by Jade Lee
He was understandably confused by her statement though his words came out with sincerity.
“She will think you are an accomplished woman of grace and beauty.” He flashed a quick smile. “And she will wonder what you are doing with someone of so little style.” He gestured to his boring attire.
“You are too kind,” she said, and the words burned in her throat. He was kind and generous. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have danced at balls, gone to the theater, or met her future husband, Mr. Jupp. And she was being a shrew. “Please forgive me,” she said miserably.
He took her hand and pressed a slow kiss to it. And when he raised his gaze, she saw deep regret. “I am entirely at fault. In everything, Miss Gohar.”
She missed hearing her name on his lips. She wanted him to call her Amber as he had the other night. She wanted so many things. But this was life, not fantasy, and so she smiled and gestured out to the overcast day.
“We should leave soon before it rains.”
“Yes,” he murmured as he looked outside. “I had wanted to leave earlier, but I thought you might need more rest. I know your penchant for dancing until the very last note.”
She and Diana had gone to another ball last night. And how ridiculous that she barely remembered it. A week ago, a ton party was a dream come true. Now she shrugged and recalled that though she’d danced the night through, she’d spent most of her time watching for Lord Byrn. “I didn’t see you there,” she said.
“I had other matters to attend to. I was securing the last votes for my resolution. A few gentlemen were wavering, so I had to press them to remain faithful.”
“And were you successful?”
He nodded. “After today, I will bring it to a vote as soon as possible, and it should pass.”
“I’m so glad.” And she was. It meant a great deal to him, and she was pleased to be able to help. “I suppose we should get started then,” she said.
He nodded and extended his hand. Together they stepped to his closed carriage. They were barely two feet out of the door when Diana’s housekeeper came rushing out of the servant’s entrance. She had her hat and cloak on as she hurriedly curtseyed to them both. Amber stared at the woman in surprise, but Elliott was all smiles.
“Thank you for joining us, Mrs. Hopkins. I am sure you are very busy today, and it is kind of you to spare some time.”
“Oh, my lord,” the lady answered, “I am happy to get a day away no matter the reason.” She was bursting with smiles as she curtsied again. She was distracted for a moment when a kitchen maid rushed forward to ask her something. That gave Amber time to turn to Elliott in confusion.
Elliott must have read the question on her face, for he spoke in low tones. “It is not proper for me to escort you anywhere without a chaperone, much less outside of the city. Diana suggested Mrs. Hopkins needed a day off her feet.”
“But…” How did she ask such a question? “My reputation is…” Unimportant? Already in tatters?
“You are a lady, Miss Gohar. And any man who treats you as something less is a cad.” She could tell by his expression that he included himself in that category. He had not bothered with a chaperone that first night home from the ball. And certainly, no gentleman would slip into her bedroom at night. What they had done was decidedly improper, and yet now he was apologizing and acting as if she were a lady born.
“You never cared for propriety before,” she whispered. It wasn’t an accusation, merely a statement of fact.
“I did care,” he said as he escorted her to the carriage. “But I found ways to hide my reprehensible behavior.” He looked her in the eyes, his expression unwavering in its apology. “I was wrong, Miss Gohar. Exceedingly so.”
He regretted what they had done together. That was her only interpretation. And how like a man to take his delight at night and then apologize in the morning. She didn’t regret it. Indeed, she found herself revisiting the memories often. The way he touched her, the passion in his kiss, and how she’d felt when he’d stroked between her thighs. That pleasure had been beyond anything she’d ever experienced before, but even better was the tenderness in his eyes, the way he worshiped her with his lips, and the gentleness in his arms when he held her after. It never lasted long enough, but there had been long minutes when she’d stayed in his arms and felt such happiness.
Fortunately, she was not required to respond as he was handing her into the carriage. She settled beside Mrs. Hopkins and he across from them both. He was very gallant as he set rugs over their legs, and then signaled the coachman that they were ready to embark.
The horses started, and they began their journey. They were still in London when he looked at the housekeeper. “I hope I can count on your discretion, Mrs. Hopkins. I have news for Miss Gohar, but it is not to be bandied about.”
“Of course, my lord,” she answered. “You can’t be a housekeeper for long if you don’t know how to mind your tongue.”
He smiled and nodded, then he looked to Amber. “I received a missive from Mr. Christopher Jupp this morning. He wishes to discuss your marriage contract. I have set the appointment for tomorrow. I believe he will then speak to you that evening. That is…” He cleared his throat. “Is this to your liking?”
Now it all made sense. Now that she was to marry Mr. Jupp, she was to be a proper woman. That involved chaperones and apologies. “It is everything that I ever wanted,” she said, her voice cracking with the strain.
It was everything. And yet, her heart broke with the words. She knew now that there would never be another kiss from Elliott, another improper touch, or even a longing look. It was over because she was to marry a future baron.
Beside her, Mrs. Hopkins cheered in delight. She gave Amber her heartfelt best wishes and then she began sharing everything she’d ever heard about Mr. Jupp and his family. All of it was complimentary, and it continued for a good hour. And once she was finished with that, she began to give advice on the wedding breakfast. What to serve, how not to overwhelm the bride on the most exciting day of her life, and all sorts of other very practical, very useful suggestions. Amber listened closely and asked appropriate questions. There was a great deal to learn about being a proper woman. Things about running a household that had never entered her thoughts before. But if she were to become a baroness, then she would need to know these things. And Mrs. Hopkins was a font of information.
So she listened, learned, and tried not to let her head swim with details. And all the while, she pushed away any thought of the man sitting across from her. She would think only of Mr. Christopher Jupp and how to be a good wife to him.
They arrived at Lord Morthan’s country estate to the patter of rain. Mrs. Hopkins went directly downstairs to visit with the housekeeper. Lord Byrn handed a missive to the butler, and they were immediately escorted to the library and left alone. Apparently, Lord Morthan had directed his staff to give them the privacy they required to accomplish the task.
Lord Byrn then went to open a safe hidden beneath the library floorboards. With careful hands, he brought out a tiara and bracelet to match the one that Amber’s father had melted down so long ago. And then Elliott brought out a sketching book and pencils, plus wax and her carving knives. And then he opened a pouch and poured out the stones that would have to fit in the finished piece.
“I visited your father this morning,” he said. “He gave me these for your use today.”
She nodded, feeling dazed. She knew for sure that her father hadn’t been the one to think ahead. That had been Lord Byrn, arranging everything.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You are doing this for me, so it was incumbent upon me to make sure you have everything you need to accomplish the task.” He looked down at the things set carefully on the library desk. “Did I forget anything?”
“This is everything.” She swallowed. “Did you discuss Mr. Jupp’s missive with Papa as well?”
Elliott nodded. “Yes, of course. He was very exci
ted. He also told me how you brought Mr. Jupp there yesterday and told him your true identity.” His voice lowered. “That was a risky gambit.”
She lifted her chin. “I will not marry a man based on a lie.”
He nodded. “I am not criticizing. Indeed, I am most impressed.”
“That I am honest?” Her tone was stiff and angry.
He sighed. “You are determined to quarrel with me today. Very well, yes, I was surprised you would reveal yourself. Surely you have felt some of the backlash from Mr. Walsh’s drunken statement. To tell Mr. Jupp the truth was very risky, but it seems to have paid off. According to your father, he means to let you keep sculpting in secret.” He lowered his voice. “It is a heavy burden to lay on a man to hide his wife’s true identity, but I believe he will honor it.”
That was a lot spilling from a man who had barely spoken two words throughout the carriage ride. True, she and Mrs. Hopkins had given him few openings, but her mood was so foul that she would indeed damn him for that as well.
“You have arranged everything,” she said quietly. “My tools and my marriage to a worthy man.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” he asked. Was there hesitation in his voice? Hope perhaps that she wanted something else?
She couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter anyway. “No, Lord Byrn, this is perfect. As I said before, it is everything I have ever dreamed of.”
“Including falling desperately in love?”
He would throw that back at her. He would press her into confessing that that piece was missing. She didn’t love Mr. Jupp. No, the man she loved stood in front of her casually arranging matters such that she married someone else.
“Yes,” she said. “I am desperately in love.” With Elliott. And that truth nearly broke her right there.
She might have confessed all, but she wasn’t given the time. Elliott gave her a stiff smile and then gestured to the table. “I shall leave you to it,” he said. “I will be in the front parlor. Lord Morthan has some fine brandy.”
She blinked in surprise. “You are leaving me alone here?”
“Your father said you never like being disturbed when you work.”
That was true. But now that he was leaving, she found that she enjoyed his presence even when in such a horrible mood. She would have liked having him read nearby. She would have enjoyed smelling his scent and listening to his breath even as she grew absorbed in her work.
But that was illogical, and she didn’t blame him for wanting to quit her company. So she nodded and sat down to work. He bowed and showed himself out.
And three hours later, the rain came.
Chapter Nineteen
If the apocalypse began with heavy rains, then surely this was the end of days. Elliott stared out the window of the parlor and wondered at God’s cruelty. Bad enough that he had to help negotiate Amber’s marriage settlement with that wholesome prick, Christopher Jupp, now he had to spend more hours in her company without touching her. Without thinking of how he longed to please her. Without slipping into the library just to watch her create something marvelous out of wax.
She was destined for someone else, and no gentleman should touch another man’s wife.
If he were alone, he would drive the carriage himself despite the rain. He wanted to be back in London, where there were plenty of distractions from the delectable Amber. But he could not force his coachman to return in this weather and certainly not Mrs. Hopkins with her aching knees and feet. In truth, he did not like the idea of Amber out in this weather, either, so he stood in the parlor and glared at the rain.
There was nothing to do but think of her. And drink. He had already had too much of his host’s fine brandy. Any more would have him disreputably drunk, and that would certainly have him giving in to impulses he had just this morning sworn to never indulge. Ever.
He set aside the bottle and tried to read, but his mind was on her. Supper was served, and he and Amber sat together for the meal. Her expression held despair. His was no different. She had finished the wax mold and declared it acceptable. He promised they would return to London—with her reputation intact—as soon as the rain stopped in the morning.
And he prayed it would stop because the sight of her so sad cut at him.
He tried to ask why. She was to be a future baroness. Christopher was everything she ever wanted. She’d even said she was desperately in love with him. So why did she look like she wanted to drown herself in the nearest river? But when he asked, she merely shrugged.
“I am not fond of rain.”
“No one likes this kind of weather,” he returned. Not when the world seemed to be an endless curtain of wet.
She merely looked at him and nodded. There was no fire in her to challenge him. No flash of humor. He had three sisters and a mother. He knew that sometimes women got into moods, and there was nothing a man could do but stay out of their way. But he didn’t want to stay out of Amber’s way. He wanted to hold her and tease her until he coaxed a smile from her lips. Or she told him what was wrong.
But that wasn’t his place. That was Christopher’s place, and he damned himself for ever stepping into the Lyon’s Den where he’d met her and began this crazy situation.
“I think I shall retire early,” she said. “It’s too dark to work, and there’s no sense in burning the candles when I am overtired anyway.”
He didn’t want her to go to bed. He wanted her to stay with him. It made no sense, but his world was not right when she was so unhappy.
“Good idea,” he forced himself to say. “I will, likewise, retire early.”
And so, the meal was quickly finished, and they both retreated upstairs to the chambers that had been prepared for them. He purposely did not bring up the brandy decanter. If he did, nothing would stop him from steadily consuming until he was completely insensate. Instead, he continued what he’d been doing downstairs. He stood at the window and stared into the darkness while his thoughts turned over and over on one topic.
Amber.
He remembered every moment they had been together. It surprised him that he dwelled as much on her laughter or the animated way she argued with him as he did the moments when he had slipped between her thighs. Somehow, she brought him out of himself. When she was happy, his heart was lighter. He looked about the world in a warmer way. And though he still focused on politics, he also noticed the sunlight on her cheeks, the curl of her hair that escaped her chignon, and the birds that she loved to look at. And when she was out of sorts, she pulled his attention out of his own misery and into hers. His burdens were nothing compared to her hurts, and that, too, was good for him. He spent too much time in his own head. It was good for him to think of someone else, to measure the world through someone else’s eyes, and to be in a place that wasn’t choked with men’s cigars or women’s perfumes. Those were the places of society, and he was sick of it.
Amber wore no perfume, and since escaping the Lyon’s Den, she did not carry the acrid smell of cigars. She was clean and a true artist who created beauty out of wax and metal. And she was so vibrant in his mind, especially when he compared her to the bland girls his mother had forced on him. None of them was as intriguing as Amber.
But he would not disgrace her. He would not slip into her bedroom and attempt a seduction. She was not for him. And that made him hate everything and everyone. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t drink. He just stared and grew more depressed with every tick of the clock.
“Elliott?”
At first, he thought he’d imagined the soft word. He’d been remembering how she whispered his name in the throes of passion. Surely that breathy whisper was from his own mind. But then it came again.
“Elliott?”
He spun around. She stood just inside his closed doorway. She wore a nightrail she’d borrowed from the housekeeper. Her honey-colored hair was loose about her shoulders, and her eyes looked so wide, they seemed to encompass her whole face.
“Amber? Is something wrong?�
� He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. She was temptation itself, but he was trying to be a moral man. He would not give in though every cell in his body pushed him to touch her, taste her, take her.
“I have come to a decision,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong.
What decision did she have left? Her marriage was secure, her father was in full support, and she would become a baroness. There was no decision to be made.
“Would you like to know what it is?”
“Of course,” he responded. It’s what a gentleman said when a lady posed such a question.
She took a careful step into the room, then lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. Such a bold stance. He was so busy admiring her strength that he nearly didn’t hear the words.
“I have decided to be your mistress.”
His body strained forward, but he would not be ruled by lust. He could not have heard her correctly.
“I’m so sorry, Amber. There was thunder over your words. Could you repeat that?”
There had been no thunder except the pounding of his heart, and her smile told him she knew he lied. Nevertheless, she didn’t tease him about it. She simply took another step forward.
“I have decided I want to be your mistress,” she said. “Assuming you will have me.”
Have her? He couldn’t stop visualizing all the ways he wanted to have her. But he forced his head to turn in a jerky denial. “You’re going to get married. You said you loved him.”
“I said I had fallen in love. I have. With you.”
His breath caught. She did not know what she was suggesting. “I cannot give you marriage like he can. You won’t be a baroness. Your children—”
“There will be no children,” she said firmly. “I will not bear one out of wedlock.”
Sound decision. But it wasn’t relevant. “You are to marry Christopher.”
She shook her head. “I know many women trapped in terrible marriages. They are treated as slaves, are routinely beaten and worse.”
“Christopher would not do that to you.”