If they had engaged in a traditional courtship before marriage, they would not have spent as much time together. They would not have conversed for hours in the candlelight or touched each other intimately. In an ordinary courtship, they would have had to monitor their conversation, because they would have been chaperoned in a drawing room. They would not have been able to talk freely about things that mattered. But as a married couple they had been able to do that. Even though it was a marriage of necessity, they had agreed to honor their vows. As Will had said, no one expected them to succeed. She would never forget his words. Let’s prove them wrong.
She listened to her heart and acknowledged the truth. She had fallen in love with him.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She wanted to tell him, wanted to confess her love for him, but she must wait for the right time. Tonight he had given her a gift. Perhaps it was her turn. She placed her hand over his chest and felt the steady beating of his heart. “I wish to give you a gift tonight.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“I wish to cede the wager to you,” she said.
“What?” He looked stunned.
“I want you to win. Tonight, I want to make love to you, without any barriers or rules,” she said.
“Thank you.” He kissed her, softly at first, and then with hunger. His mouth was hot and the kiss was lush and very, very erotic. He slid his hands down her back and then covered her bottom. When he pressed her against his body, his aroused cock pressed into her abdomen. When he ended the kiss, his eyes were dark with passion. “I just realized that you’re delaying gratification once again.”
“I am?”
“You gave me a gift, but I have to wait until after my friends leave to, er, open the package.”
She playfully swatted him. “You are so bad.”
“I think we’ve established that,” he said.
She smoothed his lapels. “Not so much anymore.”
He lifted her hands, palms up, and kissed her wrists. “You continue to surprise and amaze me.”
“So do you,” she whispered.
“We had better go downstairs, because that bed is tempting me, and I want a leisurely loving,” he said.
She took his arm and inhaled his unique, masculine scent. Her chest fluttered, and she realized it was joy filling her heart.
“Ah, that was an excellent dinner, Mrs. Darcett,” Fordham said, pushing a curly blond lock off his forehead. “I say, that still sounds very strange. I never thought to see this devil become a married man, but you’re smiling. I assume you’re making him mind.”
Amy laughed. “Actually, sometimes it’s the other way around.”
“Oh, ho,” Fordham said. “So she’s a bit of vixen, eh?”
Will winked at her. “My wife has managed to surprise me almost on a daily basis.”
“Leave it to Will to find the best wife—in a wine cellar no less,” Fordham said.
Bellingham shook his head. “Fordham, do try to have a bit of decorum.”
He winced. “Sorry, Mrs. Darcett.”
“Don’t worry. I took no offense.”
“It’s certainly a different path to the altar,” Will said. “Mind you, I don’t think I ever want to step foot in another wine cellar. It was deuced cold in there. The wine, however, was excellent.”
Bell’s chest shook. “I should have guessed you would take advantage of Boswood’s fine collection. How many dead soldiers were there?”
“One.” Will looked at Amy. “Our term for empty bottles. I’ve buried more than a few over the years.”
“Speaking of wine, let me top up the glasses,” Bell said, lifting a bottle of claret. Afterward, he raised his glass. “To Mr. and Mrs. Darcett. I wish you both happy.”
Amy was intrigued by Bell. He was as tall and muscular as her husband. Like Will, he had dark hair, but his was shorter. “My lord, you traveled with my husband for many years.”
He turned his intense bright blue gaze upon her. “Yes, we wandered the Continent for four years. It was quite an adventure.”
“I went as well,” Fordham said, “but my family called me home after only six months. I got in a spot of trouble.”
“You are trouble,” Will said, laughing.
“True, but maybe one day I’ll meet a woman willing to take me on as a husband.” He grinned at Amy. “Do you happen to have any single friends who don’t mind a fellow with scuffed boots and a sad lack of funds?”
“Why do I suspect that you would flee if I were to offer to introduce you to my eligible friends?” She liked Fordham. He was charming in a self-effacing manner.
“I say, Darcett must have told you the truth about me. Now I’m doomed. You’ll never let me near your friends.” Fordham leaned across the table. “You probably shouldn’t, if you wish to keep them as friends.”
Laughing, she looked at Will. “Is that true?”
“I’m afraid so,” Will said.
She returned her attention to Bellingham. “My lord, you must know my husband very well.”
“Yes, he is like a brother to me,” Bell said. “He asked me to accompany him on a grand tour following a difficult period in my life. No doubt he told you that I lost all my family to illness?”
“Yes, he told me.” Amy admired him for addressing the issue directly. People often buried painful experiences rather than confronting them.
Bell sipped his wine. “Our journeys proved fascinating and helped me to overcome the worst of my grief.”
The shock and pain must have been horrific. Thank God Will had been there to help his friend. “Do you plan to travel again?” Amy asked.
“I thought of journeying to Switzerland, but finding the right traveling companion is somewhat difficult,” Bell said. “The conditions are often a bit too rustic, and not everyone can laugh and make do the way your husband did. He’s quite versatile. Did you know he can make a pot of tea and cook an egg?”
Amy smiled. “Yes, he told me that he learned to do that out of necessity.” Privately, she realized Will had wanted to journey with Bellingham. He’d meant to escape his family in much the same way he’d done when he’d run away as a child. But why? What was he running away from?
“Since you’re back in England, do you ever consider marrying, my lord?” Amy asked.
“Why? Do you have eligible friends?” Bell asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she said.
“Shocking,” Bell said. “Generally, the hostess invites her friends and makes sure I meet them, whether I wish to or not.”
Amy grinned. “To be honest, I wanted to even the numbers at the table, but Will insisted that neither of you would appreciate my matchmaking efforts.”
“If your friends happen to have papas who are plump in the pocket, I might find myself miraculously in love,” Fordham said.
Amy laughed. When she turned her attention to her husband, she saw him exchanging a cryptic look with Bell. Perhaps they thought Fordham’s jest in poor taste.
After the footmen removed the dishes, Will gave Amy a heated look. “Time for the third course.”
Her face grew warm at his reference to their private jest. She wondered if she would always associate lovemaking with food.
“Mrs. Darcett, I understand you have a career,” Fordham said.
“It’s not a career,” Will said. “Amy enjoys designing fashionable gowns.”
“A dressmaker in London makes up the gowns from my sketches,” Amy said. “I consult with her about the fabrics and trim.”
Fordham frowned. “It sounds like a career to me.”
“It is her pastime,” Will said. “Amy is talented and enjoys drawing.”
Bell regarded Amy. “Never mind our thickheaded friend. He doesn’t know the difference between trade and amusement.”
She kept her expression as serene as possible and told herself to put it out of her mind for the time being. She mustn’t dwell on her deception in front of Will, because she might inadvertently give a
way her discomposure.
“Amy, would you like more wine?” Will asked.
“No, thank you,” she said.
Will poured more wine for himself and his friends. He handed a glass to Fordham. “I assure you my wife is not engaged in trade.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Darcett,” Fordham said. “I didn’t think. Of course you wouldn’t engage in trade.”
“I take no offense.” She thought of that moment when Julianne had told her to use care, because the coins jingled. The memory shamed her, but she must not dwell on it now. The best thing would be to change the topic, but she froze, as she always did when she grew anxious.
Luckily, Bell asked Will questions about his position as land steward. The three men discussed the topic for a short time. Then Will turned his attention to her. “Sorry, sweetheart. We forgot ourselves. Will you forgive us?”
“There is nothing to forgive. I know nothing about your position, but I’m more than happy to listen,” she said. She had just made herself sound like one of those silly ladies who had feathers for brains.
“You indulge us, Mrs. Darcett,” Bell said. He eyed Will. “You’re a lucky fellow. She’s one in a thousand.”
“I think so,” Will said.
“You both put me to the blush,” Amy said. She could not take pleasure in their approval of her when she was deceiving her husband.
Will grinned. “You blush frequently, wife.”
“I’m sure you have plenty to do with that, Darcett,” Fordham said.
Will winked at her. She lowered her gaze, knowing he would think her abashed.
The footmen brought in the desserts: nuts, sweetmeats, fruit, and cheesecake.
“Ah, I had a feeling my wife would serve cheesecake tonight,” Will said.
Apparently Bell and Fordham liked cheesecake as well. Amy ate only a few bites. Her heart was heavy, when she ought to rejoice that Will had proven himself to be a wonderful husband. No matter how hard she tried, she still couldn’t shake off Will’s statement. I assure you my wife is not engaged in trade.
She must refuse to take compensation for her sketches in the future. Tonight, she’d ceded the wager to Will, thereby effectively putting her trust in him. She couldn’t live with this deception, for it would ruin their blossoming relationship. The next time she took sketches to Madame DuPont, she would inform her that she no longer required compensation. She need not explain her reasons. Madame DuPont was only interested in profit. But what if she refused the sketches?
When the gentlemen finished their desserts, Will retrieved the bottle of port from the sideboard. “Amy, we could bring our port to the drawing room, if you wish.”
“No, stay and take your time. I have some embroidering to finish.” When she rose, Will and his friends stood.
“Enjoy your port,” she said.
Will escorted her to the door. He was proud to have such a clever and generous wife. She’d impressed his friends and had a facility for drawing out others in conversation. He liked that there was no vanity in her. Far too many women in his past had practically demanded compliments. Unlike them, Amy focused her attention on others.
She fingered the gems at her throat, making him smile. He’d intended to wait until after the wager concluded to give Amy the emeralds, but he’d wanted her to wear them at dinner. “You were magnificent tonight,” he whispered. He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I won’t be too long.”
After she departed, he returned to the table and poured drinks for his friends. She’d stunned him earlier when she’d ceded the wager. Now the anticipation of making love to her made his groin tighten. He bit back a grin as he thought of a way to tease her. She would express outrage when he insisted she must stay abed with him for the remaining seven days.
“You’re a lucky devil,” Fordham said as Will passed round the drinks.
“I am,” he said.
Bell sipped his port. “She’s accomplished, clever, and unique. But then, you’ve always somehow managed to come out a winner. In this case, you married one.”
“Too bad she doesn’t have any sisters,” Fordham said.
“She has friends,” Will said.
“What? I must have suffered momentary madness. I’m sure the urge to wed will pass as soon as I leave the honeymoon nest,” Fordham said.
Will snorted.
Fordham took out his watch. “Gentlemen, I promised to visit my mistress. I’ll see you at the club, I’m sure.”
After he left, Bell arched his brows. “Join me outside for a cheroot?”
“I’ll walk out with you.”
Once they were out of doors, Bell took out a case and offered a cheroot to Will.
“No, thanks.” He didn’t want to go to Amy’s bed stinking of smoke.
Bell lit his cheroot and inhaled. “You’re different with her.”
“True. I try to avoid vulgar habits in her presence.”
Bell blew out a smoke ring. “That’s not what I meant.”
He’d known. “Events transpired. We adjusted.”
“There’s an example of the difference. You used the word we, not I.”
“She’s my wife.”
Bell flicked ashes. “You’re besotted.”
“Tell me to go to hell in advance,” Will said.
“Let me guess. You’re recommending I marry.”
“You’re the lone survivor,” Will said. “Perhaps you are meant to carry on your family’s legacy.”
Bell stubbed out the cheroot. “I don’t believe in meant to be. There’s only sight, smell, sound, and touch. If there is anything else, it’s long dead to me.”
Will gazed up at the full moon. “There is something else.” He looked at Bell. “You’re alive for a reason.”
Amy tried to focus on embroidering the little gown for Emma, but her conscience troubled her. She’d told Julianne that the money she took for her sketches was a precautionary measure. At the time, she’d thought it wise to wait until Will had proven he would not beggar them, but she was the one who was putting their marriage in jeopardy.
When Amy had married Will, she’d had ample reason to distrust him. But after the conversation at dinner, she could no longer fool herself. He wasn’t the one who had betrayed the trust in their marriage. She’d kept her dalliance in trade a secret, and then she’d taken a risk that had alerted Julianne. Even after Julianne had confronted her, Amy had insisted she needed more time.
Just because he didn’t know did not make it right.
The day she’d accepted Madame DuPont’s offer of compensation, she’d known it was wrong. She’d nearly refused, until the modiste offered her five shillings per sketch. Amy had always felt the ton’s attitude about trade was hypocritical, and so she’d persuaded herself that she had every right to accept compensation. But secretly flouting the proprieties counted as hypocrisy.
Julianne was right. If anyone caught her accepting coin, the gossip would spread and humiliate members of both her family and Will’s.
Now she had a dilemma. The time to have admitted to him that she had accepted money for her sketches had long since passed. If she told him now, he would want to know why. She’d already deceived him and could not make matters worse by lying. But if she told him the truth, he would not care about her excuses. Her only defense—that she’d hidden money in the event he gambled away a fortune—would insult him and quite possibly destroy the bond they had worked so hard to establish.
Shame made her feel a little ill. She’d betrayed her husband and put Julianne in the middle of her scheme. Amy didn’t want the money any longer, but she had no choice but to leave it secreted in the bottom of her trunk until Will was gone, and she could safely take the purse back to Madame DuPont.
“Amy?” Will said.
She gasped and turned to find Will and Bell entering the parlor.
Will laughed. “You were so deep in thought.”
“Please join me,” she said, rising.
Bell shook his head. “I came to thank y
ou for the excellent dinner, but I’ll not intrude any longer. Until we meet again.” He bowed and retreated.
Will crossed the room and sat beside her. “You seem a bit anxious.”
“Oh, it is nothing,” she said.
His eyes held a tender expression. “Sweetheart, are you having second thoughts? If you’re not ready, I won’t press you.”
He was so considerate that it made her chest ache. She did not deserve him, but she must push her guilt to the farthest corners of her brain and focus all of her attention on him. “Will, I haven’t changed my mind.”
He helped her rise. Then he escorted her upstairs. She told herself that it was in both their best interests to keep her secret. Their relationship was still in the fragile stage. She would live forever silent about her deception, because she would rather have it hanging over her head than wound him with the suspicions that had led her to deceive him.
When he reached her door, he looked at her. “I want to take your hair down tonight.”
She nodded. When he closed the door, guilt made her stomach clench. All this time, she’d held herself up as the righteous person in this marriage, but he’d never failed her. Since the night they were locked in that wine cellar, he had acted honorably. Not once had he shirked his responsibilities. He’d agreed to court her, and he’d held up his end of the bargain. He’d gone to his club only on the day she’d suggested a shopping trip. Ironically, she was the one who had failed him. And God willing, he would never know.
Chapter Thirteen
At the sound of the knock, Amy rose from the bed. “Come in.”
Will entered, wearing the banyan and trousers. He held a bottle and two glasses. “You left the necklace on. I’m glad.”
“What is this?” she asked.
“A liqueur I discovered in Italy.” He set it on the bed table. Then he pulled the turned-down covers all the way to the end of the bed. Afterward, he hoisted her onto the mattress, making her laugh. He poured about two inches of the amber-colored liqueur in the glasses and handed her one. “To dessert,” he said, touching his glass to hers.
She laughed. Then she sniffed the drink. “Is it strong?”
“A little, but it’s very sweet. And tastes of almonds,” he said.
How to Ravish a Rake Page 23