A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season (27 page)

‘Shocking business, Lyndhurst. From what your great-aunt says, that scoundrel caused all
your
trouble as well! Your poor wife! Gallant little thing, coming down to dinner as she did!’ He shook his head. ‘Dreadful business! That confession of Grant’s is absolutely damning, you know. It all hung together. Couldn’t trip him up.’ He flushed. ‘Not but what I couldn’t quite stomach the idea that
Sinclair
had attacked Frobisher! The thing is…’ he passed a handkerchief over his face ‘…damned hard for John! But there’s nothing
I
can do to spare him!’

‘Naturally not, Brandon,’ said Anthony gently. ‘
You
are bound to uphold the law. As is John himself, as a member of the House of Lords.’

‘Quite,’ said Brandon, an expression of something unaccountably like hope dawning on his face. ‘As I said, Grant’s confession will clear Sinclair…’

‘I see,’ said Anthony, flicking a glance at Marcus, who nodded imperceptibly. ‘I think we understand each other, Brandon.’

Sir Charles sighed. ‘I hope so, Lyndhurst. I certainly hope so! Now, these fireworks. Must say I’m looking
forward to it. Miss Lyndhurst gives me to understand that your fireworks parties are quite famous!’

‘Anthony, what are we doing here?’

Georgie had expected to watch the fireworks from the cupola with the rest of the party, but instead Anthony had led her out into the park. The balmy night blazed with stars and the full moon sailed overhead.

The arm Anthony had around her shoulders tightened slightly, drawing her closer under the spreading branches of an oak tree. It was darker beneath the tree and she looked up to find his face shadowed.

‘We’re going to enjoy the fireworks, of course.’

She could hear the laughter in his voice. And something else. Something leashed. Something that made her heart race and her skin tingle. ‘But shouldn’t we be with the others?’

He stopped and turned, smiling down at her in a way that stole every scrap of breath. Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. Gentle, tender, the kiss deepened until her thoughts dissolved and her body melted against his and all she knew was the need consuming them.

Releasing her mouth at last, Anthony said, ‘I don’t think so, do you?’

Her mind thoroughly disconnected, it took her a moment to remember what she had asked. His mouth brushed over hers again, further scattering her thoughts.

To her utter amazement Georgie found that she was being drawn down on to a rug, spread beneath the tree. ‘Anthon—’

His kiss silenced her again. It was, she realised, a very effective weapon.

When at last he raised his head, she had no further
thought of protest, but snuggled against him as he settled with his back against the tree.

‘You can see enough from here,’ he murmured against her hair.

Enough of what? The tree? And another thing…‘Anthony, what about the servants?’

‘On the other side of the house,’ he murmured reassuringly.

Her mind whirled, unable to think beyond the distraction of his fingers, which appeared to be…

‘Anthony—you’re unlacing my—’ She gasped. Correction. He
had
unlaced her gown. Now he was sliding it off her shoulders and…Pleasure speared her as his lips slid gently down her throat and over her collarbone, tracing a fiery path to her breast. A startled cry escaped as he captured her nipple, taking it deep into his mouth.

‘How—?’ Her lungs seized. Somehow he had managed to remove her chemise as well as her gown. For several moments she could scarcely remember her own name, let alone what she had intended to ask. And somehow in those heated moments, Anthony disposed of not only all her clothes but his own as well.

The sound of a galloping horse penetrated the dizzying delight. ‘Anthony! Listen. I think one of your horses is—’

He shook his head. ‘No, sweetheart. I hope you can forgive me, but—that should be William.’

Wonder flooded her and she sat back to look at him. ‘You’re letting him go?’ Despite that appalling betrayal, Anthony had protected his cousin.

He pulled her back against him. ‘Yes. For what he did to you, I should have let him—’

‘Me?’

He stared at her. ‘Yes. You! When I finally realised what he had done, it was all I could do not to kill him. And this afternoon—he would have seen you taken for murder if he could! But Marcus had to be cleared first. And then, in the end—’

‘Lord Mardon,’ she whispered, understanding the depth of loyalty and honour that ruled him. To save his cousin shame and grief, he had forgone his own vengeance.

‘John,’ agreed Anthony. ‘Can you understand, Georgie? And some of it was not all his fault, was it?’

She shook her head. If she had not been such a fool, such a muddleheaded little idiot…

‘Can you forgive me, darling? If I had not been such a crassly jealous fool as to believe his lies—if I had trusted you—it could never have happened. Can you—?’ He broke off. His hesitation, his uncertainty, hung between them in the velvet shadows.

She leaned forward, kissing him. ‘I love you, Anthony,’ she breathed against his lips.

High above the house, light and fire danced in a riotous explosion as the fireworks began. Anthony barely noticed the noise for the explosion of light and joy in his own heart. He stared at her, unable to speak for the emotion choking him.

‘You love me?’ he whispered at last. ‘Even after what I did, the things I said—’

‘Love does not alter,’
she said softly. And something silver trickled down her cheek.

‘When it alteration finds, nor bends with the remover to remove,’
he finished. Pain laced his joy as he bent to kiss away the tear. ‘Georgie—then you always loved me? Not Finch-Scott?’

He drew her to him.

She came, soft breasts pressing against him, igniting him.

‘Always you,’ she confessed. ‘I liked Justin…he was kind…I thought that was enough, but then I met you…and loved you.’

‘And I, you,’ he whispered, hanging on to his control by a thread. ‘From the moment I first saw you.’

‘But—’

‘Always,’ he said, kissing her brow, her cheeks, nuzzling the curves of her ear and feeling her breathing shatter. ‘But I was too damn scared to tell you. I told myself I didn’t want to frighten
you
with what I felt, but
I
was the one who was frightened. So I told you that rubbish about a marriage of convenience.’ He shuddered. ‘And you still loved me.’

He lifted her over him, his need consuming him. She was soft, sweet, melting about him as he caressed her in tender intimacy.

‘Anthony! Like…like this?’

He groaned, easing her down. ‘Just like this, my darling.’ He pulled her closer, capturing one tightly crowned breast with his lips, suckling gently as her body closed about him.

‘Tell me what you want, sweetheart,’ he whispered.

‘You,’ she breathed. ‘Everything.’

Overhead the heavens exulted as the Lyndhurst Chase fireworks rioted and danced among the stars. Voices and laughter floated down, rejoicing, celebrating.

‘Everything?’ he murmured, his fingers teasing gently, until her voice broke on his name. ‘Everything might take a very long time. A lifetime.’ He kissed her deeply, tenderly. ‘Two lifetimes,’ he added.

‘Two?’

His arms tight around her, he rolled, landing her beneath him. ‘Mmm. Yours and mine. It means,’ he said,
against her lips, ‘that I can take my time. And we might even prove that doctor wrong.’

Doctor? She had no idea what he was talking about. Her senses swam as he moved within her, deep and sure, driving away all doubt, all uncertainty as he loved her. Totally, unconditionally.

Later, as she drifted in the safety of his arms, she vaguely recalled the doctor. The night breathed around them in velvet shadows and glimmering starlight. Pressing a sleepy kiss against the broad chest pillowing her cheek, she dared to hope. On such a night…

‘If that doctor
was
wrong, Georgie,’ came a deep murmur, ‘would you object to calling a child after Marcus?’

Was he reading her mind? ‘What if it was a girl?’ she asked provocatively.

A faint chuckle purred in her ear. ‘In that case, my love, we’d just have to prove him wrong again. Wouldn’t we?’