“You have managed to say quite a few impertinent things without being overheard, or I would even now be listening to lectures from my aunt.”
He moved closer to her, and his close proximity set her heart to hammering against her ribs and her mouth to go dry as he reached out to stroke her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
“Important is far different from impertinent,” he murmured.
He was too close. She couldn’t think properly. Even with her aunt nearby, she felt as if they were alone in the world, the husky timbre of his voice and heat of his caress enclosing her in a soft cocoon of sensation. Her entire body trembled with reaction.
“You’re shaking,” he said, sounding surprised. “Do I frighten you?”
“No. Yes. No. I am not afraid. Just—nervous.”
“I hadn’t anticipated that. Only the fearless are fond of adventures.”
His smile erased any sting his words might have caused, and she nodded. “So now you know. I am a terrible fraud. I am not at all fearless. I am, in fact, quite cowardly.”
He said seriously, “I must disagree. Cowards run away, yet here you are.”
“No, it’s true. I cannot abide spiders, and snakes terrify me. And I am not here alone, for I brought my aunt. She is out in the hall, being discreet.”
For a moment he didn’t speak; then he began to laugh. Chary didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or heartbroken. Either option seemed premature. She watched him warily, and finally he shook his head.
“You truly are unique, Miss St. John. It is just as well, as my planned seduction has altered somewhat. Come along. We shall stop your aunt skulking in the hallway before a footman begins to suspect her of having designs on the family silver.”
Aunt Catherine did not seem too surprised to see them approach her where she stood half-hidden by one of the lovely statues. Her gaze shifted from one to the other, and she nodded. “So, we are to visit the conservatory, I understand.”
“I am honored to be escorting two lovely ladies,” Lord Nicholas said gallantly, but Chary couldn’t help but wonder if he was upset that his plan was ruined. Perhaps he hadn’t intended seduction after all. Is that what he had meant by discussing something important?
After traversing a maze of hallways that Lord Nicholas seemed familiar with, they arrived at a tall door off a small parlor. Night fell early in December, and it looked dim and shadowed as he opened the door and ushered them inside. Another door stood only a few feet in, this one made of glass. Chary felt the warmth before he opened it, and they entered a massive room with a domed ceiling. Lamps cast small pools of light at intervals, but she heard the sweet sleepy songs of finches trilling in trees and vines that lined the glass walls. Shutters had been closed against the chill, but overhead the glass reflected scattered lamplight. Huge pots held small orange trees, jessamine vines twined over lattice, and flowers spilled from rows of boxed containers. Another section held vegetables in raised beds, and heat wafted up from the floor.
They walked down rows of flowers, tables filled with pots of orchids and other exotic plants, all adding alluring fragrance to the air. Drowsy finches peered at her from leafy branches. It was quiet here, save for birds murmuring and the echo of their footsteps on stone.
“This is lovely,” Chary said softly, almost dazed by the extensive plants that filled the immense glass room. “I have never seen a greenhouse this large. It is even larger than the Kew Orangery, I believe.”
“Not quite, but close. Miss St. John—I must ask you an important question.”
A frisson of panic vibrated along her nerve-endings, from her head to her toes. “As we have established there’s a difference between important and impertinent, I am certain my aunt won’t mind, will you, Aunt? Why, where is she?”
“Lady Shepworth is a very wise woman, and abandoned us before we reached the lemon trees. She is not far, but far enough.”
They stood beneath an arbor that held a heavy vine with heart-shaped leaves and a night-blooming white flower as large as her palm. It lent a spicy-sweet scent to the air. It felt as if they were secluded in a magical cave, surrounded by beauty and completely alone.
“Lord Nicholas,” she said, but he put a finger against her lips. The gentle touch left her speechless. He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, his voice low and intense.
“As you know, my reputation has been somewhat sullied this past year. More so than usual. I am not totally blameless of some things of which I have been accused, but I am not guilty of all. It has made it difficult for you, and I regret that. If you wish to end our betrothal, I will deal with Avonhurst and cause you no more inconvenience.”
Her heart fell. While he phrased it to let her break the betrothal, he had decided he did not want to marry her. Despite the heat in the conservatory, she felt chilled to the bone.
“Certainly, if that is what you wish, my lord. I understand that—”
“No, I don’t think you do understand. I am giving you the opportunity to be free of me. I will take all the responsibility for informing our parents, and you may tell everyone you threw me over for the obvious reasons. No one will blame you.”
“No,” she protested softly, “that is . . . not what I wish. I do not care about the gossip, not really. It was just so new to me, but these past few days I have realized that most of those who carry such tales are not being spiteful, they are just bored. I am certain there are some who wish to cause harm to others for whatever reasons, and perhaps there are some who earned infamy and snubs, but each must be judged on their own merits.”
“And have you judged me, little mouse?”
“I am hardly in a position to judge anyone else. And please cease and desist calling me a rodent, if you do not mind.”
He laughed. Cupping her chin in his palm, he tilted her face up to his, laughter creasing his eyes. “I weary of calling you Miss St. John all the time. If I cannot call you mouse, then I will call you Chary, as your aunt does. It suits you much better.”
“Well, I like it better than being referred to as a rodent. Am I to understand you wish to be free of our marriage agreement, sir?”
“Nothing of the sort. I was attempting to be noble, in case you missed my intent.”
“Ah. Yes, I had missed that.”
“I suspected as much.” His smile faded, his expression grew intense, and he said softly, “I have never met a woman quite like you, Chary. You have been a most gratifying revelation.”
Breathing had become rather difficult as his hand shifted from her face to caress her ear, and his fingers slid beneath the carefully curled ringlets to cup the back of her neck. He bent, his hand holding her gently as his mouth covered hers, and she closed her eyes and surrendered to the exquisite sensations he ignited. Excitement ran thrilling through her body, and it felt as if the very air caressed her, she was so sensitive as he kissed her, his mouth claiming her and eliciting fervent response. Somehow, her hands moved to grip the front of his black wool coat, the fabric giving her support as her knees threatened to buckle. She clung to him, kissing him back, her lips parting for his tongue—a still shocking event and quite erotic in nature—and she tasted heat and brandy. Her head swam, her heart beat with bruising force against her ribcage, and blood sang through her veins in an enticing melody of need and mysterious yearnings.
When he finally lifted his head, she clung to him like a vine, wrapped around him for support. He held her against his chest, his arms strong and his heart thudding beneath her cheek as she pressed her face into his evening coat. Was she to yield so easily every time he kissed her? He was to be her husband but there had been no words of love between them.
“Chary,” he said hoarsely, and she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. “Sweetheart, if we stay here much longer, I cannot promise I won’t do more than kiss you.”
“Ther
e’s more?” she mumbled against wool, and felt his chest heave with laughter.
“Oh yes, there’s more. Much more. Here, stand up, can you? I don’t want to return you to your aunt looking as if we made merry in the courgettes. Your hair has come loose—I think you lost some hairpins.”
He reached up and plucked one of the fragrant white flowers from the vine, and tucked the long stem behind her ear so that the huge blossom brushed against her cheek. He looked at it critically, then met her gaze with a smile.
“You’re still flushed,” he said, “but the moon flower hides the damage to your curls. It rather suits you.”
“It is terribly warm in here. I don’t know how the birds stand it.”
“Since it has started to snow again, I am quite certain the birds prefer this to the frozen tundra outside. Now we must join your aunt. And Chary—” He paused before finishing. “Save me a dance later. A waltz.”
“I forgot there is to be dancing. I don’t think I have the nerve for it.”
It was the most extraordinary thing: Lord Nicholas had opened a door to a strange new world where nothing was as she had thought it would be. No novels had prepared her for the emotions that ran rampant, the sweeping sensations that had left her burning as if with fever, yet trembling like a leaf in high wind. She ached to hear him say he loved her. They were just words—but more powerful than the tempest he created with his mouth and hands.
If this was love, she didn’t think she would survive it.
GEORGES BRUSHED imaginary lint off the black evening jacket and inspected it more closely than Nick thought necessary, but he had to admit, the man was meticulous. “Did you assure that Drummond has taken his cocoa and medicine?” he asked, and Georges let slip an audible sigh.
“I did, my lord. He accepted the kindness with his customary grace and charm.”
As Nick had a fairly good notion of how that scene had really transpired, he merely nodded acceptance of the face value. “Excellent. Once the inflammation has subsided, he will be fit to travel. I expect to leave in a few days.”
“Yes, my lord. I shall keep everything in readiness for our departure.”
“Tomorrow is Boxing Day, as you know, and I had planned a different reward for both of you before we found ourselves stranded here. You have boxes waiting at Albany House, but I do not wish the day to go unremarked, so I have prevailed upon the kindness of Lady Howard to be certain you are both amply rewarded. A more practical form of my regard is included in your monthly wages, of course.”
“Being in your employ is an honor enough, my lord.”
“Perhaps it has not been as honorable a position as it was once, but soon I will change that, if all goes well and I am not undone by Fate again. No, I think the gold pin for tonight will do better.”
Georges replaced the silver stick pin in the leather case and removed the gold one, fixing it to Nick’s cravat and fussing with it until he finally had it to his satisfaction. Then he ran the lint brush over the black wool coat a final time before stepping back and nodding approval.
On his way downstairs to the lower ballroom where the musicians set up and space made for dancing, he met Wakefield coming upstairs. He paused, and Will gave him a faint smile.
“You were right, Hawkely. I was, er, distracted for a short time, but we found the papers you suggested. As soon as I finish the last of Raffles’s notes, we should know for a certainty.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. He had not thought it would ever happen. Could it be true? Finally, he said, “As soon as you find the information, I can act upon it.”
“It will be a relief to have the truth out. Hawkely,” he added as Nick nodded and started to move on, “I want you to know that I never made an accusation against you.”
“You never defended me, either.”
Wakefield spread his hands out in a familiar gesture of frustration. “I am a diplomat. It is not my place to accuse or defend without all the facts present. But I have worked diligently to gather those facts since it happened.”
After a moment, Nick nodded. “I believe you. It will be good for both of us to have this behind us.”
“Just a few more pieces of the puzzle and it should be resolved, once we reconcile the bills of lading differences.”
Nick thought about that as he entered the ballroom. It had been over a year since it all happened, and he’d been living with the sword of Damocles hanging over his head long enough. He wanted it over. A life he hadn’t expected waited on him, and now that he knew there was a chance he could be exonerated from all suspicion, he could marry Chary with no dark clouds to tarnish their lives.
The ballroom was well-lit and crowded, which kept it from being cold; it may be the “small” ballroom but it could easily hold a hundred people.
“Lord Nicholas, you are as handsome as always,” Lady Howard greeted him, smiling, and he bowed and kissed her hand with a Continental flourish. Laughing, she whispered loudly, “You had best not let my husband see that.”
“Too late,” Lord Howard drawled, standing next to his wife and smiling indulgently. “I would challenge you, Hawkely, but as we would have to stand knee-deep in snow, it’d be rather awkward.”
“Then I shall apologize profusely and save bloodshed and wet boots. Laurie, you are ravishing again tonight, but you always are. Your husband is a most fortunate man.”
“So I keep telling him,” she replied with a sly smile. Then she leaned forward and said in a low tone, “I am quite certain I saw Miss St. John sitting with her aunt against the east wall. Do not let her be a wallflower.”
“I have no intention of allowing that,” he assured her, and went in search of his future wife. He would not tell her that Wakefield may have found evidence to exonerate him, not until he held the proof in his hands. Disappointment could be cruel, and she had pledged to him even thinking he might be a disgraced thief. He hoped his wedding gift to her would be proof of his innocence.
He found her between a potted palm and Lady Mountebank, nodding politely as the widow gossiped about the guests. Lady Shepworth was not in sight, and he strode up to Chary, bowed and held out his hand.
“May I have this waltz, Miss St. John?”
Without waiting for her reply, he lifted her from her chair as she put her hand in his, and swept her out onto the dance floor. It was fairly crowded, as a waltz by Mozart known locally as The Sussex Waltz was rendered by violins and flutes.
“I thought it was my turn to rescue you, as Lady Mountebank may be in imminent danger of harm,” he said as he put a hand at her back and held her other one in the dance pose, waiting for the right moment to step into the waltz.
“Did it show? I was contemplating my options. You rescued both of us. If I had to listen to her vicious sniping much longer, I may have been moved to drastic measures.”
Stepping into the waltz, he said as he turned her in the dance pattern, “Such as? Pistols at dawn? Arsenic in her tea?”
“Such violence, my lord. No, I had a fate worse than bullets or poison in mind.”
She smelled like the forest, a fresh, clean scent with citrusy undertones of bergamot. Her muslin gown of dazzling white was edged in a deep red along the hem and underskirt, with dainty swirls of pearls set into scarlet ribbons that bound the high waist. More bright ribbons held her hair atop her head, crusted in gleaming pearls and catching the light. She was a delectable vision with her dark-fringed eyes and flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted in a smile to rival the pearls. Perhaps not classically beautiful, but a most stunning woman.
“What could be worse than bullets or poison, my fierce little Valkyrie?”
“Young Richard has been allowed to attend the dancing tonight, along with several of his cousins, and their mother instructed them to dance with widows and wallflowers. Not in that particular phrase, but close. Lady Mo
untebank is a widow, and if I suggested to Richard’s mother that the lady would be thrilled to dance, I am certain she would be eager to oblige.”
“A devious punishment. You are speaking of the young Richard from the ice skating collision, I presume?”
“Indeed. It would be a two-fold vengeance.”
“Remind me never to earn your enmity.”
“I am a complicated person, my lord.”
“Nick.” When she looked up at him, he said softly, “I would like to hear my name on your lips.”
“It would be too scandalous in public . . . Nick.”
“Ah, yes. What will we care? Once we are wed, we will be off to visit penguins and Chinese dragons. I am convinced they will not mind what we call one another.”
“Never to return to England?”
“Only when we feel the need. You are a superb dancer. We’ll visit Mount Olympus and you can dance barefoot with the gods.”
“You are quite reckless tonight, sir. Are you foxed?”
He grinned at her. “I feel reckless. I feel—as if a heavy weight may soon be lifted from my shoulders. When I hold you, I feel as if I have drunk the waters of the Lethe and have no more worries.”
A smile quivered on her full lips, enticing enough that he considered dancing her to a far corner to steal a kiss. He would not, of course, as they were an interesting enough object of the gossips as it was, but it was tempting.
“You are full of nonsense, as usual,” she said pertly, “but do go on.”
Laughing softly, he danced her across the ballroom, ignoring the stares of those with nothing better to do than watch others dance. He may be notorious now, but soon it would be forgotten. Once he was exonerated, attention would turn to the next malefactor who dared flout society’s rules or cross the Crown.
“Such a cheeky lass,” he murmured as the waltz ended and the musicians began a reel. They had stopped near the tall Palladian windows that looked out over the front of the estate, and frosted window panes were decorated with ropes of Christmas greenery and red velvet ribbons. To his disappointment, no mistletoe nestled among the boughs of laurel, cedar, and bay.
Mistletoe Magic Page 17