The Seduction of an English Lady

by Cathy Maxwell

“Wait a minute. We will have a marriage of convenience, but not one ‘in name only.’ ”

  “What’s the difference?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Sex.”

  He could feel the heat of her blush even in the dark. “Why?” she begged, and he almost pitied her.

  “I want children,” he said.

  She pulled her crossed arms closer to her body. “I do too,” she whispered so softly that he could have mistaken her words.

  “There’s only one way to have children,” he told her. He reached out and touched her arm. She stiffened but did not move away. Gently, he stroked his fingers back and forth on her arm, not threatening her but not leaving her either. “We may not be as bad for each other as you anticipate.”

  He could almost hear her heart pounding against her chest. She was either afraid or attracted. He took another step toward her. She didn’t move. A part of him warned this was madness and he should leave well enough alone.

  He couldn’t.

  Her gaze came up to meet his. Her eyes were shiny in the dark. Carefully, he brought a hand up to brush the softness of her cheek. He wondered how long her hair was. Did it reach midway down her back? Did it curl on the ends? What did it smell like?

  He leaned closer for a sniff. She tensed. “This isn’t wise,” she said.

  “The marriage? Or that I have an urge to seal our troth with a kiss?”

  “Both.”

  For a moment they stood, frozen in desire…and then she started to break away, but Colin wouldn’t let her.

  He caught her arm. “Rosalyn, you had a reason for coming here. I have a reason for wanting to marry you. But there is also this attraction between us. It is not such a bad thing between a man and a woman.”

  “You don’t know,” she said, and at last he heard the fear in her voice. “People hurt those who care for them.”

  “I won’t harm you.”

  “I won’t let you,” she countered. She brought her hands up to his chest to push him away, but she stopped. For a second, her right hand rested over his heart. It was as if she’d felt its beat and could not move.

  “See?” he said gently. “I’m flesh and blood. I have dreams, desires, hungers…just like you. Trust me, Rosalyn. Trust me even a little.”

  He would have kissed her then, but as he bent down, she slipped out of his arms as smoothly as if she’d been turned to mist.

  She moved beyond the sheltering protection of the tree. The fog drifted around the hem of her skirts. “We’ll have children,” she said, “but not until I’m ready.”

  “Of course—”

  “No easy promise. I must have your word.”

  Colin felt a flash of temper. “Why? So you can make me jig to your tune?”

  “You want the Commons seat. Is this so much to ask?”

  No, what he really wanted was her. He could face that now. He wanted to be in her. To feel, taste, touch, and experience every inch of her.

  He was also aware that the price she asked might be higher than he was willing to pay. The devil with it. “When do we marry?” he demanded.

  “You haven’t promised.”

  “To what? To not force myself upon you? Very well, I promise. I’ve never forced myself on a woman in my life. I won’t start with my wife.”

  His words didn’t seem to satisfy her, but what choice did she have? “I don’t care when we marry,” she said. “You decide, and you’ll have to tell George, too. I’m certain he will be irritated that you did not ask him first…if he remembers my name.”

  “I’ll handle him,” Colin assured her. “I’ll tell him that when I took possession of Maiden Hill, its occupant took possession of my heart.”

  “He won’t believe that,” she said flatly, and he realized that her dowdy, sparrow-colored wardrobe and pulled-back hair was a picture of how she saw herself. And he didn’t understand why.

  Of course, tonight her hair wasn’t straight and flat. The mist brought out curls, springy, tight curls.

  “Let’s elope,” he suggested unexpectedly.

  “What?” She practically stumbled backward.

  “Elope,” he said gently, following her. In fact, the more he thought of it, the more he liked the idea.

  “Have you taken leave of your senses?” she demanded, moving around the tree away from him.

  Colin stopped. “Possibly.” He held out his hands. “But why not? We’re not far from the Scottish border. We could be there by morning.”

  “Think of the scandal.” She tucked her arms in to hold her shawl tight. “People like us don’t elope.”

  “People like us do whatever we wish. Besides, it wouldn’t be scandalous. It would be romantic. There would be people who would be surprised, but haven’t you ever wanted to shock people, even once in your life?”

  “People won’t be shocked. They will think we are foolish.”

  “Then let’s be foolish,” he urged her.

  “What of your brother?”

  Now there she had him. Matt wouldn’t be pleased. Colin knew it. Matt would want the banns announced and a respectful period observed before a wedding.

  Whereas Colin was the opposite. He answered to no one. And he liked the idea of eloping. It was daring, bold, and immediate. If they waited for a church wedding, Rosalyn might come to her senses and refuse him.

  “Matt will understand,” he decided.

  “It’s a foolish idea, and I’ve never done anything foolish,” she vowed.

  “More the pity you,” he said. “As for me, I’ve done many foolish things, but this may be the wisest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “To elope?” she demanded incredulously, but he sensed she could be persuaded when she asked, “How can you say that?”

  “Rosalyn,” Colin chided, “think about it. The gossips’ tongues will wag whatever we do. Let’s give them something to talk about. Let’s send them into a tizzy of gossip. After this, anything we do will not be a surprise to them. Besides, my back is starting to ache from sleeping on my brother’s floor. I want to be at Maiden Hill, in my own bed.”

  Still she shook her head, but he sensed her indecision. From a distance came the sound of a horse’s hooves. “That must be John,” she said. “He’s here to take me home.” She took a step toward the road, but Colin hurried to stop her. He caught her hand and laced his fingers in hers.

  “I’ll come for you in three hours,” he said. “By morning, you can be a new person. Mrs. Colin Mandland.”

  “I like my own name. I like my title,” she said a bit desperately.

  “Yours is a courtesy title,” he averred. “In time, I will earn a new title for you, one that is yours alone.” He played on her ambition. He was excited about the adventure.

  “I—” she started, but Colin cut her off by placing his fingers over her lips.

  “No, for once, Rosalyn, be daring. Don’t worry about what people think. You came to me tonight. You want this marriage. There is no reason to hesitate.”

  Her wide eyes studied him, and he felt this moment was magic. This moment would determine his destiny.

  “Rosalyn, for once, do what is unexpected.”

  His words found their mark. That adorable chin of hers came up, and he knew he had her. He removed his fingers and she said, “I will be waiting for you at Maiden Hill.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said. “Pack light,” he ordered in a low voice.

  She nodded and started for the servant and cart waiting for her. At the gate, she turned. “Midnight?”

  “It’s the best time for all new endeavors,” he assured her.

  She hurried to the cart. Colin watched her leave. She pulled her shawl up over her head, the gesture both elegant and feminine.

  “Good night, my lady,” he whispered. The thought struck him that he seemed doomed to be attracted to women who had ice for their hearts and ambition in their veins.

  But this time, he was getting what he wanted, and he wasn’t one to overly worry himself about the f
uture. Instead, he did something he hadn’t done since boyhood—he rolled a somersault, right there in the grass of his sister-in-law’s garden.

  The front door flew open. His nephews and niece crowded the doorway.

  “Uncle,” Emma said, “did you fall down?”

  He sat up and laughed. “No, sweetling, I never fall down. Never ever.” Then he entertained them even more by doing a cartwheel, and they all tumbled out of the door to play with him.

  Colin couldn’t wait until midnight. He was going to be a Member of Parliament.

  And there was something else to be gained, too, something of almost equal importance—he was going to make love to Lady Rosalyn.

  He stood on his hands, and the children clapped.

  Chapter Eight

  Sitting in the pony cart, having a moment of panic, Rosalyn heard children’s laughter floating on the mist. She looked back at the rectory and wondered if her imagination was playing tricks on her. What in God’s name had she agreed to?

  On the one hand, she was greatly relieved she would not be leaving Maiden Hill. On the other, not only was she marrying Colonel Mandland but she was also eloping. She could hear her aunts’ voices now.

  “Colonel Mandland seems a nice fellow,” John observed, a mouthful of conversation for the usually silent gardener.

  “Ummhmmm,” Rosalyn answered.

  She knew all the servants were curious as to what the status was between her and the colonel. When Covey had returned alone this evening, there had probably been a good deal of speculation.

  Was there no place safe from gossip? And what would happen on the morrow when everyone learned she had run away?

  Rosalyn paused, struck by the realization that ever since her father’s death, she had wanted to do exactly that—run away. After all, wasn’t that what her mother had done?

  John turned the cart onto Maiden Hill’s drive, and Rosalyn was struck by what a bravely foolhardy thing she was about to do.

  And deep inside she discovered, if the truth be known, that he was right: she rather liked it.

  Well, there was still the pesky problem of tying herself to Colonel Mandland for the rest of her life…but he wasn’t such a bad sort. In fact, he seemed able to understand her when she didn’t always understand herself. What had he whispered? “For once, do what is unexpected.”

  John pulled the cob to a halt in front of the door and Rosalyn climbed out of the cart, feeling herself a changed woman from the one who had left the house mere hours ago.

  “Thank you, John,” she said.

  “Cook put Mrs. Covington to bed. She’s sitting up with her.”

  “I knew all would be taken care of.” She took a step toward the house, and then stopped. “In fact, John, thank you for all that you’ve done for me over the years.”

  John ducked his head, embarrassed. She reached out and gave his hand a pat. “Go on, put the pony up and seek your bed.”

  She hurried into the house. A candle had been left burning by the door for her. She picked it up and climbed the stairs. Her first stop was Covey’s room. Cook sat in a chair beside the bed, quietly snoring. Covey’s tired, frail figure was under the covers.

  Gently, Rosalyn woke Cook. “How is she?” Rosalyn asked the servant.

  “I gave her a drop of laudanum. This is the first time she didn’t fight me over it, and she went to sleep like a child.”

  “Good. Thank you, Cook. Why don’t you go on to your bed now? John should be finished with the pony.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Cook raised her bulk out of the chair. She shuffled toward the door, but then stopped. “He’s a good man, Colin Mandland is,” she said almost defensively. “He’ll treat you well, and he isn’t hard on the eyes. Then Mrs. Covington can stay because this is her home. It’s where she belongs.” And then, knowing she’d overstepped the class boundaries between them, she added, “Begging your pardon, my lady.”

  Rosalyn sat in the chair Cook had vacated. The seat was still warm. “No offense is taken, Cook. I know you care for Covey as much as I do.”

  “I care for you, too, my lady.” She ducked her head as if she’d said too much, dipped a hasty curtsey, and left the room.

  Rosalyn sat in the silence a moment before turning to Covey. “I’m going to do it,” she said to her friend. “You rest easy and well. I will take care of both of us.” She hesitated a beat and then added, “Cook is right. He’s not such a bad man. Perhaps he’s not like your Alfred, but he isn’t like Father either…or that riding instructor. Did you know, I used to believe I didn’t know the riding instructor, but yesterday, a memory came to me, and I knew I had met him. I liked him very much as a child, until mother ran away with him. He was a nice man. Not as handsome as Colonel Mandland, but attractive enough in his own way.” She would never have admitted such a thing a few weeks ago. It would have been disloyal to her father.

  But she found the ability to tell Covey now. Perhaps because she was sleeping? Rosalyn didn’t know. She only knew that at this moment, it didn’t hurt to remember the past.

  And why not? She was creating a future.

  Rising, she leaned over and kissed Covey’s brow. “Sleep well. Tomorrow everything will be fine,” she promised and tiptoed from the room.

  Packing didn’t take long; choosing what to wear to elope did.

  This would be the first trip in her memory where she wasn’t being passed off from one relative to another. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and was struck at how much younger she looked. Of course, after spending so much time in the mist, her hair was a mess…but it did look better worn looser and without so much restraint.

  She was also tired of the drab colors of her wardrobe. Brown was not a happy color. She searched through her clothes and settled on a forest green day dress with a matching pelisse. The dress had a matching high-brimmed bonnet with lace trim. It was the most fashionable thing she owned.

  Her portmanteau packed, she sat on the edge of her bed and waited. The minutes passed slowly. She looked out the window into the night. The moon had finally managed to escape the clouds, and there was a soft, silvery light on the landscape below. Even the fog had returned to its lair. She wondered fancifully if Colonel Mandland would climb the trellis to her window. The picture in her mind amused her….

  Something woke Rosalyn. It sounded like rain. She sat up, frowning at finding herself dressed and even wearing her bonnet. Then she groggily remembered she was eloping. Rain would not make an elopement easy. Or was she dreaming? She could see the moon. There would be no moon if there was rain. Then why did she think it was—?

  A shower of pebbles hit the window. She got up and hurried over. Colonel Mandland stood in the drive. His beast of a horse, hooked up to that ridiculously flimsy phaeton, was grazing on her shrubs—again.

  She opened the window.

  “What are you doing up there?” he demanded. “I’ve been knocking at the door for almost an hour. Or were you expecting something dramatic, like my climbing the trellis to your window?”

  She realized with a start she had been dreaming of just such a thing. What was wrong with her? She never dreamed, and yet, ever since this man had entered her life, she’d had the strangest, most vivid dreams.

  “You did, didn’t you?” he accused. “Well, I’m not. The thing is flimsy, and I detest heights. Besides, we’re both beyond that. There is no angry papa to watch out for.”

  “How do you know so much about elopements?” she asked, still cranky from just waking.

  “Rumor. Now hurry. I want to be in Scotland by first light.”

  Definitely not the way to start an elopement. They sounded more like they were already married. Rosalyn yawned. “Perhaps we could wait until morning.” Perhaps marrying him was not the best move. In the light of day, she could think better.

  “All right,” he said irritably. “I’ll climb up to the window. But if the trellis breaks, I’ll bust my bum.” He started toward the wall when, with a flash of irritation,
she felt guilty.

  “No, I’ll be down,” she said and slammed the window shut. The candle had practically burned down to the stub. She picked it up with one hand, hoisted her bag with the other, and stomped downstairs. She opened the front door. The colonel stood right there, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb. He really was very handsome.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “I need to write a note to Covey,” Rosalyn suddenly remembered.

  “Couldn’t you have done that while you were waiting for me to come?”

  “Are you always this peevish?” she threw over her shoulder as she carried the candle into the sitting room to the secretary by the window. Paper and ink were in a drawer.

  “Yes,” he answered, “when I have someplace to go. I’m anxious to get on with it.”

  “My bag is by the door.” She sat down and dipped pen in ink, but the words didn’t flow easily. There was so much to explain. When Covey went to bed, Rosalyn was barely speaking to Colonel Mandland, and now she was eloping with him. How to make sense of all that had transpired?

  “We can’t take all of whatever you have in this bag,” he said from the doorway.

  “We must,” Rosalyn answered. “I only packed the rarest of essentials.”

  He held up the bag and then pretended it weighed a hundred stone. She frowned. “It’s not that much. Put it under my feet if need be.”

  “There is no ‘under your feet,’ ” he answered. “The phaeton is not designed to carry luggage.”

  She’d seen it out the window hitched up to his horse but just now realized the import. “You must be jesting. We can’t drive to Scotland in that vehicle.”

  “We are.”

  “It’s night. You’ll run us off the road in that thing.”

  He made an impatient sound. “I drove from London to Lancashire at night. I can certainly take us a few hours up to Scotland.” He came into the room and dropped the bag on the settee. “We can leave this behind. We’ll be back before you need it.”

  Rosalyn sighed. His high-handedness didn’t sit well, but she was in no mood to argue. She had to finish her note.

  He crossed over to the desk. “What have you written so far?”