by Lily Dalton
“No, we weren’t having the time of our lives. I only do that with you. We were dancing and enjoying ourselves. That is all.”
“And smiling,” he growled. “At each other.”
He sounded so jealous, and he hated it, while Clarissa didn’t look apologetic at all—because she had nothing to apologize for. He knew that. How could he not, seeing the amusement—and love—reflected in her eyes?
“Clarissa, I’m—” he began.
“Don’t apologize,” she said softly. “Just listen to what I say. That’s all I ask.”
Her voice calmed him. Reassured him. Told him everything was all right. A sudden rush of emotion moved through him, one that came from deep in his heart.
“All right,” he said, wholly repentant and wanting nothing more than to gather her in his arms and kiss the sweet lips that insisted on speaking sense while he persisted in behaving like an idiot. Instead, he held himself in check and listened, because she had asked him to.
“Colin is very sorry, Blackmer, about what happened with Tryphena. More than sorry. He said they kissed but nothing more. There’s more that he wants to tell you himself, but just know he’s never forgiven himself and remains deeply tormented. It’s why he acts so abominably. He doesn’t know what to do or say.” Clarissa sighed, moving closer.
Dominick tensed, almost unable to bear her closeness because he wanted her so much. But the words she spoke were too important, and he wanted to hear them all.
“I know he’s sincere. He told me that all this time, all he’s ever wanted is for you to come home.”
“Why couldn’t he tell me this himself?” he asked in a low voice.
“Because he’s a man. And it seems he’s a lot like you…and your parents. You are all hiding behind your pride and your fears and are too afraid to say the words you need to say.”
She was right. She read them all like a book.
“Dominick?” she said.
“Yes?”
Firelight gleamed off her hair and the silk of her dress. His gaze dipped to her breasts, which crushed against the bodice—and lower, to the sight of her now-apparent pregnancy. She looked like a goddess in the night. He had never seen anything more breathtaking.
“Say something,” she urged in a soft voice. “I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
To believe her heart could be his, now and forever, rocked him to his core.
In that moment he could only speak his heart.
“I missed you too.”
She rushed toward him. He opened his arms, and she threw herself against his chest.
And he was complete again.
Her face came up. “It’s what I needed to hear you say.”
Seizing her within his arms, he kissed her long and sweet, before pressing his face to her hair.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she murmured against his skin.
She felt so good. Everything seemed so perfect. Yet one dark cloud continued to loom above them.
“I need to tell you everything,” he said.
She pulled away and looked up into his face. “Everything?”
“About Tryphena.” He released her and stepped back.
“I understand why you can’t.”
“Because of my vow of silence to the secret service, yes. It is a very real thing, one I don’t break lightly. There’s so much I’ll carry to the grave, but not this, Clarissa. I can’t be with you unless you know it all. I can’t…” He exhaled. “Because I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered, her eyes shining.
“But I can’t accept your love—”
“What?” she said, dismayed.
“Not unless you know it all and still look at me…the same way you are looking at me now.”
“Then tell me.”
He nodded, and closed his eyes. Opening them again, he turned from her, walking the length of the mantel, before at last turning to her once more.
“I didn’t intend to kill her—”
She nodded. “I know you didn’t.”
“Even though I rather hated her, by then. We had been estranged for weeks, but still living and working together.”
“Because of what happened between her and Colin?”
“It goes back farther than that. As you know, we were both agents. We crossed paths for years, encountering one another on various assignments, and at first were…casual lovers. I knew there were others, and at the time, that didn’t bother me. She was untamed and free-spirited and we never demanded exclusivity from each other. Then one night in Paris that all changed. We married impulsively, and though part of me knew we weren’t suited, I was so proud she’d chosen me over the others. After we married we became partners of a sort, traveling about as a married couple pretending to be on honeymoon or attending an embassy ball, whatever the assignment required.”
Clarissa nodded. “Yes, go on.”
“After we left Darthaven and returned to London, things were good for a short time. But after we learned there might never be children, she became secretive and would disappear for days on end. When I asked for an explanation, I received either screaming or silence in response. At last, I asked her if she wanted her freedom and she said yes.”
“You separated.”
“We agreed we would, after the Prince Regent’s birthday celebration, to which we’d both been assigned. Though assigned to the foreign service, I sometimes worked domestic assignments because of my expertise and personal knowledge of the foreign parties who would be in attendance—both by invitation and infiltration—and because I understood the possible dangers involved.”
“This, at the Royal Pavilion.”
He nodded. “There was such a crowd there that night, all wearing Venetian masks, just to make things more challenging. Given the immensity of the event, there would have been scores of lower-level agents in place all about the palace, posing as guests and servants, who would watch for any signs of trouble and assist if the night grew out of control. Tryphena was there, in the crowd, taking part as a guest. I, on the other hand, had been assigned to the Prince Regent’s personal detail. As you likely know, he has always been notoriously difficult to mind.”
Clarissa chuckled. “We’ve coaxed Claxton to tell a few stories, when Mother isn’t around.”
“Prinnie was always sneaking off for secret meetings or assignations and doing his best to thwart our efforts to protect him.” He smiled, as if remembering. “Sometimes it was laughable the lengths he went to for privacy. That night, things changed so quickly. In a crush of people, I momentarily lost sight of him. Then several things happened to raise my alarm.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“A kitchen assistant ‘accidentally’ knocked over a stack of apple boxes in front of me, which delayed me from pursuing him—and then a young woman slipped and twisted her ankle, which demanded two more minutes of my time. Again, I was aware there were other agents in the crowd providing cover, but they were nowhere to be seen.”
“You believed his life was in danger.”
“It was just that…something felt very wrong. I rushed into the garden, that being my inclination of where he had gone. There were lanterns there and other guests, but I knew his favorite places to go where he had less chances of being seen. It was midnight, and fireworks burst overhead. All I can tell you, Clarissa, is that I saw him in the shadows, waiting for someone, and that when a figure came rushing out of the dark holding what I felt certain was a pistol overhead, I, having already drawn my own weapon, fired.”
Clarissa stood with her hands over her mouth, knowing what he would tell her.
“Everything after that was a blur. Other agents suddenly were there, as if from nowhere, and I was taken to the ground, wounded as well. One of them, thinking I was an assassin, shot me. But Tryphena was dead before she hit the ground. I killed her quite skillfully with just that one shot. Except she wasn’t holding a pistol, she was holding her Venetian mask.”
&nb
sp; Clarissa gasped. “Her mask…”
“Yes. It seems Colin was not, by far, my wife’s most impressive conquest. She wasn’t there in the garden to protect the Prince Regent. They were there for an assignation.”
“And your fellow agents—by employing the kitchen assistant with the apples and the girl who turned her ankle—had tried to prevent you from discovering it.”
“Everyone knew but me.”
“You didn’t shoot her on purpose.”
“I made a terrible mistake and, in doing so, killed my wife.”
“An understandable mistake.”
“There can be no mistakes at that level.”
“You’ve punished yourself enough.”
“I want to believe that. I want to leave this behind.”
“It’s all right to do so. You loved her, even then. Dominick, it’s all right to love her even now.”
His heartbeat staggered in his chest. For the first time he acknowledged that perhaps he did love Tryphena, at least a little—for the good times they had shared.
He exhaled unevenly. “But I also despised her, and no more in those moments after I fired that shot, when the truth of what had just occurred became clear.”
“I can’t imagine how you’d feel any other way.”
“You’re too good for me,” Dominick murmured, his heart painfully full of love and relief, because, yes, she did still look at him with the same admiring gaze as before.
“What happened afterward?” she asked quietly.
“It was determined that in a moment of…panic—” He spoke the word with distaste. “—I reacted unwisely. The whole thing caused the Prince Regent great embarrassment, and the secret service as well. It was even insinuated by some—whom I know were among Tryphena’s former lovers—that I shot her intentionally because I was out of my mind with jealousy. There was an investigation. The shooting was determined to be accidental, but as a consequence I was demoted to a domestic service assignment. God, it was awful. My pride was so wounded.”
“And you received an assignment to watch over Wolverton.”
“Where I bided my time and executed every order with care. I had just received orders to be returned to service abroad when I—”
“Very gallantly let a brokenhearted and terrified young woman cry on your shoulder.” Crossing the carpet, Clarissa threw herself against him for a long embrace. Reaching up, she pulled him down for a kiss. “I loved you before, and now I only love you more.” She kissed him again, her breath feathering across his lips. “Kiss me, Blackmer. Hold me forever. Don’t ever leave me again.”
“I missed you so much,” he said, kissing her mouth.
“I want you to make love to me.”
Together—still kissing—they circled toward the settee and, tangled in one another’s arms, sank onto it. Pillows fell onto the floor.
Just then a knock came against the door.
“Don’t stop, please,” she whispered, her cheeks deeply flushed. “The door is locked.”
He was lost in her. Drowning in pleasure. “I won’t argue with you.”
His lips moved over her skin. Had she always smelled this good? He wished they were naked, but there was something equally arousing about the prospect of making love urgently in one’s clothes. The silk of her dress hissed against the wool of his coat and trousers.
Vaguely, he again heard the knocking on the door, but Clarissa’s soft lips on his throat sent the blood rushing into his ears, and his hand came up to cup her breast. Bending, he pressed an urgent kiss against the center of her décolletage as his hand found the hem of her skirts, which he lifted higher, to her knees—
The knocking repeated, terse and insistent.
“Oh, good God.” He broke away. “They’re not going to leave.”
He laughed, his voice tight with arousal. He peered down into Clarissa’s flushed face and she laughed too. “It seems not.”
He wanted her so badly.
“Make yourself decent. I’m going to answer the door.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After Clarissa straightened her dress, Dominick unlocked and opened the door. Colin stood there, his hand raised in preparation for the next knock.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, his features taut with concern.
“Splendid, actually,” Dominick answered, leading Clarissa into the corridor.
His brother’s expression relaxed. “I just didn’t want you to punish her because of me. We were only dancing.”
“No, I…I wasn’t punishing her.” He looked at Clarissa and raised his eyebrows.
She flushed scarlet and clasped a hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes sparkled in amusement. Her hand fell away. “I was giving my husband a proper welcome home.”
Dominick fought the urge to laugh.
Colin appeared oblivious to their mischief. His expression remained grave. “Blackmer, you and I need to—”
“Go back to Mother’s party.” Dominick smiled at his brother. “We’ve already been gone too long, and we both know her ladyship has taken notice.”
“No doubt she has,” Colin agreed quietly.
“Let’s talk tomorrow.” He clapped his hand on Colin’s shoulder and turned him toward the ballroom. “There is much to be said. Let’s go back inside. Together.”
“There’s a lot of people who’ve been waiting to welcome you home,” Colin said. “Myself included.”
“You’re a very good dancer,” Clarissa exclaimed, falling into Dominick’s arms, exhausted at the end of the quadrille. “To think I didn’t know.”
He held her close, his hand coming to rest affectionately on her stomach. “Let’s find a place to sit.”
“Here!” called Lord Stade, pointing at a comfortable armchair. “Dear daughter, we don’t want you getting overly fatigued. Perhaps no more dancing tonight.”
Making his way through the guests, he insisted she take his arm and he escorted her there, as Dominick followed behind looking mildly bemused. When she was seated, her father-in-law bent to press a kiss to her forehead.
The show of affection both startled and pleased Clarissa. Watching his father, a smile turned Dominick’s lips.
Just then, a flash of pale blue appeared at her side. Looking up, she saw Miss Brookfield, who indicated the chair beside hers. “May I?”
Clarissa smiled. “Of course.”
The dark-haired young woman looked toward Blackmer. “I saw the two of you dancing and had to come tell you what an attractive couple you are.”
“Thank you,” she answered, but not without wariness.
“His Lordship is obviously smitten with you.”
“And I with him.”
Miss Brookfield sighed and crossed her hands in her lap. “As it should be.”
And just like that, they were friends. When the announcement came for the midnight buffet, Dominick came to escort her, and Colin, proving himself a gentleman, extended his arm to Miss Brookfield. Some two hours later, standing alongside Lord and Lady Stade, they saw many of their guests out the door, while others retired to the rooms where they would stay as overnight guests. Only then did Clarissa and Dominick climb the stairs and at last come to stand outside their chamber doors.
“Your room or mine?” he asked huskily.
“I propose we start in yours and end in mine,” she teased, a deep rose flush rising into her cheeks.
He swept her up in his arms and carried her into his room, where he stripped her to her chemise and urged her into bed. Moments later he joined her, wearing loose linen drawers, and gathered her in his arms.
Propped on one elbow, he planted a soft kiss on her nose and another on her lips. “Do you know what I want?”
“You want to make love to me again.”
He chuckled. “I do, but do you know what I want more?”
“Tell me.”
“I want you to go to sleep,” he softly urged.
She sighed, happily. “It’s been a long night, hasn’t i
t?”
“You’re very tired. I can see it in those beautiful blue eyes of yours.” He kissed her forehead, then each of her eyelids. “So instead of slaking my incessant lusts on you—”
She giggled.
“I want you to fall asleep.” He smoothed her hair across the pillow. “Here in my arms. That would be just as satisfying.”
He was so handsome, looking down at her in the firelight.
“I love you,” she said. So much it made her heart hurt.
“I love you too, Clarissa.” His hand moved beneath the covers and under her chemise to splay across the bare skin of her stomach. “I have loved you almost from the start, I think. And this baby of ours.”
He kissed her once more, before pulling her closer, against his shoulder, and stretching beside her, so that their bodies were entwined. She never felt more loved or protected. Never more at peace.
Her last thought before fading was that she wanted each night for the rest of her life to end like this.
Dominick stood by the bed, cleanly shaven, a towel slung low around his hips, looking down at his sleepy-eyed, tousle-haired wife. He loved the way her gaze slid over his chest and torso, shining with unconcealed appreciation.
“Let’s go for a ride,” he said, his hand sliding beneath the covers to encircle her ankle. “Up to the folly. I’ll tell you about Frost End.”
He’d let her sleep until he heard her rustling and caught her peering at him from the shadowed recesses of their bed. They’d slept late, arms and legs entwined, and already noon approached. He needed to tell her about the fire at Frost End, and his concern that it had been intentionally set and that perhaps…perhaps they didn’t need to take residence there so soon but instead remain at Darthaven with the family at least until after the birth of the baby.
With each other’s assistance they dressed—playfully, their hands and mouths causing several delays. When he went in search of his coat, Clarissa sat down in a chair by the fire to lace her boots.
“Dominick, now that I’m awake and can think clearly, I have something to tell you too,” she said. “Something that happened while you were gone.” Her eyes darkened.