Then there was Garrett. Even now, she felt his gaze on her, watching, making sure she was safe. Her entire body sighed, though she’d never let the whole of society see such a display. Heaven forbid Potsum think she was lamenting his attentions.
When the music ended, she practically ran from the ballroom, but Potsum followed calling her name.
Unable to bear a scene, Aurora stopped at the doors to the veranda and faced him. “Did you wish to say something, my lord?”
“I would request a private conversation with you, Lady Radcliff.” He bowed.
Aurora scanned behind him for some friend who might rescue her, but found the room readying for another dance. “As we are attending a rather crowded ball at the moment, sir, it seems poor timing for a private talk.”
He gazed into the distance head cocked, before meeting her stare. “Be that as it may, I require your time, Lady Radcliff.”
Short of making a bigger scene, she nodded her assent and walked outside. The cooler weather and the lively dance kept most of the ton indoors.
Potsum took her elbow again and moved her to one side of the veranda. There was no one else so far from the doors. As soon as they arrived near the low wall that served as a rail for the enclosure, Aurora pulled her arm free. “If you please, my lord.”
As if he’d not manhandled her twice, he widened his eyes in confusion. He recovered promptly, and his expression returned to bland indifference. “I wish for you to be my wife.”
Aurora waited for more, but it seemed that was the entirety of what he would say. “I see.”
“What is your answer?”
Temper bloomed in Aurora’s chest as a fiery heat she had to tamp down lest she make a public display of herself. “As you have not asked a question, my lord, I suppose I am to infer from your wishes that there is some proposal afoot.”
“I wish to marry you.”
It was almost impossible to keep from rolling her eyes, but Aurora had learned long ago to keep her feelings tightly locked away, and this imbecile would not make her lose her composure. “I heard you the first time, my lord. As you apparently deem those wishes enough to win my response, I shall reply in similar fashion. I do not wish to marry you, Lord Potsum.”
Stepping back, he said, “I am a Marquess. I have power in this land. Women want to marry men with power.”
She softened, feeling slightly bad for him. “I suppose that is true of many, my lord. However, while I am flattered by your offer, I must decline.”
His pasty cheeks turned bright red, as did his ears. If he’d been a cook-pot he’d have blown his lid off. “I will not be treated thus.” He reached for her arm.
Aurora stepped back. How had she come to this? What a fool she was. “Do not touch me, sir. You have no rights here. I am not some girl forced to marry by a bullying father, and I shall not be bullied by you. You made your request, and I have declined your offer. If you are a gentleman, which you purport to be, you will incline your head, indicate your regret, and leave me in peace.”
Lowering his hand, Potsum looked like his eyes would burst from their sockets. He inclined his head. “I understand, Lady Radcliff. You require more time. I shall call in a few days, and we shall discuss my offer in private.”
Before she could tell him not to bother, he spun and strode back to the house.
Leaning back, she let her hips meet the stone wall. How on earth had she not seen before what a fool she was to think a man like Potsum could be what she needed. Was it so hard to find a man to give her a child? All she wanted was to be safe and love a baby with all her heart. It didn’t seem that much to ask.
“Rora, are you alright?” Garrett stood a few feet away.
Dinner must be served, as the rest of the veranda was empty, and the music had stopped inside. There he was, beautiful with the moonlight gleaming in his hair.
“Have I been missing so long you needed to make sure I wasn’t drunk in the garden again?” She straightened and brushed out her skirt.
He chuckled and closed the distance between them. “I saw you leave with Potsum, and it may be ungentlemanly of me, but I watched from the window to make certain you were safe.”
Always her hero. Always reliable. Garrett never disappointed her. “You are a very good friend, Garrett.”
Sorrow touched his eyes despite his smile. “May I escort you in for dinner?”
The idea of returning to a crush of people who may already know of the scene with Potsum turned her stomach. “I think I shall take my leave. I have a touch of a headache.”
He offered his arm. “I will see you home then?”
Warning bells went off in her head. She shouldn’t be alone with Garrett, yet her body must disagree because her hand landed on his arm as if of its own accord. Her skin tingled where she touched him, and heat emanated through the contact, making her breasts ache and her insides clench with need.
“Do you have a wrap I should collect for you?” There was a hitch in his voice. Could he feel the same heat?
She nodded. “It would be unseemly for you to gather my things. I shall just go and collect it and meet you at the front.”
Inside, the heat stifled her. Panic fringed her sight as she ran through the house to the foyer and asked for her shawl. The minutes it took for the footman to retrieve the lace and satin cloth gave her too much time to think about what she was doing. Leaving a ball with a man and for what possible reason?
Longing. Need. Desire. Escape.
Grabbing her shawl, she muttered her thanks and rushed into the cool night. Having already called for both carriages, Garrett stood at the bottom of the steps. Her driver, John, stood with the door open for her.
It was time to stop being a fool. “John, please take the carriage to West Lane. His Grace is going to see to my saftey.”
John closed the door and bowed. “Of course, my lady.”
As he stared at her, hints of the gold in Garrett’s eyes flashed in the light from the house. “I don’t understand, Rora.”
Garrett’s driver opened the carriage door, and Aurora stepped inside. Whatever she was doing couldn’t be spoken of in the street. Not that she was certain what she was about.
A moment later, Garrett sat opposite her, watching her while the carriage rolled down the street. “We’re going to my house?” The lilt in his voice was warm, and the shock of her announcement on the street must have ebbed, as his mouth tipped up at the corners. Though he didn’t gloat, he looked pleased.
Aurora leaned forward and took his hand from his knee. She held it in both of hers. “I wanted to thank you for the information you gave Rhys regarding Potsum. As he has just proposed, in a manner, it was good to know his true character.”
Silence thick between them, he took her hand and turned the palm up. His thumb traced the lightest circle on her wrist, just above her white glove, and heat flooded her.
He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her pulse. “I’m glad the information was useful and sorry to have been ungentlemanly in my gathering of it. It was not my place.”
One finger at a time, he tugged the glove free and pressed another kiss to her palm.
It would have been no surprise if she burst into flames immediately. His gentle caress and the softness of his lips shot fire through her landing directly between her legs. “Garrett,” she breathed.
“What is it you want of me, Rora? I should redirect this carriage and drop you at West Lane, but I have no willpower where you are concerned. If you bade me make love to you right here in the carriage, I shall do as you ask.” Sadness and hope tangled in what he said.
Was that what she wanted? “I hardly know how to answer, but I don’t want you to set me on the curb in front of my house and leave me tonight. Tonight, I want you, Garrett. I don’t want to crawl into my cold bed alone and wish for things I cannot have because of a man long dead and not missed by anyone.”
He gently pulled her forward and into his lap. Tucking her head under his chin he held her.
As his fingers caressed up and down her back and warmed her even through her corset, she yearned for more of his touch to warm her and make her whole. “Radcliff has not condemned you, Rora. You have done that to yourself. What troubles me is the why of it. Why have you decided so vehemently against love?”
With her cheek pressed against his chest and his heart pounding in her ear, she was safe from the Radcliffs and Potsums of the world. His question struck her so deep, old pains emerged from the wound. “I was a foolish girl. When my father informed me that I would be married after I returned to England, I was happy. In the weeks we traveled from Lucerne to home, I imagined my life as the Countess of Radcliff and it was a grand life. My fiancé wrote to me and sent a miniature of himself. He was handsome, and his smile looked so full of charm. The girls and I giggled all the way back to London about the love I would share with my husband. By the time we arrived, I was in love with the idea of him.”
Garrett drew her tighter against him and kissed the top of her head. “But the reality was not anything like the idea.”
“No. I knew on my wedding night, and my heart broke.” Tears welled up from the cauldron she’d kept covered for so many years. “It shattered so irrevocably that I swore never to give my love to anyone again. I promised to keep my emotions hard and firmly inside.”
“And a fine job of it you’ve done, Rora.” He wiped her tears with his knuckles. “But what has it left you with?”
She opened her mouth to tell him how sorry she was, but he cut her off.
“Don’t answer. Please, Rora.” He swallowed several times, his Adam’s apple bobbing against her forehead.
She tipped her head back and kissed his neck. “Will you make love to me, Garrett? I need you so very badly.”
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of Garrett’s townhouse, but the driver didn’t dismount. Probably, the poor man didn’t know what to do with the current situation.
After easing her to the bench, Garrett jumped down before lifting her to the ground. “Come. I already told you I have no willpower to tell you no.”
The butler opened the door, and Garrett led her up the steps without a word. Of course, servants would talk, but if her reputation was ruined, so be it. Worst case, she’d ruminate in Cheshire until the gossips found another target.
Her pulse pounded in her ears as she allowed him to lead her down a hall to his bedroom. The large bed was draped in green velvet, and a fire had been lit. Several books stacked on the table beside a chair near the hearth spoke of a man who used his mind and not just his hands or title to change his surroundings.
Curious to see what such a man read in the privacy of his bedchamber, Aurora broke away from his handhold and went to the books. Wordsworth, Shakespeare, and a book about farming. She smiled. “A poet and practical. You are a rare breed.”
When he didn’t respond, she turned and found him standing halfway between the closed door and her. His watchful eyes never wandering from her face. “I love poetry.” He shrugged. “I’m no poet though.”
“I like the Coleridge poem in this one, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. I must have read it a hundred times.” She caressed the spine of the book. “Of course, my copy is not so fine as this.”
He shrugged and stepped closer. “A hobby of mine.”
“Have you other hobbies?” She cringed, remembering asking Potsum a similar question and despairing at his lack of interests.
Step by slow step, he drew closer to her. “Besides reading and collecting interesting books, I love a good game of pall-mall, I like to swim in the lake at my country home. I enjoy horses and racing. I have a great many interests. Do you have any hobbies, Rora?”
How marvelous to have been asked. Men never asked women about things they liked, as it was assumed that once they married, they would give up all for their husband’s likes. “I don’t know if I would call them hobbies, but I have several very fine tea sets and I really love finding and procuring them for my Tuesday tea with the Wallflowers. I play the pianoforte, though not in the way Mercy does. When she is not at West Lane, I play for my own pleasure. I too love to read, but maybe not about farming.”
He took her hand from where it trailed along the back of his chair and pressed his warm lips to her knuckles. His smile pierced her soul, as if he were a conquering angel sent down from heaven to heal her. “I didn’t know about the teapots. That is a charming hobby.”
“I don’t generally talk about myself. I don’t suppose I ever have been much for chatting on about me. Women are taught to be interested in what men want. Having goals, like my school, is not ladylike. Of course, you already know that.” She rounded the chair and stood with her hand in his, arms wrapped together like two snakes entwined, their bodies nearly touching with just their arms between them. Looking up into his eyes, she thought she could be happy if this moment never ended.
“We can sit up all night, and you can speak of nothing but you, Rora.” Those beautiful eyes looked into hers as if he really meant what he said. “I would love to hear all about what you think and feel behind those staid expressions.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to make love?” Her gaze flicked to the bed.
With his free hand, he gripped her chin and turned her attention back to him. “I want you happy. I want you. I want you in every way including in my bed. But that is not all I want, Rora. If it will satisfy you to sit by the fire, drink wine, and talk all night, I will feel like the richest man in the world to have your company.”
Her body vibrated with desire, need, and more, something she couldn’t name. When she spoke, her voice was breathy and soft. “While that sounds like a wonderful way to spend an evening, Garrett, I burn for you so hot, I may turn to ash if you don’t kiss me very soon.”
In the span of a breath, his mouth was on hers. He didn’t ask permission, but pressed inside consuming her. His tongue danced with hers like a frantic waltz while her heart pounded and her limbs went weak.
As he gentled the kiss, she nipped his bottom lip then sucked it into her mouth. “Garrett, why is it like this with us?” Her skin tingled with sensitivity, and she clutched him like a buoy in a raging sea.
Reaching around and up, he slid her hat pin from the coif of her hair and placed it atop the stack of books. He proceeded to remove every pin holding her hair and ran his fingers through the loose tresses that spilled down her back. “You don’t want me to answer that question, Rora. Though, I long to tell you over and over again.”
She curled her fingers into his soft hair at the back of his neck and breathed in the safe, spicy scent of him. “You really believe this is more than desire made real?”
He swept her into his arms.
Gasping, she held tight around his neck. “You believe feelings have something to do with the way I desire you? Men desire women they do not care about all the time. They bed them and they walk away without a care. What makes this different?”
At the bed, he placed her on the mattress and followed her down until his body trapped her with the most delightful pressure. “I didn’t come to you a virgin, Rora. I know the difference between lust and love. While I’ll admit they are not mutually exclusive, the addition of caring and deep affection with desire results in what we have between us, and I have not experienced it with another woman.”
The pounding of her heart stopped. She wasn’t even sure she breathed. His declaration stole her ability to do anything more than stare up at him in wonder.
“I’ve terrified you.” He brushed her hair from her forehead and laughed. “I know you would prefer if I kept my feelings to myself.”
“No.” The word flew out like a plea before she could think to stop it.
“No?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and then the other. “You wouldn’t prefer my silence on the subject of love?”
“You said something tonight that I can’t seem to let go of.” She took a deep breath, as he rolled to his side and studied her. “You said I had done this to mysel
f.”
The accusation pummeled her mind. All she sacrificed in the process of punishing herself for things that were not her fault, Garrett had whittled down to that one sentence. What had she gained? Safety? If so, it was a false security at best.
She sighed and ran her hand along his arm.
Chapter 25
Garrett had said those words in the carriage, and he’d meant them, but the possibility that he’d hurt her with them shot an ache to his heart. “I only want you to let go of the past, Rora. I did not mean to upset you.”
Lightly she traced a path from his temple down his cheek to his jaw. “I was already upset, and you were right. Radcliff was a monster, of that there is no doubt. But denying myself happiness was all my own doing.”
“Was?” His heart might explode. He was half hope, half agony hearing her use the past tense with regard to what she had kept at bay.
Looking up at him, she was a goddess in the fire and candlelight. Her eyes shone a deeper blue, and her skin was flushed and warm. He could lay there staring at her for a lifetime.
Aurora tugged on his cravat, and when it came loose, she tossed it aside and skimmed her fingertips along the vee in his linen blouse. “I never before told anyone about my heartbreak. The Wallflowers know that Bertram broke my body and my spirit, but only you know about what my heart suffered. I thought if I spoke it aloud, it would give his actions more validity.”
He wanted, no needed to hear the rest. Refusing to let her stop before it was all out, he prompted, “And?”
Wonder lit her face. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Saying it was freeing. I’m not sure I had ever let myself know how devastated I was by his betrayal. My father was no treat, but he protected my mother from harm. I thought there was something wrong with me that made Bertram want to hurt and even kill me.”
Unable to keep his hands to himself, he let one fall to her hip and pulled her close. “You are perfect, Rora.”
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