Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman (24 page)

Her practical side said she was a fool even to contemplate doing something so risky—what if Papa disapproved and threatened to disown her for throwing away her grand prospects? She didn't think she could bear to forfeit his love and support. But if he didn't approve, what was she to do about her passion for Greville Anders?

She simply didn't know…and the prospect of having to make a choice between them was devastating.

On the other hand, she didn't want to finish her days a successful hostess and esteemed wife…whose heart ached with longing for the man she'd never stopped loving.

Oh, if only Greville were here! She just knew that if she could see him again, confess her feelings and watch his face, she'd be able to tell if her powerful, tempestuous emotions were returned. Or discover she'd been building a castle of dreams about his love that was completely devoid of reality.

In that case, she could always go back to London and accept Trowbridge's offer.

A sudden, powerful conviction seized her, freezing her in mid-step. For the first time, with brilliant clarity, she realised that accepting Trowbridge—accepting any other man—was no longer possible. Regardless of how he felt about her, she loved Greville Anders and no one else would do.

She didn't want to settle for mutual respect and tepid affection, or insult Trowbridge by living a lie, pledging her hand to him while her heart belonged to another.

Along with that surety came the knowledge that she had no choice but to take the risk of confessing everything to Papa.

If she was about to put her whole future in the balance, she might as well get straight to it. Her heartbeat accelerating like a bird taking flight, she headed for her father's study.

He gave a delighted smile as she entered and came over to embrace her. ‘Sands told me you'd arrived home last night! How good to see you, my child!'

‘I suppose you can guess why I came home.'

‘To see if Althea was taking proper care not to let me slip out of the house in defiance of doctor's orders? To discover whether Cook was nipping at the sherry or the underbutler nabbing the silver?' he teased. ‘Althea is doing a wonderful job, by the way.'

‘I knew she would. And, yes, I did want to check on you and all those things. Oh, how I've missed you, Papa!' she exclaimed, giving him another hug.

‘I must confess, I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Is…is everything going well in London?'

‘Oh, yes, Papa! I've loved becoming better acquainted with Lady Parnell. The parties and dancing and theatre, the shops and entertainments have been marvellous.'

‘The handsome escorts, too, if London gentlemen have eyes in their heads. But if nothing is amiss, I'm guessing you've come about one in particular. Am I right, puss?'

Amanda nodded. ‘Lord Trowbridge told me he intends to ask you for my hand. Unless I tell him not to.'

Her father raised an eyebrow. ‘And why would you do that? Is Trowbridge not exactly the sort of husband you've been seeking?'

‘His character and position are everything admirable. Except…he doesn't really love me.' When her father started to protest, she halted him with a wave. ‘No, he admitted as much. He believes admiration and affection to be a better basis
for marriage. But…there is someone else who
has
engaged my heart, more deeply than I ever thought possible.'

She gave her head an agitated shake. ‘Oh, Papa, I've tried and tried to talk myself out of it, but in the end, I can no longer deny how I feel. I hate to break the promise I made to Mama and disappoint you and Lady Parnell, but somehow, against all my better judgement, I…I've fallen in love with Greville Anders.'

There, she'd said it. Now she held her breath, watching her father anxiously.

‘I see,' he said non-committally.

At least he hadn't leapt to his feet in anger, or called Sands to have her expelled from the house. But then, she should have known her gentle father would not chastise, but instead seek to understand before reacting to her confession.

‘I suspected there was some…partiality between you,' he said at length. ‘Does he return your feelings?'

Her laughter had an hysterical edge. ‘I'm such a fool, Papa, I don't even know! I
think
he returns my feelings and kept silent to let me have my Season, unimpeded by any other commitments. But even not knowing what he wishes, I can't marry Trowbridge. Or Lord Melcombe or any of the other gentleman Lady Parnell expects to offer for me. I must marry the man I love…or no one.'

‘Anders is a gentleman, too, and will make excellent estate manager. But will being a mere country gentleman's wife make you happy? Since you were a little girl, you've thought of nothing but becoming a grand society hostess. Are you sure you can abandon that vision?'

‘I can't blame you for doubting it. I've enjoyed the Season, but more and more lately, aside from the dinners at which political matters are debated, the endless rounds of parties and pleasures and entertainments, shopping and gossiping, just
seems so…trivial. It is like existing on a never-ending diet of sweetmeats.'

She laughed ruefully. ‘After all that time spent thinking I couldn't wait to leave the country and live in London, I found I missed it. The rustle of wind in the trees and across the grass, the soft low of cattle in the fields, the scent of meadow-fresh air untainted by smoke and street refuse. I missed the rhythm of country life, people tending fields and flocks, their days spent in hard, useful, necessary labour. Missed tending to them and the household, activities focused on more than just gratifying my own desires. When I arrived home yesterday, nothing had ever looked more beautiful to me than the fields and manor at Ashton Grove. I guess I'm a countrywoman at heart after all.'

‘You are sure this is what you want?' he said again. ‘If you abandon your Season now, you will most likely forfeit for ever any chance of making a great society match.'

‘Lady Parnell already warned me as much.' She smiled tremulously. ‘I never thought I would choose woods and fields and cottages over the excitement of the city, but it seems I have.' She came over to kneel before him, looking up anxiously into his eyes. ‘I'm sorry I've turned out to be such a disappointment. You…you won't cast me off, will you?'

He leaned forwards to envelop her in a hug. ‘How could you even ask such a thing? Surely you know your happiness is always, ever what counts most with me.' He chuckled. ‘How could you imagine I would be
disappointed
for you to eschew London in favour of the country, when I'm sure to spend more time with my eventual grandchildren if I don't have to visit the city to see them?'

Sobering, he continued, ‘Greville Anders is a good man of sound principles. He may not be titled, or as rich as Trowbridge, but he's a gentleman, with connections to some of the highest
families in the land. If you want him and he asks for your hand, I'll not deny him permission.'

An enormous feeling of relief flooding her, she squeezed her father's hand. ‘Thank you, Papa.'

‘So, how do we proceed now? Do you wish me to speak with Mr Anders when he returns?'

‘N-no. If I end up making a fool of myself, I'd rather he not know I'd discussed my feelings with anyone else.'

Papa gazed down at her, tenderness in his smile. ‘If my daughter loves him, 'tis Anders who'd be the fool not to love her back. And Mr Anders, Puss, does not strike me as foolish.'

She exhaled a shaky breath. ‘Well, if he doesn't want me, I can stay here and keep house for you, can't I?'

Papa chuckled. ‘Oh, I don't foresee so dull a future.'

The very notion of becoming Greville's wife, waking with him at her side, greeting him with a kiss every day when he returned from his tasks—and spending every night in his bed—brought an upswell of joy within her. ‘I think I would love becoming mistress of a small estate somewhere.'

‘Just make sure you're the
wife
of the master, not just his mistress,' Papa warned, a twinkle in eye.

‘Papa!' she protested, blushing as she recalled what she let Greville Anders do to and for her. What she couldn't wait to do again.

‘Come talk with me after you've spoken with Mr Anders. And don't worry so much about his reaction. I may be a dried-up old man, but even I noticed how he's moped about since you left, looking like his last friend had abandoned him. I'm betting his reaction to discovering you are willing to turn your back on London will be everything you hope.'

‘Oh, I hope so, too, Papa!' she cried, throwing her arms around him again and hugging so tightly that he protested he
was hardly able to draw breath. But with Papa's blessing on her choice, her happiness was complete.

As long as Greville Anders loved her.

How long was she going to have to wait to find out?

L
ate that evening, mud-spattered and weary, Greville rode in from Blenhem Hill. He'd pushed his tired mount on until they reached Ashton, not wanting to spend another night on the road, so he might be ready to resume his duties first thing in morning.

His excessive fatigue might have one benefit; perhaps tonight he wouldn't dream of Amanda Neville, waking with delight that turned to bleak desolation as he discovered the image of her in his arms, her passionate panting breaths filling his ears and exulting his heart, was only an illusion.

After walking up from the stables, he encountered Sands in the hall. Stopping short, the butler said, ‘Welcome back, Mr Anders! I wish you'd sent word that you'd be arriving tonight; I could have had some supper waiting. Shall I have Cook prepare you a tray?'

‘I'd be most grateful. Please, don't disturb Lord Bronning or Miss Althea to inform them I've returned; I expect they've both already retired. I'll greet them tomorrow.'

Sands hesitated, as if he were about to add something, then nodded. ‘Very well. Shall I send the tray to your chamber?'

‘Yes, please. And make it just a cold collation. Before I retire, I wish to review the accounts, so I may discuss them with Lord Bronning first thing tomorrow.'

Sands bowed. ‘Very well, Mr Anders.'

Greville thought longingly of a hot meal, a warm bath and a soft bed. He could scarcely wait to wash off the grit of the road, but Lord Bronning was an early riser, and he wanted to greet his host already in possession of the latest details on the status of the estate.

The allure of sleep did prompt him to quicken his step. Half-an-hour's inspection of Lord Bronning's well-organised ledgers should be sufficient to bring him up to date, and then he'd rest.

Greville checked in surprise at the threshold of the estate office. It must be fatigue, for he didn't recall asking Sands to illumine the candles, but golden light was spilling out into the hallway. He was through the door and halfway across the room before he realised it wasn't empty.

Sitting at his desk, her face angled pensively towards the window, was Amanda Neville.

Greville blinked once, then twice. Memories of her had ridden on his shoulder, whispered in his ear all the way back from Blenhem. After discussing details of purchasing the estate with Greaves, he'd argued with himself over whether to go immediately to London before returning to Ashton Grove. Asking her, this time point-blank and directly, whether the emotion he knew they shared was strong enough for her to consider giving up London and her dreams of a life there.

Had having her fill his heart and mind for so many hours made him conjure up her very image?

Before he could decide whether his wits had been addled by some pleasant madness, she looked up, saw him and gasped.

In one graceful movement, she leapt up from the chair, flew across room and into his arms.

Greville bound her to him, pressing his face into the silken warmth of her hair. If this were an illusion, he wanted it never to end. It took several minutes of contact—and his body's inevitable response to her nearness—before he decided he wasn't hallucinating and it really was Amanda he held in his arms.

In which case, he needed to put her at a distance before his hungry body tempted him to bring her closer still.

He was, with difficulty, forcing himself to release her when, apparently realising the impropriety of her actions, she disentangled herself from his arms, blushing.

Though thrilled by the spontaneous warmth of her greeting, he tried to rein in his stampeding hopes. ‘What are you doing at Ashton?' He recalled Sands's hesitation when speaking about the family, and sudden alarm pulsed through him. ‘Nothing has happened to—'

‘No, no, Papa is fine. I…just needed to come home.'

Alarm of a different sort filled him as the
other
matter she would have felt compelled to see her father about flashed into his mind. ‘For…some particular reason?'

She stepped away from him. ‘If there was, how would you feel about it?'

Hoping she wasn't referring to an engagement with Trowbridge, but afraid she might be, he asked, ‘About your connection with a certain…gentleman?'

‘Precisely.'

Panic whipped through him and he felt a searing pain, as if his heart were shattering. For a moment he couldn't summon even thoughts, much less speech.

The new Greville, noble gentleman that he was, would want only the best for her. He'd congratulate her on achieving her fondest desire and wish her every happiness.

Greville opened his lips to say just that. But before those
syllables emerged, the old Greville wrested away control and he heard himself cry, ‘Do you really love Trowbridge? Do you want to give yourself to him? Do you want his hands, his mouth, on you every night for the rest of your life? Will he worship you with his heart and all the passion within him…as I would?'

While her eyes widened and her lips parted, Greville found himself on one knee before her, rushing on, ‘I know he can offer you the brilliant future and position you've always wanted. But I can't let you go to him without telling you how I feel. I think I started loving you the moment you frowned at that disreputable specimen besmirching your pristine entryway—but made him welcome anyway. I tried to conceal my feelings, even from myself, but by the time you left for London, I could no longer deny the truth, though I kept it from you. I said nothing because I wanted you to arrive in London unencumbered by any previous attachment, free to pursue your dreams.

‘Though my wealth will never match Trowbridge's,' he rushed on, desperate to get it all out before she stopped him with a flat refusal, ‘you would be mistress of Blenhem Hill, filling the role of a country gentleman's wife, a task you would perform as expertly as you would that of society hostess. One I think you enjoy. There's even a seat in Parliament in a nearby borough I might stand for. If you would consider, my darling, making me the happiest man alive by agreeing to marry me, no one could love you or desire you more than I do and always will.'

She shook her head wonderingly. ‘You truly love me, then?'

‘“Love” isn't large enough to encompass all I feel. For weeks I tried to forget you, mourned losing you, pined for you, tried to convince myself that I could build a life without you. The misery I experienced only proved to convince me of the depth of my emotions. I…I know you care for me. Can I dare hope
you could love me even half so well, and marry me, and be content as the wife of a country gentleman and member of Parliament, rather than lady to some great leader of the Lords?'

‘As long as I am
your
wife, that's all that matters,' she murmured, pulling him up from his kneeling stance and leaning in to his kiss.

His dazzled mind could scarcely comprehend her assent, for the instant her lips met his, all his thoughts dissolved. Greville harnessed every iota of the joy and wonder coursing through him and put it into that kiss.

After a reverent, gentle brush of his mouth against hers, he deepened the pressure, using a sweep of his tongue to trace and caress the outline of her lips. Moaning, she swayed into his chest, opening to him.

Fired by her invitation, he plunged within the sweet warmth of her mouth, sought out her tongue, teased and traced it, sucked and nibbled gently. Then harder, faster, deeper, until desire pulsed in his head and the sweet sound of her gasping breaths filled his ears.

Not until one hand began to creep towards her breast and his arm moved to pull her closer against his turgid length did prudence break the hold of need, and he realised he must stop before he was beyond caring that the butler waited outside and her father and cousin slept somewhere down the hall.

Gently he broke the kiss, setting her at arm's length, while both of them tried to catch their breath. Wonder and elation and desire filled him until he was so effervescent with happiness, he felt he might float to the moon and shout his happiness from the skies. ‘Shall I speak to your father? Tomorrow, of course, 'tis too late tonight! Shall we have the banns called this Sunday? But, no, you'll want to finish your Season.'

Shaking her head in the negative, she trailed loving fingers over his face, his lips. He sighed with bliss and angled his face into her hands, eddies of delight coursing through every nerve.
Fortunately, since he hardly could string two words together when she touched him thus, she said, ‘I've learned all I needed to know from London. I don't need to go back.'

Some other imperative tickled at the back of his mesmerised mind. ‘Lady Parnell?' he mumbled.

‘I think she will understand. And if she doesn't…having you in my life, my love, will more than compensate for her disapproval and anything else I leave behind in London.'

She brought his face down to hers and kissed him again. This time, he let her take the lead,

By the time she stepped back, the new Greville's brain had ceased to function. Old Greville instincts were taking over, suggesting he urgently needed a bed, a sofa, a soft pile of hay, or any other reasonably comfortable horizontal surface.

But as he reached up to pull her back to him, a small clod of mud fell from his bespattered coat, breaking into dust on the fabric of her gown, and reality returned in a rush.

With a groan, he made himself release her again, finding it even harder this time, now that he knew he had her love. ‘You inflame me so, I should like to devour you whole, now where we stand. Perhaps I should ask your papa to lock you up until the wedding day! I've wanted you so long, I'm not sure how I will endure waiting until all the banns are read. But forgive me, I'm covered in dirt from the road. Let me bid you goodnight, my sweet, and meet you tomorrow when I'm more presentable.'

He would have bowed and left her, but she stayed him with a hand to his arm—and gave him that siren's smile that sent a rush of sensation pulsing through his member. ‘Then you need to be bathed, do you not?'

His mind flew to an image of warm water, naked bodies, Amanda's full breasts floating atop the surface, pink nipples peeking at him, while she soaped…

Heat blasted through him, searing any reply he might have intended right off his lips.

Before he could get his tongue untangled, she continued, ‘It was the custom in medieval times, was it not? The lady of the manor bathed guests. Imagine what wicked nights those knights must have experienced after such a ritual. Why not order a tub sent to your chamber…and let me show you?'

Trying to keep that seductive vision from overwhelming his senses again, he replied, a bit desperately, ‘If I allow you to do that, I'll never survive waiting until after the wedding.'

‘I don't want you to wait,' she said. ‘Oh, my love, I have struggled and denied and tried to will away my feelings even more strenuously than you! Now that we have found each other again despite all the obligations and expectations meant to keep us apart, all I want to do is surrender…and revel in that love. I want
your
kiss…
your
hands…
your
mouth on me.' She paused and slid her hand slowly down his trouser front, smiling as he gasped. ‘I want
everything
you can give me.'

Dimly, in the far corner of his brain, the new Greville was nattering on about sleeping fathers and inquisitive cousins and gossiping servants. Snuffing out the sound, the deliriously happy old Greville murmured, ‘Tonight and ever after, I'll give my lady all she desires.'

‘Then kiss me again.' Placing his hand over her breast, she pulled his mouth back to hers.