The Perfect Lady Worthe (8 page)

Chapter Ten

Never in all of her life had Jane heard Michael shout so much and use such deplorable language.

Then again, he
had
just stumbled upon his closest friend kissing his sister senseless, so perhaps a little indulgence was due. Surely if this continued he’d either lose his voice or everyone else in the carriage would lose their hearing. It went without saying what everyone’s preference would be. Jane did feel bad for Charlotte and Mrs. Fairchilde, however, they’d done nothing to deserve bearing witness to Michael’s wrath.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Worthe?” Michael roared yet again.

“Nothing is wrong with me.” Gareth held Michael’s gaze. “And nothing is wrong with Jane, either.”

A hush fell over the carriage.

“I never said there was,” Michael bit off, his jaw clenched.

“You didn’t?” Gareth cocked his head to the side. “Perhaps not in so many words.”

Beside her, Michael stiffened. “I never—”

“Then why did you not want her to go to London?”

Again, silence.

“Nobody is faulting you for wanting to protect your sister, Holbrook,” Gareth said at last. “But why not let someone love her if he is so inclined?”

“Love?” Michael choked harshly, ending any semblance of warm feelings at Gareth’s bold words.

“If it can happen, then why deny it?”

Jane’s gaze darted between the two. Did Gareth love her? He was quite fond of her, his kiss told her that much but
love
?

Michael snorted. “Would you have me believe that in the past two days you’ve fallen madly in love with my sister?”

“I’m sure an occurrence more unusual has happened before,” Gareth allowed. His answer neither confirmed nor denied Michael’s charge, thus leaving Jane more unsettled. Did the blasted man love her or just lust after her? Did it matter—?

“All right, then, marry her,” Michael said, effectively ending everything swirling around in Jane’s head. He clenched his hands into fists and his nostrils flared. “Day after tomorrow. We’ll go to London for a special license.”

All eyes went to Gareth and his found Jane.

“No.” His cool tone sent a shiver down Jane’s spine and he held her gaze. “This is her choice, not yours.”

“Her choice?” Michael echoed, disbelief lacing his tone. “I don’t think she has much choice now.”

“Yes, she does and it’s hers to make.”

Blood thundered in Jane’s ears, blocking out what anyone else in the carriage might have said in response. His words, though not a perfect proposal, were to her.

Reeling from her own excitement, Jane didn’t notice that everyone was looking to her, presumably for an answer. She hesitated. She wanted to say yes, but not in front of everyone. It’d be far more romantic, to her anyway, if they were alone and they were to share a celebratory kiss following her acceptance.

Which is exactly what happened when they arrived back at Castlemoor.

“Would you like a large wedding?” Gareth asked between kisses.

Jane brushed a kiss over his lips. “No. I like the idea of a special license.”

Gareth groaned and captured her lips in another kiss. “We’d better stop,” he rasped, pulling away. “We’ll leave tomorrow for London?”

She grinned. That sounded like a perfect plan to her.

Chapter Eleven

Three Days Later

If Gareth had thought his attraction to Jane was stronger than he could fight before, it was a force equivalent to gravity after three days of being in her, almost, constant presence.

Fortunately only a short wedding ceremony stood between him and his right to claim her as his. Of course he wasn’t such a cad as to rush her off to the nearest bedchamber as soon as she’d repeated his vows. He could wait the thirty minutes it took to reach his townhouse from that of the Archbishop’s. But that was the extent of his patience. He was a man after all. A man who was marrying a very attractive young lady. He shifted in his seat to hide his reaction to such delicious thoughts and squeezed Jane’s hands.

This was the most unusual wedding ceremony, to be sure. Flanking either side of Jane was a grinning Charlotte and a stone-faced Holbrook clasping his hands and grinding his teeth.

Gareth sat across from Jane and her two younger sisters, Daphne and Olive, along with Jemma who sat next to him.

“Repeat after me,” the archbishop intoned. “I, Gareth Lambert, Earl of Worthe…”

Gareth repeated the archbishop’s words around a pound of gravel in his throat then waited patiently for Jane to do the same so he’d be able to kiss her again. He hadn’t stolen one all day and his lips craved hers in a way he’d never imagined.

“…husband and wife. You may—”

Gareth’s lips were brushing over Jane’s before the man could finish, and he didn’t care. He doubted she cared, either.

As for the others in the room? He didn’t care what any of them cared, either.

“Congratulations, Worthe,” Holbrook said, his tone and face still guarded.

“Thank you.” Gareth gave a stiff nod to his friend. It had become quite apparent that Holbrook wasn’t overly pleased with the match. Again, Gareth didn’t care. That wasn’t true. He cared about losing a friend, but surely Holbrook would come around when he saw how happy Jane was. His heart slammed in his chest. He’d be the one responsible for her future happiness.

Her girlish laughter floated to his ears. She
was
happy; and it was because of him.

Grinning like the besotted fool he was, he sat back and listened as Jemma and Jane’s sisters fussed over her. Catching a glimpse of Holbrook’s wide eyes, Gareth shot him a grin. Holbrook’s facial expression remained the same. Was he worried Gareth intended only to use Jane? It was a reasonable concern, he allowed. Most wouldn’t see her for who she really was and treat her right. But Gareth wasn’t most.

“Are you ready to see your new home, Lady Worthe?” he asked when he could tolerate Holbrook’s piercing stare no longer.

“Of course,” Jane said with a blinding smile.

Her sisters and Jemma tittered with excitement.

Holbrook grunted.

Gareth ignored him and guided Jane to the front door.

They both thanked the archbishop for his time then, being the dutiful bridegroom that he was, Gareth swooped Jane right out of her chair and carried her down the stone stairs and to his waiting carriage. He’d wanted so desperately to be the one to carry her inside, but he hadn’t been her husband yet and even he knew better than to insist. It wasn’t done.

The ride to his townhouse was an excruciating agony he hoped he’d never have to suffer again.

As was his wait before being allowed to go into his new bride’s bedchamber. Alas, a man could only wait so long and the dead silence he could hear coming from her room concerned him.

“Jane?” he whispered, coming into her room. He closed the door behind him and stood rooted to the floor. She was sitting in her chair, still fully dressed and her bottom lip trembled. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Jane rushed to say at the same time Maggie, one of his older and less-delicate housemaids said, “She refuses my help, my lord.”

Another woman who Gareth didn’t recognize, but assumed was Thea, the lady’s maid Jane had shared with Charlotte while living with Holbrook was trying to say something by way of explanation, but Jane’s nervous expression said the most: she was uncomfortable with Maggie.

“You’re both dismissed,” Gareth said.

“But Lady Worthe needs my help,” Thea said, panic filling her voice. “Perhaps the two of us could…”

“Nonsense. I’ll see that she’s taken care of tonight.” He reached for Jane’s cool hand. “And every night.”

And with that, two wide-eyed and dare he guess scandalized maids took their leave.

Gareth sank to his knees. “I don’t know much about lady’s garments,” he admitted before stealing a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and began unbuttoning the back of her gown. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”

Jane did.

Gareth glided his hands down to her hips. “Can we stand for a minute? I’ll support you if you’ll just hold me.”

~*~

Jane could do that. She could do that all night if she didn’t think her legs would get tired and she’d be dead weight.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and together they stood.

His hands went to her back and loosened her gown and stays. Never before had she felt so safe and secure while undressing. She boldly pushed herself into him.

If his groan was any indication, he didn’t seem to mind her brazen move.

Gareth wrapped his left arm around her waist and gripped the open fabric near her left shoulder with his right hand. “I’ve got you,” he murmured against her hair.

Taking his meaning, she let go of her hold on him with her left arm and let him slide her garments down her arm. Never before had she been so trusting of another and yet, she had no difficulty with him. She knew he’d never intentionally hurt or embarrass her.

When he freed her left arm, they changed positions so he could do the same with the other side.

Then the gown, stays, and petticoats dropped to the floor in a
whoosh
, covering her stockinged feet in a cloud of puffy fabric and leaving the rest of her covered in a thin chemise.

“Don’t be nervous,” Gareth said as if he could read her mind. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

Modesty demanded she slip under the covers or at the very least grab a pillow to place in front of her. But modesty be damned, she was far too intrigued by the sight unfolding before her to even
think
to cover herself.

Paying no attention to Jane’s shameless staring, Gareth went about divesting himself of his clothes as if there was a small arm of ants crawling—and biting—their way up his skin. Blue coat thrown to the floor. Yellow waistcoat shrugged off and joined the coat. The knot in his cravat was gone in less than a second and the scrap of fabric was sent floating to the floor. His white lawn shirt yanked off and quick to join the pile. Slowing but a minute, Gareth leaned forward and unlaced his boots, favoring Jane with the broad expanse of his back.
Clop, clop
. His boots were off and carelessly discarded a few feet from his other clothes, followed by his stockings. He straightened and reached for the fastenings on his breeches, then paused.

“Is this all right or would you prefer I snuff the candles?” The strain in his voice would have made her laugh or at the very least smile had her tongue not grown so thick with desire in the past thirty seconds.

“I’m all right.” She swallowed. “But only if you are.”

Gareth swept her with his gaze. “I believe I’ll be more than all right in a couple of minutes.” Then, without another word, he unfastened his breeches and let them drop, revealing all of him to her. He stepped out of them and padded over to the bed.

The feather mattress dipped under his weight. Jane took that as encouragement to roll closer to him.

“You’re so very beautiful.” Gareth skimmed his hand over her shoulder then down her side. “Did you know?”

She pushed her lips together and tipped one side up. She knew she wasn’t beautiful; he didn’t have to lie to her.

“Don’t give me that look.” He smoothed her cheek with his fingertips. “You are. Head—” he trailed his fingers lower— “to toe.”

“You can’t even see my toes,” she teased, making a show of trying to peer down at her own stocking-covered feet.

“Ah, a fact I shall have to rectify immediately.” He climbed up onto his knees and started making his way down the bed.

Panic built within Jane. “Please, don’t.” She willed her legs to stay rigid as if that would keep him from peeling off her stockings. “I didn’t intend for you to—”

“See every inch of you?” He shot her a devilish grin. “That is my very intention and it wouldn’t do for you to resist.” He placed a hot, searing kiss on the patch of skin just above the top of her stocking and below the hem of her chemise.

“But my—my—” she sputtered, not sure how to explain her biggest insecurity.

“Are perfect,” he supplied, running both of his palms over her calves. Something about his tone and the intense expression on his face, gave Jane the greatest sense of peace she’d ever had. He meant what he’d said. He hooked his fingers under the tops of both of her stockings. “May I?”

With a swallow, she nodded. “Yes.” One thousand thoughts ran through her head, but not one was the concern he’d flinch or snarl when he saw her withered legs. He might not have actually said the words, but his actions screamed it: he loved her.

Gareth took great care and slowness in peeling down her stockings. Then ran his warm hands over her bare legs. “Just as I thought: perfect.”

Tears of joy welled in her eyes and she offered no protest when he reached for the hem of her chemise and shimmied it off, leaving her as naked as he.

“Perfect
and
beautiful,” Gareth said, taking her in. He lowered his lips to her face and kissed her tear-stained cheeks and jaw, then covered her mouth with his.

Holding nothing back, Jane wound her arms around his neck and matched his passionate kiss in equal measures and delighted in every kiss and caress Gareth showered upon her until she was floating in euphoria, brought to earth only when Gareth lowered his lips near her ear and whispered, “I love you, Jane.”

“I love you, too, Gareth,” she breathed, tracing lazy patterns on his back.

He rolled off to the side and used his index finger to tip her chin up toward him. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” She reached for the blankets and covered both of their sated bodies. “Was there ever any question?”

He pushed his bottom lip out a little. “Perhaps a little.”

Jane shook her head. “Do you ever stop fishing for compliments, Lord Worthe?”

“From you?” He gave her that exaggerated frown again. “Never.”