by Regina Scott
Allison eyed him suspiciously. “I must confess that I find it hard to believe this sudden capitulation. Do you really give in so easily?”
He chuckled. “I doubt you’d rather I denied all wrong doing and demanded you marry me. I admire you too much to force you into anything. I still stand on my opinion that you would make an excellent marchioness. If there is anything I can do or say to make you change your mind…”
Allison held up her hand to stop him. “You will have to go a long way to do so, my lord. You made a promise to me that the decision was to be mine and mine alone. In my opinion, you had little right to be jealous and less to allow it to goad you into breaking a promise.”
He swallowed. “I begin to see why some people call you forthright.”
She shrugged. “Better you know now than later. I believe I actually owe you an apology there. I admit the honor of being courted by you was a bit overwhelming. You didn’t get much of a chance to know the real me either.”
“I disagree,” he replied. “From the first I admired your spirit, Miss Munroe. It was my mistake to think that what that spirit needed was a firm hand.” He stepped toward her and offered her his hand. “Can we not start over? I promise to be a model suitor.”
Allison grimaced. “I am quite fed up with model anythings, my lord. Is it not possible for us to be friends?”
“Friends,” he mused. He eyed her for a moment, and she thought he meant to argue. She straightened and returned his look boldly. “Friends, then,” he agreed. “Given that, perhaps it would be best if I stayed at an inn until I can make arrangements to return to London.”
“You do not have to do that on my account,” Allison replied. “Mother?”
Her mother shook herself. “That is not necessary, my lord. You are most welcome to stay.”
He bowed again. “Thank you both. It would make things easier. It shouldn’t take me more than a day or two to arrange my travel.”
“Take as long as you need,” Mrs. Munroe assured him.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get right to it.” He nodded to them both and quit the room.
“That was a grave error, Allison,” her mother said with a deep sigh.
“No, Mother,” Allison replied firmly. “The grave error was yours.”
Her mother stiffened, but Allison continued before she could lose heart. “I cannot believe you did not trust me to make my own decisions. Everything I did this Season was to show you I had matured. I’m sorry you didn’t notice. But I won’t put myself on display for you again. This is my life to live as I see fit. If I cannot do it here with you, I will do it elsewhere.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “Don’t be silly. Where would you go?”
“To live with Gen perhaps? Or maybe the vicar could find me a position as a governess. I’ve always liked children.”
Her mother shuddered. “I will not have you living as a servant!”
“You have no choice in the matter,” Allison declared. “Or rather, you do have a choice—treat me with the respect I think you know in your heart I’ve earned or watch me walk out the door. I love you, Mother, but it is my life and it is high time I started acting like it.”
Chapter Sixteen
As it turned out, Allison did not have to make good on her threats that day. Her mother was sufficiently depressed about the entire state of affairs that no more was said regarding the potential of Allison marrying the marquis. In fact, her mother retired to her room for the rest of the day, leaving Allison alone with her thoughts.
The quiet of the Abbey did not last long, however. Early afternoon brought a visit from Gen, who was helped into the Abbey by Chimes. Allison had come into the entryway at the sound of a carriage on the drive. Perkins was notably absent, as he always seemed to be when her mother wasn’t there to admire his posturing. Allison hurried to help escort her sister.
“Will you all stop hovering over me?” Gen complained after she had been seated on the music room sofa. She eased the skirts of the saffron dress over her middle. “Honestly, you would think I was having the baby right now.”
“Well, it won’t be long by the look of you,” Chimes countered, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “What does Dr. Praxton say?”
“Three to four more weeks,” Gen all but groaned. Allison smiled in sympathy. Chimes hurried out to find her some refreshments.
“Well?” Gen demanded. “Are you going to let them get away with it?”
Allison grinned. “No, and I’ve already told them so.”
“Ah, and that would explain why Mother is in bed with the megrims.”
“Yes. I truly don’t want to hurt her, Gen, but I cannot let her manage my life like this.”
“No, indeed,” her sister replied supportively. “And what will you do now?”
“I wish I knew!” Allison sighed. “I suppose I have to go through it all again next Season, don’t I?”
“Unless you’ve found the man of your dreams.”
Allison didn’t like the way her sister said that; it was entirely too sure. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me you think I should marry the marquis too?”
“Not the marquis,” Gen hedged, avoiding her eye. “I understand you had many suitors, Allison. Did none of them stir your blood?”
Allison jumped to her feet impatiently. “What is all this about stirring the blood? You talk just like Lady Janice. Must a man turn you into a lump of coal with the fire of his passion to make it a good marriage?”
“Nothing so dramatic as that,” Gen said with a laugh. “I don’t know what your friend Lady Janice said, dearest, but I must admit I think I realized I loved Alan the day he kissed me.”
Allison sank back into her seat, bemused. “Really? Is a kiss of such importance then?”
Her sister shrugged. “For some. I think what’s really important is that you love the gentleman. I find it hard to imagine Alan without his kiss, but I know I loved him before the kiss made me realize it. Does that make sense?”
“No,” Allison said. “Or rather, perhaps. I suppose I won’t know until I’ve been kissed.”
“Well, I wouldn’t paint a sign to that effect,” Gen teased her. “I can think of several gentlemen who would be only too glad to demonstrate the joys of kissing, Brother Geoffrey for one.”
“Geoffrey!” Allison cried, jumping to her feet again. She could feel the color draining from her face. “Oh, Gen, how could I have forgotten? What must he think of me for not letting him know that I refused the engagement?”
Her sister smiled. “I think he’ll be delighted with the news, love, if you don’t mind if I share it.”
“Yes, of course, please do. The sooner people know the truth of the matter, the better.”
“And what,” her sister said carefully, “exactly is the truth of the matter?”
Allison paced about the room. “I think I understand your concern. We will be making gossip, won’t we?”
“I’m afraid so. But I agree with you that the sooner everyone knows the truth, the less difficult life will be. Perhaps you and the marquis can agree on a likely story.”
Allison nodded. “That would probably be best. I’ll talk to him later today.”
“And when you do so, perhaps you can ask him something else as well,” her sister put in.
“Oh?” Allison prompted politely.
“Alan has planned a rather large event for Guy Fawkes Day,” Gen confessed. “There’ll be feasting and fireworks and a bonfire behind the Manor. Of course, we had no idea the marquis would put you in this awkward position when we made the arrangements. Do you think you can bring yourself to be seen in public, only two days from now?”
“For a party such as that,” Allison grinned, “I shall make every effort.”
Gen smiled back. “Now you just need to convince Mother.”
“I do not have to convince Mother of anything,” Allison replied. “I believe I have just proven that. However, I will ask her whether she wishes to com
e with me.”
Gen eyed her sister for a moment, and Allison wondered what was going through her mind. “Will the marquis still be about?”
“And why do you say that in such a calculating manner?” Allison asked suspiciously. “I warn you, Gen, I’ve been pushed farther than I ever intend to be pushed again. Do not try to get me to see the marquis in a better light.”
Gen put her hand over her heart. “I would never do anything so underhanded.”
Allison could not like the twinkle in those blue eyes. “Just see that you do not,” she warned. “I’d be delighted to attend your Guy Fawkes Day party, and I will ask his lordship whether he would like to attend, but I will go no farther.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do more than that,” Gen assured her. “But I know it will mean a great deal to Geoffrey if you come.”
Allison felt herself blushing. “I hope you won’t force him at me either, Gen. I need to understand my own heart first.”
Her sister nodded. “If it helps any, I think he cares for you deeply.”
Allison sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
–
She thought for some time that afternoon after her sister made her ponderous way home. It seemed to her that perhaps Lady Janice was right: A kiss did indeed hold the key to how one felt about a gentleman. She knew she wouldn’t have to ask Geoffrey twice for a kiss. But she caught herself wondering what it would be like to kiss the marquis. Would his kiss be as cool and collected as the man? Or would it give her insight into his feelings as well as her own? She had been prepared to send him packing for the way he had broken his promise to her. But was she making a mistake as her mother thought? He was the catch of the Season. Perhaps she should give him one last chance.
She was still mulling the matter over when she met her mother and Lord DeGuis in the dining room for dinner that night. He reported that he had posted several letters, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take for them to reach his man of affairs or for his other estates to be made ready for his return. He was very polite about it, but Allison had the sneaking suspicion that he was not trying overly hard to quit Wenwood Abbey. She watched him throughout the meal, but she saw no sign that he and her mother were plotting anything. She wished she could trust them both. It would have made her decisions much easier.
She continued to watch him the next day, when she was afforded the opportunity. He spent the morning closeted in the library with his estate affairs. She took Blackie on a ride through the woods, and, if she rode him particularly hard, the horse was the only one who noticed. She reread the recent letter from Margaret with considerably more patience than when she had perused it a few days earlier.
Margaret advised her to choose the man with whom she could envision herself old and comfortable. She could imagine herself old with Geoffrey, but somehow she didn’t think their lifestyle would be sedate enough to be called comfortable. She rather thought he’d die on horseback, winning a race at age eighty-four. She could see herself as an elderly marchioness, with the marquis still elegant with silver hair and an ebony cane. Still, that picture didn’t bring her much comfort either. Lady Janice’s suggestion seemed more and more like the answer to her problems, but she wasn’t sure she had the courage to implement it.
The marquis was pleasant and polite at luncheon, making witty conversation that set her laughing and actually brought a smile to her mother’s face. Watching the answering smile light his sapphire eyes and soften his usually firm mouth, she made her decision. He hadn’t even left the room before she linked her arm in his.
He looked down at her, brow raised in obvious surprise.
“I believe you had expressed an interest in seeing how our gardens handled the chill last night,” she remarked for her mother’s benefit. To Allison’s surprise, her mother sailed from the room without so much as a backward glance. Allison couldn’t help frowning at her retreating back. Her mother was manipulating her again, she was sure of it. She just wasn’t sure how. Beside her the marquis coughed politely to get her attention.
“You know how I value the beauty of flowers,” he replied when she met his gaze. She started, seeing the calculation written therein. Pasting on a polite smile, she led him out to the gardens.
They strolled among the bushes, although Allison scarcely noticed whether any of the many remaining bright blooms had been blighted by the frost of the night before. The air was a bit cool, chilling her through her blue sprigged muslin gown, and her flounced skirts swept aside the fall leaves as she wandered along the paths. She could not believe she was going to be so bold as to ask a gentleman to kiss her. She was mad, she must be, to even think of it. If he spoke of the matter to anyone, her reputation would suffer. Yet, she had to know. She bit her lip and tried to think of a logical way to proceed.
They were in the center of the circle of vibrant russet blooms when the marquis pulled her up short.
“All right, Miss Munroe,” he said firmly, removing his navy-sleeved arm from her grip. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you want a private word with me. What can I do for you?”
Allison decided there was no use being evasive. “Kiss me,” she told him.
His brows shot up so high she wondered they didn’t fly off his noble forehead. “I beg your pardon?”
Allison wrung her hands, afraid someone would find them before she could persuade him. “I know this seems odd, but it is very important to me. I want you to kiss me, as if you really meant it.”
“I assure you, Miss Munroe,” he replied with a wry chuckle, “I never kiss a woman unless I do mean it.”
“Oh.” His reply shook her. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to break an ethical code or anything. However, I would be truly grateful if you could find it in your heart to try to kiss me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “May I ask why, particularly since you’ve rejected my suit?”
“Must you ask?” she fretted. When he didn’t waiver, she sighed. “Very well. Lady Janice and my sister seem convinced that the only way to tell if one loves a gentleman is how one reacts to his kiss. I’m not sure I believe their theory, but I cannot send you away in good conscience until I have tried it.”
His face was so stiff she thought he must be biting the inside of his cheeks.
“You’re laughing at me,” she accused him.
He let the laugh burst out. She ought to be angry with him, but there was something so pleasant in the sound that she caught herself smiling.
“I do believe, my lord, that that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you truly merry.”
He chuckled. “You may be right. I’m sorry, my dear. I can tell this means a great deal to you. I’m simply not used to a woman asking me to kiss her in broad daylight.”
“Is it better in the dark?”
He started laughing again. “I refuse to answer that on the grounds that you will have to marry me.
“Well, I certainly don’t want that!” Allison gazed up at him, wavering between frustration and amusement. “Is there no way you will kiss me then?”
He sobered, gazing down at her. The light in his eyes sent a tremor up her spine. “If you insist, Miss Munroe, I’ll do my best. Come here.”
Allison swallowed and stepped closer. She could hear her heart hammering in her chest. Sweat dampened the inside of her gloves. She tried to keep her gaze on his, but the blue of his eyes seemed to be deepening, warming. She swallowed again and looked away.
He rested his hand on her shoulder, pulling her toward him ever so gently. Then he lowered his head, and she felt his breath brush her cheek. Allison jumped.
He smiled, pulling her toward him once more. Before she could move away again, he pressed his lips to hers.
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting after Lady Janice and her sister’s stories. Some sort of searing heat, perhaps, or a an explosion of sensation in the center of her being. At the very least, she had thought she might go weak at the knees. In
stead, the tingle of excitement she had felt faded. The kiss was pleasant, she’d give him that. His touch was gentle, his lips were warm. She could smell the bay rum cologne he used, touch the smoothness of his well-shaven chin. She could feel any number of sensations. None of them were magical. She broke the kiss and opened her eyes.
He released her and gazed down at her, his own eyes dark, his breath coming more rapidly than she had heard since the day he had raced her down the drive. “Well?”
She smiled politely, mind whirling. “Thank you, my lord. That was very instructive.”
“Instructive, eh.” He stepped away from her, turning to gaze at the flowers. She knew he was trying to hide the hurt, and she grit her teeth at her own ineptitude. “Quite the blow to the ego, Miss Munroe,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Allison offered lamely. “It was a very nice kiss, my lord.”
He barked out a laugh, and this time there was nothing merry about it. “Since we have just kissed, do you think we might finally get beyond the Miss Munroe and my lord stage?”
Allison felt herself blushing. “Of course, Thomas.” She considered asking whether he went by Tom, but she doubted that sufficiently to make the asking not worth the while.
“Thank you, Allison,” he said. “I take it your curiosity is satisfied?”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, wishing she knew what else to say to him. The kiss had obviously affected him more than it had her, and she felt truly sorry that she had not reciprocated. Then a chilling thought hit: What if she couldn’t reciprocate? She was the child of a woman who prided herself on her cool reception to matters of emotion. Could she, deep down, be as cool as her mother? What if she never caught the fire of passion?