A Lady at Last (33 page)

The countess had a plan. “Who will we call on?” she asked, terribly interested now.

“We will call on my good friend Lady Marsden, a very esteemed and powerful dowager countess, and we will put an end to the absolute nonsense begun by Lady Cochran.”

Softly, Amanda said, “But it isn't nonsense.”

And Mary de Warenne's eyes turned to steel. “Oh, it is nonsense, my dear, for I shall have it no other way.”

 

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
Amanda and Mary de Warenne were shown into an opulent salon. Eleanor, Lizzie and Tyrell de Warenne were with them. The heir to the earldom was a tall, dark man who bore a shocking resemblance to his brother Rex. Amanda found him as imposing as the earl, even though they had conversed pleasantly enough before the opera the other night.

Amanda was nervous in spite of her resolve. She knew the first few calls would be difficult indeed. And Lady Marsden was as dignified as she had imagined. She was a heavyset woman with blue-white hair who dared to wear royal blue velvet and sapphires for day. She was entertaining mixed company; two gentlemen and three young ladies were present. Swallowing, Amanda realized that Garret MacLachlan was one of the callers. She finally felt some dread. It was one thing to face those she did not care about, but another to face a man she genuinely liked.

He saw her and his eyes widened in surprise, and then, as if he had not heard the rumors, he smiled quite disarmingly at her.

As the countess led the way into the salon, Tyrell de Warenne pulled her aside. Amanda was very startled.

He smiled at her. “Miss Carre, you are my brother's ward, which makes me responsible for you, as well.”

She nodded, wondering where he would lead.

“You are under my protection, which is the protection of Adare. You must calm your fears. We will navigate our way through this very small but highly unpleasant crisis, and by the time my obtuse brother returns home, we will have forgotten there ever was such an unfortunate event.”

“I hope that is the case,” Amanda said, not at all at ease with the earl's heir. But she smiled at him. “You have many duties, my lord. You really don't have to add me to them.”

He grinned. “Of course I do! My wife would throttle me if I did not care for you.” His smile faded. “Lady Marsden's bark is far worse than her bite and she is very fond of my mother. Hold your head high and be true to yourself. You will win her over in no time, just as you have won over my family.”

Amanda decided to do as he said. “If I were to be absolutely myself, my lord, I might hold my head high while stepping on Jane Cochran's skirts, as she is moving across a very slippery floor.”

He laughed. “You remind me exactly of my sister,” he said. “Shall we?” He took her arm.

Amanda realized just how symbolic the gesture was, for she was on the arm of the future Earl of Adare. “Thank you for such chivalry,” she murmured.

He sent her a smile.

Lady Marsden approached in a terribly regal manner. Amanda was aware that the rest of her company all gazed fixedly at her as Tyrell escorted her inside. She felt her cheeks heat, but she did not lower her chin or her eyes. Clearly everyone in the room except for Garret knew about her dubious past.

“My dear, dear Countess Adare,” Lady Marsden cried, embracing her with a smile. “My dear Mary!”

“It is good to see you, too, Dot,” Mary said, smiling as they clasped hands.

Across the room, the three women were whispering to one another while glancing over at her repeatedly. Amanda stiffened her spine and smiled at them all.

Lady Marsden now turned her attention to Eleanor, clearly ignoring Amanda. “You, I know, and well,” she said darkly to Eleanor. “So you married a commoner—your stepbrother, no less! Why have you not called on me, Eleanor?” she demanded.

Eleanor curtsied. “Because I knew you would not approve of my having made a love match,” she said boldly.

Lady Marsden laughed. “But I do approve. You hardly needed a fortune. Besides, he is a handsome rake, is he not? I expect you to bring your husband with you the next time you call—the end of the week will do.”

Eleanor nodded, her eyes dancing, but otherwise, her expression was shockingly demure.

Lady Marsden then went over to Tyrell, still refusing to acknowledge Amanda. He bowed and kissed her hand. “I see you remain as well as ever, Lady Marsden,” he said. “As gracious, as hospitable. What a splendid gathering.”

“Oh, do cease your flattery. You have changed!” she exclaimed. “You are more handsome than ever, if that is possible. Come here, Lizzie. She is with child again? Tyrell! Have you no shame?”

He just laughed.

“It is my fault, my lady,” Lizzie said with a grin, curtsying. “I am the one who insists on having a very large family.”

Lady Marsden shook her head. “I never thought to see you two again, as you both seem to wish to hibernate in that heathen land you insist on calling home.”

Tyrell and Lizzie chatted briefly with the forbidding dowager, inviting her to Adare. Neither Lizzie nor Tyrell seemed at all intimidated by her harsh and outspoken manner. Awaiting her introduction, Amanda glanced across the salon.

Garret smiled at her immediately and approached. There was no avoiding him now.

“Miss Carre, 'tis a happy surprise to see ye here.”

She dared to meet his regard. “My lord, it is a lovely day.”

His green gaze was searching. “'Tis a fine day…but I see a shadow in those beautiful eyes.”

She flushed. He was shameless when flirting. “I am fine.”

He seemed doubtful. “I admire yer courage, Miss Carre,” he said softly. “Lass, ye have enough fer a dozen men.”

She gaped. Had he heard the gossip after all?

Some sympathy filled his eyes. He pulled her away from the others. “I ha' heard the accusations Jane Cochran has made. The shrew needs a lesson in manners, I think.”

Amanda tensed. “It's true.”

He stared, their gazes holding, and when he smiled at her, it was the soft, heartbreaking smile Cliff had so often sent her. “I think I knew. A wild rose canna be mistaken fer its hothouse cousin. Lass, it only speaks to yer exceptional character that ye be here now.”

Amanda was too stunned to reply.

“Lady Marsden, you have not met my brother's ward, Miss Amanda Carre,” Tyrell was saying firmly, causing Amanda to stiffen. But she was ready for the dowager, and she was never going to take Garret MacLachlan for granted again.

Lady Marsden's face hardened as she approached. “I know who she is,” she said coldly. She turned to the countess. “Really, Mary, is this your doing?”

Amanda did not flinch, not now.

Tyrell flushed with anger and started to speak. Mary took his arm, forestalling him. She smiled. “Miss Carre has become another daughter to me,” Mary said with a soft smile. “Her father, a retired naval officer, drowned on Jamaica Island, where he was a planter. He was a friend of Cliff's, and his dying wish was for Cliff to look after her. We have been slowly introducing her to society, and as she is an exemplary and unusual young woman, I had to bring her to you.”

Lady Marsden now faced Amanda fully, her eyes suspicious. “Is it true? Did your father drown? For that is not what I have heard!”

Amanda hesitated. The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but then she saw Mary staring at her, begging her not to reveal herself. She owed the countess so much, and she managed a nod. “Yes, my lady, it is true. My father drowned very recently.”

Mary sighed. “Dot, Jane Cochran is enraged because she is enamored of my son and Cliff will not give her any attention. And why should he? She is quite homely, with no gracious manners, and he doesn't need her fortune. It is a true indication of her base character that she would spread such very vicious lies about my new daughter.”

Lady Marsden seemed taken aback. “I have never liked that Cochran girl,” she said after a pause, “and you are right, she has always lacked the proper airs for her superior breeding. Well, if Miss Carre is a new daughter….” She turned to Amanda. “Come here, Miss Carre,” the dowager commanded.

Amanda instantly obeyed, curtsying yet again.

“You have suffered terribly,” Lady Marsden said. “I realize that now. You are very bold, however, to dare to put a single foot among the ton again.”

Amanda smiled. The old lady really wasn't frightening at all. “The countess wished for me to make your acquaintance and I have no reason to hide.” That was the truth. “It is a great honor meeting you, my lady.”

“So you were raised in Jamaica?” Lady Marsden asked. “Is that not the West Indies?”

Amanda nodded. “Yes it is.”

“Hmm. I am very fond of travel. I wish for you to tell me what the island is like and advise me if I should make a voyage there in my advanced age.”

A
MANDA WAS BEGINNING
to feel very sick inside. Two weeks had passed and it was after six in the evening. At half past seven, they would be leaving Harmon House to go to the Carrington ball. Cliff had not returned.

She stood at the window in disbelief and dismay, clad in a wrapper, her hair pinned up, wearing the countess's stunning pearl and diamond tiara and the necklace Cliff had given her. All she had to do was be helped by a maid into her ball gown and gloves and a diamond bracelet the countess insisted she also wear. Amanda bit her lip.

He would never disappoint her this way. Something terrible had to have happened to have delayed him. Either that, or he was far angrier than she had thought.

If he did not come, she wasn't going to the ball. In spite of all that had happened, the first dance was his. She would not give it to anyone else.

As she stood there, shivering, for the early autumn night was cool, her heart raced uncontrollably. She had been in a nervous, excited and apprehensive state all day. She had been afraid of their first reunion, of what his expression would be, of what he might say. She knew it was foolish, but she prayed he had forgiven her for what she had done at Ashford Hall. She prayed he had changed his mind about putting so many barriers between them. Even if he had not, she had to see him again. She was emotionally exhausted.

And then she saw a hired hansom turn through the two brick pillars at the end of the drive. Amanda cried out, pushing open the window and staring as it approached. The black carriage came up the drive and paused before the house. The door opened, and Cliff alighted.

She held on to the sill tightly, her heart hammering wildly now. He hadn't let her down. She looked at him and was consumed by her feelings of love.

He glanced up.

Although she was two stories above, their gazes instantly locked.

Amanda didn't smile, she could not.

He didn't smile, either, but as he strode toward the house, he stared up at her, until he passed under the portico and out of sight.

Amanda closed the window, shivering. Cliff had come home.

 

H
E STRODE INTO THE HALL
, making a conscious effort to appear unhurried when what he wanted to do was run. He never veered, heading directly for the stairs, his pulse pounding with excitement. He would greet his children, and then he would casually say hello to Amanda. He knew he had to keep a distance from her, but he had missed Amanda more than he had ever missed anyone in the past two weeks. She had haunted his mind night and day. In fact, his nights had been sleepless; they had been hell. But he remained convinced that he had done the right thing in leaving, and in soliciting Adare to the cause of her marriage.

And whenever he brooded about that, his insides turned into knots.

He had begun to have some grave doubts about being able to hand her over to someone else at the wedding altar.

“Cliff,” Tyrell said from behind him.

Cliff was dismayed but he halted, facing his oldest brother, who had stepped out of the smaller salon where he now saw Rex and Sean seated. Everyone was already attired in their black tailcoats and evening trousers. Not only did he wish to see his children and Amanda, he had to get a leg on.

He had also begun to think about the waltz. He could not help it—he couldn't wait to take her in his arms and dance her around the room.

But he hadn't seen Tyrell in almost a year. He respected and was very fond of his older brother, never mind that he was becoming more and more like Adare every day. He smiled and the two men embraced.

“You are late,” Tyrell remarked, a slight smile on his face.

“I am aware of that. What time are we leaving?” He tried to control his impatience. Why hadn't Amanda smiled at him? Perhaps she was angry with him for his behavior when he had left London. It had been churlish, and if she was angry, he wouldn't blame her.

“Half past seven. Are you rushing up the stairs to dress?” Tyrell asked too casually.

Cliff stared at him. “Why else would I be rushing up those stairs?”

Tyrell smiled. “There was some doubt today about your return.”

His tension eased very slightly. “Why? I gave Amanda my word I would return for the ball. She has promised me the first dance. How is she?”

“Very well,” Tyrell remarked, “in spite of the fact that someone spread a nasty little rumor that she is a pirate's daughter.”

Cliff felt himself still. Rage began.
“What?”

Tyrell briefly told him what had happened.

Cliff trembled with more rage. As Sean and Rex stepped into the hall, he said, “She must have been devastated.”

“She wasn't in the least bit devastated, and in any case, the rumor has been laid to rest,” Tyrell said.

Cliff didn't believe him. Amanda's worst fear had been the scorn of society. He turned to rush up the stairs, but Sean stepped in front of him. “If you are on your way up to visit your children or if you are going up to dress, I can allow you to pass.” His expression was bland. “But I am under strict orders from my wife
not
to allow you to see Amanda before she finishes dressing.”

He was in disbelief. “I wish to speak to her. She is my ward!”

Sean started laughing at him. “You are besotted. Why don't you give in, surrender, confess, admit it?”

Cliff felt like landing a solid blow in his stepbrother's smug face. “You are the besotted one. For God's sake, every time I enter a room, I have to scan the premises to make certain you and Eleanor aren't behaving like adolescent lovers behind the sofa.”

Rex approached, also clearly amused. “You are not allowed to visit Amanda until she comes downstairs. Relax, Cliff. It's only been, what, two weeks?”

“It has been eighteen days,” he growled, and when everyone chuckled, clearly entertained by him, he turned red.

“I suggest you greet your children and make some haste,” Tyrell said evenly. He turned and walked back into the salon. Sean followed.

Cliff looked at Rex, who sobered. “She is fine. She has great courage and even greater dignity, Cliff. She stepped out the next day with the countess and Tyrell and an end was put to the gossip before it began.”

“Are you certain?” Cliff asked intensely. “Because you do not know the condescension she suffered while growing up on the island.”

“I am very sure. Cliff? The waif you brought home in August is gone.”

Instantly, he recalled Amanda standing in the hall at Ashford House, clad in a pale pink silk nightgown, the most desirable woman he had ever beheld. He already knew the waif was gone. “I need a hot bath,” he said, a lie, because he needed a cold one. And he turned and ran up the stairs.

 

I
T WAS PRECISELY
half past seven when he came down the stairs, clad in his tuxedo and making a final adjustment to his necktie. His heart was thundering and he could not deny why. It felt as if eighteen months had passed since he had been with Amanda, not eighteen days.

His entire family was assembled in the hall, apparently waiting for him. He saw no one, as his steps slowed and he reached for the banister to steady himself.

She stood in their midst, a vision in white and gold.

His thundering heart turned over hard one final time and he stilled.

Amanda smiled hesitantly at him.

He stared, no longer capable of drawing a breath. Her hair was swept up, tendrils framing her beautiful face, and her exotic green eyes were riveted to his. The ball gown was almost Grecian in style, sensually flowing over her curves. She wore his pearls at her throat but the countess's diamond jewelry. She was more than beautiful, and now, there was no more denying how he felt.

He had missed her so badly he had decided to return earlier than planned a dozen times in eighteen days. Now, he knew why.

She had become the center of his life the day he had rescued her from Governor Woods. She was still the center of his life. She meant everything to him. He could never bear such a separation again.

I am in love
, he thought, incredulous. In his entire life, he had never been more stunned.

He stood there, staring, overwhelmed by the enormity of his emotions.

For this was what love was and he had no more doubts. It was a huge and swelling, all-consuming joy, a sense of completion, exhilaration and need. He needed Amanda the way he needed the wind and the sea to live, to breathe. And it was so much passion, at once raw and emotional. And it was the determination to never see her hurt, abused or scorned again.

He had fought it as hard as he could. Someone had told him earlier to surrender. He was so dazed and overwhelmed he couldn't recall who had done so, but that person was right. It was time to surrender at last.

It was time to surrender to Amanda.

He realized that the hall was silent and he had been standing there staring at her as if a smitten, speechless fool. Well, he decided, stepping down the last steps, finally smiling, that was what he now was—senselessly besotted and smitten, at long last a man in love.

She stared as he approached, her eyes huge, as if she somehow knew.

He didn't think twice. He touched her chin, tilted it up. “You are too lovely, Amanda. So lovely, it is hard to even speak.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, then filled with relief. She smiled at him, and her eyes told him she had missed him terribly, too.

He realized he was smiling widely, helplessly, himself.

“You're not angry?” she finally asked.

“No.” He touched her cheek, her neck. His body stirred. He thought about kissing her, deeply, and then he thought about finally making love to her, until he heard a cough. He hesitated, controlling the now-consuming urge. “I bought you something.”

She nodded, her eyes shining, and he reached into his pocket and brought out a velvet jeweler's box. He opened it, revealing pearl and diamond drop earrings. Amanda wet her lips. “You thought of me,” she whispered. “While you were gone.”

“Yes.” He handed her the box, aware of his having made a huge understatement, and took one earring and fastened it to her ear. As he touched the lobe, his loins engorged more fully and she also stiffened. He knew his tension was also hers. Their gazes met.

She no longer smiled.

Tonight, he thought, he would touch and caress and mold and taste every part of her nude body. Such thoughts were not helpful and he forced them aside. He fastened the other earring and dropped his hands. They had been trembling.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He just smiled, still overcome by the bursting emotions in his chest. He would analyze them later, and later, he would also consider what they really meant for them both. It was still hard to comprehend that he could be feeling this way. He held out his arm. “We have a ball to attend.”

She took it, smiling. “Yes, we do.”

 

A
MANDA WAS DAZED
. She was in a palatial Greenwich home, in a magnificent ballroom the size of Cliff's ship, surrounded by hundreds of elegant ladies and gentlemen from the uppermost crust of society, and she was on Cliff's arm. He had been introducing her left and right to almost everyone they passed as they made their way through the glittering, bejeweled, laughing throng. No one had been condescending, nor had there been any curious stares. Amanda realized that the rumor Jane Cochran had tried to spread had been killed before it had ever had a chance to flourish.

Most important of all, Cliff wasn't angry with her.

In fact, whenever their gazes met, which was repeatedly, he sent her a soft smile and Amanda was instantly breathless.

She wasn't sure what was happening. She only knew that she did not want the night to ever end. But it would, and tomorrow she was going to tell him that she must leave.

“The dancing is about to begin,” Cliff murmured. They had paused near the edge of the dance floor. Gentlemen were leading their partners out. Cliff faced her, releasing her arm for the first time in hours, and he bowed.

She curtsied, overwhelmed by his beauty, his masculinity, her love. In fact, she loved him so much her heart ached from the vastness of the emotion. The evening promised to be perfect. And now, they were making a memory she would cherish forever.

Amanda reminded herself not to think about the next day, not until dawn came. She was going to live that night as if it was the only night in time.

He held out his hand and she slipped her palm into his. Smiling, he led her a few steps onto the floor and she moved closer, her palm closing on his shoulder as his fingers touched her waist. The full orchestra began to play, and Cliff began to waltz her across the room.

Amanda gave herself over to the sheer joy of being one with the man she loved. The floor vanished as they floated effortlessly.

Amanda met his gaze, which was suddenly so intent. If she did not know better, she would think him as deeply in love as she was. She warned herself not to read too much into his warmth and affection. He had always been fond of her and he had never been afraid to acknowledge it.