I took a breath to excuse myself, but Morgan interrupted me. "I'm sorry, Joc—" He paused, and continued using my formal address. "Miss Westin. Please," he whispered, agony in each word. "Please know that I had no idea that my…departure would have such an effect on your reputation. Rather, that was the very thing I was endeavoring to avoid through my brief absence. Miss Westin--"
"I understand," I said, surprised by my steady tone as I interrupted his apology. "You're forgiven, Lord Ashby. If you'll excuse me." He was so sincere, and I believed him. As much as I wanted to remain angry with him, I knew that he hadn't meant for this to happen to me. But what was done, was done. Unintentional mistakes carried consequences as well.
I started to rise, but he darted across the room to stop me. "No, I don't think that you do," he continued. "Please hear me out, I beg you. And if you still want to leave, I'll remove myself from your home, and you won't ever be bothered by me again."
I gazed at him, letting his words sink in. His expression was tortured, bereft as his dark eyebrows furrowed over his eyes and once full lips were thinned as he held his breath for my answer. How I had missed him. Those eyes that had shared secrets with me, made me laugh. And yet, they were the same ones that had haunted and rejected me. I didn't want to stay and hear his apologies. I wanted to run. Nothing he could say would erase what happened, the past, nothing. But I also knew I needed to at least hear him out or I'd always wonder. No regrets. I could always leave, and I would.
"Very well," I whispered and sat back down. I expected him to go back to his own seat, but he sat next to me instead, sliding his hand down my arm and holding my hand. The sensation awoke feelings I'd have rather forgotten. Never had I been more thankful for gloves as my hand began to sweat at his touch.
"Miss Westin, it seems I have made a mess of… well, everything." He lowered his head and shook it, berating himself. "While I was at my country estate this past week, it wasn't for the reason you were led to believe." He glanced up. His eyes held me captive, trying to convey his sincerity. "I left, Miss Westin, so that I could come back and ask for your hand in marriage."
"What?" Disbelief and confusion overwhelmed me
He took my hand within both of his, caressing my gloved fingers, and I couldn't suppress a slight shiver of delight. But it was short-lived as my fear rose and stomped out any spark of hope. If that were true, why did he say all those things? Why did he apologize? My mind whirled over the questions, more confused than ever.
"I didn't leave to get away from you. I left so I could come back and never have to leave again without you. I've always known that if you even gave me the slightest encouragement, I'd do everything in my power to win your hand. When you so bravely, er…" He paused, shooting a glance to a grinning Lord Heath and an absorbed Amelia. "When you displayed your affection for me, I knew I didn't possess the self-control to wait, so I made a rash decision to leave the next day to set all the proper affairs in order that would allow me to take a wife. You."
His eyes were passionate as he spoke, willing me to believe him. He held my hand firmly, as if he were afraid I'd run away and was doing his best to anchor me to the chair. The sensation was comforting. The fortified defenses I'd build began to crumble the slightest bit.
"But… but you… you said…" I couldn't even formulate my words. "Why didn't you tell me? All you said was that you were sorry, you never meant to…" My cheeks heated, but I was too angry to care about our audience. "To put me in that type of position and that you were wrong. You asked me to forgive you altogether and bluntly said you were leaving, with a cryptic promise to fix it!" I was all but yelling. Ripping my hand from his grasp, I stood up and paced, my fury building. Of all the insane… I continued to pace, warming up to my tirade. My heart pounded. The emotions of frustration, hurt and confusion poured out of me in a rush.
"And then, as if I wasn't confused enough, Arynna tells me that you've ruined me, don't want me, and she's going to tell the world. The next morning I discover that she more than made good on her promise. Do you even understand what I've been through? Do you even have a clue as to how I've been treated this past week?" The tears began to fall in earnest, and I wiped them furiously away from my face. "I can't even leave my house!" I shouted. My anger spent, I plopped in a very unladylike fashion onto a nearby chair. "How can people be so cruel?" I sniffed.
Cautiously Morgan walked over to me, but I refused to make eye contact. "I…" he began, fumbling for the right words, "am an idiot."
I huffed my agreement and crossed my arms, not caring that I looked childish. Part of me knew I should run into his arms and forgive him, thanking him for wanting me when I so desperately loved him, but the pain caused me to react rather than think.
"Jocelyn, it kills me to think of what you've gone through this past week. The ton can be cruel, more savage than wild beasts, and worse yet, none of it was deserved. You were never ruined. I was afraid that, especially after telling you the story of how the Viscount had ruined the Wingshire girl and your response of its lack of romance, that you'd doubt the sincerity of my affection if we were discovered in a similar situation." His words were whispered, meant for my ears only. "When I asked you to marry me, I didn't want it to be in the heat of passion, or because we were discovered, but because you wanted me. Only me. Not because you had no other choice," he confessed.
My anger receded from the red haze as I came to understand his actions. It made sense. I had said it had been unromantic for the Viscount to take the easy way out. Morgan's logic was clear, and his actions probably wouldn't have mattered as much if Arynna hadn't intervened.
It made sense. Oh, he had botched it up horribly, but I could see his perspective. Hadn't Amelia said as much earlier? Hadn't he confessed his affection before he'd kissed me in the moonlight that fateful night? Scary how one conversation of poorly chosen words can negate so many other affirmations. I was becoming all too aware of the power of a person's words.
"Please, Jocelyn, say something." I had been staring at the wall as my mind whirled, completely silent.
I blinked hard and turned to look at him. "It makes sense," I whispered finally.
"But?" he added after a moment, dread and resignation killing the light in his eyes.
"But, what can I do about it now?" I asked, hopeless. "What's done is done." Oh, how I'd wished he'd sweep me up in his arms, but I didn't see how my happy ending could happen. Everyone already believed Arynna's lie, and if Morgan married me now, well, it wouldn't look authentic. Wouldn't that be difficult for his family? I was still so confused.
"Oh, I think there's quite a bit one can do, actually," said the silky voice of Lord Heath. I had almost forgotten about his presence in the room. "But our plan of attack all depends on you, Miss Westin."
"Plan of attack?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow. His words had certainly piqued my curiosity.
"Yes. First, Ashby here needs to ask you an important question, during which I will escort my fiancée out the door so she can give you some semblance of privacy. Although I won't be able to prevent her from listening through the door," he added with a grin.
Amelia glared at him and then came over to me, placing her gloved hand on my shoulder and making eye contact. "Sometimes love has to conquer in order to survive. But conquer it will, if given the opportunity." She squeezed my shoulder and left with Lord Heath, leaving me quite alone with Morgan.
Afraid to hope, to open myself up to further pain, my heart locked down. It must have been apparent on my face.
"Please, Jocelyn, don't do that." Morgan spoke softly, reaching up and tilting my chin up so I would look him in the eye. His fingers were warm; the heat seeped through my skin and melted the pain in my heart. In a sincere tone, he continued. "I know I do not deserve you. I've put you through the fire the past week. I would have been here sooner, but things took longer than I expected."
I opened my mouth to ask why he hadn't sent a letter, but he interrupted my attempt. "I knew I'd make it ba
ck before a note could reach you." He dropped his head lower to meet my eyes, diving into their depths like a starving man. "If I would have simply asked for your hand that night, you wouldn't have gotten hurt, but I wanted it to be romantic, something you could remember for years to come. So you would know how much I desperately, urgently, and greatly love you." He lifted his other hand and caressed my cheek, wiping the tears I didn't realize had fallen. After closing his eyes for a moment, he met my gaze once again. "Not a proposal that made you wonder if I simply asked you in a haze of lustful frenzy. You deserved — deserve more than that. So much more."
He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. My eyes closed in response. I breathed in the honey and cloves scent that I had missed so much, drinking in the sensation of his warm lips pressed to my skin. I reached up to pull the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer to me. He let out a small chuckle before touching his forehead to mine. "So, now that I've hardly any right to ask, and after I've caused horrific damage in my efforts to be poetically romantic, I want to tell you all the things I should have said."
With that, he dropped to both knees and gazed adoringly at me. His eyes were so blue, but they held little hope, only a fierce determination and unabashed love. "Jocelyn Westin, I love you. There is no other woman I could imagine as my wife. I do not deserve you. You are perfection. Everything about you draws me like a moth to the flame, and when I touch you, I burn." His eyes smoldered and my knees went weak. "I promise to make up for my painful mistakes every day of my life for as I long as I live if you'll give me the opportunity to serve you." He stood slowly. "Cherish you." He raised his hand to caress my cheek and wipe away another tear. "Honor you." His other hand came around my waist and pulled me closer till I could feel his heartbeat. "Protect you." He bent his head and kissed the skin under my ear with a feather light touch. I couldn't help but close my eyes and sigh. "Kiss you," he whispered into my ear as he nipped my earlobe. "Make love to you."
He brushed a short yet tender kiss across my lips. I desperately wanted more, but I didn't want to interrupt the moment. "Spend each day in your warmth and grow old with you, satisfied that you're mine and mine alone." He kissed me again, deeper, searchingly, with barely controlled restraint. "Marry me, Jocelyn?" he asked, and pulled back slightly to read my expression. His eyes were darkened with desire and frantically searching mine for the answer he so desperately sought.
"Yes," I whispered, my breath stolen by the exultant expression on his face and reflected in his eyes. "Yes," I repeated a bit louder, my smile breaking free and my heart melting in the heat of his hungry gaze.
His lips met mine in a fierce kiss that reminded me of the joy and fever I had all but forgotten in the past week. His hands gripped my back, pulling me savagely against him. My body caught fire at the sensation.
"Jocelyn," he whispered hoarsely before attacking my lips again, pulling them gently with his teeth and caressing them with his velvet tongue.
I dug my hands into his hair, but my gloves prevented me from feeling the silky texture on my fingers. My hands moved from his hair to his broad shoulders and pulled him in closer. Matching his fervor, I kissed him back and inhaled each breath he released, wanting each part of me to be a part of him.
He withdrew slightly, and I pressed in closer to hold off his retreat for a few more blessed moments, but to no avail. "Jocelyn, love," he gasped with breathless passion. "I must stop, or else I swear I'll ravish you right here."
“Well…rumor has it that you already have…” I leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw. The faint stubble from his beard prickled my lips and made them tingle. Morgan’s breath caught then sped up as I traced my hand down his chest. But I paused. Was I really ready for this?
My heart sped up at the thought. Part of me wanted him to pull me into the whirlwind of passion that had already kindled a fire within me. Yet I wanted my first experience in lovemaking in a bit of a more private environment. Besides, Nanna would haunt me all of my days if I were to be intimate with Morgan before the wedding.
As my heart slowed, my mind also sobered and I thought of a problem. "Morgan?" I asked warily. His eyes immediately were concerned. "What… what will happen to you? Your family's reputation. I'm not… they think I'm a—"
His fingers came up and stopped the word from coming out. The blue of his eyes turned icy cold. "Don't," he articulated. "Do not even say the word. You. Are. Not."
I shook my head, unwilling to go back into the dark depression that had consumed every bit of light that past week. "My reputation," I insisted. "It's ruined. I'm ruined. What will that do to you?"
His expression softened, and he bent to give me a sweet and tender kiss. "I think it's time to call in our friends. You've nothing to worry about, love. This is where it gets interesting."
Chapter Seventeen
After our powwow with Amelia and Lord Heath, I was walking on air. Lord Heath had explained with glee that we were to have a bit of fun. I'd been more than a little hesitant. But as Lord Heath outlined his masterful plan, hope surged through me. Even though I was ruined by ton standards, the damage was repairable if done correctly. Phase one would begin in a few minutes, and I was fighting a few butterflies.
"Don't worry, love, it will be fine," Morgan crooned in my ear as he led me down the stairs and out into Hyde Park. It was the fashionable hour, and the park was full of ladies walking, carriages rolling, and men on horses trotting along Rotten Row. At first everything appeared normal, but soon people began to notice us and an obvious hush covered the park. The hush quickly turned to furious whispers. Morgan beamed beside me, holding my hand and pointing out scenery, whispering for me to wear a smile and keep my chin up. I thought of the note from the Dannberry brothers — Chin up.
With a brave grin, I dared the ton to call me a harlot now. Armed with love and hope, we continued down the way. I resisted the temptation to turn around and watch Amelia and Lord Heath begin their part of the plan a moment later. They were to locate a few key ladies known for their love of gossip and spread the word: Miss Westin was not ruined—rather she was engaged to Lord Ashby. He had left simply to notify his family of his intent on taking Miss Westin as wife.
They had prepared themselves for doubters, so I wasn't concerned when I heard a dowager pelt them with questions. "If that's the truth, then why would she be published in the papers like a common—"
Thankfully, Amelia interrupted the woman before she spoke the derogatory word. And after seeing Morgan's display of anger when Lord Heath had said "harlot" when trying to prepare answers for potential questions, I was thankful for her intervention. The last thing we needed was an irate Marquess giving a dowager a piece of his mind. I had no doubt that Morgan would do it, too. The thought brought a genuine smile to my face.
Soon the word spread. It reminded me of an adult version of Telephone, only with a lot of staring. I hoped the truth was circulating rather than some sort of distortion, as usually happened with the repetition of gossip. Although, as I thought about it, nothing could be worse than the original lie.
It was entertaining to see ladies blanch as we passed, no doubt remembering how they had treated me. Gentlemen shook their heads and cursed gossip columns. By the end of the walk, I was no longer receiving the cut direct but was gathering smiles and small nods of affirmation. Morgan never left my side as he led me through the park, nodding to each person and showering me with proper affection. With deft skill he would draw my attention to a squirrel or cloud to take my mind off of the stares. Again I was reminded how much I loved the man.
By the time we headed back to my house, there was one question left unanswered, a question only few people knew the answer to. If I wasn't ruined, if Morgan was indeed my fiancé, then why had the gossip papers so erroneously published the contrary? They had said they were given information from a reliable source. Thus leading to the final question. Who did it…?
When we arrived home from our walk, Amelia wrote anonymous not
es to the three gossip columns, notifying them of their misunderstanding just in case the gossip traveled too slowly. I also wrote a letter demanding an apology. I didn't know if I'd see it ever, but it was cathartic to write the letter. Then, after several hugs from Amelia, a wicked grin from Lord Heath as he studied Morgan and me, and several coughs from Morgan as he tried to rush them out the door, we were finally alone.
With a mischievous grin, Morgan led me into the blue parlor, firmly shutting the door behind us. "What are you trying to do? Ruin me?" I teased. It was freeing to joke about it.
With a predatory gleam in his eye, he stalked forward, his eyes raking over me, sending shivers throughout my body. "Since I already had, according to the gossip, I thought it would be prudent of me to at least do a thorough job of it," he remarked casually, but there was nothing casual about his eyes. They were blue fire.
"Oh, really? What makes you think I'm the type of woman who would go so willingly into your arms?" I backed up, fighting a grin in spite of the heated feel of the room. As much as I had hurt the past week, I was free from it now. The simple joy of knowing I was going to marry Morgan erased the pain and replaced it with pleasure, hope, and joy.
He stopped and raised his eyebrow. "You aren't," he replied seriously. "And that is simply one of the many considerable and at times very aggravating reasons I love you," he provoked as he drew closer. His last words came as a whisper against my lips. My backwards motion stopped as I hit the desk behind me.
"I see," I replied, my eyes locking with his.
"But…" he added as the teasing light in his eyes began to burn brightly.
"Yes?" I asked with a small smile.
"But soon you won't have anywhere to run except to me."
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