting more, the woman could, perhaps, sense her social fortune changing. One outrageous occurrence at her ball and she would be the talk of the ton. Her reputation would be made.
“Do you not want to be more private?” Colin said, glancing around at the staring eyes.
“No. What I have to say I want to say here and now.”
One unfortunate musician drew his bow across his violin, and above that Lady Codstead could be heard shrieking, “Not now, you dolt. Listen!”
Rachel bit her lip to keep from giggling. She took a deep breath and put her hands on Colin’s shoulders. “Colin, I have been haughty and unpleasant to you for many years now.”
“Rachel, I—”
She put one finger over his mouth. “Shush. It will be your turn to speak in a moment.” She swallowed hard. This was more difficult than she had expected, but she shut out the crowd and stared into Colin’s honest brown eyes. “I have been haughty and unpleasant. I have made grave errors in judgment. And I have, on occasion, been cruel to you. I regret that most of all, for you never did anything to deserve that. You have always been kind to me. You have a strong and honest heart.”
He was silent, now, waiting.
“I will make no excuses, except to say that society led me to believe that social standing was all important, and I was silly enough to believe it for a time. But a marquess is not better than a baronet. It is the man, not the title, and you are twice the man Yarnell ever was. I was a fool not to see that.”
This next part was the hardest.
“I love you.”
A collective gasp greeted her plain announcement, and a buzz of gossiping whispers broke out, halted only as she continued.
“I love you, and if you were to ask me now to marry you, I would say yes.”
He was trembling, but whether it was mirth, anger or emotion, she could not tell from his impassive face. She searched his eyes, but could read nothing, no laughter, no censure nor joy nor anger.
• • •
Colin felt no desire to laugh, nor was he angry. He was stunned, yes, but thrilled to his core. And it was not just her lovely words, but the honesty he could see in her clear eyes and the lack of all artifice. She had dropped her social manners, and now, before him, stood the woman he had always known lay in her heart, the sweet, vulnerable core of Rachel. And she was afraid; he could see the fear, the fear of rejection, the fear of being too late. He could make her wait, could taunt her, but why? He need only tell the truth.
“I love you,” he whispered, hoarse and shaking. Tears rose in her eyes, though she could only have barely heard his words over the swelling murmur. He became aware of the probing eyes, the curious glances, the giggles and stares and curiosity.
“Come away from here,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to the open doors on one side of the room.
The terrace was the size of a billiard table. And it was crowded with even more potted palms and topiary trees in tortured shapes. But two people in love, wound together into a tight clutch, did not take up much room. There was certainly enough room for a man and woman to hold each other and whisper words of love.
Epilogue
Autumn folded its arms around Corleigh, the mellow stone melting into the gold and bronze shades of burr oak and birch and alder. Inside, the bite of the autumn winds was cut by banked fires warming the public rooms and by frequent lovemaking between the new mistress of the house, Lady Varens and her besotted husband, Sir Colin. The summer wedding, a joint affair with Rachel and Colin and Andromeda and Sir Parnell, joining their lives together in one ceremony for both, had been the talk of the county. Even now, months later, folks would nod wisely and say they had never seen so much love on one woman’s face as on the lovely visage of the new Lady Varens. ’Twas almost indecent, some said, how much she worshipped her plain husband, and she so beautiful!
Colin didn’t give a damn what people said. He was a happy man. He sat in his cramped library and answered a letter from his sister, some of which dealt with practicalities; she was asking that a few of her favorite pieces of furniture, left to her specifically by their parents, be shipped down to her new home. But much of her writing was crossed lines over crossed lines of happy babble.
Rachel tapped on the door and entered, crossing the floor and standing before her husband. “Colin,” she said softly, “can we talk?”
He moved away from the desk and opened his arms, and she sat on his lap, squirming around enough to make herself comfortable and her husband uncomfortable. He relaxed into the now-familiar budding warmth in his body at her proximity, desire for her flooding him with heat. But she clearly had something on her mind, and he would listen before he tried to tempt her into going upstairs to their chamber with him. If he ever got enough of her he would be surprised.
“What should we talk about?” he asked, and was surprised to see her blush.
“I am so horribly ignorant in some ways,” she said, glancing away and fixing her gaze on the grate in the fireplace.
“Ignorant?”
“About . . . about men. Their physical needs.”
He chuckled and pulled her to him, kissing her gently and cradling her against his chest. Lovemaking had been somewhat of a shock to her, and the first few times he was afraid she did not enjoy it overmuch. But he had worked hard to bring her to ecstasy, and after the first time she had experienced sexual enjoyment—a surprised oh of pleasure his first hint—he had seen a difference in her eyes. He found the more he kissed her, the more enthusiastically she participated, and since kissing Rachel was always a joy, they quickly found a pleasing rhythm for them both.
“That is one thing I can probably help you with,” he said, moving to make himself more comfortable and feeling her bottom settle on him provocatively.
Her color deepened as her breathing quickened. “I need to know something.”
“Yes,” he murmured, kissing her neck and letting his hand move to cradle her breast.
“Colin, I’m serious!”
“So am I.” He moved, settling his arousal more comfortably and pulling her soft day dress up over her knees. But then he could feel that she had gone still and he met her gaze. Her bottom lip trembled; Rachel did not cry easily. Something had to be wrong. He felt a j
olt of fear. “Rach, what is it? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. It truly is. But I need to know something. Sarah said something to me, and I need to know if it is true.”
“Sarah?”
“My lady’s maid. You know, the one who stutters.”
“Yes, I remember now.” He kissed her gently and said, “She said something. Ask away. What is troubling you?”
“She said that if men are . . . are deprived of their wives’ attention for any reason . . .” She stopped and stared again. “Say I was to go away for a few months.”
“Are you going somewhere? May I come?”
“Colin, listen! She said . . . she said that if a man was deprived of his wife’s attention, that he would go to someone else.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Rachel sighed. “She said that men can’t help it. If their wife is . . . . away, then men turn to a maid or a bar serving girl for . . . relief.”
“Good God,” he said, almost shouted. “I can’t speak for other men, Rachel, but no woman in the world could ever replace you. Why would any man go seeking when he has the most lovely, most desirable—”
“But that’s just it, Colin. What if I was . . . oh, away for a while?”
“Here,” he said, panic beginning to clutch his heart. “Are you going somewhere? To visit Pammy? I could go with you. Or at least take you there, and come and fetch you back.”
“No, Colin, I’m not going anywhere. Not for quite a while, I think. But . . .” She broke off in confusion and hid her face in his shoulder.
His mind whirled. She loved him, he knew it, but at first she had not enjoyed lovemaking too much. Perhaps she wanted a break from it. Had he been too demanding, only thinking of his own greedy need and not her delicacy? What . . . ? “Rachel, you can tell me anything. If I have been too demanding of you, or if you wish me to not . . . not visit your room so often,” he said, trying to be delicate. “I will do anything you want, even leave you alone.”
“Idiot,” she said, hitting his shoulder with his fist. “No, but in a very few months I might not feel up to some of our more . . . uh, vigorous games.”
Was she feeling ill? She must have seen the bewilderment on his face.
“Colin, I’m sure now, so I may as well tell you. In the spring, we are going to be . . . three.”
“Be three? What on earth . . . ?” Something occurred to him and he swiftly looked at her face for confirmation. “Rachel, we’re going to have a baby?”
She nodded, her eyes bright. “Yes. Sometime in late May, we think.”
They held each other for a long half hour then, murmuring words of love and happiness, their joy overflowing. And yet they were both realists. Sometimes babies were not born, or born dead, and sometimes there was danger to the mother. There was a touch of trepidation in their joy, but it could only sweeten it, not dim it. Love would see them through whatever happened, happy or sad.
Finally, he gazed down into her face and said, “Why did Sarah fill your head with such nonsense, that men took out their lust on some other girl when their wife was with child?”
“Sarah said that she heard it from one of the girls at the Tippling Swan. She said that men couldn’t help themselves and that when their wife was away or sick or with child, men naturally found another woman to fulfill their needs.”
Gently, he cradled her in his arms and said, “Rachel, it is true of some men, but not all. Not even most. You, you lucky girl, chose me, and since I was about twenty I have wanted no woman like I want and need you.”
“Does that mean you have never been with another woman, since then?”
He swallowed hard. “Uh, not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like any young fellow I . . . well, I sowed my wild oats, as the saying goes. Even though I loved you all along, I did make love with the occasional . . .” He saw her bottom lip protrude and knew she was swiftly becoming angry. How to explain? There was no explanation. But he had to do the best he could. “Rachel, every young man feels compelled to find physical union with women. But one day I came to understand that I was . . . well, soiling my thoughts of you by taking other women to bed. And I stopped.”
“When was that, in London?”
“Don’t be petulant, Rach. No, it was . . . do you remember your twentieth birthday party?”
“I do. That was four years ago.”
Colin stared at the fire. “I found you crying in the library at Haven Court.”
She nodded and buried her face in his collar. “I was missing Father,” she said, sniffling. “I still do. Oh, Colin, he would be so happy to know . . . to know we are together. He loved you like a son.”
“I know. And he knows about us, I’m sure of it. If . . . if we have a son I would like to name him for your father.”
“Really?” She looked up into his eyes. “Oh, Colin, thank you. You are the best of husbands. But I interrupted you.”
“You were crying, and I held you for an hour. From that moment on, I knew I could not be with another woman. I only ever wanted you. That was four years ago.”
“I have never doubted you,” she said simply. “It’s just that this, the physical side of loving you so much, is all new to me. I assumed, when Yarnell and I were engaged, that he would have a mistress and it didn’t disturb me in the slightest. But if you ever went to another woman, and I knew you were doing to her what we do . . .” She left the rest unsaid.
“I never could,” he said simply.
“I love you,” she said.
He touched her flat belly, marveling that they had created something so wonderful. “In the spring?” he said.
“In the late spring. May. Or early June.”
He was silent again. It was almost too much happiness, especially when he considered that six months ago he had rushed to London, fearing the worst, only to find out that Rachel was engaged. And now she was his wife. His lover. His life. She slid off his lap and he stood, wrapping her in his arms as the afternoon light played across the painted walls.
“I can’t believe how much has happened in just six months,” she said, echoing his thoughts. “Haven and Jane married and almost ready to have their first child, and Pammy and Strongwycke and Andromeda and Parnell all married. All of life different. And even Grand and Mother, living together at the dower house. Our lives have all changed.”
“And new life beginning.”
“And new life beginning,” she whispered. “You won’t box anymore, Colin, will you?”
He put his arm around her and led her toward the door, to take her upstairs. “Rach, please don’t start that again. I have to have some outlet—”
“But you have exercise,” she said wickedly, tweaking his square chin. “And I do not want the father of my child—”
“Our child. And if it is a boy, you know I will teach him boxing, just as I do the village lads.”
“Colin, you will not! Or if you do, you will teach our girls, too! But no, I forbid you . . .”
Their bickering continued as they walked slowly up the stairs, but once inside her bedroom, it stopped. There was no time, and their mouths were more pleasantly engaged.
Excerpt
In case you missed it, here’s an excerpt from
the prequel to A Lady’s Choice,
The Debutante’s Dilemma!
Pamela Neville is a free-spirited young beauty who has no intention of subjecting herself to the stifling restrictions of London society—until her grandmother lures her with an irresistible offer. The indomitable dowager promises to teach her everything she needs to know to elicit a proposal from Sir Colin Valens, the man Pamela has adored since childhood.
Soon Pamela is feigning the same coy disinterest of the other women of the ton—and catching Colin’s eye in the process—but the green-eyed gamine can only be demure for so long. And each time she indulges her more wild, carefree side, she runs headlong into the startlingly handsome Lord Strongwycke
, who seems to find her entrancing just for being herself. Suddenly Pamela finds herself with the vexing dilemma of being pursued by two different gentlemen, and in what seems like the span of a heartbeat both men offer for her hand.
Now Pamela faces a choice between clinging to the dreams of a girl and a life that would allow her to live as the free spirit she longs to be.
Chapter One
“Pamela, you are not going out! We have just arrived in London, and we are not yet au courant. You must see the modiste and the hairstylist and the milliner, and . . .”
Pamela Neville shrugged, wishing desperately she could silence her mother’s nattering voice. She had thought she could evade her by sneaking down the stairs and out the front door of Haven House, their London home, but her mother, the dowager Lady Haven, was in the gloomy, windowless hall surveying the load of baggage and trunks and ordering the servants around in her most harrying tone.
“Leave the girl alone, Lydia. No one will see her if she goes out with a maid for a walk.”
Grand, as always, came to her rescue as she reentered the hall from her tiny ground-floor room. Not everyone’s grandmother would be so supportive, but Pamela’s mother and her grandmother saw eye to eye on nothing. Pamela flashed the elderly woman, who supported her still-upright figure on a cane, a grateful smile, and the woman dropped her a wink.
“If she goes out looking like a fright, she will damage our stock as a family worth taking seriously!”
And that, of course, was Rachel, her elegant, perfect, poisonous older sister. Pamela, still standing on the last step of the narrow staircase, gazed at her gloomily, absently rubbing the smooth wood of the newel post at the bottom of the banister. Rach used to be fun when they were children, but now, at twenty-three, she was that most deadly of things, a dedicated husband hunter. This was her Season, she was convinced of it, and she had prosed on and on ever since the decision to come to London had been made that they must make every moment count if they were going to catch decent husbands. Rachel’s two previous Seasons had been cut short by deaths in the family, but this one would see her triumph!
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