A Dream of Desire

by Nina Rowan

  Talia tried to smile. Word had gotten round that the magistrate had granted her guardianship request for Peter Colston. Rather to Talia’s surprise, at this evening’s ball, several members of the ton had approached her with remarks of approval, saying that such an act clearly demonstrated her commitment to the reformatory cause. Though the praise made her a bit uncomfortable, Talia wasn’t so noble that she didn’t foresee how this might turn opinion in favor of Brick Street.

  “The House committee meeting is next week,” she told Margate. “I hope I can count on your support.”

  “Of course. Perhaps we can discuss it in less public surroundings soon.”

  “Perhaps.” Talia eased away from him with a murmured excuse and went to find Aunt Sally.

  “Enjoying your evening, my lady?”

  Talia smiled as Lord Ridley approached, extending a glass of champagne. Unlike Margate, Ridley was a very nice man in whose company she felt comfortable. He was handsome too, with a broad smile and twinkling eyes. He’d only ever treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, which was certainly more than she could say for James Forester.

  Her heart thumped at the thought of him. She ignored the hot flash of memory, the image of her body twined with his atop her white counterpane…

  “Don’t you think so?” Ridley asked.

  “Oh, er…I beg your pardon?”

  “I said the new exhibit at the Zoological Gardens ought to be interesting.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Perhaps you will allow me to escort you one day next week?”

  Say yes!

  The order shouted in Talia’s brain. She was finished with James Forester. Ridley was a lovely man from a good family. She liked both his parents, who seemed more than pleased to accept her; Rushton would heartily approve of the match; she would gain a respectable union for herself and her family…

  A tingle of awareness ran down Talia’s spine. She glanced over Ridley’s shoulder to where James was crossing the room. Her traitorous body surged with heat at the sight of his tall, lean figure, her blood warming at the thought of his fingers exploring between her legs…

  God in heaven. She tilted her head back and downed two swallows of champagne.

  Surely James wasn’t the only man who could make her feel such things. Why, Ridley must have a similar expertise, even if he didn’t exactly inspire the flood of arousal that James did.

  Still, given some time and intimacy…of course she and Ridley would be able to generate the same kind of crackling attraction. Of course she would be aroused by the sight of his bare chest; of course he would have her moaning and gasping with one gliding touch…

  “Poisonous frogs, they said, which shoot venom,” Ridley remarked, plucking another glass from a server. “Ought to be quite fascinating.”

  “Fascinating,” Talia echoed.

  She tried to focus on him again, feeling guilty and annoyed with herself for even thinking about James in Ridley’s company, let alone remembering their hot intimacy. Very unfair to Ridley. It would be even worse to encourage his courtship while still thinking of James.

  Well. All would be fine once James left London again. God only knew when…if he would return, so Talia would be able to resume her life as it was. A life devoid of James Forester.

  “I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent in your company,” Ridley said.

  Talia felt his gaze on her face, and her stomach twisted at the sudden expectation surrounding him.

  Her heart shriveled a bit. How she wished she could, in all good conscience, even consider the idea of marrying Ridley. Numerous marriages throughout the ton were founded upon mutual respect, if not love, and for plenty of other reasons—family unions, politics, business, finances. She would not be a horrible person if she married Ridley simply because he was a kind, respectable man who would offer her a good life.

  In marriage, love didn’t have to enter the equation…as her sister-in-law Lydia might have remarked. Except that for Lydia and Alexander, it eventually had. Just as it had for Sebastian and Clara. And Aunt Sally would forever cherish the memory of her blissful union with Uncle Harold…

  “I’m sorry,” Talia said, before Ridley could continue. “My lord, I’m very grateful for your kindness, but fear I must decline further attentions.”

  A hush descended between them. Ridley blinked. Talia became aware of an immense relief coursing through her at the knowledge that she had stopped matters from progressing. That she would not merely settle for a man she didn’t love, regardless of how kind he was.

  “I do apologize,” she said again.

  “Well.” Ridley cleared his throat. “I admit that despite your beauty, I hadn’t considered courting you until Castleford suggested it. Though perhaps your…ah, maturity isn’t quite suited to—”

  “I beg your pardon, my lord?” Talia shook her head, her ears suddenly filling with a dull roaring sound. “Did you say Lord Castleford suggested you court me?”

  “Yes, my lady. I thought he suggested the same to you.”

  Talia swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “No. He did not.”

  “Oh. I hope…well, I only meant that you weren’t quite an obvious choice for me, but Castleford was quite laudatory about your virtues and suggested we might have quite a bit in common with—”

  “Excuse me, my lord.” Talia stepped away, prickles of cold erupting over her skin. “I must…if you’ll…please excuse me.”

  Leaving a rather baffled-looking Ridley behind, Talia hurried from the crowded ballroom. Her lungs squeezed tight, making it difficult to pull in a breath. Desperate for air, she went to the doors leading to the terrace and stepped out into the cool spring night.

  She pressed a hand to her chest as a riotous combination of dismay and sorrow rose inside her. Anger too, both at James and at herself for not recognizing his manipulations sooner. For secretly thinking that he would never want to see her with another man, let alone try to push her toward one…

  She should have accepted Ridley, Talia thought as angry tears sprang to her eyes. At the very least, that would have shown James that she was no longer in love with him, that she could move on with her life as easily as he had.

  “Out here alone, my lady?” a male voice inquired.

  Talia swiped at her eyes, turning to see Lord Margate leaning against the doorjamb, his fair hair gleaming in the light. Talia’s dismay intensified. A decent man had begun to court her, no matter the instigation, and she had rebuffed him because he could never offer her the type of marriage for which she secretly longed.

  Yet other men like Margate would forever look at her with that knowing gleam, making no attempt to hide the salacious nature of their thoughts. A respectable marriage might provide some protection from such speculation, but never one contrived by James Forester.

  Talia sighed. She could not win. And she was growing weary of the battle.

  “Not enjoying the ball, are you?” Margate pushed away from the doorjamb to approach her, his stride casual. “The crush, the noise, the smell, the heat…I can’t imagine why you’d want to escape all that.”

  Talia smiled without humor. She edged a little closer to the door, but didn’t bother trying to escape his presence. Though Margate had always been a bit too arrogant for her comfort, he’d been the only person to express interest in supporting her testimony to the House committee.

  “I confess I’d rather spend an evening at home myself,” he remarked.

  Talia rather doubted the truth of that statement. Another waft of cold washed over her, and she shivered. Margate glanced at her, then shrugged out of his coat to put it around her shoulders. The smell of smoke and brandy wafted from the material, and Talia slipped quickly away from his reach.

  “Just trying to be polite,” Margate muttered, tossing the coat onto the terrace railing.

  “I need to find my aunt, as I’m certain she’d like to leave soon.” Talia turned to go back inside, wincing as Margate’s hand closed ar
ound her bare arm.

  “You’d prefer the crush to my company?” he asked.

  “Yes, I would.” She tried to pull her arm from his grip. “Please let go of me.”

  A hint of alarm spiraled through her when his fingers tightened.

  “What is it you seek, Lady Talia?” he asked. “Surely you haven’t attended so many soirees this season merely at the behest of your elderly aunt or because of your foolish school. You’ve gained quite a reputation as a recluse, haven’t you? What…or rather, who…has brought you out into the world again?”

  “Certainly not the likes of you,” Talia muttered.

  “It’s your allure of mystery that intrigues me,” Margate continued. He gave her arm a tug, which forced her a few steps toward him. “Other men as well. Everyone still speaks of the passion your mother appears to have possessed, which I’m certain fires your own blood in—”

  “Let go of her.” James’s voice cut through the night air.

  Relief flooded Talia when he stepped toward them, his expression dark. He reached out to unlock Margate’s grip from Talia. “Go away before I kill you. And never touch her again. Don’t even look at her.”

  Rather than react in defense, Margate smiled with amusement. “You’re going to defend her, Castle? Word has it that she’s visited your residence without the benefit of a chaperone…or perhaps it’s to your benefit that she—”

  Margate grunted as James’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back. Talia’s heart lurched. She grabbed James by the arm to stop him from throwing another punch, his muscles rock hard beneath her grip.

  “Well.” Margate straightened, swiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “To her honor and all that sort of rot, eh, Castle?”

  “Get out,” James said through gritted teeth, his muscles bunching beneath his coat as he pulled back for a second blow.

  Margate gave Talia another smile before sauntering back into the ballroom. Talia tightened her hand on James’s arm. Her pulse raced with a combination of fear and exhilaration that he had defended her, as he always had before. James turned, his eyes simmering with anger.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Talia nodded, forcing her fingers to unclench from his arm.

  “Margate can’t do anything to hurt me, James.” She looked up into his dark eyes, wrestling with the wisdom of telling him the truth. Finally she did, because she had never given him anything less than the truth.

  “You’re the only man who can hurt me,” she said, the admission making her throat ache.

  James took a step back, as if she’d struck him. “What?”

  Talia took a breath and sought for the words to explain. “After my mother left, I hid for a long time, not wanting to contend with men like Margate. Not wanting to endure sly glances and comments. I thought…I actually believed that such things would hurt me. And I’m just now realizing that they don’t. They can’t.”

  James frowned. “I will not have such—”

  “James. They can’t hurt me because men like him don’t matter. I care nothing for Lord Margate or what he thinks of me. And his rudeness certainly can’t compare to the storm my family has already weathered.”

  The ache in her throat spread through her chest and into her heart. “But you…”

  “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “And yet you have.” The words broke apart in her mouth, bitter and cold.

  James stared at her, his breath escaping on a rush. “Don’t…don’t tell me that.”

  “Why did you want Lord Ridley to court me?” Only as she asked the question did Talia realize there was another layer to her hurt. She’d thought that Ridley was actually pursuing her. Not because James had suggested it, but because he’d wanted to.

  “Christ, Talia.” James shook his head. “I didn’t want him to. I never wanted him to. I tried to pretend I wanted him to because your aunt told me he’d be a good match for you.”

  “My aunt?”

  “She came to visit me one afternoon and delivered quite a convincing speech as to all the reasons Ridley would make an excellent husband for you. Then she asked my help in arranging a meeting.”

  Talia’s heart sank. She felt as if she were standing on a precipice with no idea how far she might fall if she took one step forward. “And you…you agreed?”

  “Of course I agreed,” James snapped. “What was the alternative? Tell your aunt that I wanted to strangle any man who even looked at you with admiration? Persuade her that no, actually, I am a better prospect than Ridley even though I’m so clearly not? What should I have done?”

  “Oh, James.” An ache expanded through Talia from the inside out. “You should have come to me.”

  James cursed, his shoulders slumping. Talia struggled to absorb the pain as she gazed at him—the gleam of light on his dark brown hair, the masculine planes of his features. His cravat had loosened, exposing the strong column of his throat that she knew felt warm against her lips and tasted like sea salt.

  A surge of longing filled her, even as she turned away from him. Her longing for him would never fully die, much as she wished it would. But she’d told him the truth, as she always did, when she’d said that he was no longer the man she once knew. That James would never have thought so little of her wishes.

  “Talia…”

  “No.”

  “You must marry me. If word is out that you’ve come to my residence alone, and if Margate—”

  “You had your chance, James.” Talia stopped, resting her hand on the side of the door to steady herself.

  You must marry me. A year ago she’d desperately wished she could say the same words to him. Of course Talia and James must marry. It could simply be no other way because they belonged together.

  Until now.

  Talia looked over her shoulder at him. She hardened her heart against the guilt in his eyes. “James, what if I did consent? How would anything change? You’re still leaving in a fortnight.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “And then I’ll feel guilty for having forced you to stay.” Talia shook her head, realizing with sadness that the fates would forever conspire to keep her and James apart.

  No. She and James would forever keep themselves apart.

  She straightened her shoulders and returned to the ballroom. He didn’t follow her.

  Talia went to find Aunt Sally and pleaded a headache as her reason to want to return home. She already knew her aunt’s motives for going to James about Lord Ridley. Despite Aunt Sally’s remarks about what constituted a blissful marriage, in the end she wanted Talia to find a husband as much as the rest of her family did.

  “You were the one who told me what I should look for in a perfect marriage,” Talia told her aunt, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. “Did you think I’d find all those things with Lord Ridley?”

  “Possibly.” Sally appeared entirely unrepentant. “Or that James would finally come to his senses about you.”

  “Nothing will ever happen with me and James, Aunt Sally.”

  For the first time, that statement quashed the flicker of hope that had never ceased burning in Talia’s heart. Once back home, she asked Soames to fetch her an empty box from the kitchen. He returned with a wooden crate, which she took up to her bedchamber. She opened the desk drawer that contained James’s letters and removed them all, dumping them unceremoniously into the crate.

  Then, hands trembling and her eyes stinging with tears, she opened her curiosity cabinet and took out all the artifacts and trinkets he’d sent to her over the years. A decade’s worth of explorations around the world, all encompassed for Talia in polished stones, bright feathers, coins, seashells, figurines, shark’s teeth, bracelets. She put them all into the box with the letters, then hefted it into her arms.

  She pushed the door open and stepped into the corridor just as Aunt Sally came puffing toward the stairs, her white hair peeking out from beneath her cap.

  “Oh,
I thought you’d gone to bed already, my dear.” Sally paused, her gaze going inquiringly to the box. “What on earth is that?”

  “Just some old things I wanted to get rid of.”

  “It looks terribly heavy. Wait here, and I’ll fetch Soames.”

  “No, I can—”

  “I was going down for a glass of milk, anyway.” Sally went toward the stairs, calling for Soames.

  A few seconds later, the footman came to take the box from Talia.

  “Put it out with the rubbish, please,” she said.

  “Yes, milady.”

  Talia fought the ache threatening to break open her chest as she watched him walk away with all her tangible memories of James contained in one old crate.

  Soames’s voice mixed with Aunt Sally’s lilt as they headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Talia returned to her room and closed the door, swallowing hard against the tears. She’d cried enough for James Forester.

  She rang for Lucy to help her out of her gown and into her night shift and dressing gown. She dismissed the maid with a word of thanks before climbing into bed. Despite the tangle of her emotions, she drifted into a welcome, dreamless sleep that restored some of her resolve. No matter what James did or didn’t do, Talia still had work to do and an obligation to Brick Street and its students. Nothing could stop her from that.

  In the morning, Lucy came in with a basket of muffins and a cup of coffee. She placed the tray on the table, then went to open the wardrobe. Talia realized she’d forgotten to put James’s coat in the crate as well. After she’d dressed and Lucy left, Talia went to the wardrobe and took out the coat.

  Suppressing the urge to run her hand over the soft wool, she tossed it onto the bed and sat at the table to eat breakfast. She’d taken one sip of coffee when there was a knock on the door.

  “Talia?”

  “Come in, Aunt Sally.”

  “Talia, come quickly.” Her aunt bustled in, her eyes bright with excitement. She clapped her hands together. “We’ve a surprise visitor.”

  “Who?” A sudden apprehension filled Talia.

  Sally smiled. “Come downstairs and see.”

  Talia pushed her chair back just as Aunt Sally hurried to ring for the maid. Sally paused when she saw the man’s coat lying on Talia’s bed.