The Bedding Proposal

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Merry Christmas 1817

  He laughed.

  She had him dead to rights. He did act the careless Corinthian, in ways that often disguised his true self. But when a man had so many brilliant siblings, he needed some other means than being smart to set himself apart. Humor and sports had always served their purposes. And he’d always enjoyed himself in the process.

  But Thalia saw through his facade.

  Thalia saw him.

  He ran his hand over the binding again and thought of her back in London, wondering what she was doing now and if she’d had a happy day.

  He frowned, realizing that for all his pleasure in being among his family, there was an emptiness he’d never felt before now. Something was missing—or rather someone.

  So what are you going to do about it? whispered a little voice in his head.

  His hand tightened on the book.

  Yes. What?

  * * *

  “Will there be anything else this evening, milady?”

  Thalia looked over at her lady’s maid. “No, that will be all. Thank you for the bedtime cocoa, Parker. And Merry Christmas.”

  The other woman smiled. “Merry Christmas, milady.”

  “Remember that tomorrow is Boxing Day. You and the rest of the staff are to have the entire day off, so no getting up early or bringing me breakfast. Mrs. Grove has set out a lovely cold repast for me in the dining room and I can brew my own pot of tea on the fireplace hearth. You’ve left plenty of water for me in the pitcher, so I can bathe and dress myself as well.”

  “I don’t mind seeing to you, milady. I won’t be leaving for my sister’s until late morning, so it’s no trouble.”

  “You’re always so good to me, Parker. But no, you sleep in and have the whole day to yourself.”

  “If that is what you prefer, milady. Have you any special plans for tomorrow?”

  Thalia’s throat tightened. Resolutely, she pushed away the wave of melancholia that rushed over her at the thought of being alone in the house. Even Fletcher had let her know he would be away visiting an old friend. At least Hera would be around for company—unless she deserted her to go hunting for moles in the garden.

  “Do not worry about me.” Thalia forced a smile. “I shall find plenty to keep me busy, just as I do every year.”

  And she always had, since the very first Christmas she’d spent on her own after the divorce. Yet this year felt different. This year she felt her solitude more keenly than ever before.

  Because of Leo.

  God, I miss him.

  But she wasn’t going to dwell on his absence, at least not any more often than could be helped.

  After bidding her maid a final good night, she poured herself another cup of cocoa, then settled back on the sofa with a book.

  That’s when she saw it—the present Leo had given her.

  She’d resisted the impulse to open it, knowing instinctively that it was likely something expensive. Something she should return to him in spite of her agreement to accept a Christmas gift from him.

  He’d given her so much already, including a huge Christmas goose, which had tasted absolutely delicious, and another mammoth load of firewood that would probably last until next winter.

  She couldn’t keep accepting presents from him. Still, he would be hurt if she didn’t at least open his gift.

  Leaning over, she picked up the box. She stroked her fingers over the luxuriously soft velvet covering, then popped open the lid.

  Inside lay a strand of creamy smooth pearls, each one as big and round as a fully ripe pea. They gleamed with a lustrous warmth, delicate and profoundly beautiful.

  There was a tiny note tucked to one side. Hand trembling slightly, she drew it out and unfolded it.

  Thalia,

  I know these can never replace the memories that came with your great-grandmother’s pearls, but I hope they will let you start building joyous new ones.

  Merry Christmas,

  Leo

  For a moment, she sat stunned.

  He’d bought her pearls to replace the ones Gordon had refused to return to her after the divorce. She barely even recalled mentioning them to Leo, yet somehow he had remembered.

  A tear ran down her cheek, a smothering ache rising like a clenched fist inside her chest.

  Leave it to Leo to give her the one gift she couldn’t possibly return. The one gift she would love above all others.

  Then suddenly, she was crying in earnest, wishing with all her heart that he were here beside her rather than miles and miles away.

  Chapter 28

  Thalia pulled gently on the reins, slowing Athena from a canter to a walk. Leaning forward, she gave the mare an approving pat on the shoulder, pleased at how beautifully mannered she was despite all the distractions in the park.

  The day was cold but sunny and the park was busier than usual, Londoners needing an escape from the close confines of their homes after a recent snow.

  Children ran and shouted, while their parents strolled behind, keeping a watchful eye. Younger couples sauntered arm in arm, bundled in heavy coats and scarves, their heads together as they whispered sweet nothings to each other.

  And on the air drifted the festive scents of roasted chestnuts and hot cider, with frequent shouts from vendors to buy their wares.

  Thalia stopped and bought a small package of chestnuts, tucking them warm into her pocket for the ride home. The nuts would be a little treat to help ward off the blue devils, though she didn’t give it much hope of succeeding. New Year’s had come and gone, yet the time until Leo was due to return seemed to stretch out forever.

  Her friend Jane Frost had dropped by a few days ago, diverting her for a while. But their visit had been far too brief and left her feeling lower than ever once Jane had gone.

  But rather than lie abed with the sheets over her head, Thalia had forced herself to resume her usual routine—or rather her old routine before Leo had come into her life. Curious how odd it felt now.

  And how empty.

  But she would make do, exactly as she always had.

  Tapping her heel against Athena’s flank, she set her toward home.

  She slowed the little mare again as she reached the town house, the animal’s hooves clattering against the cobblestones as she rode into the mews.

  The groom came out of the stable to help her dismount. “You’ve a visitor waiting, milady. Arrived not twenty minutes past.”

  “A visitor? Who is it?”

  “Didn’t give a name. Just said they’d wait for ye inside.” The servant smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  She considered questioning him further, but turned to make her way inside the house instead.

  Could Jane have returned?

  Unlikely.

  Or maybe it was Mathilda?

  She smiled at the thought.

  She rounded the corner that led to the downstairs drawing room, hoping to find Fletcher first so he could reveal the identity of her mystery guest.

  But the butler was nowhere to be seen.

  She was considering heading upstairs first to change out of her riding habit into a more suitable gown when a man stepped out of the drawing room into the foyer.

  He turned and smiled, his green-gold eyes sparkling like gemstones.

  And suddenly she was running, her pulse pounding in a frantic rhythm.

  “Leo!”

  She leapt into his arms, her own locking tightly around his neck. Her feet dangled inches off the floor as he held her hard against him, his mouth warm and wild on hers. She clung, pouring all her passion, all her misery at their separation, into the kiss.

  But she was miserable no more, her heart swelling with a happiness so great she thought she might burst. She kissed him harder, letting his scent and taste and touch sweep through her, washing away everything but him. He kissed her back, plundering her mouth with a thoroughness that made her tingle from head to toe.

  “Surprised to see me?” he said,
his mouth still scattering quick kisses against her own.

  “Yes. What are you doing back? I thought you’d be away for another week at least.”

  “I came back early. Nothing was the same without you. Did you miss me?”

  “Every day.” Finding his lips, she proceeded to show him just how much.

  “Let’s go to your bedchamber,” he murmured a long, breathless while later.

  She nodded, expecting him to set her onto her feet. Instead, he swung her high into his arms and moved toward the stairs.

  * * *

  What seemed an endless time later, Thalia lay in a state of delirious naked bliss, the sheets and coverlet kicked into tangled heaps at her and Leo’s bare feet.

  She supposed they ought to cover up, but she was simply too boneless to move. He’d roused her to the most amazing heights with a pleasure so intense it made her blood burn all over again just to recall.

  Even now, he played a hand over her breasts, lazily fondling each one before moving lower in an arc across her stomach. Curling a finger beneath her chin, he tipped her head back and claimed her lips for a slow, indulgent kiss.

  Sighing, she turned into him and snuggled closer, burying her face against his neck and closing her eyes.

  “Thank you for a most excellent welcome home.” He trailed his fingers over her shoulder and arm.

  She smiled and kissed his neck. “It was my pleasure, believe me.”

  “How was your Christmas?”

  “Quiet. How was yours?”

  “Noisy. And crowded in spite of the dozens and dozens of rooms Braebourne has. I spent the entire time wishing you were with me.”

  Warmth spread like a sun inside her chest. Leaning an arm against his chest, she looked into his eyes. “Me too.” She stroked a hand against his cheek, loving the smooth feel of his shaven skin. “Thank you for my gift.”

  “The pearls? You like them?”

  “Yes. How could I not? They’re beautiful.”

  He arched a golden brown eyebrow. “And you’re not going to try returning them?”

  “Not this time.” Sliding higher, she pressed her mouth to his for a long, slow kiss. “You chose the one thing I couldn’t possibly bring myself to refuse.”

  “Good.” She shivered deliciously as he smoothed a palm over her bare buttocks. “I’ll have to start thinking of the next impossible-to-refuse gift to give you.”

  “Don’t.”

  He brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. “Why not? I like giving you things.”

  “You know why not. We’ve talked about this before.” She kissed him again with a sweet yet ardent demand. “This is enough. I don’t want anything more than to be your lover. Truly.”

  “Well, what if I do?”

  “What?” she said, her forehead creasing.

  “What if I need more?” His arms tightened around her. “What if I want the right to shower you with as many gifts as I like with no one able to say a word against it?”

  “But they will. You know they will.”

  “Not if you’re my wife.”

  The breath froze in her lungs, her heart aching as if she’d taken a hard blow to the chest. “What?” she gasped.

  His eyes warmed with excitement and he sat up, sat them both up, his arms still wrapped loosely around her. “I love you. Marry me, Thalia.”

  She stared, speechless.

  “I realized how I felt when I was away at Braebourne,” he continued. “How nothing felt right because you weren’t there with me. I wanted you to meet my family, to show you off to them as my bride. I want to take you back so you can meet them now. They’re going to love you. I know they will.”

  Gooseflesh popped out all over her skin, an arctic cold seeping into her bones. She pulled away, then knelt to reach for her robe, which was draped around the foot post. Shivering, she drew it on.

  But the wool didn’t make her any less cold.

  “I know you weren’t expecting this,” he said with a frown. “I suppose I should have picked a better time and place to propose. I can still get down on one knee, if you like.”

  “No.”

  “I can put on some clothes too, if it bothers you that I’m doing this in the altogether.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, then crossed his arms. “Then what is it? Why do I suddenly get the idea that you’re going to refuse me?” Some of the light drained out of his eyes. “Is it because you don’t feel the same? That you don’t love me?”

  Her eyes went to his. “No,” she whispered, “I do love you.”

  Some of the tension drained from him and he lowered his arms, reaching out to her.

  But she leaned away, avoiding his touch for once.

  “Thalia, what is it? What is wrong? If you love me, then say you’ll marry me. Whatever other problems there may be, we can work them out.”

  “But we can’t,” she said, her voice sounding dead to her own ears.

  “Of course we can. Nothing is insurmountable.”

  “This is.” She gripped her fingers together, fearing suddenly that it was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart.

  She drew a deep breath. “I cannot marry you, Leo. I cannot marry anyone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She stared down at her hands, unable to look at him any longer. “The terms of my divorce are quite clear. They stipulate that while my former husband, Lord Kemp, may remarry, I may not. I am barred from taking marriage vows ever again.”

  Chapter 29

  Leo didn’t say anything; he didn’t quite trust himself to speak. Instead, he got out of bed and reached for his trousers, pulling them on with a few efficient tugs. He slid his arms into his shirt as well, but left the buttons undone.

  Scowling, he went across to the fireplace and tossed a fresh log onto the fire, sending up a small cloud of red-hot embers.

  He tapped a fist against his thigh, then turned again to face her. “There must be a way to nullify that section of the divorce decree. Do you have a copy of the document?”

  “Not here. My barrister has the original at his office. And there are others filed with Parliament and the courts, of course.”

  “Well, I’m your new barrister from this moment forward. I’ll find a way out of this for us. I know people, and my brothers know even more, especially Ned. I’ll explain matters to him, see if it’s possible for him to circulate a private bill in the Lords on your behalf.”

  “I rather doubt the Duke of Clybourne will be eager to dirty his fingers with my old difficulties.”

  He shot her a look. “He will if I ask him to.”

  “Don’t. Please.” She sighed. “If there is one thing my former husband is good at, it is getting his way. He took great pains to make sure I could not marry again, so I am certain whatever legalities the lawyers used to ensure his wishes, those terms are unbreakable.”

  “Nothing is unbreakable.”

  “This is. I accepted it long ago and you must now.”

  “Well, I don’t accept it.” He glared at her, raking a set of fingers through his hair. “What I don’t understand is, why are you not more upset? Why do you not want to fight this?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she hugged her arms to herself.

  As he watched her, his chest tightened with an unexpected dread. “You do want to marry me, don’t you?”

  The look she flashed him seemed almost helpless. “Leo, I—”

  “Is that it, Thalia?” he said, his voice growing louder, harder. “Is it because you don’t want to marry me? That you are relieved you have an excuse to say no?”

  “No, I . . . I can’t explain.”

  “Try anyway.”

  She shook her head. “Let’s just go back to the way things were before. We were happy.”

  “Were we? So happy that I had to leave you here alone for Christmas? Happy that I can’t openly claim you for my own? Can’t introduce you to my family as the woman with w
hom I want to spend my life?”

  “That’s just the way it is. You knew how things would be between us when all this began.”

  “But that was before I fell in love with you.” He went to her and wrapped his hands around her arms. “We can’t go back and I don’t want to. Now tell me why you won’t marry me. And not the legal reason this time,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest.

  She closed it again and looked away.

  “You said you loved me. Were you lying?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Then what is it? Make me understand.”

  “It’s because I do love you,” she told him on a trembling breath, “that we can never have anything more than a temporary arrangement. I cannot allow you to waste your life on me.”

  “Waste my life? What nonsense are you spouting?” he demanded.

  “It’s not nonsense. It’s . . . it’s . . .” She broke off as if choked by the words, the emotions.

  “It’s what? Tell me now before I explode.”

  She looked away, her face awash with pain. “I cannot give you children. I am barren. It’s the reason Gordon got rid of me. Because he knew I would never be able to give him an heir.”

  Thalia pushed her way free of his hold and walked across to stand in front of the fire. She was still so cold, as if her bones had turned to ice. A shiver raked through her, her chest aching with a pain so deep it felt ancient.

  For this was indeed an old pain, a sorrow about which she tried never to think but that was with her constantly. It was like a quiet undertow, flowing and ever patient, as it waited to catch and pull her down when she least expected.

  She would never be a mother.

  She’d come to accept that fact years ago. Yet it haunted her still, lingering with an emptiness like the rooms of the third-floor nursery that would never know the clamor of tiny footsteps or the laughter of childish voices.

  Another sort of quiet hung in the room, Leo’s silence telling her everything she needed to know. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

  Then he stepped up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “I am sorry, Thalia. Are you quite sure? Sometimes it is the man—”