Was it his imagination, or did she give a sigh of disappointment? And was she swaying slightly? He moved forward swiftly and took her by the elbows.
“Tia, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing. I may have drunk too much claret with supper, that’s all. I felt light-headed for a moment. It will pass.”
“I’m not taking any chances.” Wrapping an arm about her waist, he pulled her against his side. “I’ll carry you in if need be. It’s hot and sultry tonight, and perhaps you’re too tightly laced. I would offer to loosen your corsets if I could trust myself to do nothing more.”
“Is that so? I suppose it might be best if you didn’t. Mama would wonder how I came to be unlaced.”
Hal’s fingers stroked the slender curve of her waist, relishing the touch of Tia’s body pressed against his. “She wouldn’t suspect me, surely? She’d come up with some purely innocent explanation.”
“I doubt she’d suspect you. She still thinks of you as a distant, slightly menacing figure, with ice in his veins, not blood.”
“But we both know differently, don’t we?” He slid his hand down to her hip. Oh, why was he doing this to himself? It was sweet torture. He needed to escort her back into the house before his defenses crumbled, and he threw her down on the lawn to ravish her.
Without waiting for her response, he took firm hold of her shoulder and walked her rapidly through the cloisters, holding her lantern in his free hand.
The shadows swayed and diminished as the light struck them. “Are you happy to return this way? I assume it’s the way you came. Don’t worry. I shall watch you to ensure the demons and gargoyles don’t spring to life and pounce upon you.”
“Hal, I do believe you’re trying to tease me. It demonstrates a considerable improvement in your state of mind.”
“How thoughtful of you to point it out.”
“Sarcasm, too. Why, you are becoming almost human.” Tia was taunting him now. She must be recovering.
“Little witch.” He swept her into in his arms, and she melted into his embrace like a wilting rose. His mouth covered hers as he succumbed to her spell, and her lips parted to welcome him, drugging him with their heady taste. Her fingers dug into the fine wool of his jacket as she clung to him, raising herself on tiptoe to increase the pressure of their kiss.
His arms wound about her waist, pressing her firmly against his body as he plundered her mouth, hungrily, inexorably. At her invitation, he thrust in his tongue to meet hers, teasingly withdrawing, then pushing in again until her jaw went slack and she surrendered all control to him.
Ah, if only this kiss could last forever. Nothing in the world was more important than two people united in desire, drinking their pleasure from each other’s lips, igniting the flames in each other’s bodies. The moment was timeless, boundless, completely exhilarating.
But he had to end this before it went too far. He’d fallen once. For the sake of her reputation, for the sake of their future happiness, he must not fall again. With a last, lingering caress of her lips, he pulled away.
He’d lifted her clear off the ground in his enthusiasm. As he released the pressure, she slid slowly down his body, creating a friction in his loins that sent prickles of excitement sparking through him. Their kiss had brought him to a potent hardness, proclaiming shamelessly how much his body wanted hers.
“I must return to the folly.” Must he? His words sounded hollow, and he wondered who he was trying to convince. “Thank you, Tia.”
“It was only a kiss, Hal.” Her voice was husky. “No need to thank me. I wanted to do it, to be reminded of what you tasted like.”
“I can’t believe you’ve forgotten.” She hadn’t, surely?
“Well, your kisses are so rarely given, it’s easy to forget what they’re like. Almost as rare as your smile, but I hope that can be improved upon.”
“Don’t be angry with me, Tia. I’m trying to preserve your innocence, and my peace of mind.”
“No, you’re not.” The change in her tone warned him she was in earnest now. What had he done to annoy her?
“You’re fully unwilling to face up to the realities of a proper interaction with another person,” she continued. “You do something that pricks your conscience and choose to hide in your folly rather than face the consequences.”
She tried to wriggle away from him, but he tightened his grip. “I don’t hide myself in there. I’m working. And thinking.”
“Working at what? You have an abbey to work in.”
He stroked her back soothingly. “This is something so personal, I’m not ready to share it.”
“Not even with me?”
“I will share it with you, my wonderful Galatea, one day.” He wouldn’t find it easy, but he saw now it had to be done if he was to have any chance of happiness.
“Why not now? Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you more, I think, than I’ve ever trusted a woman before. I consider you my friend. But you need to trust my judgment for a change. The time isn’t right for me, even if it is for you. Now, I’ve accepted that Polly can have her small gathering, and I’ve kissed you thoroughly, even though I had every intention of allowing you to escape to bed untouched. Please don’t test my resolve any farther tonight, Tia. One day you will know everything. Be patient.”
With that, he drew her gently to him, brushed his lips across her forehead, and strode away.
Chapter 32
Though anxious about Polly’s picnic, Tia made every effort to hide the fact. This close to mid-August, the weather was too hot and horribly humid. The air had filled with flying ants, invading the house, driving the servants mad. Tia was terrified the insects would land on the muffins, or dive into the cream jug.
But these annoyances failed to eclipse the enthusiasm created in the household by the prospect of the children’s picnic. Polly was so excited she was beside herself. A pity her father wasn’t here to see how happy he’d made his child by softening his attitude.
All the same, the girl lacked confidence, and as soon as the first guests arrived, she hid behind Tia’s skirts, crying, “Oh, Miss Wyndham, I don’t know what to say to them.”
“Don’t be silly, child—they are the guests, and it’s up to them to please you. And don’t worry if you’re shy, as some of them are probably shy also. How about if you all go and play catch on the lawn? There’ll be little need to make conversation.”
As Tia hurried past with Polly in search of a ball, Aldergate entered through the front door and stood in the entrance hall, looking important.
“Lord and Lady Fanshawe and their daughters Georgiana and Harriet,” he announced.
Lord and Lady Fanshawe? Whatever were they doing here? It was the children who’d been invited, not the whole family. Heart pounding, Tia curtsied awkwardly and extended her hand. “Why, your ladyship, and sir, what a pleasure. We’d only expected the children’s nannies to be with them.”
It was definitely not a pleasure. The modest garden party hadn’t been designed with the nobility in mind.
It soon became evident why the Fanshawes had accompanied their daughters. As Tia’s mother joined their little group, Lady Fanshawe peered around with keen interest. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Wyndham, Miss Wyndham. Is Lord Ansford not at home?”
He was not. He’d rigidly refused to budge on the issue of being present at his daughter’s party and had escaped to London.
Coward.
“No, my lady, he’s gone up to Town on urgent business.”
“A pity. We so hoped to see him again. Where would you like us to deposit ourselves? I hope you have somewhere cool, as our coach was unbearably stuffy.”
Tia showed them into the morning room, fortuitously tidied the previous day. Maintaining a poise she was far from feeli
ng, she sent for iced punch and gazed in silent horror at the aristocrats who had invaded her children’s party, wondering how she was supposed to entertain them.
While the Fanshawes settled in, she whispered to Mama, “You were in charge of the invitations—you didn’t invite Lord and Lady Fanshawe, did you?”
Her mother appeared troubled. “Not intentionally, no. Maybe they invited themselves as such people sometimes do. I don’t think there was anything ambiguous in my wording.”
Mrs. Dunne appeared in the doorway, gesturing frantically, and Tia was forced to leave Mama to make polite conversation with their august visitors while she dealt with the housekeeper.
“There’s another carriage, miss! With more gentlemen, and ladies, and children. I’m almost certain one of the men is the Earl of Bedwyn.”
“But this was meant to be a children’s party. The food is aimed at childish tastes, not an adult palate. And we can’t expect the Earl of Bedwyn to enjoy sitting outside on an upturned bucket or log.”
The housekeeper must have heard the tension in her voice, for she gave her a cheerful nod. “We could bring the chairs and occasional tables out of the Great Hall and set them up in the cloister where it’s cool. If some of us are detailed to take care of the adults, perhaps you, Betsy, and Nurse can deal with the children.”
“Can his lordship’s larder and cellars cope with these unanticipated arrivals?”
“Of course. Don’t trouble yourself, miss. I’ll speak to Cook and Aldergate directly. Oh, I hear another carriage, excuse me.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dunne.” Thank heaven for supportive servants. Hal had chosen them well.
The housekeeper beamed as she curtsied. “It’s my pleasure. Foxleaze has been silent for long enough.”
Once everyone had finished arriving, there were some forty guests, where Tia had been expecting ten. There had to be a reason for this debacle, and she had a strong suspicion of where the fault lay. When one of the children proudly flapped her invitation in front of her, Tia grabbed and scanned it. She let out a heavy sigh.
Mama had worded the invitation very badly and was thus entirely to blame. But she was enjoying herself so much, acting the part of hostess, Tia didn’t have the heart to rebuke her. All the servants—and even some of the adult visitors—had joined in to help with fetching, carrying, and supervising the children’s games. Everyone was brilliantly cheerful, despite the chaos, and Tia couldn’t help but be proud of what had been achieved.
Every amusement that could be conjured up was brought outside, including a harp for one young lady who offered to play, and an archery butts for whoever amongst the adults wished to demonstrate their skill. Unfortunately, the children couldn’t be trusted to play croquet, as they wielded the mallets more like weapons. The adults cheerfully appropriated the game.
From snatches of overheard conversation, it was obvious the local gentry had come largely to see the reclusive Lord Ansford, the consensus that more than enough time had elapsed for him to perform his duties again, both social and legal. No one mentioned the late baroness’s demise, nor the part Hal was rumored to have had in it. Tia was so relieved, she couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.
Her opportunity came a good deal sooner than expected. She’d just headed back into the house to fetch a kerchief for the game of Blind Man’s Bluff, when she cannoned into Hal himself, standing at the foot of the main stairwell.
Chapter 33
Pleasure washed through Tia, and she held out her hands in welcome. “Hal, how splendid. You’ve returned earlier than expected.”
In a harsh voice that instantly wiped the joy from her heart, he growled, “What in the name of all that’s holy is going on? I could barely get my carriage round to the coach house for all the horses, traveling barouches, and lackeys thronging the drive. Wasn’t this meant to be a small party of children? All of whom were, in fact, supposed to have gone home a full hour ago?”
“I’m afraid everyone had friends and relations staying, so they brought them along. It would have been rude to turn anybody away. Hal—”
He thrust past her and mounted the stairs two at a time. Reaching the landing, he stared through the long window, his body rigid.
How could he turn his back on her? This wasn’t her fault. She hastened after him to explain, but he spun around and pinned her with a thunderous look. “I gave permission for a small, private affair, and you have turned it into a riot. Is this how I’m to be repaid for giving you what you want? Will you forever be taking advantage of me?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Out of my way.” Hal speared her with a steely gaze. “This is my house, and I’m going to send them all home now.”
She shrank back, aghast. Surely not even he would inflict such an insult on their guests? Mama would be mortified, as would Polly. How could they bear the shame? He must be brought to see reason. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her tongue.
Hal had paled, his face stonier than a statue’s. His blue eyes glinted, his jaw clamped firm, clearly enraged. Before she could stop him, he cantered back down the stairs and strode toward the front door.
She ran after him and caught his elbow, but he shook her off.
“Leave me alone.” His tone was dangerously soft. “I can’t believe you’ve betrayed my trust like this. I thought so much better of you.”
“Hal, no, it’s all a terrible mistake,” she cried, but he’d already reached the door. She followed in his wake as he marched around the side of the house toward the cloisters and caught up with him outside the archway. She grabbed the back of his coat, desperate to stop him going any farther.
“Please, don’t. Polly will be so ashamed if you throw everyone out. This wasn’t meant to happen, believe me.” She pressed her forehead against the soft wool of his coat, squeezing her eyes tight shut, hoping he’d see reason.
The tension in his muscles eased a fraction. His body heaved with emotion, but he didn’t go forward or shout at his visitors. Had she won? She peeped out to see if anyone had noticed their altercation.
The party was in full swing. The grounds were flooded with people of all ages, sitting beneath ingeniously rigged-up canopies, strolling underneath parasols, chasing balls, chasing ducks, playing croquet, and even reading. It looked as if a genteel version of Chippenham fair had come to Foxleaze—there was even a handful of children dancing to the out-of-tune notes of the harp.
To any other aristocrat, this enjoyable gathering would have been considered a triumph. To Henry Pelham, eighth Baron Ansford, it was a catastrophe.
Hoping for a last-minute reprieve, Tia stood in front of him and looked up, praying he’d see the desperation in her eyes.
He simply stared past her, ignoring the mute plea. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his chest heaved with such indignation, she expected the buttons on his black waistcoat to fly off.
“Please Hal, don’t.” Her voice was a mere whisper.
As if coming back to her from far away, he lowered his gaze to her face, but there was no focus in his eyes. Without a word, he turned smartly on his heel and marched back the way he’d come.
She sank back against the stone pillar of the archway, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Pressing a hand against her midriff, she waited for the panic to ebb away. Hal had quit the battlefield. But had he left her victorious or had he retreated, intending to regroup?
The only way to find out and avert potential disaster was to follow him.
Chapter 34
Hal dragged off his coat and threw it onto the bed. He’d been unutterably rude to Tia, but finding his house teeming with people, when he’d hoped to have it—and her—to himself, was intolerable.
Pushing a hand through his hair, he crossed to the window, peered out, grimaced, and strode back to the door. A few mor
e moments’ pacing failed to improve his mood, so he slumped down on the chair in his dressing room and regarded his reflection balefully in the mirror.
So, this was how he appeared when angry. Not a pleasant sight. No wonder she’d backed away from him. Even so, she’d persisted in trying to speak to him. The woman had courage, at least.
He rolled his eyes. Oh, Tia. She’d let him down so badly. Would it always be like this between them, with him so besotted he couldn’t help but give in to her demands? After which she’d abuse any concessions he’d made, and completely betray his trust?
If only he hadn’t fallen head-over-heels in love.
He wanted her, body and soul, for all eternity. But would marriage to Tia be any less painful than his marriage to Mary? Tia would spoil Polly, and he’d spoil them both by lavishing too much affection on them—and they’d unite to take advantage of him at every turn.
He’d become indulgent, as he had been with Mary—or thought he had been—and would pander to their every whim until they no longer respected, or even liked him.
Unbearable.
The spoiling of Polly could be avoided if he sent her away to school as originally planned. But it would set Tia against him, not an auspicious beginning for their married life. Was his love strong enough to weather the storms that would come? Was his love even strong enough to weather their troubles now?
It must be. It had to be. He’d known when he took her innocence marriage was inevitable, whether she became enceinte or not. He was an honorable man, despite appearances, and he’d do the right thing. Love could flourish between a wedded couple, even if the match had been arranged—or forced.
Now was the time for him to practice optimism. A solution could be found for Polly to satisfy both himself and Tia. Soon they would wed, and he’d do his damnedest to be a loving husband, a protective father. He must give as much of his newly-awakened heart as he could spare and be prepared to deal with its ill usage by his wayward, ungovernable intended.
Beguiling the Baron Page 15