Yes. That was definitely what she would do. This whole business had gone on for long enough. Darius was, she suspected, a passionate man, but he’d never—or almost never—allowed her to see that aspect of his character. Well, she wasn’t prepared to let that situation continue. She absolutely had to know what was in his heart and if there was room in it for her.
If Beth were here she would probably advise against broaching the subject. That would be the sensible route to take. After all, there was so much at stake here apart from her dignity, but Flick seldom did what people expected of her and now wasn’t the time to start. Even if Darius laughed in her face—a very real possibility—he was a gentleman and wouldn’t reveal to anyone else that she’d made a complete fool of herself. She took comfort from that thought. It strengthened her resolve and helped to quell her turbulent emotions.
Eventually the conveyance rattled to a halt in Gray’s Inn. Flick barely waited for the footman to lower the steps before she disappeared in the direction of Darius’s chambers in Inner Temple.
“Call back for me in an hour,” she told the coachman. “If I’m not here, wait.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
Flick entered Darius’s outer office, her emotions once again in a hopeless tangle. Disappointment, determination and nervousness waged a full-scale battle inside her, making it difficult for her to think coherently. The aura of aloof detachment she’d been striving for was beyond her at such a time, but a lifetime’s training for a future among society’s elite came to her aid. She was a lady and knew how to behave as one. Darius would treat her as such—well, he always had, she’d grant him that much—and would have the goodness to explain himself. She had always been his greatest admirer, encouraging him to follow his beliefs, and if he’d had a change of heart then she deserved to know about it.
She lifted her chin when Darius’s clerk rose from behind his tall desk and bowed low, hoping that she appeared far more in control of herself than she actually felt.
“Lady Felicity. This is an unexpected honour.”
“How are you, Phillips?”
“Perfectly well, m’lady, I thank you. Er, is Mr. Grantley expecting you? He didn’t warn me to expect you.”
“No, but please tell him I’m here. I won’t take up much of his time.”
“If you’d be so kind as to take a seat.”
Flick did so, tapping her fingers impatiently while Phillips disappeared into Darius’s inner sanctum. Phillips had left the door ajar and she heard Darius speaking with Mr. Bartlett. She distinctly heard him mention Cuthbert, among other gentlemen. Dear God, it appeared her worst fears were about to be confirmed. It seemed like a long time before Phillips reappeared, but it could only have been a minute or so. Mr. Bartlett was right behind him.
“Lady Felicity,” the solicitor said, inclining his head. “I trust I find you well.”
“Thank you, yes.”
It was all Flick could do to be polite to the man. She blamed him for this. He must have persuaded Darius to take the case. After all, that was what he did, was it not? That didn’t mean Darius had to take it, of course, but even so—
“Please to go in, my lady,” Phillips said.
Flick smiled at Phillips as she swept through the door he held open, with her head held high. The sound of the door closing behind her echoed through her head like a death knell for her ambitions.
“Flick.” Darius stood as she entered. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Is it true?” she demanded aggressively. “Are you representing Cuthbert?”
“Ah, so you’ve heard.” He cupped his chin in his hand. “I was hoping I’d have an opportunity to tell you myself.”
All the air seemed to leave Flick’s lungs in an extravagant whoosh, and she fell into the chair Darius held out for her just seconds before her legs gave out. “I didn’t believe it when Rob told me. I was sure he must have got it wrong.” Distress and disappointment whipped through her but she tamped down her emotions and met his gaze, reminding herself that he deserved the opportunity to explain.
“No, he didn’t get it wrong,” Darius said softly.
“Why?” she asked, feeling ridiculously close to tears of disappointment.
He didn’t seem able to meet her gaze and stood to stare out of the window. “You don’t understand how these things work,” he said, turning his back to her and clasping his hands behind it.
His attitude infuriated her. He had never patronized her in the past and she was in no mood to put up with it now. “Then perhaps if you use very short words you can make me understand,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “I’ve been your most loyal supporter all these years, encouraging you to continue down the path you chose even when you hit opposition and derision. You owe me the opportunity to understand why you’ve changed direction.”
“Then understand that I have to make a living.” He ran a hand through his hair, still with his back to her. Why was he afraid to look at her? “Fighting for the rights of the less privileged is all well and good but it isn’t enough to support me.”
Flick wrinkled her brow. “But Brightstone Manor? I assumed your estate provided you with a good enough living to underwrite your efforts here.”
Now he did turn to look at her, a bitter smile playing about his lips. “Have you ever really thought about it?” He waved a hand to stop her from answering. “Not that I would have expected you to. It’s really not your concern.”
“But I want it to—”
“My estate now turns a modest profit. It has taken me a while to turn matters round since my father almost destroyed the place with his determination to gamble away every penny he made, and many more that he didn’t have.”
Flick nodded, her temper cooling slightly. “That must have been very difficult for you. No wonder you’re so opposed to gambling.”
“Whatever profit I make is ploughed straight back into the estate. What I make here in London as a barrister is what I must live on, pay my clerk’s wages, the rent on these chambers and ancillary expenses.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable to be discussing such matters but clearly feeling the need to justify his actions. “My estate is tiny compared to the Hall and I can’t rely on it to fund my career.”
Flick felt terrible for not having considered the matter in that light. “I had no idea,” she said softly.
“There isn’t any reason why you should have.”
There was an air of charged expectancy between them. The atmosphere was brittle with tension, even though Darius still appeared to have trouble meeting her eyes. She could tell he wasn’t happy about the actions he’d taken. It must have required a lot of soul searching to abandon his principles. She’d made matters worse by charging in here, hurling accusations at him, when she hadn’t even stopped to consider that he might be acting out of financial necessity. It was kind of Darius not to point out that she’d never had to think about money in her entire life.
“If I do this, if I can somehow pull it off,” Darius said, “it will be the making of my career.”
“You have been made promises?”
“I could become King’s Counsel,” he said with becoming modestly.
Flick’s dwindling anger gave way to a burst of pride. “But you deserve that honour anyway, given the way you’ve devoted yourself to the cause of justice.”
He flashed an engaging smile. “You’re biased,” he said tenderly. “Most people don’t see it that way.”
“Then they are very short sighted indeed.”
They had both run out of things to say. All the words Flick had practised in the carriage coming over here seemed inappropriate now and, unsettled by her selfishness, she didn’t voice them.
“What are you really doing here, Flick?” he asked.
She lifted her eyes to his face and held his gaze. “I’m tired of playing games, Darius.”
“Games?”
“Don’t pretend not to understand me.” She gulped. “I asked you last night what
you thought of me and you didn’t give me an answer.” Somehow she managed not to flinch when she saw a whole gambit of emotions flit across his face. Part of her brain desperately tried to interpret them, to take hope from what she saw there. The other part preferred not to know. She stood up and confronted him. “I need to know how you really think of me.” She paused, fixing him with a steady gaze. “In your heart.”
Her meaning couldn’t have been plainer. Even so, she half expected him to ignore the brittle expectancy between them and fall back on his role as surrogate brother. Instead he reached for her hand.
“Come with me,” he said.
He took her through a door behind his desk that led to a narrow staircase. Still holding her hand, he started to climb the stairs and she followed, her heart leaping and crashing painfully against her ribcage. This would be a defining moment—that much she knew for a certainty. They were about to enter his living quarters, a place she’d never seen before. She wondered why he would choose now to show them to her but wasn’t left in ignorance for long.
“Welcome to my drawing room,” he said, an edge to his voice.
Flick looked around the small room with interest. A fireplace, an arrangement of chairs, a dining table, an array of books, but no room for anything else.
“A comfortable bachelor apartment,” she said, thinking the neatness was typical of Darius. “Very tidy and precise. I can easily imagine you sitting here at night, warmed by the fire, studying your papers in solitude.”
She was babbling. She always babbled when she was nervous. Never had she had greater cause for nervousness and so she abruptly stopped talking.
“Exactly so.” Darius’s demeanour was serious. “And this is my bedchamber.”
He opened a door that revealed an even smaller room.
“It’s all I have to offer,” he said, an edge to his voice. “Not quite up to your standards, I’m afraid, and so I couldn’t ask it of you.”
Flick’s heart soared. “Are you saying that you would like to offer for me?”
She held her breath, willing him to answer in the affirmative.
* * *
Darius looked into the eyes of the woman he’d loved for years, determined to put an end to his obsession with her once and for all. He couldn’t have her, had always known that in his heart, and it was time to drive her away with some cold, hard facts of life. He would survive and get on with his life. The poets would have it that it was possible to die from a broken heart, but Darius didn’t know of anyone who’d actually suffered that fate. He would be miserable for a while but was fairly sure he wouldn’t become the first man to support the poets’ cause.
“There is no one I would rather have in my life than you, Flick. Surely you realize that much by now?”
She gasped. “Actually, I had no idea!”
“But it’s hopeless.”
She opened her eyes very wide, clearly not understanding what ought to be obvious to an eight-year-old. “You would live in this hovel with me when I’m in town?”
She smiled radiantly. “As shacks go, it’s very cosy.”
He shot her a bemused look. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, it’s just something Beth and I were talking about earlier.”
Tension radiated through Darius. Flick still hadn’t caught on and so he needed to be cruel to be kind. Cruel to himself as well as to her.
“You might think you prefer me to all the swells who seek your attention, simply because you’re at liberty to bestow your affections wherever you wish. But I assure you the reality wouldn’t live up to your expectations, and your regard for me wouldn’t stand the test of time.”
“Darius, you can’t possibly know what—”
“Yes, I can.” He settled a resigned expression on her face. “This is how I live, Flick.” He curled his upper lip. “This is how it must be for me if I’m to follow my conscience.”
“Darius, you’re being ridiculous!” An ecstatic smile illuminated her beautiful face. She had never looked lovelier, which only served to emphasise the disappointment that drained his soul, ripping through him like a sabre. All the time he’d avoided this conversation there had been a glimmer of hope. He’d fooled himself with increasingly ridiculous possibilities, but that was all they were. Ridiculous. And it couldn’t go on. He had to kill that hope now and bring an end to their suffering. “My dowry is more than enough for us to—”
“Out of the question!” Realizing he was shouting, he moderated his tone. “I will not live off a woman’s wealth.”
She frowned. “Why not? Men marry for financial expediency all the time without even feeling any affection for their partners.” She tilted her head and regarded him from beneath a fringe of thick lashes, still looking disconcertingly confident in her ability to talk him round. “Do you feel nothing for me, Darius? Have I imagined it all? I really don’t think I have, but if you can convince me otherwise, this conversation will be at an end and we’ll never refer to it again.”
How hard could it be to be untruthful? It would be better for her—for them both—if he put an end to the indefinable something that had existed between them for as long as he could remember. It would also help if they weren’t having this conversation on the threshold of his bedroom. He should have thought of that before he brought her up here but, as always when in Flick’s company, the rational, methodical part of his brain appeared to be asleep.
“Flick, I—”
“What is it, Darius?” she asked when he couldn’t seem to get the words past the blockage in his throat. “Was there something you wished to say to me?”
Hell, why did she have to look at him with her heart reflected in her eyes? It was too much. He had spent days, months, years even, fighting the attraction he felt towards her. He was an expert at hiding his true feelings, but now, when he needed it the most, the ability to continue doing so abruptly deserted him.
With a strangled oath he pulled her into his arms. She came willing and her own arms slipped round his neck, her fingers burying themselves in his hair like she’d done it a thousand times before. At last the soft curves he’d spent so many sleepless nights imagining collided with the solid planes of his own body. She fit there perfectly, but then he’d always imagined she would.
His arms closed about her in a tight, protective embrace and he knew then that nothing on this earth would prevent him from kissing her. He would taste her sweet lips just once and then cast her from him forever. The brim of her bonnet got in the way, as though reminding him that this was total lunacy. Before he could use it as an excuse to come to his senses, she untied the ribbons and threw it carelessly aside.
Darius gave up the unequal struggle to be sensible. He’d been sensible his whole damned life and it had got him precisely nowhere. Flick was standing on her toes, smiling radiantly at him with her mouth, her eyes, her entire expression. Darius groaned, tightened his hold on her, dropped his head and claimed her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. His hands roamed the contours of her back as he forced her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. She leaned into him and a soft sigh somehow slipped past the lips he was busy kissing. Victory surged through him when she surrendered with such sweet innocence that it was obvious she’d never been kissed before. And nor would she be again.
At least not by him.
There could be no question of that, and so Darius intended to make the most of this moment. Instead he broke the kiss almost immediately and pushed her away from him none too gently.
“Does that answer your question?”
“Yes, it was a very eloquent answer.” She frowned. “I’m just glad you don’t feel the need to employ it at the Bailey.” Her joke did little to lessen the tension. When he turned away from her, she grabbed his arm and forced him to confront her. “Why are you denying what you so obviously want?”
When a tear slipped down her cheek, Darius was assailed by a whole raft of protective emotions. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her onto his lap. At that point,
the trickle of tears became a flood.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’ve never seen you cry before. Not when you fell from that oak tree and sprained your wrist.”
She nodded through her tears. “Your coming to my rescue made me forget all about the pain.”
“Not when you spied on Rob and me, swimming in the lake, slipped down the bank and fell in. You almost drowned that day.”
She sniffed. “That was embarrassing. I can’t swim. Besides,” she added, giggling through her tears, “I didn’t realize that you and Rob were swimming, er—”
“Au naturel?”
“Quite. My education took an interesting turn that day. One that Miss Archer wouldn’t have approved of.”
Darius laughed as he wiped away another errant tear. “You didn’t cry when you tried to ride Hal’s stallion and he threw you.”
“No, but I did have a few bruises after that escapade.”
Darius chuckled at that admission, trying valiantly not to dwell on the most likely locations for those bruises.
“Forget about me,” he said softly, stroking cream curls away from eyes still leaking tears. “You’ll find someone else. Someone better suited to your lifestyle. Someone who can keep you in the manner to which you’re accustomed.”
“You think I care about material possessions?” she cried indignantly.
“I think you take them for granted and have an unrealistic image of how things would be without them.”
“I decided to marry you when I was eleven,” she said with a dignified toss of her head. “And so if you mean to reject me, you must find a better reason for it than my supposed inability to live simply.”
“You what?”
“You were my knight in shining armour and you spoiled me for everyone else the moment you swooped me into your arms. Do you remember what you said to me?”
He shook his head. “Something foolish, I dare say.”
“Not in the least. I can say that with assurance because I remember every word. You said you admired my ability to climb a tree like a monkey, even if I did fall out of it.”
Beguiling the Barrister Page 6