by Julia Quinn
She tore at the grass, afraid that if she wrapped her arms around James she’d rend his shirt in two. But then, as his finger slid into her, he whispered, “Touch me.”
Tentatively, afraid of her own passion, she brought her hands to the collar of his shirt. The top button was undone; the second quickly slipped through its loophole in her haste to touch his skin.
“My God, Elizabeth,” he gasped. “You kill me.”
She stopped, her eyes flying to his.
“No,” he said, laughing despite himself. “That’s good.”
“Are you sure? Because—Ohhhhhhhhh!”
She had no idea what he did, how exactly he moved his fingers, but the pressure that had been building within her suddenly exploded. Her body tensed, then arched, then shook, and when she finally shuddered to the ground, she was certain she must be in a thousand pieces.
“Oh, James,” she sighed. “You make me feel so good inside.”
His body was still hard as a rock, and he was tense with desire that he knew must go unfulfilled that night. His arms began to quiver under the weight of his body, so he rolled onto his side, fitting himself alongside her on the grass. He propped his head up on one elbow, taking in the exquisite sight of her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and he was certain he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful in his life.
“There is so much I need to tell you,” he whispered, smoothing her hair away from his forehead.
Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open. “What?”
“Tomorrow,” he promised, gently drawing up her bodice. It seemed a shame to cover such perfect beauty, but he knew she was still self-conscious about her nakedness. Or at least she would be, once she remembered that she was naked.
She blushed, proving his theory that, in the aftermath of passion, she had forgotten her undressed state. “Why can’t you tell me tonight?” she asked.
It was a good question. It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out his true identity and ask her to marry him, but something was holding him back. He was only going to propose marriage once in his life, and he wanted it to be perfect. He had never dreamed he’d find a woman who so totally captured his soul. She deserved roses and diamonds, and him on bended knee.
And he felt he owed it to Agatha to tell her that he was ending his charade before he actually ended it.
“Tomorrow,” he promised again. “Tomorrow.”
That seemed to satisfy her, for she sighed and sat up. “I suppose we must be getting back.”
He shrugged and grinned. “I have no pressing appointments.”
That earned him a friendly scowl. “Yes, but I am expected. Lady Danbury spent all week nagging me to attend her masquerade. If I do not make an appearance, I will never hear the end of it.” She shot him a wry, side-ways sort of look. “She is so close to driving me mad as it is. An endless lecture about my not attending is likely to send me right over the edge.”
“Yes,” James murmured, “she is rather handy with guilt.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” Elizabeth asked.
The very worst of ideas. Any number of people might recognize him. “I’d love to,” he lied, “but I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Er, I’m quite dusty from the road, and—”
“We’ll brush you off.”
“I have no costume.”
“Bah! Half the men refuse to wear costumes. I’m certain we can find you a mask.”
In desperation, he blurted out, “I simply cannot mix among people in my current state.”
That caused her to snap her mouth shut on whatever reply she’d been forming. After several seconds of awkward silence, she finally asked, “What state do you mean?”
James groaned. Had no one explained the workings of men and women to her? Probably not. Her mother had died when she was only eighteen, and he found it difficult to imagine his aunt taking on the delicate task. He looked over at Elizabeth. Her eyes were expectant. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me tell you that I’d like to jump in a lake and leave it at that,” he said.
She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so,” he muttered.
“You didn’t…ah…”
He jumped on her words. “Exactly! I didn’t.”
“The problem,” she said, not meeting his eyes, “is that I’m not precisely certain what you didn’t do.”
“I’ll show you later,” he promised. “God help me, if I don’t show you later, I’ll be dead before the month is out.”
“A whole month?”
A month? Was he insane? He was going to have to get a special license. “A week. Definitely a week.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. But you will.”
Elizabeth coughed and blushed. “Whatever it is you’re talking about,” she mumbled, “I have a feeling it’s rather naughty.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “You’re still a virgin, Elizabeth. And I’m frustrated as hell.”
“Oh! I…” She smiled sheepishly. “Thank you.”
“I’d tell you it was no trouble at all,” he said, taking her arm, “except that would be a blatant lie.”
“And I suppose,” she added mischievously, “that you would also be lying if you said it was your pleasure.”
“That would be a huge lie. Of proportions immense.”
She laughed.
“If you don’t start according me the proper respect,” he muttered, “I may have to toss you in the lake along with me.”
“Surely you can take a bit of teasing.”
“I rather think I’ve taken all the teasing my body can stand already this evening.”
She let out another peal of giggles. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I don’t mean to laugh at you, but—”
“Yes, you do.” He tried not to grin, but he wasn’t successful.
“All right, yes, I do, but it’s only because—” She stopped walking and reached up to touch his beloved face. “It’s only because you make me so happy and free. I cannot remember the last time I felt so able to simply laugh.”
“What about when you’re with your family?” he asked. “I know you adore them.”
“I do. But even when we are laughing and joking and having the loveliest of times, there is always a cloud hanging over me, constantly reminding me that it all could be taken away. That it all would be taken away the moment I found myself unable to support them.”
“You will never have to worry about that again,” he said, his voice a fierce vow. “Never.”
“Oh, James,” she said wistfully. “You’re very sweet to say so, but I don’t see how you can—”
“You’ll have to trust me,” he interrupted. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Besides, I thought you said that when you were with me that pesky gray cloud disappeared.”
“When I’m with you I forget about my worries, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone.”
He patted her hand. “I may surprise you yet, Elizabeth Hotchkiss.”
They walked toward the house in companionable silence. As they drew near, the sounds of the party grew louder—music, mixed with chatter, and the occasional roar of raucous laughter.
“It sounds like quite a crush,” Elizabeth commented.
“Lady Danbury would accept no less,” James replied. He glanced at the stately stone mansion, which had come into view. Guests had spilled out onto the lawn, and he knew he was going to have to make his exit immediately.
“Elizabeth,” he said, “I must leave now, but I will call upon you tomorrow.”
“No, please let’s stay.” She smiled up at him, her dark blue eyes heartbreakingly huge. “We’ve never danced.”
“I promise you that we shall.” He kept his eye on the closest members of the crowd. He didn’t see anyone he knew, but one could never be too careful.
“I’ll find you a mask, if that’s your worry.”
“No, Elizabeth, I just can’t. You must accept that.”
&n
bsp; She frowned. “I don’t see why you must—”
“It’s simply the way it must be. I—Ooof!” Something very large and padded crashed into James’s back. Clearly they were not quite as far from the crowds as he’d thought. He turned around to dress down the clumsy partygoer—
And found himself staring straight into the aquamarine eyes of Caroline Ravenscroft.
Elizabeth watched the scene that unfolded with an increasing sense of disbelief and horror.
“James?” Caroline asked, her eyes growing round with delight. “Oh, James! It’s so lovely to see you!”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew from James to Caroline, trying to figure out how these two people knew each other. If Caroline knew James, surely she would have known he was the estate manager Elizabeth had mentioned earlier that evening.
“Caroline,” James responded, his voice impossibly tight.
Caroline tried to throw her arms around him, but her pumpkin costume rendered hugs difficult. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “Blake and I are most displeased. He has been trying to reach you for—Elizabeth?”
James froze. “How do you know Elizabeth?” he asked, his words slow and careful.
“We met this evening,” Caroline replied, giving him a dismissive wave before turning to her new best friend. “Elizabeth, I have been looking for you all night. Where did you disappear to? And how do you know James?”
“I—I—” Elizabeth couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t possibly verbalize what was becoming increasingly obvious.
“When did you meet Elizabeth?” Caroline flipped around to face James, her light brown braid clipping him in the shoulder. “I told her about you this afternoon and she said she didn’t know you.”
“You told me about him?” Elizabeth whispered. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t mention James. The only person you told me about was—”
“James,” Caroline cut in. “The Marquis of Riverdale.”
“No,” Elizabeth said in a shaky voice, her mind suddenly filled with images of a little red book and endless edicts. HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS. No, it was impossible. “This isn’t—”
Caroline turned to James. “James?” Her eyes grew wide as she realized that she had unwittingly destroyed a secret. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I never dreamed you would be working in disguise here at Danbury House. You told me you were through with all that.”
“With all what?” Elizabeth asked, her voice slightly shrill.
“This isn’t about the War Office,” James bit off.
“What, then?” Caroline asked.
“The Marquis of Riverdale?” Elizabeth echoed. “You’re a marquis?”
“Elizabeth,” James said, all but ignoring Caroline. “Give me a moment to explain.”
A marquis. James was a marquis. And he must have been laughing at her for weeks. “You bastard,” she hissed. And then, using every boxing lesson he’d ever given her, plus quite a bit of sheer instinct, she drew back her right arm and swung.
James stumbled. Caroline shrieked. Elizabeth stalked away.
“Elizabeth!” James boomed, striding after her. “Get back here this instant. You will listen to me.”
His hand closed around her elbow. “Let go of me!” she cried out.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“Oh, you must have had so much fun with me,” she choked out. “So much fun pretending to teach me how to marry a marquis. You bastard. You filthy bastard.”
He nearly flinched at the venom in her voice. “Elizabeth, I never once—”
“Did you laugh about me with your friends? Did you laugh about the poor little lady’s companion who thought she might be able to marry a marquis?”
“Elizabeth, I had my reasons for keeping my identity a secret. You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she spat out, trying to yank her arm free of his grip. “Don’t ever even speak to me again.”
“I will not let you run off without hearing me out.”
“And I let you touch me,” she whispered, her horror showing clearly on her face. “I let you touch me and it was all a lie.”
He caught hold of her other arm and pulled her up against him until her breasts were flattened against his ribs. “Don’t you ever,” he hissed, “call that a lie.”
“Then what was it? You don’t love me. You don’t even respect me enough to tell me who you are.”
“You know that’s not true.” He looked up and saw that a small crowd had begun to form near Caroline, who was still standing openmouthed about ten yards away. “Come with me,” he ordered, pulling her around the corner of Danbury House. “We’ll discuss this in private.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She dug her heels in, but she was no match for his greater strength. “I’m going home, and if you ever attempt to speak with me again, I shall not answer to the consequences.”
“Elizabeth, you are being irrational.”
She snapped. Whether it was his voice or his words, she never knew, but she just snapped. “Don’t you tell me what I am!” she yelled, pounding her fists against his chest. “Don’t you tell me anything!”
James just stood there, letting her hit him. He stood so still that eventually her arms, sensing no resistance, had to stop.
She pulled away, her body wracked by deep and violent breaths as she stared up at his face. “I hate you,” she said in a low voice.
He said nothing.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You don’t even think you’ve done anything wrong.”
“Elizabeth.” He’d never dreamed it could take such strength just to call forward one simple word.
Her eyes grew faintly pitying, as if she’d suddenly realized that he must be beneath her, that he would never be worthy of her love and respect. “I’m going home. You may inform Lady Danbury that I have resigned.”
“You can’t resign.”
“And why not?”
“She needs you. And you need the—”
“The money?” she spat out. “Is that what you were going to say?”
He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he knew she could see his answer in his eyes.
“There are some things I won’t do for money,” she told him, “and if you think I’m going to come back here and work for your aunt—Oh, my God!” she gasped, as if just realizing what she’d said. “She’s your aunt. She must have known. How could she do this to me?”
“Agatha had no knowledge of what was happening between us. Whatever blame you choose to assign, none can be heaped upon her shoulders.”
“I trusted her,” she whispered. “She was like a mother to me. Why would she let this happen?”
“James? Elizabeth?”
They both turned to see a very tentative pumpkin poking her head around the corner, followed by a somewhat irritable black-haired pirate, who was waving his arms in the opposite direction, yelling, “Go away! All of you! There is nothing to see.”
“This is not a good time, Caroline,” James said, his words clipped.
“Actually,” Caroline said softly, “I fear it might be just the right time. Perhaps we could all adjourn inside? Somewhere private?”
Blake Ravenscroft, Caroline’s husband and James’s best friend, stepped forward. “She’s right, James. Gossip is already flying. Half the party is going to be creeping around this corner within minutes.”
Caroline nodded. “I’m afraid there is going to be a terrible scandal.”
“I’m sure there already is one,” Elizabeth retorted. “Not that I care. I’m sure I will never see any of these people again.”
James felt his fingernails bite into his palms. He was getting heartily sick of Elizabeth’s stubbornness. Not once had she given him the opportunity to state his case. What was all that nonsense she’d said about trusting him? If she’d really trusted him, she might have let him get a word in edgewise.
“You will see these people again
,” he said in a dangerous voice.
“Oh, and when would that be?” she taunted. “I’m not of your ilk, as you have so capably—if rather underhandedly—pointed out.”
“No,” he said softly, “you’re better.”
That startled her into silence. Her mouth trembled, and her voice shook when she finally said, “No. You can’t do this. What you did is unforgivable, and you can’t use sweet words as absolution.”
James gritted his teeth and took a step toward her, heedless of the way Caroline and Blake were gaping at him. “I will give you one day to get over your anger, Elizabeth. You have until this time tomorrow.”
“And then what happens?”
His eyes grew hot as he leaned forward, purposefully intimidating her with his size. “And then you marry me.”
Chapter 18
Elizabeth punched him again, this time catching him so off guard that he tumbled to the ground.
“That is a terrible thing to say!” she cried out.
“Elizabeth,” Caroline said, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to her side. “I think he just asked you to marry him. That’s a nice thing to say. A nice thing.” She turned to her husband, who was looking at James and trying not to laugh. “Isn’t that a nice thing?”
“He doesn’t mean it,” Elizabeth snapped. “He’s only saying that because he feels guilty. He knows what he did was wrong and—”
“Wait a moment,” Blake interjected. “I thought you said he didn’t even know he’d done anything wrong.”
“He didn’t. He doesn’t. I don’t know!” Elizabeth swung around, her eyes narrowing on the darkly handsome gentleman. “And you weren’t even there. How do you know what I said? Were you eavesdropping?”
Blake, who had worked with James at the War Office for many years, simply shrugged. “Second nature, I’m afraid.”
“Well, it’s a despicable habit. I—” She stopped short, motioning toward him with an impatient gesture. “Who are you?”
“Blake Ravenscroft,” he said with a polite bow.
“My husband,” Caroline supplied.
“Ah, yes, the one who has been friends with him”—Elizabeth jerked her hand toward James, who was sitting on the ground, holding his nose—“for years. Pardon me if that connection does not recommend you.”