Of course she would. Templeton dined here once a week, at least. If Ben stood for office, with or without Summoner’s help, he would not have the time to guard his wife.
‘You are beginning to see the problem,’ Amy said, nodding in satisfaction. ‘You heard her today. She views you as a stranger. As such, she feels no real loyalty to you. But after Vauxhall, we both have reason to distrust Mr Templeton.’
‘I am sure they are guilty of nothing more serious than a few kisses,’ he said.
‘Some might say the same of us,’ she reminded him.
It took nothing more than the mention of what they had done to send a rush of blood through his body, stirring the desire that had lain dormant. The woman he wanted was already in his arms. It would take nothing more than a tightening of arms to pin her body against his.
And Summoner’s horrible suggestion whispered at the back of his mind. He could keep them both. One for his mind, his heart and his body, and the other for the illusion of perfection that his future demanded.
Belle would not expect fidelity. Neither should he. What did it matter whose arms his wife slept in, while he was lying with another? If they could not all be happy, there was no reason that they might not at least be physically satisfied.
It might not have been the marriage Miss Arabella imagined for herself. But that was because she was a naïve child and her sister was not much better. But it would not take so very much to kill their innocence and bring them both to their senses, so the four of them could live comfortably.
Most importantly, a man could not let his life be ruled by romantic nonsense, if one intended to do great things. Humans, both the male and the female, were nothing more than animals. They had an animal’s desire to rut and breed. Only when that biology was appeased could the mind be free for higher thoughts.
He stopped, dead in the middle of the dance floor, disgusted by his own thoughts. But they were not his thoughts at all. He knew that humans were imbued with divine virtues: reason, honour and temperance. They were what separated a man from a beast.
Ben knew that. But old Cottsmoor hadn’t. He had spent half his life trying to escape the worst of that man’s teachings. Tonight they had all come back at once, ready to claim his soul.
‘Mr Lovell?’ Amy was staring up at him in confusion, waiting for him to move. When he did not she whispered more urgently, ‘Ben?’
‘Excuse me.’ He dropped her hand and released her, walking from the room without another word.
Chapter Eighteen
Amy stared at the canopy over her bed, trying to forget the evening she had just endured. The days leading up to the trip had been difficult enough, what with Belle’s sudden change of disposition. Relocating her and presenting her with this fait accompli of a marriage complete with house, servants and friends in the peerage had only made it more complicated.
When Amy added the feelings she held for the host, her troubles multiplied exponentially. But really, it had been going quite well, all things considered. Other than that brief moment of temptation while looking out the bedroom window, she’d been the picture of decorum. For a moment, while they’d been dancing, she had actually convinced herself that something like a normal friendship might be possible.
They had been talking. It had been their usual, squabbling banter. Then, with no explanation, Benjamin Lovell had gone mad. There was no other way to explain it. He had stopped dancing. Instead of laughing away the pause, he’d stood stock still for almost a minute and grown so distant that she feared she might be witnessing the beginning of an apoplexy.
With even less warning, he had come back to himself, offered the briefest apology and abandoned her on the dance floor. His behaviour had been so bizarre that it took a moment for her to notice her own humiliation.
She was standing alone in the centre of a crowded room, staring after him. It did not take long before the other dances stopped as well. And then the music stopped and the whispering began.
Lovell had been dancing, not with his fiancée, but with her sister. The first dance was not even finished. What had he said? What had she said? What could possibly have happened to bring about such a bizarre turn of events?
When Mr Templeton noticed what had occurred, he went to search out his friend and demand that he attend to his guests. He returned a short time later to whisper that Mr Lovell had shut himself up in the library with the brandy bottle and would not be returning.
Showing surprising presence of mind for one so young, Cottsmoor announced that the host’s indisposition was no reason that the rest of them could not still enjoy themselves. He demanded that the musicians begin again and partnered Belle at the head of the set for Brown’s Reel.
Her sister was delighted. She was also the only one who did not seem at all concerned by her fiancé’s absence. But her renewed vivacity was enough to keep the male guests on the dance floor and the evening was salvaged.
Tomorrow, perhaps Amy could find Ben and scold him for acting the fool. He’d got exactly what he’d wanted, after all. Though it gave her no real pleasure to be proven right, she had told him from the first that it would never work. If he had refused to listen, he had no right to complain.
Belle would learn to adjust. Despite her nonsensical worries about the whiteness of the walls, she could be happy here. It was a beautiful house, modern and well attended. The servants seemed nice, as well. Perhaps they would recognise the deficiencies in their new lady and fill the gaps themselves. In a place like this, Belle could find a way to manage without her.
The thought brought another swirl of emotions. After a lifetime together, she was about to be parted from the sister she loved. She should not be feeling relief that someone else would be taking over the burden of care. Belle could not help how she was. And what good did it do Amy to be set free when no one was left who wanted her?
She should be happy that Belle was to be married and not jealous. This was no different than those childish tears she’d shed when her baby sister had got a toy that she desired, even though it was clear that Belle lacked the ability to appreciate it. It had been unworthy.
But, no. This was worse. They were both full grown and the man she wanted for herself had been handed over to her sister. Amy was left to help them start a life together, before stepping demurely out of the way. There was a limit beyond which sisterly devotion could not pass. She had always imagined that it would be death. That their final parting should be because of a man was something she had never suspected.
In the darkness, she heard the hall door open and close again. She did not know whether to pray it was him, or pray it wasn’t. She held her breath until his silhouette hovered over the bed.
‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered, even though they both knew.
‘I came to apologise,’ he said.
‘Then you may do it in the morning,’ she said primly, pulling the covers up to her neck. ‘When you do not reek of spirits.’
‘In the morning, I will not have the nerve to say what needs to be said.’
‘Your cowardice is not my concern,’ she said.
‘So says the woman who used to hide behind her fan each time I spoke to her,’ he said and sat down on the edge of her bed.
‘What good would a few ivory sticks do me, if my closed bedroom door did not stop you?’
‘It was not locked,’ he said.
To this, she had no glib riposte. She had not locked it because, in her heart, she had hoped he would come to her, just as he had. ‘Then state your business and leave,’ she said.
‘First, I must tell you that, on the day your father sent for me—’
‘And what day was that, precisely?’ she said, in no mood to hear about men and their plans.
‘The day after Vauxhall,’ he said, with a trace of impatience. ‘I—’
&nb
sp; ‘He sent for you?’ She sat up in bed, trying to see his face in the dim light.
‘He invited me to your house,’ Ben said. ‘I assumed he had heard what we had been up to, the night before. I was prepared to offer. But—’
‘Offer? For me?’ All this time, she’d assumed he had come to carry out his original plan without a thought to the kiss they’d shared.
‘If you insist on interrupting, I will never be able to finish,’ he reminded her.
‘Very well, then.’ She gestured to cede him the conversation, then bit her lip to keep from interrupting again.
‘I came to your father, ready to make amends. And when he began talking of a betrothal, I assumed...’ Now he was the one to pause. ‘We were talking at cross-purposes. He kept insisting that you had no interest in marriage, especially not one he might sanction. And before I knew it, I was engaged to Belle.’
No matter what his original plans had been, he had not been the instigator of the sudden and bloodless engagement. Why had she not recognised her father’s hand in it, from the first?
‘And now you must think me an idiot,’ he said with a sigh. ‘But you must believe me when I say, it was you. It has always been you. I did not want it to be. But it has been you from the first moment I looked into your eyes at Almack’s.’
And even though she knew she should send him away, she held out her arms and he came into them, burying his face against the side of her neck to kiss her pulse. ‘I had plans,’ he said, with a shaky laugh. ‘But they are a handful of dust, compared to how I feel, when you are in my arms.’
‘How clever of you to notice now that it is too late.’ She wanted to be as sharp and cutting as she had been in their first meetings. But what was the point? There was no fight left. She had lost. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, urging him on, even as she knew she should push him away.
‘It is not too late,’ he argued. ‘Tonight, as we danced, I realised that I cannot go through with a loveless marriage to your sister. It is not fair to her, any more than it is to us.’
To us.
Only two words, and yet they were even more seductive than his kisses. She must ignore them.
‘And what will become of her, if you cry off? The scandal will be on her head more than yours.’
‘She will not be hurt,’ he whispered as his fingers twined in her hair. ‘I promised your father that and I promise you the same.’
‘How will you accomplish it? And even if you can, what am I to do about Belle? Someone must care for her, no matter what happens. She is my baby sister and she needs my help.’ Should they decide to marry, if that was what he intended for her, taking Belle into their house would be just as awkward as if Amy had tried to live with them. Even if he cried off, there was no way that they could all be free to start again.
Finally, after so many years of being strong, she broke. She had not cried in ages. But suddenly tears were spilling down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. She took a breath to gain control of herself and it emerged in a sob.
He needed to go. If he would just leave her alone, perhaps she could still pretend that there was nothing between them. And tomorrow, when the brandy wore off, he would rethink his words and the wedding would go on as planned, with her standing at her sister’s side as witness.
But he must not do what he was doing now.
He had climbed into her bed and was holding her racked body to his, kissing her hair and running his hands over her shoulders, trying to soothe the sobs that were coming faster and faster as she finally allowed herself to cry. ‘Let it out, my love. It’s all right.’ He pressed his lips into her jawline and she felt her muscles working against them as she tried to swallow the tears.
‘It’s not all right.’ And she was not his love. She could not be without hurting Belle. She shook her head to dislodge his kiss. ‘It has never been all right. Father refused to believe there was anything wrong. I tried to make it seem so, for his sake. For both their sakes. But it has been so difficult. And now?’ She gave a helpless flap of her hand. ‘This.’
‘You are not alone anymore.’
She felt a strange shift deep inside as if, with a few words, he had managed to lift the heavy load that had been weighing on her soul.
‘I promised to take care of her,’ he said. ‘And I will do so to the best of my abilities, no matter what happens.’
Her tears were slowing now and she raised the sheet to dry her eyes. She felt him reach into the pocket of his dressing gown to get the handkerchief he was pressing into her hand. Then he shrugged out of the garment and lay naked beside her.
No matter what happens.
The words sounded ominous. If there was a new plan forming, she suspected she would not like it. But she did not want to think about the future as he rolled to cover her body with his. ‘This is wrong.’ She made a last, half-hearted effort to push him away, but he held her fast.
‘It is not prudent. But it is not wrong,’ he said. ‘In fact, it is the only right thing in the world.’
‘You are only telling me what I want to hear,’ she said. And doing what she wanted him to do. Beneath the hem of her nightgown, his bare legs tangled with hers. Warm arms were wrapped around her body and she could feel every muscle. Her cheek rested against the smooth skin of his shoulder. The feel of so much flesh pressed to flesh made her dizzy with desire.
‘Do you want to hear that I love you?’ he said. ‘Because I do. And I never wished to love anyone, ever again, because it hurts.’
He was right. It did. Though her body rejoiced, her still heart ached.
‘Please,’ he said softly. ‘Let me know you, even if it is only for one night.’ The words sounded like goodbye. And if they were, this could be their last chance to be together.
Without another thought, she turned her face to his and kissed him, open mouthed and hungry, letting passion burn the pain away. When they broke, minutes later, they were both panting, eager to be as one.
‘I was lost from the first moment I saw you,’ he said, reaching down her body and stripping away her nightgown to leave her as naked as he was. ‘Those incredible eyes. One look and I was yours. I will never be free of them.’
That was good. She did not want him to be free. She wanted him to be hers. Though they were in darkness, she saw into his heart and was not afraid. His hands were stroking her breasts and she could not keep from moaning at the pressure of his fingers. The eager sound came from an untouched place, deep within her.
He reached between their legs, rubbing her until she was wet for him. His hands on her were rough and hurried, but she did not mind. She ached with wanting him. The punishment of being without him could only be relieved by an equally punishing joining.
She raked her fingers down his sides, scraping her nails down his flanks until she could reach no lower. Then she brought them back up again to the crease at the back of his legs, clutching the tight muscles of his buttocks as they tightened for the first thrust.
And then he was inside her and she would never be alone again. He was hard as stone, stretching her body to the point of pain, but it did not matter. As he pounded into her, she sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle the cries of desire. She wanted to mark him, to claim him as he was claiming her so that no other woman could have him without knowing that he belonged to someone else.
Perhaps it had been too much. He withdrew suddenly, leaving her empty and longing. Then he grabbed her again, rolling her, arranging her body as if she was a puppet and he her master. He pushed her up on to hands and knees, then grabbed her waist to steady her and took her from behind, like an animal.
He hunched over her and one hand wrapped around to stroke her in time with the short, sharp pumps of his hips. A final touch and she surrendered to him, totally and completely, her overwhelmed senses making her shudde
r with relief as he surrendered in return.
She collapsed forward on to the bed and he followed her down, on top of her, inside of her, part of her. Then slowly, they rolled to the side, skin to skin, his arms wrapped around her and a leg slung over her hip. Thus, they drifted towards exhausted slumber, nestled together, tight as spoons in a silver drawer.
Chapter Nineteen
Ben lay in bed watching for a change in the darkness of the room. Soon, it would go from pitch black to coal. Then the beginnings of grey would creep in at the edges of the curtains. Before that happened, he would need to be gone. He could not be seen leaving her room when the first servants woke to begin their duties.
It was as good a day as any to destroy a man’s reputation. But the woman involved...the women, he corrected...must remain as near to untouched by scandal as he could manage.
Amy was beginning to stir as well. They had made love once more during the night, slowly, quietly, each knowing that this might be the last time. When they slept again it was side by side. The distance between their bodies was slight, no more than an inch. But to Ben it already felt oceans wide.
He could feel her beside him, pretending that she was still asleep. But her tiny hand rested against his chest with too much weight to do it unconsciously. She was trying to bind him to her not with strength, but with the weight of her longing.
It was an interesting feeling. Women had held him in bed with tears, both of sadness and rage. He’d been seduced, threatened, begged and, on one particularly memorable occasion, restrained by ropes. But he had never felt such hesitant need. It was like a flower trying to hold on to the sun. To know that such a fragile creature depended on him for happiness made him feel strong, invincible to an almost godlike degree.
He wished it could never end.
Her head rested in the hollow of his arm. He could see her eyes were open now. There was a glitter of wetness on the lashes, as the first hint of daylight touched them. She reached up to stroke his cheek. ‘You love me, do you not?’
The Wedding Game Page 17