In less than the blink of an eye Burke’s face went from red to deathly white. He sat gasping in breaths as though he’d just made a run for his life.
Nathan turned on his heel and climbed back into the curricle. Miss Burrowes’s visage had also paled considerably. Well, it was best she learn now the resolve of the man she was going to marry. True, she’d not consented to the match. Yet. But by the end of tonight he’d make sure there was absolutely no doubt in anyone’s mind they would marry. Especially in the mind of Miss Amelia Burrowes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“And that is the game, I believe, ladies and gentleman.”
Amelia could not help smiling as Lord Ainsley laid down his last card, the Jack of Hearts, thus taking the final trick and winning ten of the thirteen tricks in the hand for them. Their partnership had been most agreeable and profitable as the wagering on each trick had been fierce, especially between Lord Ainsley and his sister. With this last trick she and his lordship had gained at least two pounds. Nothing to put any one of them in the work house, still an exciting and pleasurable way to pass the evening.
And Amelia had to admit the evening had been most pleasant. After the scene in Hyde Park this afternoon, she’d had grave doubts about attending Mrs. Doyle’s party. All she’d wanted to do was hide herself at home and dread the gossip that was sure to begin again. She’d thought she’d become so inured to the mean and disrespectful things people said about her that she no longer felt the sting of their unkind words. This afternoon she’d discovered that was not true. Both Lady Chalgrove’s and Mr. Burke’s cutting remarks had hurt abominably, but because Lord Ainsley had been there to hear them, rather than from their estimation of her. That she valued his lordship’s opinion of her also greatly alarmed her.
Although she’d been in two minds about attending tonight, her mother had insisted, and Amelia was now glad she’d come. As soon as they had arrived, she’d been met by Miss Locke and led to a table where Lady Letitia and a Lady Celinda Graham, whom she had not met before, had been seated. After that introduction, the four of them had played a spirited game of Vignt-Et-Un with much betting and laughter. Afterward, Lord Ainsley had come to escort her to his table and the game of whist they had just finished.
No one had been unkind. Mrs. Doyle and her charge, a Miss Amanda Sharpe, had welcomed her and her parents along with Lord Ainsley. She’d heard no whisperings around the room, no one nodding at her or suspicious looks. Either no one knew who she was, which she doubted, or Lord Ainsley’s presence and obvious protection had quashed the gossips for the evening. If only this evening with its friendly atmosphere could become her life’s norm, she’d have nothing left to wish for. Except perhaps one thing.
From lower eyelids, she surreptitiously watched Lord Ainsley gather the cards, chatting with his friend and sister, his quick laughter ringing out often. He’d said he wanted to marry her, yet she could scarce believe the words. Her heartbeat quickened each time she thought of them. Were they true? Did he actually wish to marry her? All of his actions seemed to indicate that he did. After so many years of longing, would she indeed gain a happy ending after so much hurt?
“Miss Burrowes, would you like a breath of fresh air?” With a bright smile, Lord Ainsley focused his attention directly on her. “I believe we have generated too much heat with our brilliant play. We must allow Haversham and my sister to recover their senses before they attempt a rematch.”
Fresh air meant a stroll on the veranda, out in the darkness where they might do more than simply cool their cheeks. Might indeed lead to a rise in the heat already between them. Or to the declaration she’d so longed to hear. “I’d love some fresh air, my lord.”
After placing the cards back in their cunning little box, Lord Ainsley offered her his arm and they sauntered through Mrs. Doyle’s packed rooms to the back of the house and out onto the veranda, dimly lit by the quarter moon.
The tiny terrace faced a very narrow garden, awash with sweet-smelling Night Blooming Jasmine and bound on both sides by tall fences. A small flight of stairs led to a pathway that headed out into the yard. Lord Ainsley steered them down the stairs and into the garden, stopping once they were secluded underneath the garden’s centerpiece, a large weeping willow tree.
The huge tree, whose branches fell in thin, gently swaying arcs, created a curtain around them, effectively shielding them from anyone looking into the garden. He loosed her arm, but kept hold of her hand, turning so he faced her. “I apologize that there is no cherry tree. This is the best I could manage.”
Frantic trembling overtook Amelia, from her fingers captured in his strong grasp to her stomach where a thousand butterflies beat their frantic wings. The darkness revealed little about his face, save the intensity of his stare, trained on her mouth. Was he truly going to—
He pulled her to him, until she pressed against the rock-hard body she had remembered in her dreams. Cradling her head in his hands, he lifted it and guided her lips to his. The touch of their velvety softness broke loose something deep inside Amelia. Something she’d thought had died long ago on a pillow sodden with tears. Now it raised its head and flooded her heart with the love and passion born that night in May so many years ago, fiercer now for having lain dormant.
She seized his head in both hands, pulling him to her, refusing to let go.
He sought entry with a subtle testing of the seam of her lips and she opened immediately, reveling in the joy of having him in her once more. Their tongues tangled, then she slid past his and into his mouth, greedy of him, and wanting more, just as she had before. She’d never believed she’d feel this for him again, not after the disappointment and shame he’d put her through. But what person could refuse a glass of water if they were dying of thirst? Much as she’d like to deny it, no man had ever made her feel such passion, or desire, or love. If he did not marry her this time she would as soon die as live.
Slowly and carefully he withdrew from her. Unwilling to give him up after such a short time, she nevertheless fought the urge to cling to him. If he was a man of his word, they would have the rest of their lives to dally thus. At last she raised her gaze to him, fear and longing warring in her heart.
He cleared his throat and took both her hands. “Miss Burrowes, I know that we have not been reacquainted long, and I fear I may be someone to whom you will not wish to give your trust so soon, however, I have at last fulfilled my promise and asked your father leave to court you.” Gazing down at their joined hands, he traced the backs of her knuckles with his thumbs. “I regret I was not allowed to make this declaration ten years ago, but I will make it now with the same ardent desire as then that you will consent to become my wife.”
Although her trembling had stopped, her bones seemed suddenly unwilling to support her. He had proposed. He still wanted to marry her, even after all this time and in spite of all the vicious lies that had been spread about her. She swayed a little toward him and he clutched her arms.
“Here, sit on this bench. No one will see.”
The little wrought iron bench sat on the grass outside of the circle of the willow branches, still the magic continued, for he was there, holding her hands, looking down at her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.
“Please do not cry, my dear.” He passed her a linen handkerchief that smelled of sandalwood and his own subtle scent.
When she’d wiped her eyes, he knelt down and grasped her hands again. “Miss Burrowes, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Gathering her courage, Amelia squeezed his hands. “I am truly honored that you have asked me this, my lord, but I there is a question I must ask you before I answer.”
“Ask me what you will, my dear.” His smile encouraged her. “I will have no secrets from you.”
Heart in her throat, she forced herself to ask, “Are you asking me to marry you from a duty you believe you owe me from ten years ago when we were young, or do you truly wish to wed me for me, ruined reputation an
d all?”
He paused, then cocked his head, a strange gleam in his eyes. “Will you refuse me if I say I asked you from duty alone?”
Now it was her turn to hesitate. She’d been almost certain of his regard for her. That kiss alone had persuaded her more than anything, still she’d had to ask. Could she marry him knowing he did not have the same affection as she? “No, my lord, for if you wish to marry me from duty’s sake, then I cannot fault your honor and would not refuse an honorable man.” Perhaps in time his affection for her might become as it once had been. “Although I might wish for a different answer from you, mine will remain the same, which is yes, I will marry you.”
The joy in his face quite stole her breath away. “You have made me the happiest of men, Miss Burrowes.” He kissed her hands, sending tingles up and down her arms. “Although you did not wait for my answer to your question before you gave your consent.”
Frowning, she peered at him. “But you gave me your answer.”
“I asked a question. I did not say it was my answer.” Now he was kissing each finger. Between that sensual riot on her skin and his enigmatic words, her head was spinning.
“So what…is your answer?”
He turned her hand over and kissed her palm.
Her whole body went up in flames, heat licking through her veins until she was panting with desire.
“I have wanted you, Miss Burrowes, and you alone for ten long years.” He kissed the other palm, his tongue coming out to sear her flesh and she whimpered, unable to help herself. “I will confess that after I assumed you had married, I allowed you to slip from my mind after a while.” His kisses now strayed up to the sensitive skin over her wrist. “But I never moved on. Never looked for another woman to marry, even when I knew it was time that I should do so.”
Those sensual lips found their way to the crook of her elbow and lingered there, sending Amelia’s senses into a frenzy. If he didn’t stop they might end up doing something they’d regret. Still, she didn’t want him to stop.
“Then when I saw you at Lady Hamilton’s, I knew, deep down. I wanted you and only you for my wife.” He rose, bringing her to her feet as well. “Now I’ve a question, no two, for you, Miss Burrowes.” Capturing her head once more, he kissed her temple at her hairline, sending shivers down her spine. “When you said yes, was it because of the safety my title and position will bring you, or do you wish to wed me for me?”
There was only one way to answer that question. She grasped his neck and pulled his head down to hers, seeking his mouth with an abandon that surprised even her. Moaning until her lips found his, she pressed them together, desperate to show him how much she wanted him, had always wanted him.
Eagerly, he enfolded her in his arms, drawing her so close every inch of her seemed to touch every inch of him. An insistent bulge below his waist seemed to strain against her stomach. Desire for him rose as never before. What would it matter now? They were betrothed and would be married soon, but not soon enough for her. Or him it seemed. “My lord?”
“Yes, Miss Burrowes?” Gravelly and low, his voice rumbled in her ear, his hot breath sending chills through her.
“I don’t know how to…” Completely at a loss for an idea of what to expect, Amelia whispered, “What do we do now?”
A shudder rippled down his body, as though he’d been doused with cold water, and he stepped away from her, holding her at arm’s length.
Not at all what she had expected or indeed wanted.
Gasping, Lord Ainsley held up his hand. After a moment, he sighed and his breathing returned to normal. “To answer your question, Miss Burrowes, now we return to Mrs. Doyle’s party and continue to play as though nothing has happened, however difficult that may be. On the way home, however, we will inform your parents we have come to an accord and tomorrow we will announce our betrothal.”
“Oh.” She’d not expected quite so prosaic a response.
Even in the darkness she could see his smile. “Did you think I would have a different plan of action?”
Heat stung her cheeks. “After that…interlude, I thought you might wish to…”
“Out here in the garden, Miss Burrowes?” The amusement in his voice was almost palpable. “Neither the time nor the place for an amorous tryst, believe me. You are, however, correct regarding my personal wishes.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks must be the color of cherries.
He took her arm and twined it through his. “Let us walk a bit and hope the cool air aids us in our deception. It is not a very long path, but we will keep a very slow pace.” He headed them toward the back of the garden. “May I suggest we wed the day after the last of the banns are read? I know we could procure a special license, but in our case I think we should continue to woo the ton with very circumspect behavior. They have extraordinarily suspicious minds and if we were married by special license, every lady in town would begin to count to see when our first child should be born.”
Amelia sighed. “It seems a shame to wait after we have already waited so long.”
“The correct response to that is, I believe, that having waited that long already, a little longer should not be an undue hardship.” His chuckle had a hollow ring to it. “I suppose that depends on who must do the waiting. But I shall endeavor to make the time go fast. We shall continue our outings in Hyde Park in the afternoons and various entertainments at night, you must go shopping for a new trousseau, and be introduced to the servants at Ainsley Place.”
“Goodness, will three weeks be enough time to have everything accomplished?” Her mock horror was not lost on her betrothed, who chuckled.
“Not three weeks, my love, but a mere two weeks and a day. If we begin the banns this Sunday, we can be married in a little more than a fortnight.” He leaned over and growled in her ear. “And not a minute too soon.”
By the time they reached the willow again, her face no longer pulsed with fire, though she was still atwitter to think of the news to tell. Her parents would be so pleased with this alliance to a noble family. Her marriage should assure that next year her sisters would be received warmly. Perhaps she could be the one to bring them out. Unless by that time she was increasing. Still, it could be managed. With Lord Ainsley by her side, nothing seemed insurmountable.
“Are you ready to partner me at the card table once again, Miss Burrowes? We played well together last time.” They had reached the few steps to the veranda when something occurred to Amelia.
“My lord, earlier you said you had two questions to ask me, but I believe you only asked the one.”
“Yes, I believe I was kept too busy with your answer to the first one to even think of asking the other.” He chuckled and patted her hand, secure in the crook of his elbow.
“But what was the second question, my lord?”
“Will you please call me by my given name now?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She looked up at him expectantly.
“Nathan.”
“Nathan, I do remember now.” Such a strong name. It rolled off her tongue delightfully. “So, Nathan, what was your second question?”
His laughter filled the night. “My love, that was the question. As we are now betrothed, I thought we could be more familiar with one another without fear of censure.”
“I am such a goose. My head is in a whirl.”
He waited before opening the door, though she had no idea what for. “May I be so bold as to ask to call you by your first name, Miss Burrowes?”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Nathan, I am so sorry. Of course, please call me Amelia.”
Nodding his head, he lifted her hand for a brief kiss. “With the greatest pleasure in the world, Amelia. And the most profound joy.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Such a spate of weddings we are having this Season.” Lady Celinda Graham had stopped to chat to her as she headed down the receiving line at Amelia’s wedding breakfast. “I do hope Lord Finley and I will be one of them eventually. Papa is bei
ng difficult. He has taken the gentleman in dislike and nothing I seem to say—or how I say it—seems to make a jot of difference.”
“I truly hope your father will come around to your way of thinking, Celinda.” Amelia glanced down the line, but her guest need not be in a hurry. “I would wish for you the same happiness I have with Lord Ainsley.”
“Oh, you can call him Nathan to me, Amelia. We are cousins. Kate and I grew up together, practically, so no need to be formal. Both of you are married now.” Celinda pulled a woebegone face. “I certainly hope that trend continues in the family.”
There had been a flurry of weddings in the family to be sure. Last week Lord Haversham had married Kate via special license. Nathan had protested, but his friend had told him he must strike while the iron was hot but before he got burned with it. He and Kate were ever squabbling, but Nathan assured her that was their particular way of courtship.
Thank goodness she and Nathan had no such peculiarities. The worst of theirs had been the interminable wait. A fortnight sounded so short, but in reality it had dragged on so slowly she thought at times she would scream in frustration. She wanted to be married and in Nathan’s bed. For ten years they’d been waiting and the wretched man would not even consider anticipating the wedding night.
“We have gone all topsy-turvy, my love.” Nathan had stood beside her watching the dancing at his sister’s wedding breakfast last week. “After what happened before, I cannot believe you are the one who is proposing such a scandalous liaison and I am preaching patience. Normally, I’d think those roles would be reversed.”
“Nothing has been normal about our courtship, my dear. Why should it be so now?” She’d looked longingly at his handsome profile, dreaming about what he would look like without his cravat tied so tightly around his neck, without that shirt with the stiff collar, or jacket, or his breeches. Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to the dancers as Lord Haversham and Kate twirled by in a waltz. Only one more week of exemplary behavior and then they could ravish one another to their hearts’ content.
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