Secret Lessons with the Rake
Page 23
She shook her head, tears starting again as she held out a hand, as if to ward him off. ‘I can’t, Christopher. If you care for me at all, please, please, don’t entreat me further.’
‘Just one more thing. Having you depart so abruptly shocked me into realising how much I’ve let myself be constrained by Society’s evaluation of your character.’
She gave him a sad smile. ‘You don’t think I’m good enough—to be a wife. Which I completely under—’
‘No!’ he interrupted. ‘I wronged you by doing that. When I thought deeply about it, I realised I don’t believe in Society’s rules. With all you have suffered and triumphed over, you are worthy of the highest honour and greatest dignity. I apologise for taking so long to fully comprehend that, but I do now, with all my heart.’
With that, he dropped to one knee. ‘Ellie Parmenter, née Miss Tess Wanstead, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘Wh-what did you say?’
He grinned, amused, but with his heart overflowing with tenderness at her patent disbelief. ‘My dearest Ellie, I asked you to marry me. Don’t you feel it, too, my darling? The absolute truth that we belong together, now, for ever?’
A cascade of emotions passed over her expressive face—shock, disbelief, incredulity, then a trickle of tears as the reality of his proposal sank in.
‘Say “yes”, my darling,’ he urged, ‘and make me the happiest man in England.’
Then he saw what he’d braced himself to fight—dismay, caution, and a brief flash of anguish before she submerged all emotion beneath a polite mask.
‘Marry you!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, my! That’s not at all what I expected!’
‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘Had you still been in my bed when I woke this morning, to my deepest shame, I might have made you the sort of offer you were expecting. But I’ve come to my senses now. I’m making you the only offer you deserve—an honourable one.’
‘I would rather say you’ve lost your senses! Marry me? Whatever can you be thinking? Granted, we shared a...a magnificent night together, but with a woman like me, that hardly requires marriage! Such a union would spell disaster for your future, and for mine.’
‘Not at all. I’d hardly be the first politician to marry a woman not received by Society. Fox did so, and had a highly successful career. Society’s opinion carries no weight in the world of politics, which is the only world I care about. That, and being happy—which will only be possible if you agree to spend your life with me.’
She pulled her trembling hands free, refusing to meet his gaze. ‘I suppose I might be willing to—to risk marriage, if I truly loved you. I don’t wish to be unkind, but...I’m afraid I don’t. Oh, I count you as a very dear friend, a superb lover, but I have my own needs and my goals for the school, while you have yours in Parliament. You need a wife who can assist you with those, as I never could. Whereas I...I would need the freedom to move on to another man, once the passion between us cooled. So, though I thank you for the honour of your offer, I must refuse.’
He might have been cast down by her denial of loving him—except for the bit about moving on to another man. Which was so unbelievable, so completely a contradiction of everything she had vowed for the future, he knew she must be lying. And why would she do that, unless she was trying to be noble, refusing the man she loved because she believed marrying him would destroy his career?
She’d stated that conviction many times. It would take some time to dissuade her of it.
‘You’re sure you won’t reconsider?’
‘Absolutely not. I hope we can remain...casual friends, but I’m afraid I can’t offer anything more.’
She sat with her head bowed now, refusing to meet his gaze. Her body drooped, fatigue in every line, while her clenched hands told him she was hanging on to composure by a thread.
Compassion filled him. Though he would prefer to argue further, take her in his arms and force her here and now to recognise the bond between them, he knew such an action would bring her anguish rather than comfort. She’d been attacked, fled into the night, seduced him, sent him away for his own good, and then been blindsided by a marriage proposal all within the space of a few hours. He wanted to woo and win her, not cudgel her into submission when she was distraught and exhausted.
He wouldn’t harangue her any more.
Today.
‘Very well, if that is your final answer, I won’t take up any more of your time. Goodbye, Ellie.’
Tears came to her eyes again as she nodded quickly. She raised her head to fasten her gaze on his face, looking so hungry, desperate and despairing, he had to fight again not to embrace her. ‘Goodbye, Christopher,’ she whispered.
Discouraged, but by no means defeated, Christopher left her. As he’d learned in Parliament, when heated emotions preclude any chance for compromise, there is no point in berating the opposition further. Better to retreat, find another approach, and try again later.
But if Ellie thought he’d given up at the first check, she didn’t know anything about the man who’d battled Tory recalcitrants for the last ten years.
Chapter Twenty-One
Despairingly certain she had done her work well, and that Christopher was lost to her for ever, a listless Ellie reclined on the sofa in Maggie’s sitting room the following morning, attempting to read the paper. She’d scanned the same article three times when, after a knock, Dawkins entered.
Scolding herself for the hope that had flared within, she was trying to compose herself when the man, a rare smile on his lips, walked over to her. ‘This came for you, Miss Parmenter,’ he said, holding out a wrapped package.
A package with a single hothouse white rose tied on top. Opening it, Ellie found a volume of Shakespeare’s love poems, bound in beautiful leather with gilt lettering that would have excited Artis’s envy. Inside was a note—from Christopher, addressed to ‘My dear Miss Wanstead’, telling her he intended to call upon her later.
A white rose—symbol of beauty and purity. A classic book, with devotion its theme. Perfectly acceptable gifts, laden with double meanings, for a gentleman intent on wooing a respectable maiden.
Amusement warred with anguish. It appeared he hadn’t taken her refusal as final. Though it must be. Even if it were true that marrying her would not ruin his political career, such a union would hardly be as advantageous for him as wedding a respectable maiden with a large dowry and important family contacts.
Still, she wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to maintain a façade of disinterest, were he to continue to press her—when she wanted him and loved him so desperately.
If he did call, she would tell Dawkins not to admit him.
Decision made, she leaned forward in her chair, cradling the soft leather volume in her lap as she inhaled the sweet scent of the rose—sweet as the love that filled her, and as soon to be lost for ever.
* * *
Morning turned to afternoon with no interruption, Giles being away from home at a meeting, Maggie feeling unwell and keeping to her bed. After taking a light nuncheon on a tray in the sitting room, Ellie walked to the library and browsed the shelves, looking for something to take her mind off the constant wonder over whether Christopher would in fact seek her out.
Dawkins already knew to deny her, if he did appear. Would that refusal be enough to discourage him for good?
She hoped so, for with every new entreaty, her resolve to resist him weakened. Even now, she had to shut her mind to the insidious voices murmuring that he knew the political world better than she did, and if he felt marrying her wouldn’t ruin his political future, she should believe him. Smash down the euphoria that kept trying to rise up at the notion that he did in fact think her good enough to become his wife. For if she truly believed marrying him would not cause him harm...
Were Maggie not so ill, she might have asked her opinion. But after the maid told her Maggie could scarcely lift her head without being overcome by nausea, she didn’t want to intrude.
With an exasperated sigh, she grabbed a volume at random and turned to take it back to the sitting room. Then gasped, to find Christopher standing on the library’s threshold.
‘I...I told Dawkins to send you away.’
‘He tried to. I ignored him. And since I have about ten stone and twenty years on him, he eventually gave way.’
Not asking her permission, he advanced into the room. Attired, she couldn’t help notice, in immaculate day wear, as if he’d just stepped from the pages of a gentleman’s magazine, that thick gold hair she longed to run her fingers through carefully brushed back, and those eyes—ah, those eyes that always sent a ripple of longing through her focused on her with such yearning, she could hardly breathe.
Without noticing how she got there, she found herself seated. ‘Though I appreciate the gifts, they were really unnecessary. You don’t need any more practice. As I said in my note, you’ve quite mastered the art of courtship.’
‘Quite obviously I haven’t, if the maiden I wish to court refused to receive me. I need a good deal more practice to win the heart of the lady I love above all else. Above career, if it came to that—but it won’t. Above friends and family, should it come to that—but it won’t. For they already love you, almost as much as I do. And they would rejoice, if you would do me the honour of accepting my hand.’
Finding it harder and harder to resist, she said, ‘You can’t know your friends would accept it.’
‘But I can. I told Giles and Maggie last night that I intended to marry you. They were both delighted. Maggie even kissed me. And if Giles approves, as focused as he is on getting our Reform Bill through the Lords, you can be assured he doesn’t think marrying you will impair my effectiveness in Parliament.’
The hope she’d been ferociously squelching rebounded, fighting her attempt to control it. ‘You...you are sure?’
‘I am. Now it just remains to convince the lady that I cannot live without her.’ Before she could think what to reply, he paced over, pulled her up into his arms, and kissed her.
There was nothing tender or tentative in it, but an all-out assault on her senses intended to beguile, ravish and reduce her to complete surrender. Helpless before it and the onslaught of her own desire, she opened to him, welcoming the sweep of his tongue as he claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply, intensely, in a way that said she belonged to him alone. She revelled in it, kissing back just as fervently, already aching for his touch in every part of her body.
When finally they broke the kiss, they were both dizzy and breathless. His arm about her, he eased her down on the sofa and sat beside her, then kissed her again. This time, his touch was so gentle and cherishing, she almost wept with tenderness of it.
‘You see,’ he whispered, ‘there is only one Virtuous Virgin for me. But as a former rake, I will need a great deal of practice to learn to properly cherish her. A lifetime’s work, probably. I know you care about me, despite what you claimed. Will you give me that lifetime to earn your love, my sweet?’
‘Oh, Christopher, I’ve loved you since the night you found me at that masquerade ball. Much as I’ve tried to fight against it, everything we’ve shared since has only deepened the emotion. Besides, I did promise to teach you everything,’ she added, still having trouble comprehending the marvellous truth that they would be able to share their love openly after all. Such happiness began filling her, she felt one body could not contain it all. ‘You know I never go back on my promises.’
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said, and claimed her mouth again.
Epilogue
On a fine August morning four months later, Christopher and his new wife joined the other Hadley’s Hellions in the reception room at Giles and Maggie’s town house, the friends bearing gifts to honour the christening of the Lyndlingtons’ new daughter.
‘How lovely she is,’ Ellie murmured, looking over to where the proud papa stood by the hearth, cradling the baby on his shoulder.
Christopher put a hand protectively over Ellie’s stomach, its slightly rounded form concealed beneath the full skirt of her gown. ‘As beautiful as our child will be, my heart,’ he whispered, kissing her ear. ‘As beautiful as you’ve made my life. Why did I resist marriage for so long?’
‘You were waiting for me,’ she replied with a smile. ‘But let’s not announce our happy news yet. This day is for Giles, Maggie, and Liliana.’
‘Isn’t she perfect?’ the proud papa declared, as they walked over to join the others. ‘As beautiful as her mama.’
‘And twice as loud,’ Maggie said, slipping her hand in her husband’s arm.
David Tanner Smith, his arm around his petite wife Faith, raised a glass of champagne. ‘Can you believe it was almost eleven years ago to this day when, soon after Giles invited me to join your group at Oxford, we embraced the name “Hellions” and vowed to reform Parliament?’
‘Indeed it was!’ Ben Tawny said, his wife Alyssa at his side. ‘So now the cycle is complete. The Reform Bill has passed through the Lords, even reprobate Christopher has found fulfilment in marriage with his lovely Ellie, and we have a new generation to carry on our work.’
‘Giles has a daughter, Ben,’ Christopher reminded.
‘Which just means your work is not yet done,’ Alyssa said. ‘Until Maggie’s daughter—’
‘And her mother and all her aunties,’ Maggie inserted.
‘Win the right to aid in determining her country’s future, just as the men of England now can,’ Alyssa finished.
‘Who could argue with that assessment?’ Ellie asked, giving her husband a pointed look.
Laughing, Christopher held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Certainly not me! Let us toast then, gentleman. To the Hellions—eleven years of friendship and achievement. To our wives, who have made us complete and our work worth accomplishing. And to the next generation of Hellion sons and daughters, who will carry on the work we’ve begun.’
‘To the Hellions,’ they said, raising their glasses.
‘And to the best prize of all, my precious wife,’ Christopher murmured, bending down to give Ellie a kiss.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story you won’t
want to miss the other three books in
the HADLEY’S HELLIONS quartet
from Julia Justiss
FORBIDDEN NIGHTS WITH THE VISCOUNT
STOLEN ENCOUNTERS WITH THE DUCHESS
CONVENIENT PROPOSAL TO THE LADY
Keep reading for an excerpt from PURSUED FOR THE VISCOUNT’S VENGEANCE by Sarah Mallory.
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Pursued for the Viscount’s Vengeance
by Sarah Mallory
Chapter One
So here was his quarry. Miss Deborah Meltham.
Standing at the side of the assembly room, away from the glitter of the chandeliers, Gil studied the lady as she went down the dance with her brother. There was a decided likeness between the pair although Randolph, Lord Kirkster, was taller and fairer. Gil had to admit he was a handsome young buck, fashionably dressed and with his thick, waving hair brushed back from his pale brow. He was also a graceful dancer, but there was an air of indifference about him, a restlessness to his face, as if he wanted to be elsewhere. The epitome of a Byronic hero, thought Gil, his lip curling, and already as dissolute as the poet himself. He turned his attention to the lady.
Beneath the plain round gown of green muslin her figure looked good, but she was very slim. Petite. Not at all his style. A mirthless laugh shook him at the irrelevance of the popular saying. He had never shown preference for any lady, for he was convinced that soldiers should not marry and he was a soldier. Or he had been. Having sold out, he supposed that at some point he would take a wife, but it would be a marriage of convenience for both parties. There was no need for the heart to be involved. In his experience love meant only loss and unbearable pain.