Foster Sheridan, Earl of Sterling.
It was a good name.
She sighed, longing for her cousin Sara’s presence and advice. Sara had always been her closest confidante. Now that Mara thought about it, Sara Fleming had been her only confidante, even though Sara lived in New York! It suddenly struck Mara as inconvenient that she had no other close friends. She’d always wished for a sister, and Sara had come close to filling that role. But more often than not, Mara spent most of her time alone or with her family, which normally did not bother her. She was a private person and content to keep things to herself. But now, when she had the most exciting news of her life, she had no one to share it with who would understand.
Oh, she had so many questions for Lord Sterling. How had he found her? Why did he wish to see her? And most importantly, why could he not call upon her in the customary manner?
Mara glanced at the letter again, rereading it, gently running her fingers across the words he’d written. He had been thinking about her as much as she’d been thinking about him.
Tomorrow. She would see the man she had been longing for at the park tomorrow morning! For there was not a doubt in her mind that she would meet him there.
5
Suggestions
He was utterly crazy. Certifiably insane. What was he thinking to write to her? What on earth did he hope to gain by it? There was no way this could end well.
Foster Sheridan, Earl of Sterling, paced back and forth in front of the entrance to the park the next morning. The crisp September air told him that they had seen the last of the warm days of summer. Autumn had officially arrived. The leaves on the trees glinted in the clear morning sunlight. It was early yet. Or rather, he was early. It was only half past eight. He was an hour early, but he could not contain himself. He was too eager to see her and feared that they might miss each other. Idiot that he was, he would willingly walk the length of the Queen’s Walk back and forth all day waiting for her, if she wasn’t there on time.
For a mature man of thirty, he was behaving like a callow schoolboy. He was actually nervous! Nervous about meeting a beautiful woman. Glancing around, he noted there were no people about this early, which had been his goal. He wanted to avoid meeting up with anyone either of them knew.
He simply needed to see her again. To see if she was real. He feared he imagined all that had happened between them the night of the Duke of Rathmore’s ball. There had been something so magnetic about her. About them together. It defied description.
Yet Foster was not free to call on her. He was not free to do anything with her. He shouldn’t have sent her the letter. He should never have dared to ask her to meet him. But he simply had to see her one more time.
He was a fool! A great fool. He would apologize to her. He would ask her forgiveness at his audacity and be on his way. He would do the proper thing and just walk away, never to see her again.
Lady Mara Reeves deserved far better than someone like him.
He continued pacing, wondering if she would be late. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he knew next to nothing about her. Over the last week, he had discovered her whereabouts. It left him wondering why was she staying in London with her aunt and uncle? Lady Mara Reeves was a complete mystery to him. Yet a bewitching mystery he felt compelled to unravel.
And suddenly there she was . . . the beautiful object of his thoughts.
Lady Mara Reeves was walking straight toward him, her stride elegant, graceful, and purposeful.
She looked like an angel, with the morning sun glistening on the pretty bonnet framing her fair hair, giving the effect of a halo. She wore an attractive fitted gown of apple green that showed off her perfectly shaped figure. Her sweet face beamed at him while a delighted smile touched her pink lips. She was happy to see him.
And she was almost an hour early!
“Mara . . .” Her name escaped his mouth on a raspy whisper. He was so elated to see her, he could barely speak.
“Foster,” she responded a little breathlessly as she came to a stop in front of him.
Goodness, but she was a tiny thing! He could easily lift her in his arms with no trouble at all. He’d forgotten how petite she was, how delicate. She was utterly lovely.
“You’re here early.” He marveled at the fact that they both had arrived an hour ahead of the scheduled meeting time.
“So are you.” She smiled up at him, her misty gray eyes soft and luminous, framed by thick lashes. “But I simply couldn’t wait any longer to see you and I had a funny feeling you’d be here too.”
The earnestness in her voice, her whole manner, was almost his undoing. There was not a shred of artifice about her. This beautiful, ethereal little creature was happy simply to see him and was so eager to do so that she couldn’t wait. He grinned helplessly.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, longing to pull her into his arms. He yearned to touch her, to know that she was real and here with him. But he knew better. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“I’m so happy and relieved that you wrote to me.” She gazed up at him, peering from beneath the brim of her jade-colored bonnet, her eyes appearing greener than he recalled them being. Hadn’t they been gray? She added softly, “I didn’t know when I would see you again.”
Foster’s heart slammed into the wall of his chest with a force that almost knocked him over. This beautiful woman, this wisp of a girl, touched something deep inside of him. Something he had long believed to be dead and gone. Under the warmth of her sweet gaze, that deadened, cold place in his heart hesitantly began thawing, like the unfurling of a tender new leaf in the spring snow. Astonished by this unique feeling, a sense of panic enveloped him as well.
“I don’t know why I sent that letter. I only knew that somehow, some way, I had to see you again, Mara.” The words fell from his lips of their own volition. Yet he spoke only the truth. He had no choice but to see her again. No matter how wrong it was to the rest of the world, to Foster it seemed the only right course to take in his life.
“However did you manage to find me?”
“I discreetly asked a few friends who know the Duke of Rathmore,” he explained. “What was not as easy to ascertain was the reason you are staying with the Marquis of Stancliff and his family at Devon House . . .”
A shy look came over Mara’s angelic face. “My family has gone to our home in Ireland until Christmas. There was no prospect of seeing you again if I went with them, so I decided to remain here in London with my aunt and uncle.”
A deep silence grew between them as the meaning of her words sank in. The heavy thud of his heart against his chest echoed in his ears. He could not believe what she was implying. “Then you stayed . . .”
He paused in confusion, for he had to be mistaken. She couldn’t possibly be suggesting that she left her family on the off chance of their seeing each other again. “You stayed in London simply to see me?”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft. “I had been trying to figure out a way to find you, when your letter arrived.”
Her response took his breath away. It was astounding. He repeated what he could not quite believe. “You stayed here for me?”
“Well, if I went to Ireland, who knows when we would have seen one another again?” she continued, oddly matter-of-fact in her explanation of something so extraordinary.
“Then all things considered,” he said, “I must admit that I’m very pleased you chose to remain here in London.”
“You are pleased then?” she asked hesitantly.
He nodded, his heart beating erratically. “Very pleased.”
Again those luminous gray-green eyes of hers, that almost seemed to see through him, lit up at his words. The look she gave him did something to him. If they had not been standing in the middle of a public garden, he would have pulled her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly then and there. And how he longed to do just that! Foster fought against every natural instinct in his being to not reach out and s
imply touch the softness of her cheek.
Then her expression grew quite solemn and her delicate eyebrows drew together. “That night we met . . . It was rather remarkable. I can’t explain it fully, but I felt as if I knew you, yet that’s impossible, for I know nothing about you.”
“I will tell you whatever you wish to know.”
“I have so many questions for you, I’m not sure where to begin.”
She was adorably earnest in her manner. He’d never known anyone quite like her. “You are most enchanting, Mara.”
“Thank you.” Flustered by his compliment, her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Should we go somewhere we can talk privately?”
“Go somewhere?” he echoed.
“We can’t very well stand here much longer or someone will notice us together. Although people already gossip about me, I’m sure being seen alone with you is not anything that would help my reputation. Brighton, my lady’s maid, is waiting for me back by the carriage, but I’d rather we speak privately, don’t you agree?”
His mind spun with the ramifications. What could he say to her? He wanted more than anything in the world to be alone with her. He longed to talk to her, to learn everything there was to know about this lovely woman. He was inexplicably drawn to her.
Yet he had to refuse her. It was the proper thing to do. The right course of action. He should not spend another moment in her presence. He should inform her that he was not free. Not free at all. He never should have written to her. Never should have invited her to meet him there. It was all wrong. He should escort her back to her carriage and send her home right away.
“My carriage is just over there,” he heard himself say to her. Going against everything he knew that was just and proper, he continued his descent. “Can you come for a ride with me?”
A delighted smile lit her face again. “I would love to!”
And just like that, Foster whisked her off to the seclusion of his enclosed carriage, hating himself every step of the way. She sat across from him, staring at him expectantly, and rather adoringly, and it tore at his heart. As the carriage lurched into motion, he made a silent promise that they would just go for a quick ride around the park while he told her that he was not free to call upon her, and then he would send her home. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do.
Mara said softly, with a shy smile, “I was hoping we could do this.”
“Pardon me?” he asked.
“I was hoping we could be alone to talk. There’s so much I want to know about you.”
His heart flipped over and he felt like a complete cad. She was so happy and excited to be with him. It was all terribly wrong. He was a complete cad.
“Oh, Mara, you’ve no idea about anything.”
“But surely, you felt it too?” she asked. “Please tell me that I didn’t imagine how it felt the night we met. How it feels between us now. That it isn’t just me.”
“No. No, it isn’t just you.”
He couldn’t explain it to himself, let alone to her, but yes, he had felt something incredible the night he first saw her. There was no denying it. There was an inexplicable link between them, but he should not have mentioned it to her! “I don’t know what in heaven’s name to call it,” he confessed. “But yes, I felt it too.”
She smiled with relief. “It was a magical sort of connection, wasn’t it? A sense of knowing each other. That’s what I felt. So strongly! I feel I know you, and I have never felt that way with anyone before in my life, Foster.”
He loved the sound of his name on her lips. He loved how Mara looked at him when she spoke. How her misty gray-green eyes lit with excitement and her expression became animated. God, but she was lovely. Framed by flaxen hair, her features were delicate and fair. Her smooth skin looked so soft, he longed to run his fingers along her cheek. The ethereal quality about her drew him in like nothing else. Her beauty was somewhat otherworldly, as if she couldn’t possibly belong to the ordinariness of living on this earthly plane.
“Have you ever felt anything like that night?”
“No. I can honestly say that I have not.”
Not in all his life had he felt such an overwhelming connection to another person. As an only child, Foster had had a solitary childhood, mostly cared for by a string of nannies until he was sent off to boarding school. Then, as an obedient son, he married as his parents wished when he was twenty years old, to a woman who didn’t love him and never would. He’d had a few discreet mistresses over the years, but he’d not felt anything but passing affection for them.
No, what he already felt for Mara, a woman he barely knew, far surpassed anything he’d ever felt for anyone in his life.
“Well, what do you think it means?” She stared at him.
He laughed then. “I’m sure I haven’t a clue, sweet Mara. What do you think it means?”
After a slight pause, she ventured, “Well, I have a notion that those feelings we have for each other mean that we are destined to be together.”
Destined to be together.
If only he could be with this beautiful, enchanting woman! The light and energy that surrounded her drew his soul to hers, in spite of his brain screaming at him to run away. No good could come of this. No good at all.
Reluctantly, he shook his head, his stomach tied in knots. He forced himself to tell her the truth. “No. We are not destined to be together.”
“Why?” Mara looked confused. “Do you think it means something else?”
“I know it does.” He took a deep breath. He wanted more than anything in the world to say something completely different to her than what he was about to. He could not put it off any longer. It would only add to her pain.
Their pain.
“Mara, I wish I could tell you that our destiny is to be together, because I wish that we could be. I wish it more than you could possibly imagine. But there is something I need to tell you about me . . .”
She looked at him expectantly, her delicate brows furrowed. “Yes? What is it?”
“I am married.”
All the color drained from her sweet face at his words. Her eyes grew round in surprise, like great pools of gray. Deflated, she remained speechless for a moment as their meaning sunk in.
Foster wished he could take the words back. Even more than that, he wished he weren’t married. His stomach churned.
The carriage swayed from side to side. The sound of the horses’ hooves clopping over the cobblestones seemed much louder than it had even a moment ago. Almost unbearably loud.
Suddenly Mara sat up straight. “Of course!”
“What is it?” he asked, surprised by her reaction to his news.
“You are married. That’s why you didn’t let me kiss you that night!”
Her train of thought confused him. “Well, yes . . . but I wanted to kiss you.”
“I knew it!” She seemed oddly relieved.
“Knew what?”
“I have never kissed a man before and I thought I had done something wrong, or something to offend you that night and that was why you didn’t kiss me and left so abruptly. But you wanted that kiss too. You were simply being a gentleman. It wasn’t me at all.”
“But it is you, Mara. Don’t you see? I am not free to kiss you. I am not free to court you. I am not able to call upon you. I cannot do anything with you.” He paused, his heart heavy. “I am a married man.”
“But you wanted to kiss me, did you not?” She stared at him artlessly.
“Of course I did!” He almost shouted the words. His frustration was greater than he could bear. “I am not dead. Of course I wanted to kiss you that night, just as I want to kiss you this very moment. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. “And I cannot have you.”
“Of course you can have me.”
Foster’s eyes flew open. Had the girl lost her mind completely? She seemed so calm. Oddly so. He had expected tears from her. He’d expected anger. Maybe even
a slap across the face. Which he undoubtedly deserved. He’d expected that she’d be hurt when he told her that he was married. He had not anticipated this assuredness that he could still have her. What on earth was she thinking?
“Mara, you don’t know what you are saying.”
She gave him an appraising look. “You are not happy in your marriage, are you?”
“No.” Again, he sighed heavily. “I am not at all happy in my marriage. I have never been happy in my marriage. She and I live hundreds of miles apart because we make each other miserable.” Not one single day of his married life had he been happy with Rose. Not one. Not even close. Nor had she been happy with him. “But it doesn’t matter whether I am happy or not. I am married, Mara, and I cannot ever be with you.” The truth of that statement cut him deeply. “We shouldn’t even be together now.”
“Do you want to be with me, Foster?” she asked, apparently ignoring all he had just said.
“I hardly know you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Her eyes bored into him.
“What does it matter?” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “It’s an impossible situation.”
“It does matter to me. Very much so. This is my life. And I know we are destined to be together. It doesn’t matter how. Or when. Don’t you feel that between us?” she asked, almost pleaded.
It was pointless. All of it. The two of them being alone in his carriage, having this conversation. The things Mara was suggesting. The feelings that were flooding him. The burgeoning glimmer of hope that burned low within him, that his life might actually regain a sense of living. The hope of creating a family. With Mara. Of beautiful, gray-eyed, blond-haired babies. The prospect of a life full of love and happiness. It was terribly dangerous to even be thinking these things.
Because none of it could ever happen.
The Irish Heiress Page 5