The Wedding Affair

by Leigh Michaels

  “Stoneyford, of course. I’ve camped out in worse conditions.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and twisted the full length of a curl around his finger.

  “But you must come to London. We need to sell my jewelry at once so we know what moneys you will have to work with.”

  “At that moment, my plan did not include your jewels.”

  “Then you need a new plan,” Penelope said firmly, “for I want to be a partner in this effort.”

  “At least wait till I’ve told you what I want to do before you agree. If we spend your money on the house as you suggested, we could restore a wing. We’d have a place to live, but the land would still be unprofitable. If instead you are willing to invest in the land, then I can make the estate pay—and with luck, sooner or later we may rebuild the entire house and make it our home. That is what I asked of your father, in my letter—to invest in the land.”

  Penelope was startled. “Not the house?”

  He shook his head. “I cannot justify spending on the house because it will not turn a profit. But if this plan is not to your liking…”

  “The jewels are yours now, sir. I have confidence you will use them to best advantage. But if I choose to spend my pin money on the house, you will not object?”

  “The decision is up to you. But enough about business tonight. If we are going to be partners in this, Penny, I should like to hear you use my name.”

  She whispered, “Charles,” and felt her world shift again as he smiled at her.

  He pulled away and came back a moment later with her jewel case. Slowly he sorted out the contents, putting each piece on her. “How did I miss the amethyst and garnet necklace before?” he muttered, clasping it around her throat. He pinned the yellow diamond brooch into her curls as though it was a hair clip and fastened a particularly gaudy bracelet around her slender ankle.

  “What are you doing?” Penelope asked finally, as he laid the empty case aside.

  “I’m arranging all your gifts to me so they will adorn the best gift of all.” And before she could think it through, he was kissing her again. “I want to hear you say my name while I am inside you,” he said against her lips.

  Before the night was out, she had said his name, shrieked it, whispered it, murmured it… and each time, she fell more deeply in love.

  ***

  As soon as Sir Jasper had gone, Simon tossed back his brandy, hoping it would burn out the ugly aftertaste of the man’s words. He put the brandy glass down with a thump and went back to the ballroom to seek out Olivia.

  She was going down the set with his friend Warren, and Simon leaned against a pillar and watched her with appreciation. The slim, dainty figure—had he once thought her too slender, her bosom not generous enough? How wrong he had been, when her breasts were exactly the right size to fill his hands. She was incredibly graceful, spinning through the figures of the dance in a way which made every other woman in the set look as clumsy as an elephant.

  What was happening to him, anyway? When she’d first come into the drawing room tonight, he’d been afraid she was still angry. Then she had smiled… and he had felt as if the floor was sliding out from under his feet.

  He remembered thinking how stunningly beautiful she was. But surely it was odd that he had been startled, for her beauty was the first thing to attract him.

  No, on the contrary. He had thought her unusual and striking, but far from his usual idea of beauty. Then he had made love to her and found her both lovely and beautiful. But in the last day or so, he must have stopped noticing she was beautiful. She had become simply Olivia…

  He wished he’d had another brandy, even though the fire of the alcohol hadn’t washed out the taste of Sir Jasper’s words.

  Nothing would, he realized, except perhaps clearing the air with Olivia.

  ***

  Kate wanted to run back into the ballroom, but she knew hurrying was the worst thing she could do. Drawing attention to herself and to Olivia right now would only make matters worse.

  When she rejoined Lady Stone and Olivia beside the invalid’s couch, Emily said fretfully, “Where’s the cold drink you promised, Miss Blakely?”

  Olivia smiled. “Where did you lose Mr. Carlisle, Kate? That can’t have been easy.”

  “I need a moment with you,” Kate said under her breath. Drawing Olivia away, she added, “Sir Jasper is in the refreshment room, and he’s telling the duke about you—and Lord Reyne.”

  Olivia closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them, she was pale but resolute.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kate said.

  “I’m not. I’m glad I seized the opportunity.”

  Olivia’s partner for the next set presented himself, and with a smile that would have fooled most people—though not Kate—she went off to dance.

  Seizing opportunities, Kate thought. She’d done some of that herself of late, though taking a job with Lady Stone—or even telling off the vicar—really didn’t compare with having an affair with the Duke of Somervale. At least working for Lady Stone would be more interesting than chaperoning girls like Emily, and the old lady did seem sincere in preferring honesty over mealy-mouthed agreement.

  Seizing opportunities…

  Penny was upstairs with her husband; she’d made the most of her stay at Halstead. And even though Olivia was facing disaster, she had no regrets about the choices she had made.

  While Kate would be the companion of a sharp-tongued old lady, starting tomorrow—which left only tonight for seizing opportunities. If she dared.

  ***

  From the moment the invitation to Lady Daphne’s wedding had arrived, Olivia had been half-expecting that at least one of the many guests gathered at Halstead for the festivities would have heard the stories.

  She hadn’t expected it to be Sir Jasper Folsom.

  She had not yet regained her poise after Kate’s breathless warning when her partner claimed her for the next dance. But the duke couldn’t interrupt the set, so she’d have a few more minutes to gather herself.

  Simon was waiting for her at the edge of the floor when the set ended, and Olivia knew as soon as she saw his face that Kate had been right. Sir Jasper had indeed passed along whatever poison he had been able to collect. And it must have been quite a deadly poison, for there was pain in Simon’s eyes and a set to his jaw that sent a tremor through her.

  By tomorrow, when she was supposed to jilt him, the word would have spread throughout the assembled guests and it would be too late to protect him from the gossip. She had to act now, so the duke would not be hurt.

  “Come with me, Olivia,” he said quietly.

  She smiled and fluttered her fan. “Sir, your attentions have been amusing and a pleasant way to pass the time for a few days. But you must not think I meant any more than a flirtation.”

  “And my offer of marriage?”

  The music seemed to fade; at least, Olivia could hear only a strange buzz in her ears. If only it had been true, she thought. If only he had wanted to marry her…

  Only now, when it was too late, could she finally see the truth. Being his wife would be the culmination of her dreams. She hadn’t merely been enjoying having a lover; she had fallen in love with Simon—with the man, not with the duke.

  But grieving must wait for later. Just now she must play her role.

  “You were mistaken, sir. I did not regard your talk of permanence as an offer, only as coquetry.”

  “So you’re a heartless jilt, leading me on and pretending I misunderstood?”

  How much it hurt to laugh and agree, when with all her heart she wanted to do the opposite—to fling herself against him and beg him to mean what he was saying. “I suppose I am,” she said lightly. “What a terrible thing to have to admit about oneself!”

  “Indeed it would be, if it were true. But I have it on the best authority that only a fool would jilt a duke. You, my dear, are not a fool, and you will find I am very patient.”

  And that was just an
other line from the drama, Olivia thought, for he had shown no signs of patience up until now—certainly not as a lover. Why had he not simply seized on the escape she had offered?

  “Let us go somewhere private to finish this discussion.”

  Olivia made a last stab at escape. “I am engaged to Mr. Carlisle for the next dance.”

  “Andrew will understand.” Simon drew her hand firmly through his arm, strolling through the ballroom to the terrace doors and out into the perfect summer night.

  Olivia tried to pull away, but he had clamped his hand over hers and would not let go.

  “What is wrong with you?” she said furiously. “You wrote this script. Can’t you recognize a cue when you hear it?”

  “Tell me about your husband, Olivia.”

  “What could I possibly add to what Sir Jasper has already said?”

  “He told me he’d heard that up in Lincolnshire they call you the Dark Widow.”

  She shuddered. “I didn’t know that. But I am not surprised.”

  The silence drew out. “You will not even attempt to defend yourself?”

  “He told you one side of the story—that of my late husband’s brother and heir. I presume it goes something like this: I did not realize my husband’s miserly habits were from need, not from inclination, so I hastened his death to free myself. Then when I realized I would not benefit, I stole what I could and ran away.”

  “That was the gist,” Simon agreed. “And now tell me what really happened, Olivia.”

  He sounded as if he cared—as if he would truly listen.

  She sighed. “Despite his ill health, Lord Reyne was trying furiously for a son, for he wanted desperately to keep the estate from his brother. Little though there was to inherit, they had always been rivals. He died… in the effort… and there was talk.”

  “I imagine there might have been,” Simon said dryly.

  “But I did not understand the true nature of my position until the new Lord Reyne arrived to claim the estate.”

  “Nasty sort, was he?”

  “He took one look at me and announced that I was comely enough to earn back what his brother had cost the estate through his foolish marriage—so he would make arrangements with a friend who would pay well to have me in his bed.”

  “So, of course, you ran.”

  “That was not the entire reason. Though he was not named Charlotte’s guardian, I feared he would find a way to change the situation, and he would be able to sell her in a few years. So I packed what little I could hide away—some bits of my mother’s china, a few sentimental things I had brought with me. I stole away, I came as far as I could afford to do, and I have lived quietly on the minuscule funds left me by my father—and hoped it would be too much trouble and expense for the new Lord Reyne to hunt me down.”

  “And you waited for him to move on to other schemes.”

  She nodded. “I should have changed my name, I suppose, but that did not occur to me until after I had made myself known in Steadham village, and then it was too late.”

  The music stopped, and the dancers’ applause drifted out across the terrace. Then the orchestra began a waltz. The slow, dreamy beat of the dance made Olivia want to cry, and she knew she would never again hear a waltz without remembering Simon.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “A very good idea, to change your name—next time you move.”

  Seventeen

  Kate was still thinking of Olivia saying she was glad for everything she had done when Andrew Carlisle came up beside her. Had he come to take up their quarrel? She had broken away from him in the midst of it, but if he started in again to quiz her about the vicar and Lady Stone…

  “Did you talk to Lady Reyne?” he asked.

  Kate relaxed a bit. “Only for a moment. She’s out on the floor.” She turned to watch the dancers. “Did you stop Sir Jasper?”

  “It proved impossible. He was already winding down by the time I reached the duke.”

  “What does the duke intend to do?”

  “Simon did not take me into his confidence.” Andrew drew her hand into the crook of his arm. “The less made of it by people staring, the better. Starting with you.”

  Kate knew he was right, but she couldn’t entirely keep herself from looking back. She saw the duke and Olivia face off at the edge of the dance floor. “I must do something to help.”

  The colonel caught her eye and came briskly across the room toward them. “Not a bad idea,” Andrew said. He sketched a bow to the colonel and led Kate out into the hall. “This way, I think—quickly. Now that the colonel has caught a glimpse of us leaving…”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Creating a distraction. Something else for the crowd to chatter about.”

  “The fact we’ve disappeared together?”

  “You did say you felt you must do something to assist your friend,” Andrew reminded. His voice was low and almost rough. Before Kate could object, he whisked her around a corner into a small, empty anteroom and closed the door. “With luck, no one will find us here.”

  So now he would kiss her. Seizing opportunities, Kate thought.

  But Andrew didn’t move.

  Why not? Because—despite what he’d said about distracting the crowd—if someone were to follow and find them here locked in an embrace, it would ruin her? Or because it would ruin him? Had she missed her chance altogether?

  If Greeley hadn’t interrupted them that night in the library, would she have reached out with both hands to experience the passion, excitement, and adventure he offered? Or would she have let the invitation slide away? And was it now too late?

  She looked up at him. The brilliant green blaze of his eyes heated her blood. She could see and feel his desire calling out to hers. But still he didn’t reach for her.

  It was up to her, Kate knew. She could seize the opportunity now or let it pass—but this would be the last chance. From tomorrow, she would have to answer to Lady Stone.

  She flicked the tip of her tongue across dry lips and whispered, “I don’t want to quarrel with you, Andrew.” She took a step closer. The soft purple ruffle that edged the neckline of her ball gown rose and fell with her uneven breaths, brushing his coat, and her breasts tingled with anticipation. “I’m ready for the next stage of the journey.”

  Slowly, he put his arms around her, drawing her into the shelter of his strength. Andrew’s mouth was warm, soft, and mobile. His kiss questioned, rather than demanded, and Kate felt her entire body soften in response. His hands slid slowly over her. Her breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest, aching a little until he turned his attention to them. He freed her from the restricting bodice and licked gently until her nipples peaked eagerly.

  He pulled her closer against himself, his erection gently nudging between her legs and heating her through the thin fabric of her skirt. She felt damp and hot and confused, not knowing quite what she wanted, but eager nevertheless. She whimpered a little and tugged his head down to kiss him, darting her tongue against his in a silent appeal.

  “Come upstairs with me,” he said, “where we won’t be interrupted.”

  Kate’s head spun at the idea. Down the length of the ballroom wing, across the wide entrance hall, up the wide-open staircase… how did he plan to accomplish that without being discovered? She didn’t think she could walk the distance alone; her knees had gone too weak to hold her up. “How do we…?” she managed to say.

  Andrew’s grin flashed. “I used to play hide-and-seek in this house.” His breathing had grown ragged. Or was that hers?

  Kate lost count of the anterooms they ducked through, with Andrew peering around each door. They waited in the last one for a chattering group of bridesmaids to pass. Kate felt one short quiver of conscience that she was not supervising them tonight, but then Andrew kissed her again, and she forgot. As soon as the girls had passed, he pulled her across the passage and opened a door to reveal a narrow, twisting staircase. At the top, he urged her down th
e hall, stopping where the curving wing joined the main house to be certain no one was in sight.

  Finally they reached his bedroom—the bedroom Kate had occupied when she first arrived. She felt as though she was coming home, stepping once more into that quiet, welcoming room. Or perhaps she simply felt safe because he turned the key to shut out the world.

  But that was the last instant when Kate felt entirely secure. As soon as Andrew touched her again, desire flared more strongly than she had ever imagined it could—a flood tide of longing, impatience, and hunger. She pressed herself against him, her rock in an unsteady world.

  His lips trailed slowly down her throat to the low neckline of her gown, and her nipples peaked again in anticipation. “You are so lovely, so responsive…” Her gown slid slowly off her shoulders. How had he managed to unfasten the back without even looking at it?

  With her petticoats and corset gone, Kate began to feel shy. As if he understood, Andrew turned her away from him and kissed her nape, following her spine downward and feeding the heat within her while allowing her to gather herself once more.

  “So utterly beautiful, Kate.” Andrew’s voice was like a caress, low and soft, curling around her and pulling at her heart. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, and he kissed her lips again and ran his hands down to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her chemise.

  She was sorry when he let her go, until she realized he didn’t take his gaze off her even while he undressed. Perhaps that was the advantage of a gentleman not being a dandy, she thought; he didn’t seem to care what happened to his clothes. She wondered idly why she felt so warm despite her state of undress, and then she forgot everything else as he came back to her, naked and powerful—for it felt so very right to be in his arms.

  He released the ties of her chemise and peeled it slowly away from her body, and then gathered her close against himself and lifted her onto his bed. The hair on his chest rubbed her tender skin as he leaned over her and drew her into the hardness of his body. Her head was spinning. What a different sensation it was, she thought muzzily, to be kissed while lying down. She could really concentrate on his lips when she didn’t have to give thought to keeping her balance…