It reminded him of the rather tart sense of humour she’d displayed ten years before. The perceptive and witty comments she’d made about people they met that had chimed so exactly with his own feelings that he’d felt as though he’d found the perfect partner.
And her remark about being anyone she wanted to be here in France was another case in point.
‘I know exactly what you mean about the atmosphere of Paris,’ he said. ‘The moment I got here, something about the attitude of the people made me feel as though I really could make a fresh start. As though I could wipe the slate clean and be whoever I wanted to be. Or perhaps to find out who I was meant to be—yes, that sums it up more neatly. Because none of them assumed I had an inherent value just because of who my father is,’ he said, shooting a dark look towards the doorway, where the Wilsons were gushing over the next arrivals.
Amethyst followed the direction of his gaze.
‘In fact, they would be as likely to think of that as an impediment, since they have taken such a dislike to anyone connected to the aristocracy.’
‘Hasn’t it made you feel a little...scared?’
‘No. The revolution is over. They’ve done with executing people just because of their ancestry,’ he said.
‘I have sometimes felt a little concerned, though,’ she said. ‘It is as though there is some sort of charge in the air. Like you get just before a storm. And there seem to be soldiers everywhere, loitering in packs, looking mean and hungry.’
‘Yes, well I can’t blame them, can you? They’ve had a taste of power. They’ve overthrown one corrupt regime and spent years forging a military empire. It won’t be easy for them to settle back into the kind of lives they had before, if that is all the Bourbons mean to offer them.’
‘What do you think will happen?’
He grinned. ‘Who knows? Certainly not the Parisians. Everyone has a different opinion about what should happen to their country next, from the lowliest street vendor to the deposed aristocrats who’ve come flocking back demanding they have their estates restored, and they aren’t afraid to voice it. Nobody here accepts the status quo. They feel they have the power to change just about everything. It’s...invigorating.’
‘I...suppose it is,’ she said.
‘I think it is. Nothing is set in stone here any more. And apart from that, Parisians don’t care that I caused such a scandal in London, that no political party would ever back me to stand for them ever again. It makes me feel that the past is gone. Done. I’ve broken free from my family’s expectations, my reputation, everything. It’s as though I’ve been given a blank sheet of paper and what I draw on it is entirely up to me.’
A new start. Yes, she could see why he would want that after the mess he’d made of what should have been a glittering political career. Hadn’t she also left Stanton Basset because it was what she was looking for herself? A chance to break free from the expectations of others, the obligations that weighed her down?
‘The trouble is,’ she said, putting on a frown, ‘that since I’ve come to Paris, people keep on mistaking me for a woman of easy virtue. What do you suppose,’ she said, shooting him a coy look from under her lashes, ‘that means?’
‘I think it means,’ he said, setting his empty glass down carefully on the nearest available surface, ‘that it is time you fulfilled your potential.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Decidedly yes,’ he said, taking her arm and leading her to the nearest exit. ‘If you are determined to play the part of my...chère amie,’ he husked into her ear, ‘then it is about time you put in a bit more practice.’
‘Does this mean what I hope it means?’
‘Yes,’ he replied firmly. ‘I’m taking you back to my rooms. I’ve let you see ze most important man, and all zees so important people. Now you need to pay for me giving you zis treat,’ he said playfully, imitating her dreadful French accent.
‘Ooh,’ she breathed. ‘You are a hard taskmaster.’
‘Hard is the word,’ he agreed. ‘And these breeches simply don’t disguise a thing.’
She blushed. And then began to giggle. And kept on giggling as they pushed their way back through the throng climbing the stairs, as they made their way down.
Chapter Ten
They hurried back to his rooms as fast as they could.
‘I’m not going to have any breath left for lovemaking by the time we’ve climbed up all these stairs,’ Amethyst grumbled as they reached the first landing.
‘You won’t need to do a thing,’ he promised her. ‘Just lie back on the bed and let me do all the work.’
And he did.
Amy had never had so much attention devoted to her. So much care lavished on her body. Even before he entered her and took her to the heights, it felt really meaningful. What they were doing together was so incredible, so wonderful, so much more than anything she’d ever known she could experience that, yes, if she was a naïve, young, uneducated female, she might have mistaken it for love.
Especially since he gave himself to it with such...enthusiasm.
‘Amy, Amy, oh God, Amy!’
Nathan’s whole body shuddered as he groaned his release. He slumped to one side of her, gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her hair.
No wonder, she sighed, turning and wrapping her arms round his neck, women so very often mistook the attentions of a passionate lover for something deeper. He had made her feel loved.
And for the first time in her life, she hadn’t had to do anything to earn it, either.
‘Why so solemn?’
He’d opened his eyes and was watching her, she discovered. When she didn’t know what to answer, he smiled and gently traced the fullness of her lower lip with one finger.
‘You are full of contrasts, are you not? Nobody, seeing you so solemn after giving yourself to me, would believe you are the same woman who was so playful earlier tonight, when most people would have been trying to impress.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
He shrugged. ‘Just that there are so many sides to you I never knew existed when...when I knew you before.’
‘I am not the same person I was back then.’ In fact, she could scarcely recognise herself any more. She’d certainly never suspected she had it in her to mimic a French accent and play-act at being a lightskirt, for the sheer fun of it. She’d always been sober and serious, even as a girl. Getting her heart broken, having her family roundly rebuke her, then spending years living with her embittered, man-hating aunt had only made her more inclined to look on life as a dull, dreary grind that had to be endured. Her only fun, thus far, had come from pulling the rug out from under self-important people like Mrs Podmore, or giving people private nicknames, as she’d done to Monsieur le Prune. It was as if a new Amy was emerging, day by day, the further she got from Stanton Basset and all its petty restrictions.
What else might she discover about herself as she broke free from the habits she’d acquired without even knowing they were stifling her?
‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘And I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? You don’t like me as I am now?’ She’d just been likening herself to a butterfly uncurling its wings from a crusty chrysalis and he’d preferred her as she was?
‘No. I do. I mean, I am sorry for how things ended between us back then. I was cruel to you. I hurt you,’ he said, kissing her forehead gently. ‘I wish I hadn’t. I wish it were possible to go back to a time before everything went wrong. I let you down very badly. Can you...could you ever forgive me, do you think?’
A few days ago she would have said no, she would never forgive him. She’d been so full of rage and bitterness. But she must have started to forgive him without any conscious effort, or she wouldn’t be in bed with him now, would she? And those same few days ago, she would nev
er have imagined running down the stairs, hand in hand with Nathan Harcourt, giggling like a schoolgirl after the mischievous trick she’d played on their hosts, either.
Had letting go of her anger with him been what had made such a difference? Was that why she felt so much lighter of heart now?
‘Forgiveness...is a strange thing to be talking about while we are naked,’ she said, reaching for the sheet. It was funny, but she was more aware of her nudity now they were starting to discuss feelings.
‘For instance, my parents were adamant that there was nothing to forgive.’ And perhaps there hadn’t been, not really. He might have toyed with her affections, but he’d drawn the line at seducing her. Given the reputation he’d since gained, it was amazing he’d behaved with such restraint. She’d been so infatuated with him he could very easily have talked her into bed. Well, it hadn’t exactly taken much to persuade her into it now, had it? A few smouldering looks, a couple of invitations, one hard kiss and she’d climbed five flights of stairs for the privilege.
‘They were quick to point out that you never proposed to me, so I had no right to complain, or even to feel hard done by.’ And for the first time, she could see their point. He’d stolen nothing beyond a few kisses. And he could have taken so much more. He could have ruined her before tossing her aside.
He reared up on his elbow.
‘What rot! I can’t let you shrug off my apology, saying the way we parted didn’t matter because I hadn’t actually made a formal declaration. I know I hurt you. I can still see the look on your face the night I cut you, then danced with every other girl in the place. Admit it. You were in love with me.’
He’d known how badly he’d hurt her that night? She’d shown it on her face? Well, she wasn’t an infatuated girl any longer, to wear her heart on her sleeve.
‘Why should I admit,’ she said haughtily, ‘anything of the kind?’
‘Because I was in love with you, too, that’s why. I did want to marry you.’ He rolled on to his back and stared hard-jawed at the ceiling. ‘We would have been perfect together,’ he said, in a voice that quivered with suppressed emotion. ‘My deepest wish, back then, was to live the life of a country gentleman, dabbling with my painting, raising a pack of happy children...’
Her stomach swooped. No matter how many people had told her she’d been mistaken, no matter how often she had told herself that she didn’t care, either, to hear him actually admit she’d been right all along gave her a tremendous surge of something that see-sawed between triumph and anguish.
‘So,’ she said coldly, ‘why didn’t you?’ What possible excuse could he give for ending it the way he had, if he’d really been dreaming the same dreams she had?
A muscle bunched in his jaw.
‘Because I was an idiot. A young idiot. I had no confidence in my own judgement. I believed...I was persuaded...that it was better to pursue a career, than to live my life in obscurity.’
Persuaded...
Her anger ebbed. Just a touch.
‘I know what it’s like to have an implacable, domineering father,’ she said, reaching for his hand. ‘And since we parted, I learned a great deal more about yours than I’d ever guessed when we were...’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to use the word courting, even though she now knew that was exactly what they’d been doing. ‘It is obvious, with hindsight,’ she said bitterly, ‘that he wanted better for you than a virtually penniless clergyman’s daughter from an obscure parish. He forbade the match, is that it?’
He groaned and flung up one hand to cover his eyes. He only wished it had been that simple. ‘It wasn’t exactly like that,’ he admitted ‘But if it’s any consolation to you, I definitely got my just desserts for not keeping faith with you,’ he said with a hollow laugh.
His breathing grew laboured as he considered flinging himself off the precipice of a total confession.
But as he lowered his arm and looked at her pinched expression, he took a mental step back from the edge. He hadn’t earned her trust yet, even though she was claiming she’d forgiven him. And if she knew it all...the thought of how she might react made his insides freeze.
‘I shouldn’t have brought it up, should I,’ he said ruefully. His selfish urge to salve his conscience had spoiled what had been a beautiful moment between them. ‘It is just,’ he said, rolling his whole body to one side to stare down at her, ‘that I want to get to know you again. The woman you are now. And we don’t have long, do we? You are only spending a short time in Paris.’
‘So there is little point in trying, is there?’ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, struggling to keep the quilt covering what modesty she had left, and began to search for her scattered clothing.
As she attempted to fumble one stocking on to her foot without letting go of the quilt, he rolled off the bed and reached for his breeches.
‘Would you prefer me to leave you in privacy to dress?’
‘Yes. I would, thank you,’ she said, flushing, for it seemed foolish to feel shy after he’d had his hands and mouth all over her.
But he didn’t mock her sudden attack of shyness. He just smiled at her and walked to the door. Though he hesitated on the threshold, leaning his arm on the jamb.
‘I can see you are determined to leave,’ he said. ‘But I hope I can persuade you to spend tomorrow with me.’
‘Oh, and just how do you propose to do that?’
He chuckled. ‘Not the way you seem to think.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said crossly.
He raised one eyebrow. Then straightened his face. ‘Of course you don’t. So I will just point out that the mouse and her Frenchman will be so wrapped up in each other that they will drive you to distraction. What’s more, they won’t even notice whether you are there or not. So you need have absolutely no qualms about spending every moment you have left in Paris with me.’
Which was all true. She had no stomach for trailing around behind Fenella and Gaston. And there was going to be an awful lot more time to endure in Paris, while Monsieur le Prune attempted to strike a deal with the contacts she’d made. Time she might as well spend with Nathan, rather than moping about the changes she’d have to make to her life once Fenella married.
Because she couldn’t deny she did enjoy being with him. Tonight, before they’d started talking about the past, and what had gone wrong, she’d enjoyed his company tremendously.
Yes—as a distraction from the prospect of potentially having to spend a bleak lonely future with one hired companion after another, he would be perfect.
‘And I still need you to sit for your portrait,’ he reminded her. ‘That could take hours,’ he said, stalking back to the bed and cupping her face before placing his mouth firmly on her own.
Her knees went weak at once. And after only a little longer, she was wriggling out of the quilt and winding her arms round his neck so that she could pull him back down on to the bed. Only the aggravating man drew back, gave her naked body a scorching look and said, ‘Hours and hours.’
The portrait. He was talking about the hours he would spend painting her portrait. Not the hours and hours she could have with him in bed.
Or was he?
That was the trouble with men like Nathan. They could say one thing and mean another. They called it flirting.
Well, no matter. As long as she didn’t believe his apparent eagerness to spend time with her was something on which she could base her life, the way she’d done when she’d been younger, she would be fine.
She returned his smile with a brittle one of her own.
‘Well, I’d better come for a sitting tomorrow then, hadn’t I?’
* * *
‘It occurred to me after you left last night,’ said Nathan as he handed her into the fiacre he’d hired to take her...well, he hadn’t told her
where he was going to take her, yet. Aggravating man, ‘that you never finished telling me about those two.’ He jerked his head towards the window from which Fenella and Gaston were watching them drive away. ‘And there was something you wanted to rebuke me for, specifically,’ he said, folding himself into the seat next to her. ‘I think you should get it over with now, don’t you? Then I won’t have to live in terror of the moment when you decide to bring it up.’
‘Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’
‘Is it working?’ He leaned back in his seat and spread his arms wide in a gesture of surrender. ‘Come on, do your worst. I can take it.’
She breathed in slowly through her nostrils, then lifted her chin and turned her head to look out of the window on her side of the carriage.
‘Not in the mood for fighting yet? Very well,’ he said, sitting up again and nudging her with his elbow. ‘But you really do need to finish the tale from which I...distracted you last night.’
‘I don’t see why. And anyway,’ she said haughtily, ‘I cannot recall exactly how much I told you.’ And she didn’t want to bore him by repeating a story that hadn’t been able to hold his attention the first time.
‘Just that they saw themselves as Romeo and Juliet, with you as both sets of parents. And how you grappled with your very natural desire to turn him off because he’d not only seduced your friend while she was foxed, but because he was trying to come between you, persuading her you would judge her for falling from grace.’
Goodness. He had not only been listening to her prattling on, as they’d made their way slowly up the Wilsons’ staircase, but had committed the whole thing to memory.
‘I was waiting with bated breath for you to get to the part where he confessed his real name, since you accused me of alerting you to the fact he’s currently using an alias.’
‘You knew, all along, that Monsieur Le Brun is in reality the Comte de...’ she frowned. ‘Well, he rattled off a very long list of names and honorifics, but I was so stunned that I cannot recall any of them now. It was the last thing I expected to learn about him.’
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