He’d seen her with the letter in her hand as he’d been struggling to impose order on his wayward feelings. A small spurt of anger took hold of him now as he thought of it. How dare she read his correspondence—and then abuse him! His first impulse when he’d opened his sister’s letter had been to throw it away. Why hadn’t he done just that? The answer was clear—because he hadn’t expected anyone, least of all Lucinda, to come snooping. He could kill Georgina, he could kill Lucinda Lacey. Accusing him of being a womaniser! That was his father, not him. He had a fondness for women, it was true. He would even admit to being a dangerous flirt on occasions—he had the scars to prove it. But a womaniser!
And why had a stupid letter from his interfering sister so enraged her? She knew his family’s intentions and knew, too, that their efforts to find a countess for him were doomed to failure. Had she thought that Miss Hayward might be different? But why? And why did it matter to her? He recalled that she had asked him before whether a potential bride awaited him at Merry’s. He had thought it an odd question, but now it did not appear quite so odd. Not odd at all if Lucinda was moved by jealousy. His thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt. Jealousy suggested love. But that was not possible; she did not love him. She was powerfully attracted, he knew, and she felt immense gratitude to him for rescuing both her and her brother. But love—that was a very different matter.
He thought back to their times together: the laughter, the quarrels, the sheer enjoyment of being together, and wondered. The tears in the garden—was it possible that they had been for him after all? The glow on her face yesterday when she first saw him riding towards her—was that love? He shook his head at the thought. Love was torment and she would be well advised to follow his example and avoid it at all costs. Yet now he felt as miserable as if he did love. He hated that their friendship should end on such a sour note, if you could call it friendship. In truth it had been a great deal more. It was a great deal more, for his arms felt newly empty and his heart sore.
He could not go to Lord Merrington’s. He had no wish to fight off the attentions of his sisters’ protégées. At the best of times, it would have been a wretched business, but with his mind filled with Lucinda, it was impossible. He would return to London instead. He strode to the bell to summon Lynton and then remembered that it did not work. He cursed the Four Feathers and all its iniquities. He would have to go in search of the valet, but within the hour he would have put this hated piece of England behind him. He walked to the door and then back to the grime-ridden window. He stood irresolute for several minutes. If he went, he would never see her again. How could he bear that? Perhaps if they had not met yesterday, if they had not quarrelled so badly... She should have believed him when he’d said that he had no interest in Miss Hayward. Or any other woman. It was the truth. It was unlikely that he would ever again feel interest in another woman. The realisation hit him with sudden blinding clarity: the only woman he wanted was Lucinda, troublesome, frustrating, adorable Lucinda. He could not live without her.
He could not live without her and for the first time in years he felt the burden he’d carried float free. He was dazed, filled with exhilaration by a new sense of liberty. A barrier had broken and the memories that oppressed him, the guilt, the dishonour, began their slow dissolve. He had found the courage to love and Lucinda was his heart and soul. He knew what he had to do: he would go to her and offer himself. He might not be a prince among husbands, but he would be the truest lover she could ever have.
Lynton had his head around the door, an apprehensive expression on his face.
‘Why are you looking as blue as megrim?’ Jack was filled with gladness and wanted the world to celebrate.
The valet seemed in a quandary as to whether to speak or not. Ever since they’d come to Verney, his master had been acting out of character. It would be better for them all, Lynton considered, if they travelled immediately to Lord Merrington’s. Two uncomfortable nights at the Four Feathers were more than enough.
‘I was wondering, your lordship—Fielding and I were wondering,’ he corrected himself, ‘whether or not we might be leaving today.’ He looked hopefully at Jack.
‘I’m aware that you both consider I’ve taken leave of my senses and you’ll be relieved to know that we will shortly be saying goodbye to this fly-blown place.’
‘We’re leaving for Lord Merrington’s, sir? Today?’ The valet was trying not to sound too eager.
‘Not Lord Merrington’s. Not today, not any day.’
‘But...’
‘No buts. Now brush the new blue superfine. I am going out and despite my surroundings I don’t wish to look a hayseed.’
Lynton sighed inwardly and fetched the clothes brush. He knew exactly where the earl was bound and he feared for the outcome.
Chapter Eleven
Lucinda was bent low over a flower bed. A small bush had been uprooted and she was making ready to replant it. Her movements were deliberate, as though by attending to every detail she could block out the world. Rapt concentration left her unaware of the figure winding its way upwards towards the house. The earl had taken a little-used path from the village and was clambering from terrace to terrace when, halfway up a flight of steps, he caught sight of her.
‘Was it a fox?’
She spun round and her face filled with confusion. He was the last person she had expected to see and it was painful to meet him again. But she had to answer.
Her voice seemed to her to come from a long way away. ‘I’m not sure. It might be a fox, but sometimes it’s a farmer’s dog that strays. My uncle will be filled with murder if he sees this destruction. I’m repairing the damage as quickly as I can.’
‘Could Latimer not do it for you?’
‘He would volunteer to carry my uncle’s shotgun.’
She finished shovelling earth and straightened up. She could no longer avoid looking directly at him and her lips creased into a smile without her realising. He was hardly dressed for gardening, but his face and figure gladdened her eyes. She was a fool, she chided herself. She had only to see him and she was lost.
‘Lucinda, I’ve come...’
‘No, don’t say a word. I have to grovel.’ She should not have spied on his private correspondence, she knew, whatever the provocation, and she had to get her apology out. ‘I was so terribly in the wrong yesterday, Jack. I had no right to read your letter and no right to take you to task for your conduct. After you saved Rupert, it was unforgivable!’
‘I must disagree with you,’ he said quietly. ‘But can we talk somewhere that is not quite so open to prying eyes?’
‘The conservatory is near—that is, if you do not mind.’ She was very conscious of its association and a blush began to creep across her cheeks.
‘It has only happy memories for me.’ The glimmer of a mischievous smile lit his face and he offered her his arm. ‘Unlike the Towers, which I confess does not improve on re-acquaintance.’ He looked over his shoulder at the gloomy mansion hovering in the distance.
‘I told you the house was ugly—do you remember? Admit that I was right!’ If they could keep the conversation unexceptional, she thought, she would manage this difficult visit.
They had reached the conservatory and it was warm and welcoming after the chill of the garden. Jack remained standing, as though he wanted to speak his words as quickly as possible. ‘I am sorry that we quarrelled, Lucinda. After what has passed between us, you have a right to be interested in what I do, every right. I should not have ripped up at you.’
‘And I should have believed you when you said that you were not aware of the delights in store at Lord Merrington’s!’ She tried to speak lightly, but it came out askew and, to cover the awkward moment, she beckoned him towards the chairs which overlooked the park.
‘They are delights I could do without, but I seem incapable of controll
ing my sisters.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘Georgina is unquenchable in her search for the right woman.’
‘Perhaps she wants your happiness and feels that you need help to find it.’
‘It is more like that she wants an heir for the Frensham title. But even if I were to think her benign, she behaves stupidly. She cannot seem to realise that my happiness is in my own hands and that I will be the one to find the woman who suits me.’
She took a minute to digest his words. Was he looking for a partner after all? The notion flew in the face of everything he had ever said and she could not stop herself blurting out, ‘But I thought there was no such paragon. Have you not vowed to die unmarried?’
‘I did, but lately I’ve been made to reconsider.’
‘But you were adamant. The woman you were once to wed...’
‘I spoke truly—at the time. I was still plagued in my mind and my heart by thoughts of the past.’
She looked perplexed, finding it difficult to accept his words. ‘Are you saying that you are now willing to marry?’ It hardly seemed possible.
‘I believe I am.’
She felt a sharp stab of pain. Of course he would marry. His refusal to choose a wife was always a sentiment that would pass. She swallowed hard. No doubt the company at Lord Merrington’s would be the first to help him in his new ambition. There would be plenty of choice.
‘But it is not to be Miss Haywood, I presume.’
‘Indeed no. But I hope it will be someone of whom my sisters approve.’
The pain twisted and turned inside her so that her whole body felt racked. ‘I see. It is someone you have already met?’ How was she managing to continue to talk?
He nodded. ‘I am hopeful that the lady herself will be willing. I have not yet asked her.’
‘Then you must do so without delay,’ she said brightly, jumping up from the chair and starting towards the door.
He shot out his hand and grabbed her by the arm. ‘I will need your help.’
He was impossible. Need her help to propose to a woman she already hated! ‘I cannot think that I can be of any assistance to you in the matter,’ she said coldly.
‘You are wrong.’ And taking her hand in his, he went down on one knee. ‘Will you marry me, Lucinda Lacey?’
She paled. ‘Is this an unkind joke? Not one word of love has ever passed your lips, Jack—and why else would you wish to marry?’
‘Why else?’ he repeated, rising from his knees. ‘What other reason could there be? It has taken me time to see what has been staring me in the face. You are a beautiful woman and I desire you greatly. But you are also a girl who has touched my heart in a way that I could never have imagined.’
‘What are you saying?’ Her pulse was thudding uncontrollably. Was she really hearing him aright?
‘I love you! I am as astonished as you! But it happens to be true. I have found it impossible to leave here—you can see that. I pretended to myself that I needed to stay in the neighbourhood while Fielding went to London, but the truth was very different. I could have stayed elsewhere, I could have hired a coach and taken myself to Lord Merrington’s. I remained in Verney, in that miserably uncomfortable inn, because I could not bear to leave you. But I refused to admit the truth—yesterday when I had you in my arms again, I needed to quarrel to allow myself to walk away. But it didn’t work. I am still here, still unable to say goodbye.’
She wanted so much to believe him, but could she? Could a man who had forsworn love for so long really want to be with her for ever?
‘You were so sure you would never love again,’ she said uncertainly.
‘I have been blind, Lucinda, and only now can I see clearly. I think I loved you from the moment I saw you—even in that most dreadful of outfits! But I resisted. I fought against it—you have no idea how hard—but today a lightening bolt struck and made me see that I would never be happy without you, that without you the world makes no sense.’
His words sketched happiness into the very air, but she found herself stricken, unable to respond. I must be in shock, she thought. Jack’s expression assumed an uncharacteristic nervousness and he reached out for her hands and brought her close to him.
‘I know that your brother means everything to you and that you had thought to stay with him for the rest of your life, but do you think you might change your mind? Is it possible that you could love me back?’
There was a silence so complete that they could hear each other breathing. Then she shook her head sharply as though to dislodge the confusion of thoughts and a small joyous laugh told him what he wanted to know.
‘Say it,’ he said urgently. ‘I still need to hear the words.’
‘I love you, Jack, I love you more than life itself, but...’
‘But?’
‘I had thought never to wed. And neither had you.’
‘It will take getting used to, I admit, but we have all the time in the world. I want very much to marry you, but I will not press for your answer. Now come to me.’
Without hesitation, she walked into his arms and felt the heat of his body surround her with its invitation. His hands were in her hair, pins pattering to the ground, as he buried his fingers in the riot of her curls. He was kissing her again and again, each touch of his lips sweeter than the one before. A slow heat began to uncurl and suffuse her entire body. They clung to each other, weak with desire, their kisses ever deepening until they crumpled to the floor, desperate for love. She scrabbled at the buttons of his waistcoat, tore at his shirt, fumbled with the fastenings to his breeches, anything that prevented her touching his naked skin. Her dress and petticoats fell to the same treatment. In moments she was lying body to body with him, stretched full length on the blankets that had been fetched to keep an invalid warm. She was no invalid. She felt powerful and female and free—free to love this man as he deserved. For he loved her!
She raised her arms and clutched him tightly, stroking his shoulders, stroking the slim waist, the taut buttocks, sensing the muscles contract beneath her touch. His lips nibbled at her ear, then swooped downwards tasting her as he went—trailing kisses down her cheek, her neck, her shoulders, until his mouth found her breasts once more. A small moan escaped her as his tongue nibbled and licked her into aching delight. She was a mass of sensation now, sinking her fingers into his hair, writhing beneath him, arching her body towards his. It would not be possible, she thought, to feel greater desire. But it was. As his lips slowly spread kisses downwards, her legs grew boneless and her stomach tensed in exquisite anticipation, and then he was there, kissing her into frenzy until she called out for him, all of him. He fitted himself to her and she could forbear no longer. She grabbed his shoulders and brought him fiercely down upon her.
* * *
They lay for long minutes safe in each other’s arms, exhausted and half delirious. Eventually he nuzzled her neck and she stroked his body in response. Then his hands were stroking her in return, and slowly and relentlessly awakening her to renewed passion. Beneath his hot, hard lips she felt herself again dissolving into nothingness, her body instinctively spreading itself to his touch. Once more desire blazed its wild path through them both—they must be together, nothing else was possible.
At length a soft, whispered sigh escaped her and caused him to murmur, ‘All is well with you?’
‘All is well, Jack,’ she breathed, her body satiated with love.
But the autumn dusk was encroaching and he felt her shiver and pulled the blankets more closely around them. ‘We must be sensible,’ he said at last. ‘It is time we left. Any minute now Latimer will be doing his rounds, will he not, and I shall wither at his glance.’
‘That would never do,’ she said saucily and wriggled out of his arms and reached for her clothes. They dressed hastily, aware now of the approaching twilight and the likelihood
that one of the gardeners, if not Latimer, would be with them at any moment, key in hand.
‘Am I tidy?’ she asked as she pulled on her slippers.
‘You look as if you have fallen through a hayrick.’
‘So do you.’
‘Then now is not the time to confront Sir Francis.’
Her eyes shone. ‘You wish to see my uncle?’
‘Probably for the first time in our acquaintance! But it will have to wait until tomorrow. I shall need to look my very best—I will ask Lynton to pay special attention to my clothes. There is a slight chance then that I might recover my standing with Sir Francis.’
‘And that is important?’ she teased.
‘My entire happiness depends on it. I must persuade him to accept me as a suitor for your hand. I intend to woo you with the greatest vigour—until you agree to marry me.’
‘I must not agree too quickly, then. But don’t fear Uncle Francis. I confess I would prefer him not to take you in permanent dislike, but remember that, at one and twenty, I am my own mistress.’
He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her soundly on the lips. ‘I do remember and I thank heaven for it. I am not at all sure that I will be successful in convincing him I am sufficiently virtuous to deserve his niece.’
She gurgled. ‘Poor Uncle Francis! We have conducted ourselves shamefully. Lynton will have to work particularly hard.’
Unmasking Miss Lacey Page 17