Nicola Cornick - [Bluestocking Brides 02]

by One Night of Scandal

  And that wooing would lead to marriage. If he wished to keep the friendship and respect of Ross Marney he could not simply take Deb to his bed. He did not even want to. He wanted Deb, but he did not wish to make her his mistress. Somehow that had become insufficient. He wanted to protect Deb and gain her trust. He was acting on an instinct that had never previously stirred in his relationships with women. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Once she was his, he would never let her go.

  He spoke slowly. ‘Now I want to marry her. Genuinely marry her, I mean. Not connive at a pretence.’

  Ross nodded and moved on to another difficult question. ‘What was it that prompted you to assist Deborah in this matter, Richard?’

  Richard smiled. ‘I felt that she had presented me with a perfect opportunity to woo her.’

  Ross looked thoughtful. ‘That is true, of course. She has played into your hands. But what of your other, more altruistic motives?’

  Richard shifted a little uncomfortably again. Ross could never accept things at face value and he was usually correct.

  He spoke slowly. ‘I had the distinct impression that Mrs Stratton’s need was acute. She tells me that her father is insisting that she return to live under his roof, and that she feels unable to comply.’ His took another mouthful of brandy. ‘She also implied that Lord Walton intended to marry her off to her cousin and that she had no desire to wed ever again. She seemed very distressed by the entire matter, which was one of the reasons why I offered my aid.’

  Ross nodded. He hesitated. ‘It is certainly true that Deb is set against marriage. She was very unhappy with Neil Stratton. She has frequently expressed the view that she would rather starve than marry again. It seems a shame, but she is quite adamant.’ He gave Richard a look of acute perception. ‘I should warn you that there are matters there which are very painful to her.’ Ross looked away. ‘But that is Deb’s story to tell, not mine. Suffice it to say that I would have killed Stratton if the fever had not beaten me to it.’

  Richard’s head snapped up sharply. ‘That bad?’

  ‘Worse.’ Ross took a moody sip of his drink. ‘The man was beneath contempt.’ He looked up again, his mouth a hard line. ‘And as such, he gave Deb such a disgust of men in general that I believe you will have your work cut out to make her change her mind and accept you in earnest.’

  Richard frowned. ‘You do not think that I could persuade her?’

  Ross looked rueful. ‘I cannot say for sure, but I feel it only fair that you should be forewarned.’

  ‘Deborah is not in a strong position to oppose her father alone,’ Richard said thoughtfully. ‘She needs some protection. I understand that her husband left her without much substance?’

  ‘Penniless,’ Ross confirmed. His mouth thinned. ‘Though that was the least of his sins.’

  Richard grimaced at the confirmation. It was no wonder that Deb Stratton was wary of men if her only experience of love had been with a man like that. The memory of the unhappiness he had seen in her eyes made him feel angry.

  ‘So Mrs Stratton is dependent on the allowance her father makes her and…’ he looked at Ross shrewdly ‘…your generosity, I suspect.’

  Ross shifted in his chair. ‘I help her a little.’

  Richard let that pass. He knew that Ross’s liberality to his sister-in-law was likely to be far greater than that but his friend would not thank him for prying.

  ‘I know that you cannot like this temporary arrangement, Ross,’ he said feelingly. ‘God knows, if it was my sister Bella or Henrietta, I would feel much the same.’ He looked up and gave Ross a very straight look. ‘I can only give you my word that I shall do nothing to hurt Deborah.’ He smiled wryly. ‘My intentions are all that is honourable, damnable as it is for a rake to admit such a fact!’

  Ross moved the decanter in a precise circle. ‘I wish you luck,’ he said, a little bitterly. ‘And if you succeed, I hope that you find more joy in your marriage than I have in mine. How odd that Deb and Olivia look so very similar and yet temperamentally they could not be more different.’

  Richard hesitated. He sensed that Ross needed to talk but in his experience, passing comment on another man’s wife was fraught with danger. One always said the wrong thing and gave offence. He was prepared to take a risk though, for Olivia and Ross. If there was anything that he could do to help their situation, then he was willing to try.

  ‘I think that both Lady Marney and Mrs Stratton may have some of the same spirit,’ he said carefully.

  Ross looked horrified. ‘Good God, do you think so?’

  ‘I did not mean,’ Richard qualified hastily, ‘that Lady Marney is as impulsive as her sister.’

  ‘Thank the lord!’

  ‘But from something that Mrs Stratton told me, I do believe that it may be a question of Lady Marney hiding her real feelings under what she sees as her duty. Parents are notoriously more strict with the elder than the younger daughter,’ Richard continued, feeling his way and half-expecting an explosion at any moment. ‘I have seen it myself with Bella and Henrietta. Bella always complained that Henrietta could get away with everything and she with nothing.’

  Ross looked intrigued. ‘You mean that Olivia might behave the way she does because Lord and Lady Walton expected it of her and so she conformed?’

  Richard nodded. ‘Precisely, old fellow. Deborah told me that Olivia and her brothers always did as they were told and never dissented, whilst she was the rebel. How would it be if Olivia secretly wished it to be different?’

  He saw a flash of expression in Ross’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that Viscount Marney thought the idea of a secretly rebellious wife to be rather fascinating.

  ‘By George!’ Ross said. ‘What a thought!’

  Richard hid his smile. Ross Marney had always had a short fuse, but in other respects he was steady, reliable and the antithesis of a rake. Who would have guessed that he wished for a show of spirit from his bride rather than cool compliance? Certainly Olivia was unlikely to have known. Most young ladies of aristocratic lineage were told that their husbands would expect conformity, not originality. It took a rebel like Deborah to break through those restraints and tell the world to go hang.

  ‘Thank you for your tolerance in the matter of my betrothal to Mrs Stratton,’ Richard said now, his thought returning with warmth to his temporary fiancée. ‘I appreciate your support, Ross.’

  ‘What? Oh…’ Ross waved his hand vaguely. ‘You are very welcome, Richard.’

  Richard could tell that his thoughts were still on Olivia and he had no idea what they were talking about. Smiling a little, he thanked his host, excused himself and showed himself out, noting with interest that Ross went straight to the card room, where Olivia was hosting her party, as though he wished to test Richard’s theory immediately. The night air held a chill edge of autumn and the faint scent of wood smoke. Richard breathed it in and realised that he felt more alive than he had done in months. No boredom dogged his steps now, no painted devil tempted him back to his old life and its debauchery.

  He was to call on Deborah in the morning and discuss the details of their betrothal. His lips curved into a smile at the thought of seeing her again. So far matters were progressing with pleasing smoothness. He had persuaded Deb to give him a chance and he had gained Ross’s support for his suit. Now all he needed to do was to proceed gently towards his goal and make sure that he did not frighten Deb into reneging on the plan. He had to woo her carefully. He was sure it would be a pleasure. Whistling softly under his breath, Richard drove his hands into his pockets and walked off into the night.

  As soon as they met the following morning, Richard could tell that he had given Deb too much time to think and that those thoughts were not positive. She was looking pale and nervous, and much of her natural good spirits seemed depressed. Richard had a horrid suspicion that she was about to call the entire betrothal off.

  Remembering his resolution to woo her gently, he decided to proceed with the utmos
t caution. She might well be regretting her frankness the previous day and have her defences firmly in place. So instead of kissing her properly he kissed her hand with deference and allowed her to usher him into the drawing room. The house seemed very quiet. She did not send for a servant and poured his glass of sweet sherry herself. She was drinking a cup of tea, which she was gripping so tightly he feared the china would crack.

  ‘I have been thinking about this betrothal and I believe that we should change some of the terms,’ Deb began. From the faint violet shadows underneath her eyes Richard suspected that she might have been thinking about it all night. ‘This was not at all what I had planned. This is…’ she gestured a little wildly and the tea slopped ‘…becoming quite out of hand.’

  Richard had been expecting something of the sort, but although he was prepared to be soothing he had no intention of allowing Deb to back out now. If he did there was no guarantee she would not end up asking some other gentleman to act the role of protector, and Richard disliked that thought intensely.

  ‘You cannot change your mind about the betrothal now,’ he said. ‘Last night I asked Ross’s permission to pay my addresses to you.’

  Deb’s eyes flew to his face. She looked shocked. ‘Was that necessary?’

  ‘If I am to do this,’ Richard said, ‘I do it properly. As Ross was present at our meeting at the Custom House, I thought that he deserved a full explanation.’

  ‘Yes, but…’ Deb looked confused. ‘You told Ross the truth? About it being a temporary engagement?’

  Richard made a split-second decision. ‘I explained the situation to him.’ He saw the relief vivid in her face and smiled ruefully to himself. Mrs Stratton’s reluctance to countenance his suit was not flattering. It had obviously not occurred to her that many young ladies would use this opportunity to persuade him into making the pretend betrothal a real one. Her instinct was to do the reverse, and escape him as quickly as possible.

  ‘Please do not worry,’ he said soothingly, taking her hand in his. ‘Ross understands. Before I left, he suggested that you visit Olivia this afternoon to discuss the matter with her. Then we may announce our betrothal formally tonight at Lady Benedict’s ball.’

  He felt Deborah’s hand tremble in his. She tried to withdraw it, but he held on to her, rubbing his fingers gently over the back of her hand. Her head was bent, a tiny frown wrinkling the skin between her brows. She looked very young.

  ‘I had not anticipated that we would make a public announcement,’ she said. ‘Surely that is not necessary? This was to be for my family’s benefit only.’

  Richard nodded. ‘I understand that, but consider for a moment the questions that might arise if your parents were to have an acquaintance in this neighbourhood.’

  Deb’s frown deepened. ‘I am sure that they do not.’

  ‘You cannot know for certain,’ Richard pointed out. ‘It is better not to take the risk. If everyone hereabouts is aware of our engagement, then there is no difficulty.’

  He sensed that he was pushing too hard. A flame of resistance burned in Deb’s eyes. ‘I am sure that there is no such necessity,’ she said. ‘I would prefer to keep the matter secret.’

  Richard let go of her hand and sat back in his chair, feigning unconcern. ‘If you wish. I should tell you though, Deborah, that one of the first things that I learned when I was involved in counter-espionage work was to prepare the ground carefully. If you do not, something is bound to go wrong.’

  He saw that the frown was back in her eyes. ‘I suppose so. Yes, I can see that there is always the possibility of something going awry.’

  It was a minor victory and Richard followed it up at once. ‘That being the case, I believe we should spend a great deal of time together over the next few weeks,’ he said. ‘We need to make it apparent to everyone that we are comfortable in each other’s company. No one will believe our betrothal otherwise.’

  Deb’s brow was still puckered. ‘You have decided a great many things,’ she said.

  Richard smiled impudently. ‘Did you expect me not to do so?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Deb said, ‘I expected it. It was just…not as I had planned.’

  ‘And you will spend time with me?’ Richard pressed. ‘I thought that we could go riding tomorrow afternoon.’

  He saw by the flicker in her blue eyes that the idea held appeal.

  ‘I own that it will be pleasant to ride with someone who is so good at it,’ she said, with a small smile.

  ‘Good,’ Richard said. He kissed her hand. ‘Unfortunately I am engaged for the rest of the day or I would certainly ask you to spend it with me. I will see you this evening at Lady Benedict’s ball?’

  Deb nodded. He had seen from the slight droop to her shoulders that she was disappointed they would not be spending the day together. The knowledge encouraged him. Although she had been initially resistant to his plans, he could feel her softening with each step. He allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic that with time and careful wooing he might persuade her to his point of view and gain her agreement to their marriage. He drew her a little closer and after an initial hesitation, she came. Richard scanned her face, noting the shadow that was still reflected in Deb’s pansy-blue eyes.

  ‘Are you in agreement that we announce our betrothal tonight?’ he asked softly.

  Her lashes swept her cheek for a moment as she looked away. Richard fought a strong urge to kiss her. Repressing his most fundamental urges, he tried to concentrate. He knew that he could override her resistance, knew that she would respond to him, for she had been scrupulously honest about her attraction to him. That was not the way to succeed, however, for whilst he might gain a response from her body, emotionally she would slip further away from him. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes locked on hers and in a moment she looked up at him again.

  ‘I…yes, I am in agreement,’ she said.

  Richard gave a silent sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. I am honoured.’

  A shy smile lit her eyes. The urge to kiss her became stronger, so powerful that Richard had to take a step back.

  ‘I shall see you this evening,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how I look forward to it.’

  He saw Deb take a breath as though she were about to speak. Richard frowned. He could sense some tension in her, some unresolved problem.

  ‘Is there something else that you wished to discuss?’ he asked.

  Deb moved away from him and picked up her teacup. It rattled in her hands. Her face was averted from him, pink and feverish.

  ‘There is something that I wish to say but I find—’ she glanced at him, a fleeting look from those lavender blue eyes ‘—it is a little difficult…’

  Richard took the teacup from her—she had not drunk any of it anyway—and placed it gently on the table before leading her back to the sofa and taking both her hands in his. Deb’s blue eyes were huge and apprehensive now and he leaned closer.

  ‘You are trembling,’ he said gently, ‘and you look terrified.’

  ‘That is because…’ she licked her lips nervously ‘…there is something I need to say to you and I am not accustomed to being in such close proximity to a gentleman.’

  Ridiculous pleasure coursed through Richard at her words. He did not seem able to help himself. But the nervousness in her eyes puzzled him. He wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her. He wanted to kiss her. Richard tried to concentrate.

  ‘Deborah,’ he said, ‘if you are wanting to change your mind because you still do not trust me, then I must remind you that I promised to do nothing that you did not desire and I will keep to that.’ His voice came out more roughly than he had intended and her gaze flew to his. Had she realised the difficulty he was having controlling his impulses? If she even guessed at the iron control he was exercising, then she would probably be so nervous she would not come near him again. He moderated his tone. ‘You have not reacted to my presence like this before,’ he said. ‘What is the matter?’

&nb
sp; Her gaze touched his face and skittered away. ‘You do not understand,’ she said.

  ‘Then tell me,’ Richard said bluntly. ‘What is it?’

  He was still touching her and now she looked down at their joined hands and swiftly away. There was high colour in her cheeks.

  ‘I have been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you,’ she said. ‘When I said that I wished to change the terms of our betrothal you misunderstood me—’

  She broke off.

  ‘Yes?’ Richard said.

  Her gaze met his with all the straightness of a sword thrust.

  ‘I want you to make love to me,’ she said. ‘For the duration of our betrothal, I want you to be my lover.’

  As soon as the words were out Deb was ready to sink with mortification, but she also felt a huge relief. She could scarce believe what she had just done. She had spent the entire night plagued with erotic thoughts and dreams until in the pale morning light she had finally admitted that matters could not carry on as they were. She wanted Richard Kestrel desperately. She wanted to give herself to him and experience the sensual bliss of physical love with him. She had starved herself of love and desire for so long that she was burning up. And if that made her a wanton who gave herself up to a man without the blessings of the church, then so be it. She had gone far beyond modesty and moral principle. She could not help herself.

  Nevertheless, she was terrified. She knew that all the pretty phrases she had devised beforehand had deserted her and she had ended up speaking baldly and without finesse. It was no wonder that Richard was looking so stunned.

  ‘No.’

  He got to his feet abruptly, dropping her hands in her lap. He thrust his fingers through his hair violently, then strode over to the window, where he turned and looked at her with incredulous eyes.