by Amelia Grey
“I’ll need you to be in my bed with me every night.”
“And every morning.”
Camden laughed but never stopped moving. “Mornings, too? I can see you are going to expect a lot from me.”
“All you can give.”
“Oh, yes, my dearest Mirabella.”
Camden sank deeply into her with every plunge.
Mirabella lifted her face to his and claimed his lips in a kiss desperate to take more of him into her. Camden slid his hands under her back and cupped her tightly to his chest, making her one with him as he rode both of them to the climax of their pleasure.
Mirabella was out of breath again and still filled with wonder. She was overwhelmed with joy and contentment.
“You touch my soul, sweet, sweet Mirabella. I know you need to get home, but I must have more of you before you go.”
“Do not send me home, my lover. I want to be here with you.”
“I must give you up, but only until we can marry. I promise you, I will insist your father make the arrangements with all haste.”
***
Mirabella woke with a start. She lay on her back in Camden’s bed. He was on his side facing her with one arm thrown over her breasts. She looked at him. He slept peacefully. Had he really told her he loved her and wanted to marry her? She smiled and then silently laughed. She was filled with immense joy. How blessed she was that Camden had overlooked her inappropriate behavior.
She turned to snuggle into his arms when she caught sight of the window. Daylight shone bright. She had to get home. Her father would be worried about her. She glanced back at Camden. There was no need to disturb him. No doubt he was tired from their lovemaking. She had no idea that it would be such an exhausting endeavor.
With care, she gently slipped out from under his arm and slid off the bed. She picked up her undergarments and toga and stepped into them. She searched the rug and found enough pins to twist her hair on top of her head and then replaced her headpiece. As an afterthought, she picked up Camden’s great coat and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. She didn’t want to be seen outside still dressed in her toga.
She silently threw the latch and eased out of the room without awakening Camden. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and listened. When she heard nothing from below, she hurried down.
On her way to the front door, she spotted her mask and knew that she should take it with her. She picked it up and tried to stick it in the pocket of Camden’s coat, but some papers made it impossible. She placed the mask back on the table and pulled out the papers. When she went to lay them aside, she noticed the words Mr. Brackley. Who would address Camden so informally? No one should ever use his family name.
Mirabella unfolded the paper and immediately saw that the correspondence was from America. Of course, they wouldn’t recognize his title over there. She didn’t intend to read the letter, but her eyes just never left the paper.
Dear Mr. Brackley:
I have received your urgent letter stating that you wish to sell your holdings in the Maryland Ship Building Company with all haste. I understand your financial duress is immediate, but I can see no quick solution from this end as we are still awaiting final approval of our new steam engine.
I can only suggest that you make whatever arrangements you feel necessary in your own land to eliminate your current financial emergency. I shall be in touch as soon as it is appropriate to do so.
My best regards,
Thomas Peterson
Mirabella’s heart went cold. She stared at the letter and read it again. Make whatever arrangements you feel necessary… to eliminate your financial worries. Marrying her without delay, as Camden had suggested, would certainly eliminate his immediate financial worries.
She shook off the offending thought. No, Camden wouldn’t do that. It was a ridiculous thought. She had no idea why it entered her mind. Camden had never tried to hide from her that his family’s financial status was in shambles.
What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be thinking that he suddenly wanted to marry her for her dowry. Why was she having these horrible doubts?
If Camden had only wanted to marry her for the remainder of the dowry, which was a considerable sum, he didn’t have to tell her he loved her.
She had once told him she would ask her father to extend a promissory note to repay the dowry. She knew Camden’s family’s finances were in poor shape. Camden had admitted that more than once. But something else he had said suddenly struck her. He had told her she didn’t need to force him to marry her. He needed to marry her.
She looked up the stairs toward Camden’s room. Should she go back up and confront him? Would he deny it? She didn’t know, but she was going to find out.
Mirabella turned to head back up the stairs when she heard a noise from the back of the house and froze. Someone was humming and heading her way. Hudson must have returned. She quickly stuffed the paper back into the pocket of the coat and hurried out the front door.
At the edge of the street she stopped. She couldn’t talk to her father about this. As far as he was concerned love had nothing to do with marriage. She would go to Uncle Archer’s house. Maybe he had some thoughts on what she should do about Camden.
She dug her hand into the other pocket and found several coins. She would hire a hack to take her to her uncle’s town house.
***
A knock on the door awoke Camden suddenly. He jerked upright in bed to find that Mirabella was not with him. He looked on the floor. Her clothes were gone. “Camden, it’s Hudson. May I come in?”
“Just a minute.” Camden hoped Mirabella had left the house before Hudson arrived. He jumped off the bed and went to his wardrobe and quickly pulled out a pair of trousers. He stepped into them as he walked to the door. He opened the door and immediately saw a worried expression on Hudson’s face. Maybe he had seen Mirabella. Damnation, how had he slept through her getting out of bed? Why hadn’t she awakened him to see her home?
“What’s wrong?” Camden asked his brother.
Hudson walked in and closed the door behind him. “Nothing, I hope.” He made a deliberate show of looking around the room, paying close attention to the bed and draperies.
Camden grabbed a shirt off a chair and pulled it on. Something was wrong. He asked his brother, “When did you get in?”
“Not long ago. You have guests downstairs. They arrived only minutes ago.”
“Mirabella?”
“No, her father and his butler.”
Blast it. “Mr. Whittingham?”
Hudson looked inside Camden’s wardrobe, parting the clothes, but Camden remained quiet.
“One and the same,” Hudson said. “And the old man doesn’t look well.”
“Did he say what he wants?” Camden sat down on his slipper chair to put on his shoes.
“His daughter.”
Camden glanced up from his buckle and looked at Hudson. Their eyes held. “Mirabella?”
“Does he have another? For God’s sake, don’t be thick-witted, Camden. It appears he thinks she is here in our house. Is she?”
Camden had never known of Hudson using a reprimanding tone in his life, and his first instinct was to put his brother in his place. But Camden took it slow and finished buckling his shoe. Hudson obviously didn’t know Mirabella had been there, and Camden intended to keep it that way. What happened between him and Mirabella was no one’s business. Not even her father’s. She was obviously making her own way home right now.
“Well? Have you disgraced your fiancée here in your own home?”
Hudson was dangerously close to being rammed against the wall, but Camden held his anger in check. “As you can see,” Camden pointed to the wardrobe, “she’s not here. If she’s missing, I’ll find her.”
“I hope you know what you are doing, Brother. You are the last person who needs another scandal. And quite frankly, I’m not sure Mama could withstand another.”
“You’ve said enough, Hudson.
” Camden prayed his brother heeded his warning.
Hudson backed down. “I’m going down to make the old man some tea. He looks as if he’s on his last leg.”
Camden grabbed a short length of black ribbon and tied back his hair without putting a comb to it. He then snatched a neckcloth off the dresser and tied it in a simple bow around his neck trying to make himself presentable.
He strode into the parlor with one thought on his mind. Protect Mirabella.
Camden had never cared what kind of shameful things had been said about Hortense. He remembered thinking she deserved whatever gossip made the rounds. But he couldn’t bear the thought of Mirabella’s reputation being ripped to shreds on damning tongues and scandal sheets. He would fight anyone who dared speak against her.
Bertram Whittingham sat rigidly on the settee. Hudson hadn’t exaggerated the man’s condition. His face was as white as his shirt. His valet, Newton, stood behind the sofa.
“Dear God, it took you long enough to come down.”
“I beg your pardon, I—What’s this about Mirabella missing?”
“She hasn’t come home from the party. I went to Archer’s town house first, but no one was home. Is she here?”
The old curmudgeon got right to the point.
“No,” Camden replied as calmly as he could.
“This was on your foyer table.” Mr. Whittingham held up Mirabella’s mask.
Camden kept his voice soft and his face free of expression. He deliberately looked into Mr. Whittingham’s eyes. “It was in my coat pocket when I returned home this morning. Mirabella gave it to me to hold for her. The party continued until well after daylight. I left her not long ago.”
“It is after noon.”
Camden had no idea what time Mirabella left his home. It could have been five minutes ago or four hours. “We remained at the Hall talking about the evening’s events. She hadn’t eaten all night, so we ate a cold meal together. Perhaps you left just before she arrived, and she is now safe at home.”
“That is a comforting thought. Why did Archer not see her home as he was supposed to? Did you relieve him of his duty?”
A strange feeling suddenly hit Camden in the stomach. “No. I don’t recall seeing Mr. Hornbeck at all last night. When did you last see him? He certainly wasn’t around just before dawn. Mirabella asked about him, and I searched the grounds thoroughly. More than once.”
“Come to think of it, I didn’t see him at the party last night, either. But, of course, I didn’t stay long.”
“Are you sure he knew he was to see Mirabella home?”
“Of course. We talked about it. He was clear on that.”
Camden wasn’t sure he liked where his thoughts were taking him. “Then perhaps he didn’t make the party.”
“That would be inconceivable considering he has been attending parties with Mirabella for two years now.”
“Yes, that’s just what I was thinking. So why is it no one saw him? Was he often a guest in your home?”
“Certainly. Often.”
Unease settled over Camden, and he moved to the edge of his seat. “So it wouldn’t be unusual to see Mr. Hornbeck at your house late at night or early in the mornings?”
“Of course not. He’s quite welcome in my home at any time. What are you getting at?”
Hudson entered the room and said, “The tea should be ready soon.”
“Hudson, did you see Mr. Hornbeck last evening at the ball?” Camden asked.
Hudson wrinkled his brow in thought. “No, not that I remember. But there were so many people there, I could have missed him. Why?”
“Newton,” Mr. Whittingham said, “when you were with me, did you see him?”
“No, sir.”
Camden put his random thoughts together and an idea started to fall in place. Mr. Hornbeck would have been well known to Sarah. He was shorter than most men, unmarried, and free to go and come from the Whittingham home without notice. His name had been on Sarah’s dance card, but like Mirabella, Camden had overlooked him because he was her uncle. But not a blood-related uncle. A family friend. Someone who would never be suspected.
Camden stood up and looked down at Mirabella’s father and asked, “Do you know if Mr. Hornbeck has any kind of distinguishing marks on his neck?”
Mr. Whittingham’s eyes rounded slightly. “Why, yes, he does. When he was but a boy, his mama punished him for lying to her by sticking a hot poker to his neck. It’s a rather nasty-looking scar about here.” With a trembling finger, he pointed to his neck, just above the collarbone on his right shoulder. “You don’t suppose he didn’t go last night because he didn’t want anyone seeing it, do you?”
“I suppose that could be.” Camden rose. “I think I know where Mirabella might be. Don’t worry. I’ll find her and bring her home.”
Twenty
Mirabella banged the lion’s head door knocker twice at Archer Hornbeck’s door. “Oh, be home, Uncle, and for once offer some sound advice,” she mumbled to herself as she stood on the landing wrapped in Camden’s coat.
She wanted to believe Camden had forgiven her indiscretions with the other gentlemen, and that he truly loved her and wanted to marry her. Could he have touched her very soul if he didn’t truly love her? Should she let that letter from America give her doubts about his love for her? She reached for the head of the lion as the door opened.
Archer’s housekeeper showed Mirabella into the drawing room and at Mirabella’s insistence went immediately to find her employer.
“Mirabella. Blue heavens, what are you doing here this time of morning?” Archer asked, tying the sash of his brown brocade robe. His thinning hair was mussed and a white scarf hung loosely about his neck and shoulders.
“I must speak to you. Do you mind?”
“No, certainly not, but I just arrived home and was changing. Come in.”
She realized her head was pounding from lack of sleep. “I’m sorry for arriving unannounced, but I needed to talk to you.”
“Come and sit down and tell me what this is all about. And what in God’s name do you have on?”
Not bothering to sit down, Mirabella looked down at the coat. She felt warm and safe wrapped in Camden’s great coat. “I have on Camden’s coat. I haven’t been home to change since the party ended.”
Archer turned to face her. “That much is clear. You are positively bedraggled. What has happened to you?”
“Nothing,” she said and prayed he wouldn’t notice the blush she felt rising in her cheeks. “I wanted to talk with you about Camden, Uncle.” She took an imploring step toward him. “I love him so much, and I’m so afraid of losing him, yet I’m not sure I have him to lose.”
“That makes no sense, Mirabella. If he’s done anything to harm you I’ll speak to your father immediately. Now, sit down and start at the beginning.”
“No, I’d rather stand. I assure you that Camden has done nothing to harm me.” She put her hand to her forehead trying to hide the second blush to light her cheeks. There was no way her uncle could know she had just left Camden’s bed.
“Then what is the problem?”
“It all started that evening you asked me if I had been free with my affections. Do you recall that evening?”
“Yes, yes. Go on,” he said as if he were in a great hurry.
“I had allowed certain young gentlemen to kiss me, but—”
“Good heavens, Mirabella,” he interrupted. “Don’t admit such a thing out loud even in the privacy of my home. Is Lord Stonehurst making trouble about this? He saw you in the garden with Mr. Farthingdale. We can’t very well do anything about that young buck, but we’ll vehemently deny rumors of any other gentlemen.”
“No, no. That is not the problem, Uncle.” She folded her hands together and wistfully said, “I want to know how do I know if he is telling the truth when he says he loves me?”
Archer looked as if she had asked him to explain the wonders of the universe. “Mirabella, no young lady sho
uld worry whether her husband loves her. What madness. Love is fanciful notions for storybooks and poetry. Lord Byron has ruined the acceptable order of things, I fear. What matters is that Lord Stonehurst should be good to you. He should give you fine homes, beautiful fashions, jewelry and, of course, children.”
“But those are not the things I want from him. I want love, and I fear that he may only want to marry me for the dowry I bring.”
“Mirabella, that is precisely the reason most men marry. Wives are picked for their beauty and their dowry. You are fortunate to have both. Lord Stonehurst knows this, and that is exactly why he has agreed to go ahead with the marriage even though you were most indecorous in allowing those young men liberties.”
Her uncle was not making her feel any better. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t come over to see him. “I had a good reason for allowing those kisses,” she said, feeling a little irritated.
His eyes rounded, and he threw up his hands in a frustrated gesture. “What pray tell could that be?”
“I was looking for someone.” Mirabella stopped and took a deep breath.
What was she doing here, trying to explain all this to her uncle? Plainly he knew less about love than she did. She could see now that the sensible thing to do was talk to Camden. She had to trust him to tell her the truth. Did he want to marry her because he loved her as he had said or were his words and his loving merely a ruse to get her to marry him so that he would have the money he needed to secure his family financially?
If, after talking to him, she didn’t believe Camden truly loved her, she had two choices. One was to not marry him, break the engagement, and tell her father the entire story starting when she first read Sarah’s diary. The other was to make her father and Camden happy by marrying him. There was always the hope that in time he would grow to love her. What she realized now was that she didn’t need her uncle to sanction either choice. She was quite capable, and it would be her decision to make after she talked with Camden. She didn’t even know why she felt the need to speak to her uncle. She should have gone straight home to rest, and she would have eventually figured this out by herself.