“Well, in this case, he is not wrong, My Lady,” Lady Annette replied.
Lady Annette sighed, but agreed with her friend. “Yes, in this particular case, he is not wrong.”
“Will one of you please explain to me what is happening?” Nicholas’ confusion and frustration caused him to raise his voice higher than was strictly proper.
“Lady Isobel and I share an interest in the topic of medicine and herbal remedies, My Lord,” said Lady Annette. “In fact, we have both contrived to meet with the midwife and apothecary to learn more about these subjects.”
“I see,” said Nicholas, although he still could not see why he was required at a meeting between the two young ladies.
“In the past, we have shared our learning with one another, and asked each other questions about these topics.” Lady Isobel continued the explanation, “Over time, we developed a close friendship and began to discuss various matters relating to our personal lives and families.”
Nicholas was beginning to understand why the two young ladies might discuss him in their letters, though he did not much care for the idea of it. What have they said in their letters? What if those letters should be discovered?
“So, you’ve been discussing me in your letters, have you?” Nicholas asked. “I still do not see why an in-person meeting between all three of us was necessary.”
Lady Isobel made a noise of frustration in the back of her throat and was about to speak, when Lady Annette put up a hand to stop her.
“I understand that this is all something of a shock, My Lord,” Lady Annette said, kindly. “Please allow us to speak freely, and I assure you that we will explain everything. It will be much easier if you do not interrupt.”
Nicholas stared at both of the ladies in the room, nonplussed. He took two deep breaths to steady himself, and then sat down and nodded to indicate that they should continue to explain themselves.
“Your sister is aware of the agreement that you and I made, to allow our parents to believe that there was a possibility that we might marry. She has known for quite some time that I have no interest in marriage, and I gather that you have told her of your interest in marrying the carpenter’s daughter?”
Nicholas merely nodded at these words.
Lady Isobel began to speak then, “When you told me of your arrangement with Lady Annette, I wrote to her at once to make sure that she would not be hurt.”
“Why should you worry about that?” Nicholas asked in genuine surprise.
“No interruptions, please!” Lady Isobel said in a stern voice that reminded him of their mother. “I worried that Lady Annette might develop feelings for you that you would not reciprocate. And I worried that even if nothing untoward happened, her reputation might be damaged.”
“As it happens, your sister had no need to worry for my sake,” Lady Annette added. “I’m sure that many young ladies find you quite charming, but I assured Lady Isobel that my feelings for you are entirely platonic. And as to my reputation, I would prefer that it not be ruined, but I believe we have been careful enough in that regard. And since I have no interest in marriage, it is not of the highest importance to me.”
“I was, of course, relieved to learn all of this,” Lady Isobel continued. “Lady Annette is my dearest friend. Although we do not see each other often, we have become quite close, and I would be quite cross with you if you were to hurt her.”
“Well, I’m glad you are satisfied that I am not the sort of gentleman who ruins the reputations of well-born young ladies,” Nicholas said sarcastically.
“I am,” Lady Isobel, refused to show any sign that she had understood his sarcastic tone.
“As we continued to discuss the situation, I became concerned for your welfare, My Lord,” said Lady Annette.
“My welfare?” Nicholas asked, bemused. “Why should you worry about my welfare?”
“Lady Isobel tells me that you pine for Miss Baxter, and speak of nothing and no one else,” Lady Annette said, sounding genuinely concerned. “I must admit I was surprised when I read this in her letter, you have always been cheerful enough during your visits at Leicester.”
Nicholas scowled at his sister before answering Lady Annette. What business is it of hers to tell her friends that I pine for Cecilia?
“Well I must agree with you on one point, Lady Annette,” he said with a slight edge to his voice. “I have been cheerful enough during my visits at Leicester. My sister is prone to exaggerate—you really should not take her accusations seriously.”
Lady Isobel looked wounded at his words. “It is not an accusation; it is a very real concern. All I want is for you, my beloved brother, to be happy. It is clear to me that you are not, and so I sought the advice of a friend about how best to help you.”
“It is true, My Lord,” Lady Annette added. “Lady Isobel wrote to me purely out of concern for your wellbeing and asked me here today so that we might both offer you our support.”
“All right then,” Nicholas could see that they would not be deterred. “What do you propose to do, to ensure my happiness?”
“My Lord,” said Lady Annette, “it is not a question of what we will do, but what you must do. You must go to Miss Baxter and propose to her. You must not delay!”
“Lady Annette is right,” agreed Lady Isobel.
“I must admit that the idea is appealing,” said Nicholas, “but why do you say that I must not delay? I had planned to wait until after your debut, in hopes that Mother would be less inclined to object.”
Lady Isobel looked at her brother kindly.
“I understand,” she said. “I had thought that might help as well, but now I see that you cannot remain in this state of mind for several more weeks.”
“And now that I see you in your home environment, I quite agree with your sister!” added Lady Annette.
“Well, the two of you seem to have decided the matter,” Nicholas said, allowing himself a slight laugh at their presumptuousness. “But this does not solve the problem of Mother’s objection to the idea.”
“Waiting until after my debut will not solve the problem, either,” Lady Isobel said, sounding quite certain of her own assessment. “But you will make it clear to our Mother that Miss Baxter is the only person in the world with whom you can be happy. And I shall tell her the same thing, and she will not have the time or the energy to thwart you, because she will be too focused on my debut.”
“I suppose you do make a good point,” Nicholas conceded, “at least as far as Mother’s preoccupation with your debut.”
“Good,” said Lady Isobel, “then it is settled. You must leave now by the passageway in the library, and go to Miss Baxter. I understand that Mother went to see her recently, and no doubt, she frightened the poor girl. Go and comfort her!”
* * *
The passageway was wider than Nicholas has initially expected. The entrance was narrow, just wide enough for him to squeeze through, but two people could have walked side by side once inside. It was entirely enclosed with no natural light, but iron brackets on the wall held torches at regular intervals.
Nicholas carried a taper candle, which flickered and cast strange shadows as he walked. He had not bothered to light the torches, as he would only be here for a few minutes, but when they were lit he could see that they would cast plenty of light to illuminate the whole passage.
After just a few minutes of walking, Nicholas emerged from the passage into the garden, and walked across the grounds to the stable. As the groom saddled his horse, Nicholas paced in the yard in front of the stable, imagining what he would say to Cecilia. Mother will have frightened her—I shall have to reassure her that Mother will come around to the idea, but how?
As he imagined their conversation, Nicholas could not help but imagine them alone together. Perhaps she would be alone at the house when he arrived. Perhaps they would share another kiss once he had convinced her that a future together was possible.
Nicholas was lost in thoughts of h
is lips traveling from Cecilia’s mouth, to her smooth neck, and down to her beautiful throat. He imagined that her creamy, white skin would feel like silk, and his heart began to race. Nicholas imagined reaching beneath her gown and licked his lips without realizing it.
Chapter 20
Cecilia sat at the kitchen table, sketching a design for a wardrobe. She had already completed the plans for the Duchess’ wardrobe and begun its production. This sketch was not something she intended to build, or at least not any time in the near future. She enjoyed creating sketches of ideal pieces—things she might like to have in her own home someday.
Imagining the home she might one day have, inevitably led to imagining the husband with whom she might share that home. The husband with whom she would share the bed she had designed.
She began to think about Nicholas. Not Nicholas, the Marquess of Clive. I was a fool to think that I could ever call him Nicholas.
Cecilia gazed into the distance and a smile played across her lips as she considered the idea of sharing her bed. There was no one she could imagine doing such a thing with—no one but the Marquess of Clive.
Perhaps because of this thought, she imagined that she heard hoofbeats in the distance, and that the Marquess was approaching. Don’t be a fool, Cece, the Marquess is not going to appear at your house just because he is on your mind.
Cecilia took a deep breath to steady her nerves to and bring her mind back to reality. But when she looked up again, through the window she saw a man approaching on horseback. From a distance she could see that he was tall and had auburn hair. He rode quickly, and his long frame was graceful in the saddle.
Cecilia knew instantly that it was the Marquess of Clive, but could hardly believe it to be true. Why would he come here after his mother has made it perfectly clear that no future can exist between us?
Cecilia tried her best not to care that the Marquess of Clive was quickly approaching her home, but found that she could not stop herself. She reached up with her hands to smooth her hair, tucking a stubborn strand behind her ear. Nervously she straightened her skirts, and then tucked the sketch on which she had been working out of sight.
After a moment, there was a knock on the front door and Cecilia went to open it. She was not surprised to see the Marquess of Clive standing on her doorstep, his horse tied up in the yard, but her breath caught in her chest nevertheless.
“My Lord,” she said, curtseying deeply and keeping her eyes pointed downward. “We did not expect to see you today.”
“I did not expect to come, but my sister insisted that I must,” he replied with a sheepish grin.
“Please come in, My Lord,” Cecilia stepped back from the doorway to allow him to enter. She felt a shiver travel up her spine as he walked past her, his body mere inches from her own.
“Thank you…Miss Baxter?” the Marques sounded somewhat confused, “I must confess that I am disappointed that we have returned to addressing one another so formally.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, My Lord,” Cecilia kept her eyes cast down to the floor. “But I realize now that it is highly inappropriate for us to call each other by our given names.”
“And why is that?” the Marquess asked. Cecilia thought that he was being deliberately obtuse.
“Because,” she said, now with a slight edge to her voice, “your Mother came to call, and she made it perfectly clear that there is no possibility of a future between you and me. And of course, she is right, I was a fool not to have seen it from the start!”
“No,” the Marquess said, firmly, “she was a fool to think that she could keep us apart.”
“She told me that you intend to marry someone called Lady Annette, the daughter of an Earl,” Cecilia tried to keep her voice steady and calm. “Congratulations, My Lord.”
“I shall not marry Lady Annette,” he said firmly. “She is merely a friend of my family. She has no interest in marrying me or anyone else.”
“And have you any interest in marrying her?” Cecilia asked.
“I do not,” the Marquess replied. “She lacks one crucial quality that my bride must possess.”
“And what is that, My Lord?” Cecilia asked, intrigued.
“She is not you,” he simply replied.
Upon hearing these words, Cecilia looked up, and when her eyes met his, she could no longer doubt that he meant every word he said.
“My Lord?” she hesitated, “Nicholas? Do you truly mean that? Even if your mother would hate you for it, you would still wish to marry me?”
“My Mother would not hate me for long.” His confidence in this assessment was too strong to shake. “But yes, even if she would hate me for the rest of my life, marrying you would make me the luckiest royal in the world. I have fallen in love with you, Cecilia.”
“Nicholas, I feel the same for you.” Her heart pounded like the swinging of a hammer on a beam of wood. Each strike on the nail exciting waves of vibrations through ever fiber running from one end to the other. She felt the contraction of each heart beat throbbing in her most sensitive areas until her cheeks began to burn.
One look at Nicholas’ face told her that she need not be embarrassed that she was blushing. Nicholas’ cheeks were becoming darker as well, and his eyes betrayed his desire for her.
Nicholas took a step closer to Cecilia, and she could feel the heat rising from his body, enveloping her in a comfortable warmth. She longed to be even closer together with their bodies pressing against one another.
Nicholas took another step closer—they were now mere inches apart. Cecilia was not sure whether to thank the heavens or curse them for bringing Nicholas here at one of the rare moments when she was home alone. It was not proper for them to be alone together. If anyone should learn of this meeting, my reputation would be damaged beyond repair. And yet, I would not trade this moment for anything in the world.
Once again, Nicholas took a step even closer to Cecilia, until no space existed between their bodies. He leaned down to kiss her, and she inhaled sharply as his lips touched hers. Nicholas began to pull back; he must have thought my gasp was one of displeasure.
Not wanting the kiss to end, Cecilia raised her hands to Nicholas’ face and pulled him closer. His lips were upon hers not as a gentle touch, but a deep, possessive kiss—he was claiming her as his own, and she was happy to be claimed.
His tongue slipped between her lips and she felt him explore the slickness on every surfaces in her mouth. Unconsciously, Cecilia release a small moan of pleasure and heard the Marquess do the same. She felt tension building between her legs unlike anything she had ever felt before.
When the Marquess pulled his lips away from hers, Cecilia felt a pang of regret, but a stronger sensation of desire was building up as his lips caressed along the slope of her neck. Again, Cecilia moaned, and she felt her pulse quicken. If this goes on for much longer, I really shall ruin my reputation beyond repair!
Cecilia had never regretted anything more than she regretted pulling away from Nicholas’ kisses. But after several minutes she knew that she had no choice. Nicholas was panting with desire, but seemed to understand why she was pulling away.
“I am sorry, Cecilia,” he said, his breathing still ragged as he spoke, “that was very forward of me. Please accept my apology.”
“There is no need to apologize,” she said with a smile. Her breathing was also heavier than usual as she spoke. “I merely thought we should stop before temptation got the better of us.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said quickly. “I suppose I had better speak to your father before we carry on any further.”
“Yes,” Cecilia said, “I suppose you had. Unfortunately he is not at home at the moment.”
“I don’t know,” said Nicholas, smiling at her with a rather wicked expression, “perhaps it is quite fortunate that he was not home to witness what was happening in his kitchen just a few moments ago.”
Cecilia blushed at these words, but could not help laughing at them as well.
She dared not imagine what her father might say if he had walked into the kitchen at the wrong moment.
“I shall return to speak to him in a few days,” Nicholas said, determinedly.
“I am quite sure that he will agree,” Cecilia said, feeling both nervous and excited at the prospect.
* * *
Nicholas hardly remembered his journey back to Huxley Manor. His mind had been filled with thoughts of Cecilia the entire time. He replayed every word they had ever spoken to one another, every touch they had ever shared.
Remembering the feeling of her lithe body pressed against his own, he imagined what might happen next time they found themselves alone together. He remembered the feeling of her breasts pressed against his chest, and his hands wrapped around her slim waist. Nicholas looked forward to exploring every inch of her body. He imagined his hands travelling inside of her gown and the sigh that would escape her beautiful lips.
The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 15