Evelyn Richardson (31 page)

“Frances, I have been managing businesses and estates since you were in the schoolroom. Nothing, no problem, is that urgent. It couldn't have been.” There was a pause. “Surely it wasn't the Duchess of Devonshire's ball? Frances, please tell me. Did I put myself beyond reproach? I must know what upset you so much that you left without a word to anyone.” Much as she wished to make some reply, Frances was simply incapable of saying anything. “Frances,” he pressed desperately, “please, I must know. I must know because I love you.”

That jolted her out of her bemused state. Her eyes flew to his in astonishment. “You what?”

“I love you. I have ... oh, for quite a while now, you know.”

“But you couldn't possibly!”

It was his turn to be astounded. “And why ever not?”

“Well, because . . . because I'm not the sort of person you fall in love with.”

“And what brings you to that conclusion?” he demanded with some asperity.

“Well, I'm just not the type.” The skeptical look on his face deepened. She tried again. “Well, I'm not that amusing, sophisticated sort of woman who would interest you.” Frances still didn't appear to be making herself clear. “What I mean is that I'm not at all sensual and alluring like . . . like Lady Welford.”

The skeptical look was replaced by one of pure amusement. “My dear girl! How do you know that you're not sensual or alluring? You have a great appreciation and enjoyment for beauty of any and every kind. You see it all around you, and you enjoy it. That is far more sensual than dousing yourself with perfume and draping yourself on pink satin pillows all day long.”

Frances was intrigued. “Is that what she does? I must say, it doesn't sound nearly as interesting and exciting as I thought it would be.”

His arms tightened around her. “And furthermore,” he continued, ignoring her last remark, “I find you quite alluring. If you hadn't been so damned alluring, there never would have been that scene at the Duchess of Devonshire's ball. You were absolutely breathtaking, and I couldn't even get near you! I can't remember ever having felt jealous before that night. But when I saw you sparkling and laughing in one man's arms or another's, but never in mine, I was furious with jealousy. Then, when you disappeared on the terrace, that was more than I could take.” His voice grew husky. “You looked so beautiful there that I hardly noticed that puppy on his knees. I just knew I wanted you more than anything in the world. I had to have you! I apologize for making you so furious, but I am not sorry for what I did.”

Stealing a quick glance up at him, Frances was taken aback at the intensity in the depths of his eyes. “I wasn't exactly furious. I was more confused, upset. I—”

She wasn't allowed to continue. He pulled her to him fiercely. His lips came down on hers and began to kiss her with a passion that left her weaker and more shaken than all the rest of the day's events combined. For an instant Frances remained there, transfixed by a feeling she had never felt before. Then his hold slackened, his hands slid caressingly up her arms to her neck, his lips became warm, tender, insistent, and her arms crept around his neck and she molded her body to his, responding to the warmth that enveloped her as he kissed her eyes, the line of her jaw down to her throat, her shoulders. Somehow, it seemed she had never felt as alive, as aware of all her senses as she did at this moment, feeling the strength of his back and shoulders underneath her hands, the warmth of his lips against hers.

He lifted his head at last, breathing hard. “We'd best get married at the earliest possible moment. I don't want to wait any longer for you than absolutely necessary.”

“Married?”

He cocked his head. “It is customary, you know.” He saw the doubt in her face and remarked with some exasperation, “My dear girl, a proper young woman does not kiss someone the way you just did unless she is planning to marry him.”

“But I never thought. . . The children . . . I couldn't. . .” Her voice trailed off as she realized just how much she would enjoy life with someone who thought the same way she did, who was interested in the same things she was, who respected her judgment and would let her go her own way. Her eyes filled. “It sounds lovely, but I can't leave Freddie, Cassie, Wellington, and Nelson to Aunt Harriet.”

“I would never ask you to do that, my dear one. I like the twins. In fact, if it weren't for Freddie I wouldn't be here now.” She was puzzled. “Well, why do you think I happened to arrive in Hampshire at such an opportune moment?”

“I don't know. I suppose you came to check up on Camberly.”

“Lord, Frances, don't be a cloth-head. I have an agent who can do that. I came at Freddie's special request. No need to look so astonished. That's a very perceptive young man. When I was in flat despair over you, he came to me at Mainwaring House and hinted to me that you might be more amenable to an apology than I had hoped.”

“Freddie?” Frances looked incredulous.

“Yes, Freddie. He surmised, and quite correctly too, that we had had a falling-out. He reasoned that you would never waste your time being angry at someone you didn't like; therefore, anybody who truly made you angry must be someone you truly cared about. He urged me to come down here. I must say I wasn't all that convinced of the accuracy of his theory, but I was so desperate that I was willing to try anything. So, here I am. Here we are.”

“But Aunt Harriet ...”

“Aunt Harriet can stay exactly where she is. We can live at Camberly. It's large enough for all of us and more. We shall foist Kitty off on the first young man she becomes intractable over. Cousin Honoria can have the seaside cottage she's been pining for for her and that dutiful niece from Bath. And Aunt Harriet can turn all of Cresswell into a conservatory if she wishes. You won't be missed in the slightest. Any more foolish objections?” Overwhelmed, she shook her head. “Good! Then we had better get along to let the others know you are safe before they murder each other out of impatience. But first...” He looked at her soberly. “My girl, I don't want to push you into anything you don't want. It's a difficult thing to contemplate sharing your life with someone. I don't want you to do something just because I want it so much. I can understand your wishing to remain the same as always ...” He paused uncertainly.

She shook her head and smiled mistily up at him. That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed her again—a long, hungry, demanding kiss that left them both breathless—before picking her up and carrying her out into the lading light to the waiting horse and her faithful companions.

Copyright © 1989 by Cynthia Whealler

Originally published by Signet (0451162692)

Electronically published in 2008 by Belgrave House/Regency

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.