Patricia Wynn (21 page)

He took her in his arms and kissed her ruthlessly before asking, “What happened, Susan? How was it all resolved?”

She answered him in a daze, which had not been lessened by his lordship’s embrace, “She knew it. Kitty had discovered it all. And she had hired Mr. Phillips to handle the matter before we even knew what was wrong.” She looked up at Tom and saw that his eyes were lit with admiration.

“Had she, by God! What a sharp-witted old woman! I can see that I wronged her. But what about you, love? Did she say nothing about you?”

Susan forgot her resolution. “Oh, Tom!” she said. “She thought I was having an affair with my groom! I thought she had discovered us as well. I had even dropped my French accent. But she thought we were . . .” She trailed off, aware of the danger of completing her sentence, and blushed.

Lord Tom threw his head back and laughed. “What a perfect idea!” he said finally. “I wonder we did not think of it ourselves! We must invite her ladyship to the wedding.”

But here Susan recalled her determination. “There must be no wedding, my lord, you forget. I am sure, upon reflection, that you will see the wisdom of it. Why, we are practically strangers.”

“Strangers!” He almost released her in his surprise. “But how can you say that? Why, madam, need I remind you that you have made use—very freely and frequently I might add—of my Christian name!”

Susan looked at him indignantly. “I have not!” she replied. “That was purely a masquerade!”

He gazed down at her lovingly and shook his head. With sudden comprehension she weakened and her eyes misted over. “Are you really Tom?” she asked him, reaching a soft hand up to touch his cheek.

That was more than his lordship could resist, and he assured her with all the force of his kisses that it was indeed so.

Drawing back at last, with all the courage she could muster, Susan made one last attempt. “Lord Harleston, you forget yourself. I am grateful . . . more than grateful for all you have done to help me. But we must not deceive ourselves. You must leave me at the next town and I will go on by post from there. You needn’t worry about me; I shall be perfectly all right.”

He laughed at her seriousness and tried to bring her into his arms again, but Susan resisted. “I’m afraid it is much too late for that with me,” he said. “I love you. And you love me!”

Susan threw him a look of anguish. “But what if they send me to gaol? What if they hang me?”

He shook his head and forced her to rest within the confines of his arms. With resignation, she gave up pretending.

“It will not do, my love,” she sighed. “I will not be Lady Harleston with the legal authorities after me. You would be ruined, and I would rather die.”

Ignoring this protest completely, he answered, “Then imagine me, if you will, Susan—old and weary, as I someday shall be. And alone. Absolutely alone. For I will have no other.”

Her eyes filled with tears again before she understood his tactics. Then, perceiving a twinkle behind his tragic demeanour, she tried to hold him off, laughing reluctantly through her tears.

But soon the realization of her own weakness stirred her to anger. “It will not serve, my lord! You may try to break my heart, but you shall not break my resolve. I know what I must do. And marry you I will not!”

“Not even if your name should be cleared?” he whispered into her hair.

The warmth of his breath sent a delicious chill down to her toes. She wanted to melt against him. “Please do not tease me,” she said in a small voice.

He took her chin in his hand and made her look up at him. “I am not teasing. One of the things I did in London was to work towardss obtaining your pardon. I have already arranged for an audience with Prinny. His aides tell me he is very receptive to the notion, and my application will be a mere formality. He had quite an admiration for your father. And besides, he is such a romantic that he will not be able to refuse me when I tell him how much I love you. Of course, he will want to be invited to the wedding.” Susan opened her mouth to protest again, but he silenced her by placing a finger on her lips. “I shall simply tell him I made your acquaintance in Calais. He need not know anything about this adventure.”

She shook herself free. “My lord, I know you mean to do as you say. But how can you be certain of anything? I am not such a goose that I do not know how fickle the Regent can be. By the time you get back to London, he will have forgotten his intentions of yesterday.’ ‘

It was Lord Harleston’s turn to shake his head. For once he regarded her in perfect seriousness. “No, he will not.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an official-looking document. “Unpredictable though he may be at times, even the Regent cannot ignore a commitment to a peer. I have an appointment to see him, and I shall not give up until I have your pardon,” Then he added, “But in truth, Susan, you mistake the seriousness of it. Your father knew it would all blow over. He said as much to me. And I have no doubt he had his suspicions on another score.”

Startled, Susan looked up at him with big eyes.

He nodded. Then, his expression softening, he said, “Do you think he did not wish for this match? He must have known I had only to see you and know your courageous heart before falling instantly in love with you. Oh, perhaps he could not be certain,” he said, when he saw the lingering doubt on her face. “But he must have seen from the outset that things were going as he wished. I know I saw it myself.”

Susan gazed into his sparkling brown eyes and saw an assurance there which overcame all her objections. The knowledge that her father’s machinations had been at work all along removed her remaining scruples.

She nodded her head, unable to speak, and he gathered her in his arms and pressed her to him. Then, just as her happiness so overwhelmed her that she could scarcely stand it, his groom’s voice sounded in her ear.

“I always fancied a bit of a go in the carriage with the mistress.”

“Tom!” she shrieked, betraying her delight with a gurgle.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” he said pulling a forelock, but his voice was shaking. “It will be exactly as you please.”

Copyright © 1990 by Patricia Wynn

Originally published by Harlequin Regency [ISBN 0373311249]

Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more

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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.