His Blessed Epiphany (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 9)

by Marly Mathews

  “Why are you so set on this?”

  “My daughter had plenty of prospects, Felix. She turned them all away, and do you know why she did that? She did it because she wanted you, and thought she couldn’t have you. Now, that she has you, I will be damned if you let her throw you away. I worked too hard for this match, and in case you hadn’t noticed, Felix, I am no bloody cupid.”

  Felix snorted, and reached for his handkerchief as some of the sweetened hot port slipped out of his mouth.

  “I…I…had noticed that sir.”

  “That’s right, I am no Valentine Deville,” Colonel Blessing grinned. “Go ahead and give her a bit of a surprise.”

  “You are her father and you are telling me to invade her privacy?”

  “She is married to you now, and she wanted to be married to you. I don’t see it as an invasion. After all, you won’t force yourself on her. I only see it as a way of catching her attention and showing her that you will not go away no matter how much she attempts to get rid of you. If you did leave, she would never forgive herself. She would live a life of regret, and I shan’t see that. Now, buck up, boy, go and win yourself the damsel.”

  Fanny had slept fitfully. Tossing and turning until she had finally given up, and gotten up. She now sat by the fire, reading a book that she had left in her room. She had a blanket thrown across her legs, and the calmness of the night along with the beautiful prose, her evening felt complete. She had considered ringing for some hot chocolate to be sent up to her, but she didn’t want anyone to know she was awake. Instead, she sat drinking some brandy, sometimes it made her sleepy. Fortunately, she kept a filled decanter along with a glass in her bedchamber.

  She had locked her bedchamber door, thinking that Felix might attempt to gain entry. The door leading into the bedchamber he occupied had also been locked. Brandy sloshed over the edge of her glass at the sound of someone trying to gain entry to her bedchamber. Placing the glass carefully on the table next to her chair, she stood up, wrapping the blanket that had covered her legs around her upper body like it was a shawl. She walked over to the warming pan that stood upright by the fire, and cautiously edged toward the door. Temptation beckoned. She wanted to open the door, but if it was someone she didn’t want it to be, she was at least well-armed.

  Squaring her shoulders, and breathing in deeply, she padded her way to the door, and quickly unlocked it. Then, she stepped back and waited. The door creaked open, and she raised the warming pan like it was a cricket bat.

  “Christ Almighty,” Felix said, taking in her stance. “What the bloody hell do you seek to do? Make yourself a widow?”

  “If I clobbered you with this, it would hardly make a mark, Felix.”

  “You might not think so, but I definitely think I would feel it,” he said, eyeing the object warily. “And it better not be piping hot.”

  “Certainly not. I wouldn’t use it if it was hot. That would be taking it a bit too far.” She lowered it to her side, and studied him. He had loosened his cravat, and his eyes looked a little cloudy.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No more than usual,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes went to the half empty glass of brandy. “It looks as if you’ve been imbibing as well, wife.”

  “Occasionally, I do. I don’t, however, drink to the point of being foxed. And you look a wee bit tipsy.”

  “I am nothing of the kind. I’m on my way there, but I’m perfectly sober at the moment.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and her fingers relaxed. The warming pan was slipping out of her grasp. Walking back over to the fireplace she put the bed warmer back where she had gotten it from.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Your father told me to come up here.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “It’s true. I might be many things, Fanny, but I am no liar.”

  “You lied to me about your reasons for marrying me.”

  “I did nothing of the kind. I merely didn’t reveal the truth to you because I thought you already knew,” he sighed heavily.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway.” She sank back into her chair, and stared at him. If he thought anything other than her drinking brandy and reading her book was going to happen, he was sadly mistaken. Poor fool.

  “Care to share?” he asked.

  She smiled, and handed him the book she was reading. Picking up her brandy, she sipped at it, and watched the befogged expression on his face. It made her feel a little giddy, and she laughed. “You wanted me to share. I have always shared my books.”

  “I think you…I think you got it wrong, or,” he groaned, “you didn’t.”

  “Oh, I know what you want, but you can’t have it.” Her double entendre hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. His baffled expression turned to dawning recognition.

  “Just give me a little tipple,” he suggested, moving toward her.

  “No,” she said, taking another sip.

  He glared at her. “You need to learn how to share. Don’t you have another glass?”

  “Why would I have another glass? Do you think I make a habit of entertaining men in my bedchamber?”

  “I should hope not!”

  “And yet,” she paused. “It’s perfectly acceptable for men such as yourself to hire incognitas.”

  “You should not know of such matters. That sort of talk is not for a lady’s delicate ears.”

  “And yet,” she paused taking another large dainty sip, she savoured the taste of the liquor and then swallowed, “And yet, I do. I pride myself on knowing all about such matters.”

  “I’m sure you do. Liberated thinker that you are,” he said, crossing his arms. “But you do not need to trifle yourself with such matters any longer.”

  “Ah, so you are going to enforce your power as my husband and tell me what to think. Shall you also tell me what to do?”

  “No,” he said, “And don’t use that clever tongue of yours to put words in my oafish mouth. I have enough words for one person—sometimes too many for my own good, I don’t need another cheeky little miss putting them into my head.”

  “Shall you seek to take a flyer with me?”

  He gasped. He looked as if he was having heart palpitations, and his cheeks went red. “How the hell do you know that? Where did you hear such a salacious thing?”

  “I listen to the servants sometimes. I must say their vocabulary can be quite colourful when they think they are alone, and the things they get up to…why, it would turn your cheeks just as red as they are right now, sir.”

  “Ladies shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

  “And yet, when ladies do eavesdrop they hear such titillating things, and do you know, it has enhanced my view of the world a good deal. It has broadened my knowledge in such wickedly delightful ways.”

  He turned away from her. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was attempting to implore God to give him strength—or at least that’s what his muttered words sounded like. His burr had gotten awfully thick. It must be a product of his nerves being at such a riotous pitch. She smiled, delighted with herself that she had affected him so.

  “I bloody well need a drink. Give me your glass.”

  This wasn’t a request. This was undeniably an order. Felix was giving her an order. “No,” she said softly. Her resolve was unshakable. She wouldn’t be bullied.

  “Wives are supposed to obey their husbands,” he pointed out gruffly.

  “I know. I am no ordinary wife—and the sooner you learn that, the better for all concerned. Besides, I am not really your wife anyway.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said, his voice lowering to a husky growl that caused gooseflesh to pebble along her skin.

  “No…I am not. Not in the truest sense of the word, anyway, and I never will be.”

  She swirled her brandy around her glass, looking thoughtfully into it.

  He leaned down, so he was right in her face. “Either give me that glass, lassie, or I shall pick you up glass and all, a
nd take you over to that inviting bed. I could definitely imagine you there sprawled…”

  “Enough,” she spat out. Dear God, she felt so hot. Why was it so hot?

  Her hand trembled. She had no choice. She had to give him the glass, or she was at risk of dropping the damn thing. And that was a mess she didn’t fancy making. Shakily, she handed the glass over to him.

  “Ta,” he said, his eyes sparkling. The intense look in his eyes made her heart thunder loudly in her chest. Oh, God, he was going to be the death of her. She bit her lip, and watched him suck back what was left in the glass. Then, he swaggered away from her, and poured himself another glass. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it, darling wife?” She shook her head, even though he had his back to her. “What did you say?” he asked, turning back to regard her.

  “No,” she whispered hoarsely. Dash it all. He robbed her of breath, and all coherent thought. She had always been like this when under his spell. It was almost as if he put her into a trance. He had more power over her than any other man, and if he ever figured out how to wield it, she was in trouble. “You are a devil in disguise, Felix Grey.”

  “Felix Grey-Blessing,” he corrected, without pausing. “Aye, I have a bit of a devilish streak in me. You knew that. I have never professed to be an angel. Indeed, I have always professed to be an…”

  “Arsehole,” she supplied. “Yes, I know.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Somehow, that doesn’t sound quite right coming out of your mouth. I didn’t even like hearing you call high class prostitutes what you called them…”

  “I shall speak my mind, whenever I wish to, sir.”

  “And now you’re back to that shite. I told you to call me Felix. Not sir, or Lord Spaulding or any of that bloody rubbish. I hear men and women who are married calling each other sir, and Mr. So and So or Lord So and So, and I hate it. I hate hearing it. A husband and a wife share such close intimacies that they should call each other by their Christian names, at least when they are in private. They share a life, don’t they? They basically become a united front, damning all others.”

  “But you are Lord Spaulding, and as your wife, I can call you sir. Disregarding your preferences, of course.”

  “And I can call you madam, but I shan’t.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, sir. You might have to go back on your word at some point in time. I could hear you calling me madam in the future. I can also hear the exasperation in your voice at the time. I must say, you shall be utterly vexed, and your face will probably be a scarlet red, and your beautiful eyes shall probably be dancing with a mingled amount of fury and amusement. You always seem to be entertained by me, even if I have vexed you.”

  “Lawks, woman. Enough. Do you hear me? Enough of your bloody prattling on. I…I can think of only one way to shut you up,” he decided, placing down his glass, he stormed toward her. She jumped out of her chair, and darted around so she stood behind her chair. “You, sir, shall have to catch me first. And you should be warned, I can move terribly fast.”

  “I daren’t think that will be hard to do. I have longer legs, and as such, I believe I can catch you without much fuss and bother.”

  He darted around for her, and she jumped out of his way, hopping over toward the bed. The blanket she had worn as a shawl slipped from her shoulders, and her hair streamed out behind her like a blonde flame. She had very little chances of success. She couldn’t run out of her bedroom in what she wore, and she couldn’t flee into the adjoining room. He would only pursue her, catch her and throw her on the bed that was in that chamber. No…she either had to convince him what he had in mind was sheer folly, or she had to surrender—and oh, my, how she wanted to do the latter.

  Fighting wasn’t an option. If she struggled, he would leave her be, and she wasn’t certain she wanted him to leave her be. She didn’t know what she wanted. Damnation. She had never been so confused in her life.

  “You just stay right where you are, sir,” she ordered, hopping up onto the bed.

  “No,” he said softly. “I’m about as obliging when it comes to your orders as you are when it comes to following mine. And don’t call me, sir. Besides, you are right where I want you to be.”

  She swallowed thickly, and stood up. “Stay over there, Felix. I mean it. Devil take you, I mean it.”

  “I don’t think you do, Fanny. I think you want me to ravish you. I think you want me to make sweet love to you. I think you want me to show you all of the pleasures I am a master of. You would like the lessons I have to teach you.”

  “No,” she said, wincing when her voice wavered. “I wouldn’t. I don’t want you to kiss me, or touch me…”

  “Say it with more conviction, lass,” he urged.

  “I shouldn’t want you to warm my bed. We have only been back in each other’s lives for a scant amount of time. Taking you into my bed, well, that wouldn’t say much for my character would it?”

  “I am your husband. I belong in your bed. Besides, I don’t think I ever left your heart,” he said softly. “Isn’t that right, Fanny? Did I ever leave your mind or your heart? Speak the truth now, love.”

  She tried to maintain her balance on the mattress. “Why shouldn’t you have left my heart and departed my thoughts? I left yours without a fleeting thought. You cast me out of your head, and your heart like I was a piece of rubbish.”

  “You were far above me, Epiphany. Do you honestly think I could have ever thought to think of you in such a way? I was a lowly manservant who knew my place. I could have been flogged, if your father even suspected that I was looking at you that way, and besides, when we left each other you were only what…fifteen, sixteen?”

  “Sixteen,” she sighed. “I am far too stricken in years now. You must think me frightfully haggard.”

  He harrumphed. “Hardly. You are a bonny lassie, Fanny. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You put any of the other beauties in the ton to shame.”

  “But you…you…don’t love me,” she protested.

  “You have captured my heart, Fanny. I might not love you, like you care for me, but I do think I fell for you after I realized that you were not a man earlier this morning. Once I realized who you were, and I saw you as a lady, I admit I was smitten.”

  “Smitten isn’t love. It is infatuation, and infatuation can be a fleeting thing, sir.”

  “That is true.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You are right, Fanny. I shouldn’t warm your bed until I love can love more than just your body. If I did that would make me a scoundrel, and I might be a great many things, love, but I am not that kind of scoundrel.” With those parting words, he left her bedchamber.

  Every time he called her love, she wanted to cry. It reached deep into her chest and almost strangled her heart.

  She looked at the door that led into the adjoining room as it softly clicked shut. Panic surged within her. “What do I do?” she asked herself softly. Her heart galloped like a racing horse. She couldn’t leave it like this. She wanted him to be with her even if she didn’t have his heart. She could take what he offered her for now.

  How could she make him see that?

  Frantically, she scrambled off the bed, and made for the door. She thought for a moment, and reached for her dressing gown. Her nerves couldn’t falter now. What she was about to do was beyond scandalous, and yet…she shouldn’t be ashamed, after all, he was her husband.

  Felix sighed heavily, and walked away from the door. He wanted to go back in, and see if she was still willing, but he couldn’t. He had to remain stoic. He couldn’t falter. Groaning, he looked around the room, and attempted to banish thoughts of Fanny naked and lying under him from his mind. He shouldn’t think that she would want to give her body to him, after all, it wasn’t as if he courted her. He couldn’t think to ravish her like a bloody barbarian. Why then, did he feel so empty inside?

  He turned back at the sound of the door leading from her bedchamber to his, creaking open. His eyes almost dropped out of his head
at the breathtakingly beautiful sight that awaited him. It was Fanny, and she stood wearing her dressing gown. Had she decided to cover up more, and come back to babble on incessantly? Didn’t she realize that he would start kissing her just to get her to shut her bone box?

  “I…” her voice wobbled. “I have reconsidered, Felix. I…I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t ever want you to leave me. I want you to spend the night with me showing me what you know about worshipping the female body.”

  He couldn’t believe it. His dreams were coming true. He was one lucky arsehole. And yet, he couldn’t give in. He had to tell her to march back to her bedchamber and let the subject drop.

  “You need to leave now,” he said. “I am attempting to be a gentleman, Fanny. You aren’t ready. Your heart isn’t ready.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. Her voice was determined, and by the glint in her eyes, she knew exactly what she was doing. She couldn’t say she hadn’t wanted him to bed her. Nevertheless, he had to make sure she knew exactly what would happen.

  “If I gan, I mean if I go back into that room with you, I won’t ever leave it. Not for as long as I live.”

  “I know,” she said, dropping her gaze away from him. It was a bashful gesture, and it softened his heart toward her.

  Lawks.

  He was falling in love with her. He had never felt his heart race like this before. He had never had such a dry throat before. Come to think of it, the queer sensations that were flowing through his body had never possessed him before. It had be love making its way into his heart, crawling in and taking up residence. He had kept it shielded long enough. The hard shell around it had to break—and she was just the woman to do it.

  He saw her untying her robe. That was fine, it would make it one less thing he had to discard on his way to making her his wife in every sense of the word.

  Nothing prepared him for what came next. He looked away, and when he looked back, he saw that her dressing gown was now on the floor, in a pool of silk. As his eyes trailed up the length of her body, he feasted his eyes on her nakedness. Her nightgown hadn’t existed. She had come boldly into his room dressed in naught but her dressing gown. His wife was one surprising creature.