Loving the Bitter Baron: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 11)

by Arietta Richmond

  She glanced around the room again, just in time to see Lord Tillingford arrive. Her eyes followed him across the room, wondering where he was going, with such apparent purpose. Oddly, it looked as if he was going towards her mother. Well, that was somewhere she could go, and be totally unexceptional. Without questioning the convenience of the opportunity, she slipped away from the conversation, and went to join her mother.

  She reached the Dowager Duchess shortly before Lord Tillingford did, as his passage across the room had been delayed by his need to greet various friends and acquaintances.

  “Ah, there you are, Alyse. There will be dancing soon. You must take this opportunity to dance with as many of the eligible men as possible. Surely, soon, a man will appeal to you!”

  “Of course I will dance, mother. But I make you no promises beyond that!”

  Her mother sighed, theatrically as usual, but accepted what she had begun to see as the inevitable. At that moment, two things coincided. The orchestra began to play, and Lord Tillingford arrived beside them.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lady Alyse. I hope that you are enjoying yourselves.”

  “Lord Tillingford. I am having a most interesting day. I have met some remarkable people, from all walks of life. The Mortons have such an eclectic circle of acquaintance!”

  “They do – it’s part of why Raphael is so successful.”

  “Good day, Lord Tillingford.”

  Alyse was annoyed to discover that her voice shook.

  But really – standing so close to him, she found herself strongly affected. She remembered his arms about her, his lips on hers, and she felt the flush rise into her cheeks. She fanned herself, attempting to look calm, and unconcerned. Did he want to see her as much as she wanted to see him? Her mother, oblivious to her state of distraction, was talking.

  “Ah, the music has begun – your timing is perfect, Lord Tillingford – I am certain that you will dance with my daughter, won’t you?”

  Alyse, expecting him to look pained at her mother’s blatant manipulation, was shocked, and instantly delighted, when he simply smiled, and turned to her, offering his arm. His eyes upon her were warm, full of something very far from objection to the idea of dancing. She dropped a little curtsey, and placed her hand on his arm, smiling broadly, despite her best efforts to look dignified.

  They reached the area of the room set aside for dancing, and she realised that, yet again, it was a waltz. She went into his arms gladly, feeling, as before, the wondrous moment when their bodies aligned, and the dancing became a thing of no effort, a miraculous floating, where all she was aware of was the heat of his body close to hers, the feel of his hand on her back, and the strength where his fingers held hers. She lifted her eyes to his, not attempting to hide her happiness at being in his arms.

  Their eyes met, and, for some time, no words seemed necessary.

  ~~~~~

  Gerry had almost laughed – the Dowager Duchess had looked surprised, and almost suspicious, when he had immediately acquiesced to dancing with Lady Alyse, with no flicker of objection. But then his eyes had met Lady Alyse’s deep brown ones, and thought of everything else had left him. As he swept her into his arms to waltz, it was as if an empty space had been filled, as if an ache which had been with him since he had last seen her had been soothed.

  She did not seem to require conversation, and he was happy simply to hold her, to allow the dance to carry them. But his mind was working. This was how he wanted to feel, every day. Complete, warm from the regard, perhaps even the love, of a woman – one who could accept him for himself. In that instant it became clear to him that he did not want ‘a’ woman, he wanted ‘this’ woman, specifically. The thought of letting her go, of simply walking away at the end of the dance, of never knowing when he would see her again, was intolerable.

  Somehow, against all of his intent, against all of his belief about what he should do, he had managed to fall in love with her. There was no doubt in his mind, now. The intensity of the emotion was almost frightening, but it was the most wonderful thing that he had ever felt, all at the same time. He wanted the right to hold her close every day, for the rest of his life.

  His hands tightened on her, as he reached that momentous conclusion, and she looked up at him, smiling, almost as if she understood his thoughts. The music slowed – he could not bear to simply stop, so, as they neared the doors onto the terrace, he swung them off the floor, and quickly opened the door, twirling her out into the crisp afternoon air. The door shut behind them, and the noise fell away.

  They spun to a stop, and he did not release her, nor did she pull away. The cold air made their heated breath mist around them, and the gardens below the terrace lay still, faint shoots of green just showing above the melting snow. No one else was in sight. He released her right hand, and it fell, so naturally, to his shoulder, as his hand moved to cup her face. There was no hesitation in either of them as their lips met, only a sense of rightness, of the filling of an undeniable need.

  His heart pounded, so loudly that he wondered if she could hear it. The intensity of the kiss made him more certain than ever that he wanted to spend his life with this woman. Dare he ask her to marry him?

  If he had been asked, two hours before, when he would consider marriage, he would have said that he did not know, but that it would not be for some time. Now, the answer was different – now, he was not only considering it, but looking for the courage to propose.

  After some time, they drew apart, both short of breath, flushed, and a little shaky, she smiled at him, her arms still around his neck, and he pulled her close against him, just holding her, wondering at how good it felt to do so. Her head rested against his shoulder, her arms tightened, and they clung to each other, as if each afraid the other would disappear.

  He should speak, but fear suddenly assailed him – what if she rejected him? What if she was still unsure, in some way. He cleared his throat, and she moved back a little, looking up at him.

  “Lady Alyse, I…”

  The sound of one of the terrace doors opening stopped him, and they snapped apart, turning to stand, side by side, looking out over the gardens. At the other end of the terrace, two people emerged, but only stayed a moment. A voice drifted to them.

  “James, it is far too cold to be out here, without a wrap or cloak. No matter how much I wanted fresh air, I can’t be this cold. Let’s go back in.”

  The door creaked, and clicked closed again.

  Gerry looked at Lady Alyse, discovering that the words had abandoned him. She shivered, as if just becoming aware of the chill. The moment was lost. But he would ask her soon, somehow. He was staying at Barrington House, with Hunter’s family, for the next week, at least. There would be a better opportunity.

  “You’re shivering. We should go back inside. I apologise – it was inconsiderate of me to bring you out here in the cold. No matter how pleasant the last few minutes have been.”

  She looked up at him again, eyes wide, then, slowly, a smile lit her face, and she rose on her toes to bring her lips softly to his for a moment, before settling back down.

  “Pleasant indeed, thank you. Do not apologise. But yes, it is cold, and we should go inside.”

  He offered her his arm, and they slipped back into the ballroom, the picture of propriety.

  ~~~~~

  Hunter, aware of the people he cared about, as always, had seen Gerry and Alyse slip out onto the terrace. He was pleased.

  He knew that Gerry could be trusted with his sister, and he hoped that they were getting close to admitting to each other how they felt. For how they felt about each other was very obvious to Hunter and Nerissa, even if the Dowager Duchess appeared to be completely blind to it. Perhaps progress was being made.

  When they reappeared not too long after, both a little flushed looking, Hunter and Nerissa glanced at each other, and nodded, before joining the next set to dance.

  ~~~~~

  Alyse floated in a cloud of happiness
for the rest of the afternoon and evening. He had kissed her, and held her, as if he did not wish to let her go. She was sure that he had been about to say something important, when they were interrupted. It did not matter. Whatever he was going to say, he would say soon, she was now certain of it. His kiss had said everything that words had not, and the expression on his face, as he had started to speak… She hugged the memory to her, now as confident of his feelings as she was of her own.

  He would be staying with them for the next week, at least. Plenty of time… she would be patient – although that would be hard, for she already ached to feel his arms around her again.

  ~~~~~

  The next morning, Gerry rose early, and went out to ride, letting the crisp morning air refresh him.

  The previous afternoon on the terrace played over and over in his mind, and the more he thought of it, the more certain he was of his decision. He wanted to marry Lady Alyse. But how could he ask her? How could he create a suitable moment? As he turned back across the park, intending to return to Barrington House, an idea came to him – an idea so simple, and yet so perfect that he laughed aloud for the joy of it.

  He turned his horse towards Porthaven House instead. He needed to visit Raphael and Sera.

  ~~~~~

  The week passed quickly, and Hunter watched Gerry and Alyse, torn between amusement and frustration. When they were near each other, the intensity of their attraction was obvious – one could almost see sparks flying between them. They gravitated to each other, in every conversation, sat close, but never touching, as if ‘by accident’ each day, and went out – riding, or driving in the open carriage, a number of times.

  Yet still, nothing had been said, nothing admitted.

  He was amazed that Alyse was being so quiet – he might, knowing his younger sister, have expected her to have dragged an admission of his feelings out of Gerry by now. But perhaps she was, wonder of wonders, being shy about admitting her own feelings? Soon, Gerry would be going back to Tillingford Castle, he could only hope that, before then, he would get up the courage to speak!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alyse, whilst extraordinarily happy, was also worried. Lord Tillingford had still said nothing directly of his feelings. Everything he did spoke of his love for her, and she felt more alive than she had for a long time, simply for his presence. But he had not spoken.

  The next day was Saint Valentine’s Day, and Alyse was feeling a little melancholy as a result. Even the servants were whispering of Saint Valentine’s favours and gifts for wives and sweethearts, and she was facing the concept that Lord Tillingford might not speak, that he might go back to Tillingford Castle, leaving her alone again.

  It was a depressing prospect. She had been sitting in the parlour, staring out the window, watching passers-by on the street, but turned back to her sketch journal. On her page was yet another portrait of Lord Tillingford – she was trying, and failing, to capture how he had looked, immediately after he had kissed her. She wanted to save that expression, that look in his eyes, forever.

  A knock came, at the front door. She heard Selwood open it, and the sound of a short conversation, before the door closed again. Curious, she stood, and went into the hallway.

  “What is it, Selwood?”

  “A parcel, for Lord Tillingford, my Lady. I believe he is out with His Grace, so I will leave it here until his return.”

  “Thank you.”

  Selwood placed the package on the side table, beside the mail tray, and went about his business. Alyse stared at it, wondering what it was. It was not large – what could Lord Tillingford be receiving? She would, she supposed, likely never know. For she had no right to ask.

  Disgruntled, she turned away, and went back to drawing.

  ~~~~~

  Saint Valentine’s Day dawned crisp and clear, with enough sun that it felt like a hint of the spring approaching. Gerry rose early, and paced about the room a little. He was nervous, wondering if his brilliant idea was as good as he had thought it.

  Still, Sera had done a wonderful job. The parcel had arrived yesterday, and he had opened it late last night, wondering what he would see. Inside the plain packaging lay the most amazing piece of work he had ever seen. It was a Saint Valentine’s Day favour. Sera and Raphael owned a business that made them, based on Sera’s designs. They supplied the Prince Regent, and most of the ton.

  But this – this was exquisite – the best piece he had seen.

  The favour was quite large, made with the highest quality of paper, but embellished with beads and tiny, sparkling gems. The gems were laid down, in shades from diamond to jet, to look like a pencil, drawing an intricate decorated heart – which was not quite finished. The unfinished section created the illusion that the gem encrusted pencil really was drawing the heart, scattering gemstones onto the paper.

  His first sight of it had stolen his breath. It was a folded sheet, so that it could be opened, and a message written inside. He had agonised over what to write, for half the night, and had, in the end, settled for heartfelt simplicity. Once the ink had dried, he had carefully closed the favour, and slipped it into the pages of a book.

  Now, the day had arrived, and although the rest of the household would barely be stirring, he felt as if he should rush downstairs immediately, with the book in hand. Which would be pointless, as Lady Alyse would not be anywhere to be seen, yet.

  He made himself leave the book on his dresser, and went down to break his fast. He surprised himself by eating heartily, and began, a little, to relax. Hunter and Nerissa declared their intention to go for a ride in Hyde Park for the morning, and Charles had departed for Meltonbrook Chase on the previous day, citing estate business. Gerry had wondered, from Charles’ manner as he spoke of it, if his business might be more of the heart than the ledgers, but had not asked.

  As Hunter and Nerissa finished eating, and left the room, Lady Alyse arrived, still yawning a little, somehow managing to look even more beautiful than usual.

  “Good morning, Lord Tillingford.”

  Her smile dazzled him, and his heart beat faster, his nerves returning on the instant.

  “Good morning, Lady Alyse. If you will excuse me?”

  Her face fell at his words, but she simply nodded politely, and focused her attention on her food, as he left the room. He would allow half an hour, then bring the book down to the parlour, where he expected she would be found, drawing.

  ~~~~~

  Alyse finished eating, alone in the breakfast room, feeling disconsolate. She might almost think that he was avoiding her, so fast had he left the room when she had arrived. She sighed heavily, and went to the parlour. She was attempting to improve her ability to draw from memory, and had decided to draw things she had seen at Tillingford Castle, then compare the drawings to those she had made whilst there.

  Not long after she had settled into her favourite chair, Lord Tillingford came into the room and simply nodded in greeting, chose a chair, and began to read the book he had brought with him. The light from the window, and the light from the fire, highlighted his face, drawing out the strong shape, and the curve of his cheek. Alyse found herself staring at him, and, after a moment, turned to a new page in her journal, and began to draw him. Perhaps she could capture that light…

  As always, drawing absorbed her, and she forgot, for a little, her despondency at the fact that he had not spoken of his feelings.

  For some reason, he kept adjusting his position. The movements, and the small sounds that went with them, broke her concentration, and she glanced up to find him watching her, as if fascinated by her work. She felt her face flush red with embarrassment at being caught surreptitiously drawing him, again. Their eyes met, and something, some hesitation, in his manner was replaced by what seemed a moment of decision.

  He stood, drawing something from between the pages of his book, then dropping the book to the chair. Carefully holding whatever it was in his hands, he took the few steps to stand before her. Alyse snappe
d her journal shut, her flush rising even more. She looked up at him, and, he went as if to speak, then stopped. She waited.

  Finally, without a word, he extended his hand, offering her the item he had carried so carefully. She took it, her nerves afire where his fingers brushed hers as she did. Looking down at what she held, she gasped, in awe of the workmanship of the favour she held.

  “This… this is beyond beautiful, my Lord.”

  “Please – open it.”

  At his words, she realised that the favour was one of those folded, so that it could be opened, and the message written inside discovered. With great care, she slid her fingers between the edges, and unfolded it.

  Her breath stopped, her heart ceased to beat for a moment. There was no pretty poem inside. The words on the page were few, although written in a beautiful hand, but they were the most treasured words she had ever read.

  My darling Alyse,

  Marry me? For I love you more than life

  Yours Always

  Gerry

  Her eyes filled with tears of happiness, and all of her uncertainty and irritation of the recent days fell away. He stood there, his heart on his face, and she could see that, still, he feared rejection. Surely, by now, he realised how much she loved him?

  She laid the favour, and her journal, carefully aside, and stood, smiling. Then, unable to restrain herself any longer, she flung her arms around his neck.

  “Yes, oh yes. I was afraid that you did not, that you would not…”

  “Never doubt my love for you. And your love for me finally gave me the courage to believe that I might have happiness – I simply took time to be brave enough to ask.”

  “I am so glad you did – you are the only man I have ever wanted, from the first day that I met you.”

  He laughed, full of joy and relief.

  “Then I have been doubly a fool, to have taken so long to understand what I felt.”