Wendy Soliman (22 page)

Returning to Saskia’s room, Felix took her hand and looked at her for a long time without speaking. Only after a delay of several minutes did he steel himself to ask the inevitable question, using a brisk, no-nonsense tone to disguise his anxiety.

“Now, what was that ridiculous note you left me all about?”

“Was it not self-evident?”

“Not to me.”

Saskia withdrew her hand from his and sat a little straighter. “I cannot marry you, Felix,” she said, looking at him but not quite meeting his eye.

“Because of that ridiculous rumour that Snelling put about?”

She blinked. “You know about that?”

“I do now, but I would have known a lot sooner if you’d told me yourself.”

Saskia accepted the mild rebuke calmly. “I couldn’t. You would have found a way to dissuade me.”

“Of course I would. Saskia, I told you that your connections don’t matter to me, or to my father. We would have got over that.”

“But your mother?”

“She would get over it too.”

“And society?”

“Hang society! It’s you I want, and if they can’t see the goodness in you then it’s their misfortune.”

Saskia stood and moved away from him but even though she turned her back she could still feel the intensity of his gaze and imagine the determination in his expression. Somehow she had to convince him that she was right and that she was not just doing this for his sake. She sensed that only then would he let her go.

“Felix,” she said, turning to face him and meeting his eye for the first time, “I do not love you and I don’t wish to marry you. It’s as simple as that.”

As she spoke, knowing that she was hurting him and being deliberately cruel, Saskia could imagine any number of responses from Felix, other than the one that he provided her with. His burst of laughter was followed by one dismissive word.

“Nonsense!”

“I beg your pardon?”

Felix crossed the room to join her but did not, as she thought he would, take her in his arms. Instead, he stood a foot away from her, smiling, relaxed and confident.

“I said nonsense. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“You really are the most infuriating man. What do I have to do to convince you?”

“I’m hardly likely to tell you that, am I, now?”

“Felix, it’s worse than we thought. The customs people have found no direct evidence against my father. He has enough influence to wriggle out of the charges already pending against him. Then he will be out for revenge, and you will be his first target.”

“Your concern for my welfare is touching, but do you really imagine that your father has more influence than my family?” He did reach for her then, and drew her close. “He can’t touch you anymore, sweetheart. You have nothing to fear.”

Saskia pulled away from him, knowing that if he held her close or kissed her, her resolve would crumble. She sat back on the bed, next to her pile of treasures.

Felix watched her, smiling. “Is that what you returned here for?”

“Yes. There are letters from my mother and some of her jewellery.”

“And the customs men didn’t find it?”

“No. I was confident that no one would ever find my hiding place.” She paused before adding bitterly, “but my father did. Not even that was to be mine alone. Look.” She held up the ledger. Felix took it from her and, flipping through it casually, his whole demeanour suddenly changed.

“This is it!” he exclaimed. “This is what Smithers’s men missed.”

“What do you mean?”

“We knew that he must have a record of his transactions somewhere, and this is it. Smithers’s men turned your father’s study upside down, thinking it must be concealed in that room, but your father was too clever for them. He hid it here instead, right under their noses, and they missed it. Look! Names, dates, and amounts of money that changed hands.” When Saskia still looked blank, Felix stood up and swung her round. “We’ve got him — him and all of his vile customers. And we will ensure that the world knows you found the evidence that convicted him: you will be a heroine, Saskia, and will be hailed as such everywhere you go.” He smiled into her eyes and ran a finger gently down the side of her face, bringing it to rest on her lips. “Now, tell me again why you can’t marry me?”

They were the last words he spoke before he finally kissed her, tenderly at first, but then with a hunger and passion that left Saskia giddy with desire and happiness. Slowly, then all in a rush, it dawned on her that there now really was nothing stopping her from marrying him…except for one thing.

She pulled away from him. “Angelica Priestley,” she said, averting her gaze from his face.

“Ah, yes, well. That was what I was doing when you observed us on the terrace: ending our relationship.”

She furled her brow. “You end relationships with kisses?”

“Well.” He spread his hands and offered her a sheepish grin. “It’s better to remain civilised about these things.”

“Civilised?” She snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

“How did you know? About Angelica, I mean.”

“Lord Snelling took great delight in informing me.”

“Well,” Felix said, reaching for her again, “you have nothing to fear from that quarter.”

“Maybe not,” she said, avoiding his grasp, “but what of other ladies? How can I be sure there are no others?”

“You have nothing to fear on that score, either.”

“Huh, that’s easy for you to say.”

He clasped her firmly by her shoulders; she didn’t attempt to evade him. He must have sensed a lessening of her uncertainties, and hurried to press home his advantage.

“Luc and I were, er…well, let’s just say infamous in our time,” he said, with sufficient embarrassment to cause Saskia to giggle. “But you’ve seen him with Clarissa: he’s a changed man. He knew he’d met his heart’s desire in her, just as certainly as I know I’ve met mine in you. Do you believe me now?”

Without waiting for a reply, he kissed her again. When he finally stopped long enough for her to speak, she told him that she would marry him.

She would never forget his look of happiness, or the unmitigated relief that suffused his features. He kissed her again, fleetingly, gently. Saskia was surprised, having expected more urgency on his part now that she’d finally succumbed.

“We have plenty of time,” he explained, wincing as he released her.

“You’re hurt again,” she said anxiously.

“It’s nothing.”

“Let me see. Take off your coat.” Her voice brooked no argument.

“With the greatest of pleasure.” Saskia gasped as she saw blood on the sleeve of his shirt. “It must have opened up when I hit Snelling.”

“Take off your shirt, let me see to it.”

His sigh was accompanied by a wolfish smile as he complied. Saskia gasped when she saw the dreadful bruises still on his chest. Felix pretended a giddiness as her fingers tenderly probed his injuries.

“You look faint,” she said, concerned as she redressed his arm. “You should lie down.”

“Only if you lie with me,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him.

“Felix!” She tried to sound shocked, but somehow it wasn’t convincing. “You’re nothing but a fraud.”

“Hum, probably.” He sounded abstracted as he showered kisses across her neck and shoulders.

Saskia felt happier than she’d ever believed it possible to be. As his hands greedily explored her body she felt a heat building within her at a scandalous rate. Her mouth was dry, her pulse racing. So this was desire! At last she understood.

Felix pulled away from her, extracting an indignant protest from Saskia.

“When I make love to you for the first time, my love,” he said huskily, “it will be a special occasion and in a suitable location. This is neither the right time nor place.” He silenced her protest with a chaste kiss. “This room holds too many unpleasant memories for you. Now that you’ve agreed to be mine, I can wait, at least for a little longer.”

She slanted him a flirtatious smile. “Suddenly the master of self-control, are you?”

He growled at her. “Don’t push your luck, wench.” He pulled his shirt back on, thrust his arms into his coat, took her hand, and led her to the door. “Come on, m’dear, your aunt and the twins will wonder what’s become of us.”

He drove her back to Riverside House, one hand on the ribbons, the other possessively clasping hers, the black ledger safely in his pocket. Not a word was exchanged between them, but they smiled broadly and constantly turned to look at one another, as though neither of them could quite believe the turn events had taken.

As they crossed the lawns at Riverside House they heard two familiar voices speaking in unison to their Aunt Serena.

“It’s very difficult, Aunt Serena — ”

“And we don’t know what to do — ”

“You see, Rosie calls him Uncle Felix — ”

“But we call him Mr. Beaumont — ”

“And now,” they finished together, their tone accusatory, “we’re told that he’s a lordship too — ”

“What should we do?”

Joining the group, Felix sat Saskia on a bench and took his place beside her. He pulled Amy onto his lap and put an arm around Josh’s shoulder. Felix’s smile was for the children, but encompassed Aunt Serena and Saskia as well.

“I’d feel honoured,” he said to the twins, “if you would address me as Papa.”

My thanks to my editor, Celina Summers, whose knowledge of the Regency period is truly impressive. My thanks also to the entire Musa team for their professionalism and cheerful approach.