The Coachman's Daughter (16 page)

“So do you.”

“Come in. Tell me everything.”

She did, almost everything, leaving out the
intimacy between herself and Deme, she relayed everything else,
sharing a laugh with him, some pensive moments when she talked of
her Aunt Jane, but in the end, Haven was glad she had gone.

“Lisette is insisting I stay in the Duke’s
house.”

He smiled wryly, “That one has been a hand
full since Marston came to Waverly.”

“So I suspected.”

He walked her to the door. “It is up to you.
I could rent something if you prefer.”

“You should, for your retirement. You should
have a house.”

He shrugged. “I’ll think on it. All that
matters is that you have your future settled.”

“Well, we shall perhaps look next week, on
your day off.”

He agreed.

There was a moment his fatherly blue eyes
held hers and she knew he had an idea of what had occurred between
herself and the Marquis.

He murmured, cupping her chin, “It was only a
month and yet you left me a young girl and returned a very
sophisticated woman.”

She covered his hand, took it, kissed it and
was holding it tightly while she answered, “I am very happy, proud
of who I am, and that is because of you, of the father you have
been to me. No man will ever earn my love or regard unless he can
measure up to you.”

Her eyes grew damp, her voice roughened. “I
saw the sadness, the terrible memories in Jane’s eyes. I know you
saw it in my mother’s. I want you to know, that as a woman, I
believe that you gave her the only love and kindness, the best
parts she ever had of life. She died loving us both.”

“My dear.” His eyes held tears too.

She finished, “You are an extraordinary man,
who overcame much, saw your opportunities and made the most of
them. You faced the worst and did the best you could for everyone.
When your heart was broken, you pasted it together so you could
nurture the same in me that was in you. You knew I would need the
strength. Not only to live, but also to love. I am very like you,
Papa. And that is something that makes me very proud.”

He loosed his hand and held her again,
tightly, rocking her in those hard arms. Before letting her go he
said, “Having you gave me a reason to live. I am proud of you. I am
proud to be your father. You are the best thing I ever did.”

She left after he released her and went back
to her quarters, taking a long bath, washing her hair. As she lay
there, Haven thought, the Marques and I are home. Here we step into
reality again. Our stations in life, our real worlds begin again.
When she arose and dried, she looked at her body, remembering the
week of horseback rides, of romping and playing like naughty
children in that bedroom at night.

Memories, wonderful ones, of brushing their
horses down in the stable, sitting at an elegant table together,
his greeting the staff she hired and giving her a wink of
approval—or her coming into the study, leaning against the door
watching him work, realizing how sharp witted he was, how he really
did love intellectual endeavors as much as he did the day they
spent fishing. The laughter. That surprised her.

There had been that moment in a village on
the way home when a comely woman had whispered in his ear. He had
found her with his gaze and reached his hand out for her. She had
taken it, and it was if the other woman, or any of them, did not
exist.

Haven was in her dressing gown, a soft green
flannel when her door opened. She gaped at Deme. “You cannot come
sneaking in my bed here.”

His grin was wicked. “No?”

“No, of course not.”

He lowered himself into a chair, obviously
having bathed and changed into fresh silk shirt and black trousers,
polished boots. Legs out, crossing his ankles, he looked her over
and corrected, “That wasn’t my intent. Bed sneaking. But I am up
for the possibility.”

She flushed at his meaning. “What are you
doing in here?”

He laved his bottom lip. “Are you sure I
can’t coax you into—”

“Deme.” She groaned.

He laughed and as she sat herself on the bed,
he leaned his head back and drawled, “I actually came to inform of
the latest gossip in town.”

“What?’

His eyes found her, his grin wicked. “Um,
According to my parents, it’s been rumored at the clubs that the
Marquis of Fielding fell madly in love with his coachman’s
daughter.”

She got to her feet, her eyes wide. “Oh.
Good. Lord.”

“That’s not the best of it.” He got to his
feet. “He was so mad for her that she took off to York and he went
after her. She became his mistress.”

“Deme. That’s not amusing.”

He thought so, and leaned against the mantle,
grinning lazily, “The best is yet to come.”

“Best, are you daft? Your parents…”

“According to Mama, a Lady Westerberg was
soon whispering that this coachman’s daughter was no commoner at
all, but an heiress of the noblest of birth. She had, through some
tragic unknown circumstance, been living incognito with the Duke
and Duchess, all along….”

“Bloody hell! What an imagination.” Her hands
were against her cheeks, her eyes growing wider.

He was enjoying it. “When the aforesaid
rakehell Fielding developed this passion for her—whilst she was
still in disguise, you see—the Lady sought the help of the Duke and
Duchess, who of course, knew all along whom she really was. It was
they who had sent her to York…”

She burst out laughing. “You cannot be
serious. No one would make up such a thing?”

“You don’t know the ton.’ He crowed and
crossed his arms. “I asked Mama how exactly it was I caught up with
you, and she said according to rumor, I nearly killed my horse,
riding through rain and storms to reach your side…”

Haven groaned and sat, then fell back on the
bed.

He sauntered over, bracing his hands beside
her shoulders, his eyes twinkling into hers. “The Duchess says that
you must wear your most daring and bold get up to the theater
tomorrow.”

“I didn’t plan on g—”

“We’re all attending. You and I in my
box.”

“But they can correct these wild rumors
and…why are you shaking your head.”

He murmured, “They have no intention of
correcting it. Even if they weren’t firmly established rumors, and
trust me, in a month, they have likely grown and become more
dramatic.” He smiled. “You’re likely a princess in disguise by now.
I killed not one but two horses to reach you, and it was caught in
a snowstorm whilst fording a river…”

“Of all the rot.” She closed her eyes.

“Everyone will notice I am reformed, you
know. My having no reason to visit hells and places of vice and
wickedness whilst here.”

Her lashes lifted. He had been bringing his
legs closer, working one between her own.

“Fine, you be reformed. I will even let them
think I am your mistress. I don’t particularly care, but—”

His leg was there, between hers, and he
lowered to his forearms, his mouth very close to her own. “I rather
like their version of events.”

Breath tensing, body stirring, she managed,
“I cannot believe your parents are fine with it.”

“They’re having a great time. You forget, we
are Wimberly’s. Mother has been enjoying giving the impression that
we were all part of some drama. His Grace is enjoying himself
also.”

His fingers brushed through her hair. “I look
forward to taking my mistress to the theater. It will certainly
escape no one that I cannot keep my eyes off her.”

“We’re—back now, Deme. In or real lives. I’ll
completely understand if you…”

He lowered his head, pressing his lips to
hers softly before slowly giving her an intimate kiss. Moving his
head, making love to her mouth, he waited until the fire built and
then lifted his head. Their want; their knowledge as lovers to each
other was there in that gaze.

“After the play, we will find a place where I
can ease up your skirts, kiss your perfumed thighs, and soothe the
ache you will have between them.”

Breathing shallow, she watched him say, “We
will enjoy our time in town, attend amusements—and the ton will
talk—oh, they will be afire with the talk about us.”

“Why—would you want that?”

“What is the shame in our desire for each
other? What is the regret that I am intoxicated by you rather than
brandy? What do we care if they see us and envy. What argument have
you, against my admitting that I want, craved, you, and that I will
pleasure you at every opportunity.”

“I don’t bloody care what they say about
me.”

“The Wimberly’s never have cared.” He rubbed
her bottom lip. “You’re a wealthy woman.”

“Yes. But I don’t intend to flaunt it...”

“Good for you.” His grin came. “But I said
that because I will be showering my mistress with jewels and—”

“—Oh, for bloody Christ sakes.” She laughed.
“Not that.”

“We shall see.”

“I’ll be your lover, Deme. You don’t need to
enact this charade.”

He nibbled her lip, laved it, and then raised
himself, his fingers trailing down her thigh where the robe parted.
“I find it all rather exiting.” His finger went higher. “Don’t
you.”

“I find that exciting.” She covered his hand.
“But Lisette is libel to burst in here any moment.”

He grunted and stepped back. “Your most
dashing get up, Mulhern. I’ve a sheering to get.” He raked a hand
through his hair, and met her gaze, “Shall you like it
shorter.”

“I love your hair, and shall like whatever
you do. You know I think you are beautiful.”

Teasing faded from him. He watched her set up
before he went and half sat on the arm of a chair, his eyes
searching her face. “Can I ask something of you, Haven?”

My God, she loved it when he said her name.
“Yes,” she quipped. “So long it does not involve driving necked
through Hyde Park.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s an
interesti—”

“Deme.” She scolded and adjusted her robe,
going over to sit in the other chair.

She moved so he could sit facing her, his
forearms on his thighs as he looked broodingly at her for a
moment.

He finally murmured, “For the next two weeks,
until Lisette’s birthday ball, will you pretend we met on that
coach ride north?”

He straightened and came over, getting to one
knee and taking her hands. “Pretend that what everyone says or
knows of us doesn’t matter. That three’s no titles, nothing save
who we are from this moment, and what we are or were—doesn’t
exist.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Something
in his eyes stirred disquiet in her. “What’s wrong…?”

He smiled slightly and shook his head, those
green eyes intent on hers. “There is no one who understands this as
you will—I would ask you to go along with my family’s wish to have
you here, with us, to enjoy the amusements. I would ask…that you
allow me, to be the man I might have been before…my mistake.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I can do
that.”

He leaned and kissed her softly before he
arose.

She was watching him leave, seeing him turn
at the door and look at her again. Haven uttered, “I ache for you,
Deme.” Secretly, she meant she ached somewhere else too.

He raked his teeth over his lip. “I’ll sooth
it for you, darling. It will be my pleasure.”

When the door closed, she sighed and leaned
her head back. Being his lover was amazingly wonderful. Of course,
she would do anything to prolong having him all for herself.

Chapter Nine

Haven allowed the maid to finish her hair,
the girl having done it in rippling waves before drawing it back in
a twist with ruby combs. When that was done, the maid picked up the
diamond drop necklace and latched it.

Haven walked over to the full-length mirror,
smoothing the deep ruby gown with black lace sleeves and lace over
the bodice. The sheath skirt of the gown was elegant, and the
bodice low, with just a hint of her breasts visible. Under the
gown, she wore black stockings with ruby garters, black velvet
pumps with diamond buckles.

Cosmetics enhanced her tawny eyes and made
her lips glisten. She turned and glanced at the short gloves lying
with a black velvet silk lined and hooded cape. She had dressed a
bit early, because she had told Lisette she wanted to have a
private talk with her.

When there was a knock on her door, the maid
opened it.

Lisette came in, her smile blooming as she
said, “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” Haven supplied, “So do you.”

Lisette had on deep sapphire gown with a wide
v neckline. The gown had an attached wispy overskirt that glittered
with minute silver. That long hair was fashioned in the Greek
style, with a sapphire band around it before it fell in long s
curls over Lisette’s shoulders and back. She wore silver pumps and
beautiful sapphire gloves that had silver insets.

“Will you leave us?” Haven smiled at the
maid, who curtsied and quietly left the room.

Haven told Lisette. “Sit. I’ve some things to
tell you.”

Frowning, her friend sat on one of the
chairs. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Not really.’ Haven took the other. After
a breath, she began telling her about what she had learned of her
mother. She shared with Lisette how it had instigated the trip
north. Watching her friend’s face, she knew the most difficult part
was to come, so she simply dove in—and told her she and Deme had
become lovers.

Having been pensive, now Lisette blinked,
wide-eyed. “What? I thought it was merely gossip. I mean, no one
heeds anything the ton says and we—”

“Don’t be upset at me.”

“I’m not. I’m well—shocked.” Lisette laughed
and shook her head, looking at Haven, over her and then back to
meet her eyes. “I never dreamed you and Deme. You were always at
each other—”