Danger Wears White (20 page)

“Oh.” Yes, she had mistaken him. “I thought if you lied about your position in society, you’d do it about your name, too. I thought you’d completely betrayed me. I thought—”

“Oh no!” He took a step forward and then stopped abruptly while air still separated them. He fumbled in his coat pocket and drew out a piece of paper, crumpled and torn in places. The copy of the list that she’d hurled at him that night at the ball. He’d kept it. Warmth spread through her. He read from the list. “Ivan Rowley. Augustus Vernon. Valentinian Shaw. Antoninus Beaumont. Do you see the similarity in the names?”

Staring at him, she thought and thought. They didn’t start with the same letter, had different numbers of syllables, the surnames were different. The truth hit her with the force of a brick between her eyes. “Your cousins. They’re the Emperors of London. I hadn’t realized. I’d thought you were called that because you were powerful.”

He smiled at her, gently and dropped the crumpled list back in his pocket. “Yes. That’s why people call us that preposterous title. Our names, not our positions. Our parents, specifically in my case, my mother, called her children after emperors of the past. One boy, the Duke of Kirkburton, and his five sisters. The names brought us together. Perhaps that was why they did it, although my own mother always claims it was just foolish fancy, and when one did it, the others followed suit. It’s flattering that so many of us are on your list, since the King compiled it.”

She glanced away. Their connection was too potent for her to think properly. “He doesn’t want the Jacobites in my part of the country, and he wants me to marry a loyalist.”

He nodded. “Understandable. Lancashire has caused several problems to him of late.” He lowered his voice. “Shall we oblige them, Imogen?”

He was doing it again. Asking her to marry him without actually asking.

Time for her to speak, to tell him what she really wanted. “I never wanted to marry.” She met his gaze frankly, watching for his reaction. But she wouldn’t shirk telling him. “I have my estate. It’s in trust, but the trustees never interfere. I love it. It’s the right size for me, and I say what happens there. I don’t want to lose that. I worked hard to ensure I didn’t create trouble, that I could enjoy what I had without attracting attention.”

He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, his warmth seeping through her shawl, which had slipped when he kissed her. He pulled the folds up in a cherishing way, making her long to go into his arms, to let him hold her and care for her. Just as if she didn’t have a mind of her own.

“They were never about to allow that,” he said gently. “My sweet, do you not know?”

“Know what?”

He bit his lip. “When do you have to be back with the princess?”

“On the hour.”

As if on cue, the nearby church rang the three quarter hour. “We have no time to talk about it now, but you need to know something important.” His mouth firmed. “You have a right to know. Believe me, I will tell you, and soon. When may I see you again?”

“I—I don’t know.” She still didn’t entirely trust him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were rich and important?”

A wry smile curved his lips. “I’m not. Important, that is. But I couldn’t tell you, or my purpose in the district.” He carried on. “If any scandal of that kind touches my father, his whole business could be suspect.” He paused. “When Julius arrived, we agreed to keep my identity a secret.” He paused. “I asked him not to. I wanted to tell you myself. I had no idea that fever would overtake me and delay my arrival in town.”

“He told me you were a relative. He said he had a lot of relatives, and until I saw you at the ball I thought you were a distant one, or a poorer one.”

His smile turned warm. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I had hopes of getting away with my identity as a common soldier. Nobody need know an Emperor had visited and our name would remain unblemished. After Julius arrived, we agreed to keep my identity a secret until I was away from your house. Besides, finding you with me, Antoninus Beaumont, would have forced our marriage. I didn’t want to do that.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You didn’t?” But he’d proposed to her.

He shook his head slightly. The blackbird sang some more. “I wanted you to choose. I still do.” He bit his lip, the sharp teeth grazing the soft skin. “The king made a good selection with that list. Every man on it will take care of you. They are all worth your consideration.” He tugged her hands, and she took a step closer to him. “I just wish you would not. I want you to choose me. But
choose
is the word. I have no wish to force you into anything you do not wish for. I will not take part in any coercion.” He closed his eyes in a slow blink. “I’ll call on you and make it clear the purpose is to receive your answer to my proposal. That way we’ll have a private interview and I can give you the information you need before you make your decision. You’re still free to reject me. I don’t want you to.”

“Why?”

“Do you need me to tell you?”

His gaze said so much, open and yearning, but she was afraid to take the leap. Her reasons remained the same, that she’d lose herself in him. She didn’t know how he’d run her estate or what kind of person he was in public. Her mind ran on a track she’d known before, her dilemma between heart and mind as difficult as ever. “I-I—”

“Just one more kiss,” he said. “Please.”

How could she resist that plea when she wanted it so much herself? Heedless of her wet shoes and the hem of her gown, which had soaked up enough of the early dew and damp that remained in the shadow of the hedge that it was touching her knees, she stepped forward into his arms.

They folded around her, and his mouth came down on hers. Gently this time, he eased her lips apart, and when he stroked her with his tongue, the caress felt almost reverent. He deepened the kiss slowly, his lips working over hers, his tongue invading her mouth with sweet thoroughness. She slid her arms as far around his waist as he could under his coat, the silk lining warmed by the heat of his body. When he sucked on her tongue, she slid it into his mouth, and his responding groan reverberated deep into her, invading her so thoroughly that she never wanted to separate.

She tasted him, his unique flavor remembered and welcomed. He’d entered her world and he’d never leave. Whatever happened next, this part of him belonged to her.

The way she felt when he held her, when he made love to her, frightened her. She needed to know he felt the same way, but he seemed in control, always. He helped her to make love, to kiss, to accept intimacies she couldn’t imagine feeling from anyone else. She was a novice and she didn’t like that, not when she’d run her life her way for so long.

He crushed her closer when the kiss deepened, and they became ravenous, eating at each other. But he softened and finished the kiss, smiling down at her. “I will see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Would eleven o’clock be too early?”

She felt obliged to remind him she wasn’t in her own household. “The princess doesn’t receive anyone before two, so don’t come before then. You may come, unless I send you word not to.”

“Don’t.” He dropped kisses on her eyes, her nose, and finally her mouth. “Please don’t. Take this with you.” He placed a kiss in the center of her palm and folded her fingers around it. “Keep it safe.”

“So you wish to meet this man?” The princess was in a fine mood, her smiles almost as alarming as her frowns. “And you will accept him?”

She didn’t have much choice, but she didn’t want the answer assumed. “I will listen to him, ma’am, and give him my answer. Should I do it before a chaperone?” The idea had its merits. She imagined the scene—a woman sitting quietly in the corner, perhaps with her embroidery and Tony forced to make a formal proposal. On one knee, barely touching her hand, begging for the privilege of her hand in marriage.

Oh, yes. Perhaps she should do that. Except she had to discuss matters with him that were most definitely not for the ears of anyone else.

Fortunately the princess waved aside her query. “Of course not, girl.” She leaned back and lifted her foot to prop it comfortably on the footstool. Imogen sprang forward to help, but the princess shook her head. “I am perfectly capable of lifting my own foot. Do not fuss.” Her smile returned. “Considering the scene my footman carefully did not witness this morning, I presume any duenna might find herself witness to scenes she would rather not see.” Her grin broadened when Imogen reddened and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Did you think you were entirely alone? Don’t worry, he is very discreet.” She paused. “Very.”

Shocked, Imogen blinked at her mistress. That comment wasn’t innocent. Surely it couldn’t mean what she thought. But the princess had a reputation. A persistent rumor insisted that she was a mother, but like many in her situation, the child had been fostered out.

Some ladies introduced “wards” into their houses, particularly widows and independent females who didn’t wish to marry. Living the independent life Imogen dreamed of wasn’t entirely out of the bounds of possibility. Princess Amelia was living proof of that.

“I saw nobody.”

“He had orders not to disturb your privacy.” The princess regarded her straightly. “My father bade me take especial care of you, and that I intend to do. You are important in some way. I did not ask why, nor do I wish to know, but I suspect it’s a political matter. You are not a great heiress, although your portion is first-rate, and beauty does not usually require special care. However, the king has signified his approval of the men on that list, and one other, Mr. Beaumont’s brother. That is all. If Mr. Beaumont was not on the list, you would not have seen him.”

The Dankworth family was only significant by its absence.

Awed, Imogen nodded. What was so special about her? Rack her brains though she might, she couldn’t think of a single reason why the king would single her out to become a maid in waiting and to have her guarded so carefully. To marry her off to a loyal subject, yes, but her neighbor, Sir Paul, would have done in that case and she need never have left home.

She shared her history with several of her neighbors. It had to be the mysterious document Julius had hot-footed to Lancashire to find. Once he discovered it, she would feel much more comfortable. But what it was, she had no idea.

Here, at Richmond, she was safer from attack. Bringing her here hadn’t been an accident or a whim of the princess’s, and the burly footmen she’d observed were more than servants. They were guards, and not all of them for the princess.

How could she, Imogen Thane, compare with a princess? Royalty must always have guards and beware of sabotage and attack, even one as removed from the succession as Princess Amelia, but a young woman from a northern county with but one modest estate to her name? Imogen could hardly believe it. Only if whoever wanted her believed her in possession of something important.

She clenched her fists and then deliberately loosened them so the princess should not observe her frustration. She would not let them keep her in ignorance, like a child, for much longer. If Tony knew, he would tell her.

* * * *

At two o’clock, Imogen received the stately visit from the footman with the silver salver, via the princess. The liveried servant took the tray to the princess, who glanced at the card and nodded. The footman paced to Imogen’s chair, and she did the same thing. Louisa glanced at her and raised a blonde brow. Imogen didn’t respond by even a twitch, but she rose and followed the footman from the room.

The only sounds in the quiet corridor were their footsteps, the footman’s measured tread and Imogen’s firm step. He took her to one of the smaller parlors and opened the door for her.

Tony sat on one of the two sofas. The coral upholstery threw his grass green coat into charming relief, but while the colors caught her attention for a fleeting instant, his eager strained face retained it.

The footman closed the door quietly. Imogen had no doubt he would remain outside it. If he were tactful, he’d give them some space. If inquisitive, he’d stay by the door, but he wouldn’t be able to hear much through that thick piece of wood in any case.

Tony came to his feet and halted, his arms by his sides, his fists clenched. He did nothing to hide his stark, open expression, so eager to see her that her heart turned over. “Well?” he demanded.

“What happened to your polished address?” Warmth rose inside her when she saw his obvious keenness. His cheekbones stood out under his skin, what shadows there were in this room casting them into sharp relief. Mouth set in a taut line, creases at the sides emphasized his strain. That wasn’t just because he was on the list. He truly wanted her. She could afford a little gentle teasing.

“I never had any.”

Recalling him at the ball, in his silks and lace, Imogen knew he was lying. He could hold his head up high in any company. Pride swelled her chest. “I’ve seen it.”

“Do you want a formal address?” He sounded exasperated, but he swept her a low bow and took her hand when she held it out. He bent over it, his lips not quite touching her skin. “Miss Thane, I have watched you from afar, and I have admired you greatly. I know I am not worthy to share the same room with you, but I beg that you at least listen to my humble request. Would you allow me to bestow my name and riches, such as they are, on you? In short, would you do the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

By the end of the speech, she was giggling.

He glanced up at her. His lips had relaxed into a smile. “You are not supposed to laugh. You are supposed to say, ‘Sir, I am grateful for the honor you do me. I must request that you address my mother and guardians before you speak to me again.’ But don’t. Please, don’t.”

Now she laughed aloud, in sheer pleasure. “I don’t have to ask anyone. I may marry whomever I choose. As long as he’s on the list the king gave to me. Since you are—” She couldn’t hold back a moment longer. “Yes, yes I will marry you, Tony.”

“Thank God.” White-faced but smiling, he rose from his bow, as gracefully as he’d swept into it, and took her into his arms. “I can see I have an armful of trouble here. But never was trouble so welcome.” Bending his head, he kissed her.