WANTON

by Cheryl Holt

  She’d been too alone in her life, and despite how he’d acted or how he treated her, she was desperate to be loved, desperate to believe every absurd, ludicrous thing he said.

  She should have marched downstairs and asked Rose to send him away—for clearly, Amelia had no ability to send him away herself. With his intentions voiced, she was enticed against her will, and while she’d accused him of being mad, obviously, she was the one who was insane.

  He came up behind her and snuggled himself to her back, and she groaned with dismay.

  Why was she so weak? Why was she so bewildered about him? There was no reason to listen to his drivel, but she was like a thirsty plant in the desert, and he was watering her with his comments. She soaked them in, flowering under his sweet attention.

  “You’re a hard woman, Amelia Hubbard,” he murmured. “I was down on my knees, begging you to wed, and you simply walked away and left me on the floor with my hat in my hand.”

  She chuckled miserably. “You didn’t bring a hat.”

  “No, but if I had, you’d have left me there with it.”

  He nibbled her neck, her shoulder, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Stop that.”

  “No.”

  “It confuses me.”

  “Good, I want you confused. Maybe if you’re confused, you’ll cease your crazed behavior.”

  “There are two people in this room,” she replied, “and only one of them is crazed. It’s never been me.”

  “Really?” He slid an arm around her waist and rested a palm on her abdomen. “Guess what a little bird told me?”

  “Oh, no,” she moaned. “I didn’t realize Rose was such a disloyal chatterbox.”

  “Not her. James. He tells me everything. We’re like a pair of gossipy spinsters that way. We always have been.”

  “Whatever he told you,” she tried to claim, “it’s not true.”

  “What? You haven’t missed you monthlies? You’re not increasing?”

  “Ah!” she shrieked, and she whipped around to face him. “Is there any foul, embarrassing remark you won’t utter?”

  “No, not when you’re determined to have a babe without a husband.”

  “I’m planning no such thing,” she lied.

  “Are you, or are you not, about to announce that you’re a widow and your spouse was a soldier killed in Spain?”

  She gnawed the inside of her cheek, her fury growing by leaps and bounds. “Once I get you out of here, I am going down to throttle Rose.”

  “You won’t be shed of me until you give me the answer I seek.”

  “What answer is that? You want me to marry you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would I?” she groused. “You’re the most avowed bachelor in the kingdom. You’ve never met a woman you didn’t seduce.”

  “I’m good at it too,” he bragged, and he dipped in and nuzzled her nape. “You’re living proof.”

  She elbowed him again, but didn’t attempt to slip away. Already he was wearing her down.

  “It’s not only seduction at which you excel,” she protested. “You’re skilled at every licentious, disgusting conduct ever invented.”

  “I am. I admit it.”

  “Why would I shackle myself to you when you have no ability to be loyal or faithful?”

  He frowned. “Who says I won’t be loyal or faithful?”

  “I do! You don’t have a monogamous bone in your body.”

  “I used to believe that.”

  “But what? Have you had an epiphany?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is it?”

  Again, he dropped to a knee. He took her hands in his and kissed one palm, then the other, and he gazed up at her, his eyes so very, very blue.

  “Marry me, Amelia.”

  “Oh, Lucas...”

  “I can be horrid. I know that. I can be rude and obnoxious and awful.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Yet when I’m with you...when I’m with you...”

  He couldn’t finish the sentence, and she urged, “When you’re with me...what?”

  “You make me want to be kind and loyal. You make me want to be better than I am. Let me be that man for you, Amelia.”

  “I don’t think you can, Lucas. I don’t think you have it in you.”

  “I swear to you that I’ll make you happy.”

  “But for how long? A week? A month? Maybe I’ll amuse you for an entire year, and then what? Will you decamp for London to restart your dissolute life? Will you abandon me in the country—so I will be a widow in fact and perhaps a widow in truth?”

  “I can’t predict what will happen in the future,” he responded. “I could get thrown from a horse tomorrow or run down by a carriage. But if you’ll have me, if you’ll allow me to prove myself, I will stay by your side all my days. I will always love and cherish you. I will always be your best friend. Let me, Amelia. Please?”

  It was such a pretty speech, and it was difficult to discount his pledges. He was offering her everything she’d ever wanted: a handsome husband, a devoted partner, a dedicated spouse. What if she said yes, and in the end, he found he couldn’t achieve that ideal? Could she stand the heartache? Could she carry on without him?

  Yet if she said no, if she refused to take a chance, what were her options? He’d go away, and she would eventually leave Summerfield too. She’d forever be a spinster, poor and needy and very likely raising a child on her own. It was a hideous existence for a woman, and the opportunity to have a home and a family of her own would have passed her by.

  Was he worth the risk? Was he worth the effort? She couldn’t decide, but then again, if she spurned him, she’d never know how it might have played out. What if he managed to live up to every vow? What if he became the better man he insisted she lured to the fore? What if she could have that man for her husband?

  “Your father promised to give us that property in Surrey,” she hesitantly reminded him. “Do you think he meant it? Would he follow through?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “What if he reneged? What then? You’d be married to me, but you’d have received no benefit.”

  “No benefit?” he scoffed. “You’d be my wife. That’s all the benefit I need.”

  It was the sweetest comment he could have shared. It rattled her. It galvanized her. “We wouldn’t have a home.”

  He shrugged. “So we’ll borrow some money from James and sail to India. Would you like that? Would you sail away with me and never come back?”

  She stared into his eyes until she felt as if she was drowning in them.

  “Yes, I...I would sail away with you,” she ultimately murmured, and at the admission, she yanked away from him and wailed, “Gad, I’ve gone mad. I have! There’s no other explanation. I’m stark raving mad!”

  “In this moment of madness,” he calmly stated, “might I prevail on you to say yes, that you’d be delighted to be my bride? Will you be mine so it can all happen?”

  “I don’t want to move to India though. I want the estate in Surrey. I want us to be settled there.”

  “Then that is the ending we’ll pursue.”

  “You told me previously that you couldn’t imagine yourself as a gentleman farmer.”

  He chuckled. “You couldn’t imagine it either, but I’m turning over a new leaf, remember?”

  “What if you get bored in the country? What if you start chafing and grow anxious to leave?”

  He was beginning to look exasperated. “I care about you so much that I’m ready to be a farmer—just to make you happy.”

  “The farming doesn’t matter. You’ll make me happy by staying there with me.”

  “Then you shall be the happiest wife on Earth, because I will never go.”

  “What about your other women?”

  He blinked twice, suddenly appearing disgustingly innocent. “What other women?”

  “If I so much as catch you glancing at another female, there�
��s no predicting what I might do to you.”

  She peered down, taking a lengthy assessment of his private parts, and she frowned so violently that he shuddered.

  “I am duly warned, my darling Amelia, but there was no need. I shall never stray. I swear it on my life.”

  “You swear—and I’m supposed to believe you.” She breathed a sigh of vexation. “Am I witnessing a new and burgeoning side of you? Are you becoming honest right before my eyes?”

  “Honest as the day is long,” he solemnly said, and she scoffed.

  “And I’m becoming the biggest fool ever.”

  “A fool for me, but I knew you couldn’t resist.”

  “Vain beast.”

  “Yes, very, very vain, but it seems you might have tamed me.”

  A knock sounded on her door, and he pushed himself to his feet as Rose spun the knob and peeked in.

  “Amelia, are you—” She stopped when she saw them.

  “Hello, Cousin Rose.” Lucas grinned from ear to ear.

  “Lucas,” Rose scolded, “why are you in here pestering her? You better have a good explanation.”

  “I have a wonderful explanation,” he retorted.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve asked her to marry several times, but the blasted woman won’t agree to have me.”

  Rose scowled at Amelia. “He proposed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Several times?”

  “Yes.”

  “Down on one knee and everything?”

  “And everything,” Amelia said.

  “What are you waiting for then?” Rose chided.

  Amelia stared at her friend, at Lucas, absorbing every detail so she’d never forget any of it.

  “I’m not waiting exactly,” Amelia responded. “I’m just...considering.”

  “Why not get it over with,” Rose pressed, “and put him out of his misery?”

  “Yes, Amelia,” Lucas added, “why don’t you?”

  “I don’t trust him,” Amelia confessed, “and I don’t think he’s much of a catch.”

  Rose nodded. “You’re right about that.”

  “But”—Amelia smiled a smile as old as Eve’s—“he makes me so happy.”

  “Well,” Rose said, “if he makes you happy, you can probably overlook the rest.”

  “Yes, I probably can,” Amelia concurred, and she turned to Lucas. “Ask me again. Ask me like you mean it.”

  “Accursed female,” he groused. “I’ve meant it every damn time.”

  “You’re wearing me down. Maybe you’re about to get the reply you want.”

  “I’d better,” he grumbled. He bowed to her, linked their fingers, and very formally said, “Miss Hubbard, would you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

  She hesitated long enough that he jerked on her hand.

  “Answer me, you vixen!” he commanded, but he was smiling too.

  “My answer is yes, Mr. Drake. Yes for now—and forevermore.”

  His smile widened. “Are you sure? Because with me there’s no going back. I won’t let you change your mind later on.”

  “I won’t ever change my mind,” Amelia said.

  He smirked. “I knew I could convince you.” He peered over at Rose. “Didn’t I tell you I could convince her? She’s easy as pie.”

  “Only for you, Lucas Drake,” Amelia told him. “Only for you.”

  THE END

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Will there be anything else, miss?”

  “No, no, I’m fine.”

  Evangeline Etherton stood still as a statue, observing as the housemaid walked to the door, about to leave Evangeline to her own devices. A smile of joy was bubbling up, and Evangeline could barely hide it.

  At the last second, the girl said, “Oh, I forgot. Cook wanted to know if it would be all right to serve your supper in the small dining room.”

  “Where is it usually served?” Evangeline asked.

  “Well, if Lord Run is here, he uses the larger dining room, but it’s quite big and grand. Cook felt you might rather have the smaller one.”

  “The smaller one will be perfect,” Evangeline insisted, “and please tell everyone there’s no need to make a fuss. Just feed me once in awhile, and I’m happy.”

  The housemaid dipped a curtsy, which was very polite but completely unnecessary. “I’ll spread the word to the other servants.”

  “Thank you.”

  She left, and Evangeline was finally alone.

  She listened as the maid’s footsteps faded down the hall, then she lifted her arms and twirled in merry circles.

  The suite she’d been given was too beautiful to be believed. With sitting room, bedroom, and dressing room, it was fit for a princess. The furniture was expensive and tasteful, the wallpaper a warm shade of yellow that seemed to glow.

  She might have been dropped into a fairytale.

  The dressing room had a silver bathing tub, the cupboards full of plush towels and scented soaps. The entire place was so much more than she’d expected, and she’d get to stay for a whole month, but she deemed the sojourn a fair reward for what was coming after that month ended.

  There was a door that led out onto a balcony, and she slipped outside to gaze at the manicured garden and rolling hills beyond. The manor was called Fox Run, and she wondered what it would be like to own such a property. She couldn’t imagine.

  At age twenty-five, she had no prior opportunity to experience opulence. She’d been orphaned as a toddler and sent to Miss Peabody’s School for Girls. Supposedly, a kindly benefactor had paid her tuition, though Miss Peabody had refused to say who it was or why charity had been extended.

  Evangeline had been reared under Miss Peabody’s watchful eye, had received a brilliant education, and after graduation, had been invited to remain as a teacher. Her skills at singing, theatricals, and playing musical instruments had guaranteed her a spot on the faculty that had included her two best friends, Rose Ralston and Amelia Hubbard.

  They’d both been orphaned girls too, had grown up with Evangeline and been hired as teachers by Miss Peabody.

  But Miss Peabody had passed away, the school was closed, and their days as spinster schoolteachers were over. The next phase of their lives was just beginning.

  Through the trees, she could see the steeple of the church in the village, and it was a reminder that her future was about to arrive and very quickly too. She tamped down a shudder and went back inside, not eager to stare at the church and be unnerved by the sight.

  She’d promised to come. She’d promised to proceed. It was too late to worry or second guess.

  She was to wed Vicar Ignatius Bosworth. Miss Peabody had contracted the betrothal shortly before her death. Evangeline had never planned to marry, and didn’t actually wish to marry now, but she’d had no alternative.

  She hadn’t met the vicar yet and had only been provided with a few facts about him, those contained in a one-page letter of introduction he’d personally penned.

  He was forty and had two hobbies—he liked to read in front of the fire at night, and he liked to study Scripture. He’d never been wed, but was at a spot financially where he could support a wife.

  In the miniature portrait he’d furnished, there’d been no attempt to enhance his features. He was balding, severe in appearance, clean-shaven, and a tad gaunt.

  Homely as mud. The spiteful thought was awful, and she shoved it away.

  If she’d previously fantasized about someday having a handsome, dashing husband, those were juvenile dreams and not worthy of the woman she’d become. She wasn’t fickle or immature, and she wouldn’t judge the man by his looks. She had no option but to marry, and she was in no position to be picky.

  They’d get on fine. They would! She was fun-loving and cheerful, and she made people happy with her singing and other musical talent. She’d make him happy too.

  Suddenly, her pulse was racing. She tried to picture herself, sitting by the fire, listening to her hu
sband expound on obscure Bible passages, but the vision left her so anxious that she felt nauseous.

  She swallowed down her burgeoning panic and hurried to the bedchamber to unpack her portmanteau. From her years under Miss Peabody’s tutelage, she knew that useful activity was the best medicine for stress and unease.

  Miss Peabody had been a stickler for proper behavior, and Evangeline—with her singing and flamboyant character—had been a constant trial to the older woman. Evangeline had been scolded and punished so frequently that she’d never understood why Miss Peabody had kept her on as a teacher.

  Evangeline had learned to tamp down her outbursts of gaiety, to ignore her true inclinations. She learned to never reflect on how ill-suited she was to the only choices available.

  In a world where she was required to exhibit a modest, humble demeanor, she loved to show off and perform, and if she could have arranged any ending for herself, she might have been an actress on the stage in London. But of course, such a sensational path would be insane, and she could never figure out why she was overcome by such wild ideas.

  She had to find a way to take her mind off her troubles, so she decided to go exploring. The manor belonged to Aaron Drake, Lord Run, a viscount who was son and heir to George Drake, Earl of Sidwell, but also a distant cousin to Vicar Bosworth.

  Lord Run was rarely in the country, the house standing empty most of the time. The vicar’s mother had contacted him, and he’d agreed that Evangeline could stay at Fox Run in the month leading up to her wedding.

  She was certain her duties as a country vicar’s wife would be very dreary, so during her visit, she intended to revel. She would secretly pretend the property was hers, would act as if she’d been born to luxury and extravagance, and she often wondered if she hadn’t been.

  Occasionally, she dreamed of mansions and fancy carriages and elegant attire. Her dreams were so disturbingly real that she suspected they must have some basis in her past, which she didn’t remember.

  Evangeline had had no choice but to accept her engagement, and she’d sworn to herself that she’d work hard, that she would be the best vicar’s wife who had ever lived, but she couldn’t quite believe she fit the role Miss Peabody had selected for her.