‘Pfft! Not lonely. Not you. You will always have some willing woman warming your bed.’
‘But none of them will ever be able to make me gasp with admiration at their cleverness. Nor will I be able to trust any of them the way I trust you. Nor will they make me feel that I have someone on my side, taking my part, no matter what. I tell you, Horatia, after you turned me...after I thought you’d turned me down,’ he amended hastily, when she took a breath as though to object to the slight inaccuracy of that statement, ‘I went back to my room and looked into my future. And I didn’t like what I saw. Because it didn’t have you in it. Oh, yes, I would have plenty of...’ He scrambled for a description that would not offend her. ‘Bedroom activity. And I would go out and about in society, and drink and gamble, and all the rest. But it would all be hollow. Inside I would be missing...well, you,’ he concluded.
To his consternation, instead of looking pleased by the way he’d just bared his heart to her, she looked as if she was going to start weeping again.
‘But I’m so plain,’ she wailed. ‘And you are so...’ She waved her hands in his direction when her voice choked up in a despairing sob.
Was now the time to scoop her up in his arms and soothe all her insecurities with kisses? He pushed himself off the bedpost and began to reach for her.
Then thought better of it. Because her insecurities about her own appearance needed dealing with first.
‘Now, Horatia,’ he said sternly. ‘I cannot believe you are letting a little thing like my appearance put you off. Not when so far you have always looked right through the mask that usually fools everyone else to the man I am beneath. And treated me with the respect you think that man deserves. Don’t, I beg of you, turn me down because I wear the clothes of a dandy and preen every ten minutes like some fop. You know that is not who I am.’
‘No, but... I am so—’
Yes. That was what he’d thought she was thinking.
‘Enchanting,’ he interrupted before she could say anything derogatory about herself. ‘With a mind like a steel trap. I have never met anyone as clever as you, male or female. That is what I love about you most. Your mind. Your intellect is like...to me it is like...a bright, shining jewel. Now that I have glimpsed it, I covet it for my own.’
‘You love me?’ Her mouth gaped. Her eyes widened. But instead of beaming with joy, a frown pleated her forehead. ‘Am I dreaming this? Did all this come out of that little brown bottle of Mrs Manderville’s?’ She pinched herself. ‘Ow!’
So she did want him. He was the stuff of her dreams. Resisting the urge to throw back his head and crow with triumph, Nick finally abandoned the safety of the bedpost and went to sit on the edge of her mattress.
And took her hand, her poor little bandaged hand.
She looked at him with what, finally, looked like yearning blazing from her eyes. But only for a moment, before it dimmed as something else occurred to her.
‘But when a man who looks like you, with a reputation like yours, marries a plain, awkward woman like me...’ she said.
He lifted her injured hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to a patch of bare skin above the bandage. Giving her, into the bargain, the benefit of one of his most smouldering looks. She shivered, as though all the heat he put into it had percolated right down to her toes. Visiting all the relevant places in between.
‘To start with,’ he said, ‘I have never considered you plain.’ Which was the complete truth. ‘And anyway, the kind of beauty that is only skin-deep fades with age. Skin that was once likened to a rose petal always wrinkles, in the end. Firm figures swell and sag. But your mind, your heart, the things that make you you, they will never change. Those things will continue to dazzle me, for years and years.’
‘Oh...’ She sighed, the anxiety fading from her eyes, and that yearning look taking its place.
‘Besides, you haven’t fallen for my face, have you, but the man I am inside.’
She looked worried again. ‘I...I cannot deny,’ she said, guiltily, ‘that part of your attraction is the way you look.’
Now, how was he to counteract that objection?
‘You always turned your little nose up at me,’ he recalled, ‘when you thought that all I had to recommend me was my looks.’
‘That’s true,’ she said, brightening up at once. ‘I am not shallow enough to simply fall for a handsome face and elegant tailoring, am I? It wasn’t until I got to know you, the man you keep hidden from everyone else, that I started feeling as if you were my every dream come true.’
Her every dream come true? His heart quailed, just a bit. Being her every dream was going to take some living up to.
But hadn’t he vowed it was going to be better to fight for what he truly wanted, than to slink away like a coward, pretending he didn’t care? If he hedged off now, because he couldn’t believe in himself, he would live to regret it.
He sat up straighter. ‘So, is it a yes, then?’ He gripped her hand tightly. Willing her to take a gamble on him and help him become the man she thought he could be.
Yet also willing her to come to her senses and turn him down, for her own good.
‘Oh, how I want to say yes,’ she said, rather than giving him either answer. ‘But...’
Now was the time to kiss her. Before she could think of something he couldn’t argue away. So he did. And she stopped arguing. With her whole body. Instead she looped her arms round his neck and kissed him back with all the inexpert enthusiasm he’d hoped for.
It felt like his first kiss. And it was the first time he’d kissed her, though he’d been longing to do it since...well, he couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t wanted to kiss her, to be frank. But more than that, it was the first time he’d kissed a woman and meant it. Heart and soul.
But he had to stop. Because if he didn’t, he’d be giving in to other, baser urges. And that wouldn’t be fair to her.
So he drew back. Gazed down into her face. Her sweet, trusting, innocent, lovely little face. Although, he couldn’t help noticing that her nightgown had slid a bit further down her shoulder. Revealing the beginning of a curve...
‘Can I ask you something?’
He yanked his gaze from the upper slope of her bosom and assured her that she could ask him anything.
‘It’s just... I was wondering...how it will work. Being married, I mean.’ Her eyes clouded. ‘Will you want to carry on with the work you did with Herbert? Will I be helping you track down criminals and traitors, or will you want to keep me out of it all, like you said? Oh, but I could still work behind the scenes, couldn’t I? If anyone is sending messages in code. But I suppose,’ she went on before he could think of a reply, ‘that means you will have to keep on going to those horrid gaming hells and cock fights and low taverns. And you will expect me to go to balls with you.’ She pulled a face. ‘Everyone will pity you for having a drab little wife like me. The women will redouble their efforts to console you. And I will become a veritable shrew...’
There was only one way he could think of to stop her downhill slide into an imaginary future that looked so unappealing. He kissed her again. Until she melted and squirmed, and would, he rather thought, have hooked one leg over his hip if it hadn’t been for the bedding getting in the way.
‘Enough of that,’ he panted, dragging his mouth from hers. ‘If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop.’
‘Does it matter?’ She was panting, too. And her eyes were shining.
‘Yes. Because you are...well, I don’t know what Mrs Manderville gave you, but not so long ago you were pinching yourself because you weren’t totally sure you hadn’t imagined me.’
‘That’s very true,’ she said, looking rather impressed.
‘So, here’s what I think would be best.’ Best? Best for whom, a certain part of his anatomy protested. ‘You will snuggle down and get some sleep. And then in the
morning, you will tell me again that you want to marry me. In the cold light of day. Because I am not going to do anything that will make people say I had to marry you because I ruined you.’
It said a great deal about the state of her mind that she took that statement at face value and smiled at him as though he’d said something really noble. Then did as he’d suggested, by snuggling into his chest.
‘I will tell you something, though,’ he said, settling into a more comfortable position.
‘Mmm...?’
‘Our marriage will be whatever we choose to make of it. But one thing I promise is that I will never try to shield you from the uglier truths of what is going on in our country, simply because you are a woman. So, if I do get given a case I want to investigate, you will be the first to know. And I will trust you to work with me, in whatever way you think best. If you wish to. Because you are likely to have more insight into it than any person I know.’
‘That’s the best—’ she broke off to yawn ‘—compliment anyone could pay me. To say my mind is as good as anyone else’s.’
‘It isn’t at its best right now, though, is it,’ he said ruefully, looking down into her trusting face.
‘You mean, because I haven’t pointed out that I will be every bit as ruined in the morning as if you really did do what you say you want to do?’
He looked at her more sharply. She was peeking up at him from under her eyelashes. Her lips were twitching with mirth.
‘Do you know what I think? I think,’ she continued, before he could say a thing, ‘that we should start as we mean to go on.’ She reached for the tie at the neck of her nightgown. ‘And to hell with what everyone else thinks.’
For a second or two, his heart was pounding so hard that he wasn’t sure how he was going to resist. But at the last second, his hand shot out and covered hers before she could undo her gown.
‘Exactly. And I care what you will think of me in the morning, when your head is clear. I don’t want you thinking I have taken advantage of you.’
‘How about if I took advantage of you?’
‘You couldn’t. Because I want you too much.’
‘How about...considering how angry your brother will be at the scandal it will cause, if everyone were to know what we got up to?’
‘That...that does add an extra piquancy... I...no, damn it, it doesn’t. I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. And nor do you, not really. This is our life, Horatia. Yours and mine. And I’m going to start out our life together doing the right thing.’
She looked up at him with an expression of fake innocence. ‘You mean, spending the night in my room? So that in the morning everyone will think we did what we both want to do?’
‘I... Damn it, are you always going to outwit me?’
She smiled and snuggled back into the pillows.
‘Absolutely,’ she said. And promptly fell asleep.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story,
be sure to check out
the Brides for Bachelors miniseries
The Major Meets His Match
The Marquess Tames His Bride
The Captain Claims His Lady
And check out this other great read
by Annie Burrows
A Duke in Need of a Wife
Keep reading for an excerpt from Mrs. Sommersby’s Second Chance by Laurie Benson.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.
You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice
OR
EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.
Click here to join for FREE
Or visit us online to register at
www.HarlequinMyRewards.com
Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.
Mrs. Sommersby’s Second Chance
by Laurie Benson
Chapter One
Bath, England—1820
It wasn’t as if a small sip of water was capable of changing one’s life. In all the years Clara Sommersby had stood in the Pump Room to have her daily drink, she had never witnessed anyone perform such an intense inspection of a glass of the spa’s mineral water.
She had seen the tall blond-haired gentleman accept the empty glass from the attendant and approach the fountain out of the corner of her eye. Many people entered Bath each day to stay for an extended amount of time to take advantage of the waters in hopes of alleviating their ailments. There were also those who came to the fashionable town to experience the noted assemblies and various entertainments. She would firmly place this gentleman in the latter category.
While Clara normally took note of newly arrived visitors, this morning she awoke with a soreness in her lower back and had only been thinking of a long soak in the thermal baths to hopefully relieve her discomfort—until she saw this man swirl the water in his glass and sniff it as one would do while studying a glass of wine.
As he held the glass up and brought it to his eye, he caught her staring at him through the clear liquid. Too amused to look away, Clara tried to flatten out her smile. The gentleman across from her cleared his throat and went back to studying the contents of his glass.
‘The water is an exceptional ancient vintage,’ she offered, not even bothering to hide the amusement in her voice. ‘It might be a bit odd on the palate at first, but people have been praising its quality for ages.’
He lowered the glass and the faint spark in his blue eyes told her that he understood her jest. ‘I was simply trying to determine the mineral content.’
‘Are you a connoisseur of water, then, or perhaps a scientist of some sort?’
‘Neither. I was just comparing it to the waters from the Chalybeate Spring in Tunbridge Wells. The water there is also reputed to have healing properties.’
‘Reputed?’ She raised her hand to her chest and gave him a false look of indignation. ‘Sir, I would refrain from making such a statement here unless you’re prepared to endure long lectures by numerous patrons on how restorative this water truly is. You’ll be advised on how it has eliminated painful symptoms of the gout, how drinking it has reduced a bilious gut and how it has miraculously helped with a variety of other diseases, half of which you might not have ever heard of and quite possibly might not even exist. Scepticism is met with radical belief here in Bath.’
As he tipped his head at her, his serious expression softened just a bit. ‘I’ll make note of it.’
Bath was losing too many visitors to Brighton since the royal court, and George in particular, had made that town fashionable. Clara owned one of the finest hotels here, although she kept that fact a secret from Society. For all she knew, he might be staying at The Fountain Head Hotel. It was in her best interest to create a favourable impression of the town.
‘
I’m sure whatever it is that ails you, you will find relief here.’
He seemed surprised she assumed he was here because he needed help. ‘I have no ailments that I’m aware of.’
Two finely dressed young ladies approached Clara’s side and dipped their glasses into the streams of water, while trying to catch the gentleman’s eye. Instead of offering them some form of encouragement, he reverted his attention back to studying his glass until they walked away, giggling and whispering as they went.
When they were alone once again, he eyed Clara across the fountain. ‘And you, madam, certainly you are much too young to suffer from any of those ills you spoke of. What brings you to the spa?’
‘I am not as young as you might think.’
‘Come now, you’re not any older than I am.’
Ah, so he was one of those gentlemen who liked to flatter women. She had run across many of them in her life. By her estimation he appeared to be in his midthirties, which was ten years younger than she was.
‘Perhaps this fountain also holds the key to a youthful appearance,’ she teased. ‘I have been drinking from it for many years now.’
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips and softened the hard angles of his features. ‘Then the waters here are far better than those in Tunbridge Wells. I don’t believe they’d dare to make that claim.’ Suddenly, his features hardened once more as he appeared to study her. ‘Perhaps you are one of those charlatans, like the men and women selling miracle elixirs outside in the streets, only you are employed by the Pump Room to convince people they should drink this odd-smelling liquid.’
‘I assure you, sir. I am not. I am simply an honest patron here for my daily dose.’ And to recommend a certain hotel to those who happened to be in need of one whenever she was here, but that was neither here nor there. ‘And how do you think our water compares to those of Tunbridge Wells?’
He peered out of the window behind him, down at the steaming spa waters below which, if it weren’t for the rain, at this hour would have been full of bathers who had come at this early hour of the morning for the restorative benefits. Once again, his attention was back on his glass. ‘The smell is similar. However, the water is cold there, not hot like this, and that water comes from a small spring. People do not bathe in it.’
A Marquess, a Miss and a Mystery Page 23