They shook hands warmly, and actually embraced. Elizabeth heaved a huge sigh of relief and smiled.
At last she risked looking her brother right in the eye. But no, there was no dissembling on his part at all, she was sure of it. He was beaming in delight at them both, happier than she had seen him look for a long time. Then her head turned to look up into the face of her beloved.
Her heart nearly dropped into her feet. For there, smiling down at her tenderly, his mask finally off, bending nearer and nearer to kiss her, was Wilfred Joyce.
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabath's head swum at the enormity of what had just happened on the terrace. Thomas had well and truly caught her in the most passionate encounter behind the potted plant. Her lover had offered for her, and she was now engaged to none other than Sir Wilfred Joyce.
Elizabeth's mind screamed that it simply wasn't possible, but even as she formed the words of denial and refusal in her mind, Will was taking her hand. The sparks almost flew off their flesh despite their gloves still being on, and she understood it all at last.
Marcus Fitzsimmons had pursued her ardently, it was true, but he had never been able to ignite the fires within her such as she had felt in the mysterious dark cave. She had assumed his failure in that regard as a lover had been a result of the less romantic, more mundane surroundings of Ellesmere Manor, and the constant round of socialising which had prevented them from more intimate contact or conversation.
Now she knew it had not been the Manor. It had been the man. He had been the wrong man.
Well, to be fair, she had never come right out and reminded him of what they had supposedly shared in the cave, so he could not be said to have deceived her. She had deceived herself, reading things into what he had said, but her heart and body had not.
But Sir Wilfred? Mr. Joyce? He had never once dropped so much as a romantic hint before his poetry this evening, and that had been more of an intellectual exercise than a declaration of desire. But then, gentlemen should not kiss and tell, or press their attentions where they might not be welcome…
She looked at him again in a whole new light, reviewing all he had said and done since they had been introduced. He had been an excellent companion, going out of his way to elicit her opinions, find out what she truly thought about things. He had treated her as a person in her own right, not just the Duke of Ellesmere's sister. Or as a mere woman to be flirted with, her views on politics like so many bubbles of sparkling conversation to be laughed and teased over.
He had to feel the same overwhelming desire she did. He had said so himself. She had felt his physical response, something she doubted a man was able to fake. Marcus Fitzsimmons had never been able to reproduce even a reasonable approximation of the overwhelming urgency Wilfred, Will, she reminded herself, had shown for her.
Why then the lack of assertion on Will's part for so many days whilst she had been flirted with by every other man in the house party?
The kiss on her hand now told her much of what she needed to know. He loved her. Loved her. Strange though it seemed, he had resisted the stirring of his loins to make certain of her in his heart. But even more importantly, he had been trying to vouchsafe her certainty. To allow her to make her own choice, with no pressure or demands upon her person such as Fitzsimmons had made.
Fitzsimmons had been gradually taking her over with more and more of a proprietary air which she had found vaguely disquieting. She had had increasingly frequent moments of doubt in which she had thought her fortune far more tempting that herself. Now she knew why. It had been.
Looking at Mr. Joyce, Will, she corrected herself again mentally as he smiled down at her now, she saw the look she had seen in her own eyes as she had thought of the marvelous man in the secret cave.
She stared up at him, and stroked his shimmering blond hair in fascination. His lean, hard cheeks, his darkly clad right shoulder, it was all warm and real and oh so familiar now, and yet so exciting.
"My love," he whispered, kissing her right hand once more.
"My dear fellow, my most cherished sister, I don't want to rush your tender display, but we need to get back inside," Thomas said, taking both their stroking hands in his own to separate them. "You've already been missed, and I'm afraid, well, if we don't make your announcement soon, we may have to ward off some unpleasant gossip."
"Gossip?" Will echoed.
Thomas nodded. "I hate to spoil your magical moment, my dear, but I was coming to tell you that Marcus Fitzsimmons has already asked for your hand, Elizabeth."
"My hand?" she gasped, now shuddering with disgust at the very thought.
Will put his arm around her waist protectively.
Her brother nodded. "I don't know how many people he might have declared his intention to, or where he is even now. I ws coming to find you to speak with you about your feelings for such an offer when I came across you here on the terrace with Will, and the rest is as you can see."
"There are no feelings, Brother," she said truthfully. "There has all been some sort of mistake on his part, and perhaps excessive politeness on mine."
He nodded, satsfied, and she was pleased to see that Will looked completely at ease with her explanation.
The Duke looked from one to the other. "By rights I suppose I ought to be angry that you and Will have come to an understanding with one another so quickly without so much as giving me an inkling, or asking permission, but I can see how you both clearly feel about each other, and I know you've certainly not been sneaking around in any way on purpose.
"As for Marcus Fitzsimmons, well, sneaking is more his style, and a lack of veracity. So I merely said I would consider what he had requested. I also admit I told him flat out that I did not approve.
"I did, however, also tell him that the final choice would be yours, dear sister. I'm only sorry I had to declare my own feelings so openly. He is after all a cousin of Stewart's, and as such is part of our extended family circle, so I would not wish to offend him. But it was my opinion, and as your loving brother I could say no less than the truth, that you were very young, and that frankly, his prospects and person were not quite what I could hope for a precious jewel such as yourself.
"No, indeed," she agreed, nodding dazedly, still struck by the fact that Will had slipped and arm around her again as they headed back to the ballroom, and was holding her so close she was sure she was going to swoon again.
"However, that is all no matter now, for you have made your choice. Thus I will not have to be the villain of this piece, so long as you make it clear to everyone that you're marrying Will of your own volition. That he was your choice all along. But then, I doubt anyone will be surprised. No one can have failed to notice his gentlemanly and loving regard for you. Therefore, Fitzsimmons will never have cause to think that I talked you out of the match in any way."
"No, indeed," she said numbly, still shocked by the sudden turnabout in her affairs.
"Are you all right?" Thomas asked, looking at her more closely as she clung to Will's arm as though afraid he would disappear, hardly able to take her eyes off him.
"Yes, fine. Just shocked. I cannot plead ignorance of what Marcus Fitzsimmons intended, but I did not offer him any encouragement to go speak with you," she temporized.
"It's not your fault, my love," Will murmured. "You can't help it if he read more into your indulgence of him as he carried on like a rattle than was actually in your heart."
The Duke nodded. "No, of course not, Elizabeth. Anyone who ever met you would never accuse you of being a wanton. I hope you will appreciate, Will, what a delicate flower my sister is. She had been very sheltered since that family trouble which we have spoken of privately. I am sure Elizabeth has probably mentioned how much it horrified us all. I know as a gentleman you would not take advantage of her tender sensibilities and youth."
"Never," Will said promptly, drawing the other arm around her protectively. "My actions, such as they have been, have, I hope, demonstrated nothin
g more than my most sincere and devoted love for the most worthy woman in the world. Next to your wife, of course."
"And your sister," Thomas said with a bow.
"We certainly have some wonderfully lovely women in this family, do we not?" Will said with a warm smile which lit up his entire face.
Elizabeth stared up at the transformation, and wondered how on earth she had ever found him gloomy or forbidding-looking.
He was…. quite spectacular. Those lush lips, those incredible aquamarine eyes. The lightest touch of his hands upon her waist or shoulder were enough to set her flesh roiling all over again. Could she possibly….. Did she dare?
"Thomas, dear brother, can you please give me one more minute alone with Mr. Joyce?"
"Well, I—"
"Really, it's all right. We just need to fortify ourselves for the crush," Will reassured him, seeing that Elizabeth was quite overcome with emotion.
Thomas at length smiled and nodded. "Very well, then. Slip around the front to our private parlor, and have something from the decanter, both of you. Fitzsimmons will not be the only one surprised by my announcement."
"I'll meet you at the entrance to the ballroom in five minutes," she promised her brother.
"Of course, dear child." He bent to kiss her. "Much health and happiness to you both, and a dozen nieces and nephews for me."
He congratulated them both again, and at last they were alone once more.
She hesitated for only a moment. She grabbed Will's hand, snatched up her train, and began to run around the side of the house to the front. She sailed past the butler and into the parlor, practically slamming the door behind them.
As she had run, she'd thought about admitting to him that she had never dreamed in a million years that he had been her lover in the cave. What on earth had he been doing in there? But as his hand had rested in hers, she only had one question: Was the desire between them real?
She had assumed it had been Fitzsimmons' arms around her. Would the thrilling sensations be able to survive now that she knew it was Wilfred Joyce of all people who had been her secret lover? Could those feelings survive the workaday existence in broad daylight which marriage entailed?
Elizabeth pressed Will's back against the door and thrust herself into his arms like a diver launching herself off a cliff. Which in a sense she was. For to consider marrying this man after everything that had happened would be the greatest leap of faith she had ever taken in her young life.
She knew Will, but didn't know him. He had been most candid about his feeling upon many subjects, but his past, his experiences during the war, were shadowy to her at best, like her lover in the cave. Only now he had to come out into the light.
As she kissed him and their hands were once again all over each other, the seams of their clothing straining as they clenched bodies fiercely, Elizabeth had her answer.
However foolhardy it was, she simply couldn't give this up. This was only the tiniest portion of what couples shared, she knew. But it was so compelling that she could never, ever relinquish the torrid yearnings he provoked deep within her, and promised to vibrantly and utterly fulfill.
At last he raised his lips, with gasp and shook his head.
She stared up at him in confusion.
"I'm sorry, darling, but the truth is, I can't hold out much longer. We must stop. We gave your brother our word. We need to go out there in a minute and face everyone." He began to smooth down her skirt and then started to refasten his shirt and waistcoat with trembling fingers.
"Oh, er, yes, of course. Thank you for being so, well, restrained. Gentlemanly."
"I would never do anything to harm you, my dear." He seated her gently on the sofa to help her regain her composure whilst he poured two glasses of port.
"Here, love."
He pressed the glass into her hand and helped raise it to her lips. She took a sip and licked her lips. The sight of her little pink tongue darting out was more than he could stand. He snatched a quick, wet kiss, and smacked his own lips lightly as though tasting something delectable.
"You taste divine. Smell like heaven. I can't stop staring at you. You fill my senses, dearest Elizabeth. That is why we must be cautious. One touch from you, and I'm so filled with desire I forget even my own name."
She nodded and sighed shakily. "I know. It's the same for me."
She patted the sofa and he sat carefully by her side. They both sipped their wine in silence. Then she said, "Can I ask you one thing?"
"Anything, my dear," he promised rashly, even knowing there were many things he would never be able to discuss with her about his past, or even his present.
"When you saw Marcus Fitzsimmons making a bid for me, and the other men flirting, why did you hold back, and never say anything?"
He sighed and stroked the back of her hand with his broad, warm fingers. "Oh, Elizabeth, you're so young. I needed you to be sure. This physical desire between us is so magical, I didn't want to confuse you. Not to mention the fact that I'm far beneath you in station, and so damaged after the war. I can't be much fun for a lively and popular girl like you. Yet I won you." He shook his head in disbelief. "I will spend the rest of my days thanking all the gods for my good fortune in winning your love."
"Only my love? Not my estate?" she asked quietly.
He stiffened, but his face never changed. "I know your brother and I have not had a chance to discuss the formal settlement, but I'm a very wealthy man despite the ramshackle condition of my house at present. He need not give you a dowry. I have more than enough to keep you, and our children when we are finally so blessed."
She nodded and sipped. So far, all seemed well. He did not seem to care about anything other than her. His words before as he had told her how he had discerned her identity were ample evidence of that.
"Are you well, darling? You look so pensive."
She stared at his face, so handsome, yet that of a stranger in some ways. "I'm just so startled by all of this. I had not expected Thomas to give in to me on the question of marriage. And falling in love with you, well, it has truly been so sudden. I've never experienced anything like it before."
"Neither have I," he said truthfully, all thoughts of his former wife having resolved themselves. It had been a painful time in his life, but could in no way be compared to what he had known ever since he had first laid eyes on Elizabeth coming up the beach toward him that bright yet stormy summer's day.
"But I know it was meant to be. The cave can be our secret, special place, but our love can now come out into the open at last."
He rose from the sofa and took her arm, helping her to her feet. She took one more sip of the wine, and asked him to kiss her once more. There it was again…. Far too thrilling to resist….
"Come, Elizabeth, we must meet Thomas now, before I forget I'm a gentleman and make love to you on this carpet with no thought for his anger or your embarrassment."
She blushed as red as a peony, and allowed herself to be led from the room.
Thomas was waiting for them as promised, and gave them a long look. Then he grinned.
"We need that special licence for sure, the sooner the better. I ought to be horrified that my little sister is so in love, shall we say, but really, I couldn't be more pleased."
They entered the ballroom together then, and Thomas signalled to the musicians to stop playing.
They did so, all eyes turning to the Duke. Everyone had taken off their masks and cloaks, and she saw a sea of friendly faces admiring her lovely gown.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a few things I would like to say. Firstly, thank you all for coming. It has been a most enjoyable evening, and my sister and I look forward to many more such evenings as this in the near future.
"Secondly, don't forget to hand in your guesses as to the identity of each of the guests with a number this evening, and we shall make sure the prizes are distributed tomorrow.
"Finally, and most importantly, I have the unexpected pleasure of
announcing that I have just given my consent for my sister to be wed. The servants are coming around with glasses of champagne, but for the moment, I want us all to give our warmest congratulations to the happy couple.
"I give you Lady Elizabeth, and none other than Colonel Wilfred Joyce."
Chapter Eighteen
After making the announcement about their engagement, the Duke of Ellesmere took his sister's hand and Will's and put them together.
The happy and stunned couple both smiled at each other, feeling as if they were floating on air.
The announcement certainly took quite a few people by surprise, not least Marcus Fitzsimmons, whose beaming smile of joy became a black scowl of fury.
He made a choking sound which could be heard half way across the room.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 48