A Lady at Last (35 page)

Dulcea cried out.

“No one can change my mind.” Amanda was suddenly exhausted. Worse, she was feeling ill enough to retch. She had to get away from Dulcea; it was also time to leave the ball, as the magical evening had been utterly ruined. Maybe, when she was finally alone in her bedroom, she would curl up and give in to the urge to cry. But she wasn't sure what she was crying for. One fact was clear, however: she was no closer to comprehending the woman who was her mother now than she had been before meeting her. She started to leave.

“I can change your mind,” Dulcea said, her tone sharp.

Amanda froze. Then slowly, with dread, she faced her mother. “I don't think so.”

Dulcea smiled at her. “What if I help you attain your wildest dreams?” she asked softly.

Amanda's heart thundered. “You do not know me, and therefore you do not know any of my dreams.”

“You do not dream of being deWarenne's wife?” Dulcea asked, almost coyly. “Amanda, you can have exactly what you want!”

Amanda began to shake. “Stop.”

But Dulcea came close, so that their faces almost touched. “I will help you, darling. I've seen how he looks at you. All you must do is lure him into your bed. You will do so at Belford House, and when he is with you, I will make certain Belford discovers you both.” Dulcea smiled, triumphant. “You will be the captain's wife before the year is out.”

Amanda was sick. “I will never trap Cliff into marriage!”

“Why not?”

Amanda despised Dulcea then. “I don't think you could ever understand.” She hurried away, lifting her gown and breaking into a run.

Her tears finally began.

Dulcea Belford was horrid.

But Dulcea rushed after her. “You fool! This is the answer to all of our problems! To all of our prayers!”

And in that moment, Amanda had to know what her mother really wanted. She whirled. “What does that mean? What problems could you possibly have? What is it that you really want? Why don't you try being honest for once? Maybe, just maybe, I will help you—not because I care, but because, in spite of everything, you are my birth mother.”

Dulcea seized her hands, her eyes brilliant, madly so. “I am in desperate straits, Amanda. Belford is so deeply in debt that last week, our credit ran out. We have no more means. I am begging you to help us.”

“By marrying for funds,” Amanda said slowly, stunned.

“Forget that damned dowry he gave you. He is the one. You are still a virgin, aren't you? Even I know he would do the honorable thing, especially as we could threaten a scandal if he did not.”

So this was the plot. Dulcea had wanted her dowry at first, until she had conceived the plan of marrying her daughter to Cliff for his fabulous wealth. Amanda wiped the moisture from her eyes. She had been right to refuse to trust her. “Once, long ago, I foolishly dreamed of being in your arms. That dream is gone. It's late. Good night.” She walked away.

“Call on me tomorrow, darling,” Dulcea called after her as if she had not heard. “I will introduce you to Belford and the children and we will make our plans!”

Amanda hurried into the house, afraid she might retch now, in public. The room began to spin. She had no stamina left. On the threshold of the ballroom, she paused, grasping the doorway. She did not want to espy Cliff now, as he would take one look at her and demand to know what had transpired. She did not want to ever discuss what had just happened with Dulcea. On the other hand, she had never needed to be in his arms more. But if that happened, she might not have the courage to tell him she was leaving tomorrow—and she might change her mind about leaving, as well.

After a moment, some of the dizziness passed. Amanda inhaled, still trembling, still sick. A terrible aftertaste lingered. Finally, she had met her mother; finally, she knew the truth about her. Amanda gagged, realizing she still had to retch after all. She had to leave the ball, immediately, before she undid her success of the evening.

She scanned the dance floor, hoping to find someone who could take her home—anyone but Cliff. To her relief, Cliff was not there, although she did glimpse the earl and countess dancing, both of them smiling. She was ice-cold, deep in her heart and in the marrow of her bones. At least the nausea was manageable. She glanced across the room.

Then she saw Rex, standing by himself near a gilded column, dark and handsome, but clearly brooding. His gaze was unwavering, directed some distance away.

Amanda made her way over to him. He remained so preoccupied that when she came up to him, he did not even notice her. She became aware of the covertly sensual way he was staring through his lashes, as if to disguise his interest. She followed his gaze and realized he was staring at Blanche Harrington, who was stunningly attired in a green ball gown and surrounded by a group of ladies and gentlemen. She had never seemed more elegant or lovely. Was Rex interested in the great heiress? She was surprised. If he was, it was unfortunate, as even Amanda knew by now that an heiress like Blanche would marry a great title.

Rex started, noting her for the first time. “Are you all right?”

Amanda forgot about the other woman. “I am exhausted.” She managed a smile, then a wave of dizziness hit her again. Rex grasped her arm. “I do not feel all that well. Would you mind taking me home? If it is not too much trouble?”

His gaze was far too penetrating. “I'll find Cliff. He will see you home. I think he is having a cigar in the smoking room.”

She stiffened. “Please, Rex, I hate putting you out, but I'd prefer not to see Cliff right now.”

His eyes widened.

Amanda didn't even try to pretend. “He will see I am upset. This is not the time or the place. I plan to speak with him first thing in the morning. Please,” she repeated. “I really feel poorly.”

He did not hesitate. “I will gladly take you home. I have had enough of this ball, anyway. These kinds of events don't amuse me at all.”

Amanda was terribly relieved. She could not leave the ball quickly enough as he guided her from the great room. But the bitter taste of what had just transpired between her and Dulcea remained. She was certain it would linger for the rest of her life.

C
LIFF WAS VERY ALARMED
as he strode into Harmon House. It was almost two in the morning, and just when he had realized that he had not seen Amanda anywhere at the ball in a good hour, a servant had come up to him to tell him that Rex had escorted her home. Something was amiss. He was her escort, not Rex. He felt certain someone had cut her, but he could not understand why she hadn't come to him.

And he wasn't happy, either, about the way Dulcea Belford had been regarding him just before he had left. There had been something spiteful and calculating in her expression—and there was an odd glint of triumph. He dearly hoped Amanda had not exchanged words with her mother, but he was almost certain that she had. If so, that would explain her hasty departure, but not why she had gone to Rex instead of him.

The house was silent. Lizzie, Tyrell, the earl and countess had all left the ball shortly after midnight, but Sean and Eleanor remained and would undoubtedly stay for another hour or two. He took the stairs two at a time and paused at Amanda's door. Obviously, it was late, and he should not barge into her bedroom at this hour.

His heart tightened. He had thought of little else that evening than his extraordinary feelings and the woman who had somehow, impossibly, engendered them. He had been looking forward to a very long, very deep good-night kiss, and far more. He had been anticipating having her in his arms, in his bed, and touching her as he wished. He smiled, leaning against the wall.

He was a de Warenne. When the men in his family fell in love, it was once and forever. He could survive this night alone, because once she was his wife, he would never sleep without her again. Knowing Amanda, she would join him on his voyages, at least until she was carrying his child.

His wife.
He had never dreamed he would ever think such words or want to make such a commitment. But Amanda was going to become his wife, and soon, of that he had no doubt. First thing in the morning, he would buy her a proper ring, so he could propose marriage to her. He would even get down on one knee. Normally, he thought romance nonsense, but God, he wanted to be as romantic as possible with her.

His child.
He adored his two children, and fatherhood was the greatest joy of his life. Now, he could think of nothing more joyous than Amanda carrying another son or daughter for him. But she had been rudely deprived for most of her life. He wanted to give her everything life had to offer, all of the finer things she had missed, the opera and champagne, rubies and pearls, fine art and gowns designed by Parisian couturiers, safety, security, love. His heart danced. He could wait for a third child. He was getting so ahead of himself.

He glanced at her door, images of Amanda at the ball filling his mind, the most beautiful woman present, the most courageous, the most unique. He had never declared himself before and he felt awkward and even gauche now. He had never dreamed he would one day ask a woman to marry him, either, but he would somehow find the right words, even if she so often made him tongue-tied. He realized he had his hand on the knob. If he went inside now, he thought, he was going to make love to her.

But she deserved a proper proposal first, just as she really deserved a genuine wedding and a wedding night which she would never forget.

He fought his own base instincts, because he wanted to make love to her then and there. Although he had been with many women he had not truly made love to any of them.

He sighed and went back downstairs to the west wing. He banged on Rex's door, hoping he was alone. However, his brother was known to carouse, his amputated leg not hindering his conquests. “Are you asleep, Rex?” he demanded.

His brother grunted. “Not anymore.”

Cliff stepped into the bedroom as his brother sat up and lit a lamp. He was alone, fortunately. “What happened? Why didn't you summon me? I was Amanda's escort. I should have brought her home.”

Rex appeared annoyed. “Go back to bed, Cliff. Speak with her in the morning. She seemed upset, somewhat.” He turned off the light and flopped back down, clearly ending the conversation.

But Cliff didn't go. “Did she say why she was upset?”

“No, she did not. Good night.”

“How distressed was she?”

“I do not know! Good night, Cliff!”

Cliff sighed and left. If it had been truly important, Rex would have alerted him. He would speak with Amanda in the morning, before he went to Bond Street for her ring. He would buy her the most magnificent diamond he could find. Just in case he could not find the right words to express his feelings, the grand gesture would.

He smiled to himself.

 

C
LIFF HAD HARDLY SLEPT
at all, too overcome with his feelings to do so. It was shortly after eight, and he and Tyrell were the only ones taking breakfast at that hour. His brother was reading both the
Herald
and the
Dublin Times.
Cliff fidgeted, sipping coffee, his stomach twisted into knots. Amanda would probably remain abed for a few more hours, and the Bond Street shops did not open until eleven. He wanted to see her before he went out. Time had never crept by with more infuriating delay.

“What is wrong with you?” Tyrell remarked.

Cliff realized he had been drumming his fingers on the table. “Nothing.”

“You appear like a green-broke race horse about to be let out of the starting gate.”

That was exactly how he felt, but he did not say so. And then he heard her steps. He jumped to his feet as Amanda appeared in the dining room doorway, fully dressed in a pale ivory-and-gold striped silk. She looked as if she had slept only a few hours, as well. Strain was mirrored on her face and in her eyes.

Something
had
happened last night, he realized grimly, instantly concerned. And damn Rex for making light of it. Cliff rushed forward.

“Good morning.” She nodded at Tyrell, her smile forced, and then she turned to Cliff. “I would like a word with you. In private,” she added quietly.

In that stunning moment, he felt as if she was the adult, he the child, and he was being summoned for a set-down. “Of course,” he said. He glanced at Tyrell. “Excuse us.”

Tyrell nodded, returning to his newspaper.

Cliff followed Amanda down the hall and into the library. As he stepped inside, she closed the door behind him. “I am becoming increasingly alarmed,” he said, remarking her every feature. “You did not sleep well.”

She sent him a wan smile. “Neither, apparently, did you.”

“What happened last night? Why did you leave in such haste? Why didn't you summon me? I would have taken you home!” he exclaimed.

She smiled again, more firmly. “It was obvious you were enjoying yourself,” she said.

What was she talking about? “I was enjoying watching your incredible success,” he said, and he flushed, for that wasn't what he really meant. He added, “I was enjoying watching you.”

Her chin lifted. “There is something I wish to discuss.”

His alarm escalated dramatically. “Are you upset with me? Have I done something to offend you?”

“Oh, Cliff.” She smiled fully now. “How could I be upset with you? I will forever be grateful for all you have done for me, and last night was wonderful.” She hesitated, coloring. “I will never forget our waltz.”

“You are speaking as if we will never waltz again!” he exclaimed. He stepped closer, intentionally towering over her. He had no intention of losing her now. “You are speaking as if you are going somewhere.”

She wet her lips, her gaze on his. “I have made plans,” she whispered.

“Plans? What kind of plans?” he demanded, dread uncoiling as swiftly as a serpent.

“While you were away, I realized I have no wish to marry. I am going home.”

For one moment, he gaped at her, absolutely shocked. “What?”

“I am going home. I cannot marry. I will not. Please, do not misunderstand. I will forever be grateful for all that you have done for me, but my place is in Jamaica. I am going to open up a shop, with borrowed funds, and eventually, I intend to start a shipping business.”

He felt as if someone had dealt him a physical blow and he became so dazed he could hardly think. “You want to go back to the island,” he repeated. “But this is your home!”

“Harmon House is
your
home.” She smiled firmly at him. “I know you are shocked, as you had other plans for me, but I will not back down.”

His mind began to work. “You want to open a shop? What is this about?” His senses returned. “What happened last night?”

“This is not about last night, not precisely. I have taken far too much from you and your family. I made my plans while you were gone, when I had a chance to really think. Cliff, I know you only want what is best for me, and I am so appreciative. But I don't want to marry a stranger. As much as I love Ashford Hall, Jamaica is my home. If I do not marry here, I must provide for myself, and that is what I will do. I know all about trade and shipping. I have made elaborate plans,” she added. “I feel very confident I can become a success.”

He fought for calm. It was a long moment before he could speak. “Of course you do not want to marry a stranger,” he said. He hesitated, wanting to blurt out his feelings but very unsure of how he would be received. He had never had such a failure in confidence before. “You do not have to marry, Amanda,” he said slowly, “until you wish to.” He was resolved to win her heart, if he had somehow lost it. “But you can stay here. I will turn all suitors away.”

She shook her head. “That is the point, Cliff, I cannot stay here. I want to go home and start my business immediately.”

He had to grip the back of a chair as he stared at her, incapable of understanding her now. “Was it Dulcea? Did she say something to you last night? Although you do not seem stricken with hurt…”

Amanda interrupted. “I spoke to her. She wanted me to live with her at Belford House, among other things.”

He tensed. “But instead, you are running away to the island?”

She lifted her head. “I am not running away! And I am not leaving because of Dulcea. I did not particularly like her and I don't care if I ever see her again. I am not going to argue with you, although I wish you could understand. You rescued a child in Spanishtown. I am a woman now. You can't take care of me this way indefinitely. It is time I took care of myself.” Her gaze was moist.

“Why can't I take care of you,” he tried. “It is a pleasant task.”

“It defeats the purpose of my becoming independent.”

He stared, at a loss. Why did she wish to be independent now, when he was so deeply in love? Women were not independent! “If you really wish to go back to the island, I will take you.” This seemed to be a solution for them both. “If you want to open up a shop, I will gladly loan you the funds. As for shipping—”

“No!”

He stopped, shocked. “You do not want my help anymore?”

“You do not understand,” she cried softly. “I wish to do this alone! I must do this alone! “

He was now aghast. Was he going to lose her? And he knew he could not. He would do whatever he had to so that he won her heart all over again. “Why? I simply cannot understand what is happening here.”

She bit her lip, finally tearing her gaze away from him. She smiled so sadly again. With real dread, he watched her slowly pace toward the fireplace. The transformation, he realized, was complete. He had thought her changed last night, but no, he saw the true difference now, in that moment, with her telling him she had no wish to be dependant on anyone, not even on him. An elegant lady was slowly taking a turn about the room, choosing her words with care, and they were words of rejection. He was realizing that now. She finally faced him. “Do not be so upset.”

“I cannot turn my back on you. Please, don't ask me to do so.” He was begging, he realized.

“I am not asking you to do so. I am asking you to set me free.”

He was horrified. “Is that how you feel?”

She was white, but she somehow nodded.

And finally he understood. Until this season, society had always made him feel like a caged animal, and he would have to leave, rushing to make sail, rushing to be free. Of course she felt that way. She had spent two months in town, and she'd had enough. Beneath the stunning and genteel facade, La Sauvage still lived.

As frightened as he was, he was also fiercely glad. “I will take you home,” he said. And he would watch her make over her life from the shadows, because whether she wanted it or not, he would always be her protector and her guardian. For the first time in his life, he would deny his virile interests and he would wait as long as it took to woo her back to him.

He went over to her and clasped her small hands in both of his. “I brought you here to set you free,” he whispered roughly, “not to imprison you in society's cell.”

“I know.”