His Secret Heroine (18 page)

"Look at me, love."

She blinked and kept her gaze on the buttons of his coat.

He wanted to draw her into an embrace, even here in the middle of this crowded ballroom, but Reggie held her in exact perfection, precisely the way he must. "This moment is ours, my love. Feel its magic."

She glanced up, puzzled, and he could see he had been right. A flick of moisture clung to her lashes.

"The music plays just for us," he whispered. "The thousand candles burn in honor of our love and make your beautiful green eyes glow just for me. For all that we are among a hundred friends, we are alone together
, and the waltz is our embrace."

She tilted her head, just the tiniest bit, and sighed.

He leaned close to her ear, breathing in her lavender scent. "You wear the fragrance in your hair like a crown. I could bend and touch my lips to yours, and taste the sweetness of your kiss."

"Reggie
—"

In the hand he held to her waist, he felt her tension ease, a tacit consent to their love. His throat tightened around a huge lump that could not be swallowed down. His heart ached.

"Forget what has gone before," he said, as the world around him faded away. "What will happen does not matter, for we have this moment and it is ours forever. No one can take this from us. Only feel it with me, Chloe. For now, we are one."

She did not have to move closer; their bodies did not have to touch. Their embrace was theirs
, the pulse of the waltz was their lovemaking, their moment eternal.

They did not speak again until the dance ended and he returned her to the care of her aunt. Then Reggie left the ball.

Remembering those painful moments, his heart seemed to twist. She had relinquished her defenses, accepted the comforting he had tried to give her. But the dance that had lasted mere seconds for him must have been an eternity for her. His eternity had begun the moment they parted. But now he knew what he was going to do.

He'd sell the
Xanthe
.

* * *

Now, at last, things had changed. The time had come to make his move. At last, he had the security she needed, for
The Adventuress
had outstripped his wildest expectations. He had a way to support her and give her back her sisters.

And soon, the
Xanthe
would be sold. He was sure. He even had Warrenton quietly feeling about for buyers.

The heavy, moist heat of midsummer invaded
London, with the air so thick it was like breathing water. The city was abandoned for the green countryside, and Lord and Lady Mythe called for a house party at their estate in the Cotswolds where the days were greener and more temperate. The perfect occasion to win Chloe back. Reggie rode down on a bay gelding.

At the gate, Reggie
sprang down from his bay gelding with a sudden bolt of excitement. Hands on hips, he swung around in a slow arc, surveying the estate and grounds.

He had to admire the work Lord and Lady Mythe had done in restoring the
rambling stone Tudor manor since they had acquired it several years ago.  From the original construction in the reign of Elizabeth, each generation had added on until it had almost swallowed up its core, but Mythe's work had restored the original to prominence. The sprawling grounds, bright with floral color, spread out from two restored courtyards, and along one side, one terrace followed another and another in tiers down a sloping landscape that led to a forested brook and a small lake.

And just for fun, Mythe had restored the old maze, the way it had been when the Virgin Queen herself had wandered through it.

A place for lovers. It suited Mythe and his lover-wife.

Reggie let loose a chuckle. Terrence and Sylvia, but he had never called them that. If ever he had seen a couple who seemed less suited
to each other, he couldn't remember, but he wanted a marriage like theirs. With such friends, he need not allow the poor example set by his parents to taint him.

He raced up the white stone steps, hallooing to friends and acquaintances in their blossom-colored garments as they meandered along the walks and gardens. Standing at a huge entrance that seemed more gate than door were Lord and Lady Mythe.

"Lovely afternoon, Mythe," he said. "Lady Mythe, it is as lovely as you." He took her hand.

Lady Mythe snickered. She never liked being told she was lovely, even though she was. "Good that you could come, Lord Reginald. Your usual chamber is prepared, and your man has arrived."

"A few surprises, though, Reggie," said Mythe.

Reggie raised an eyebrow.

"Your cousin, Miss Nightengale. An unexpected guest of Lady Creston."

Reggie groaned. "I hope you are not also going to tell me my father is here."

"Unlikely, as he rarely attends any event. But Vilheurs has shown up, with two of his friends, and I am not at all happy about that."

Mythe had always kept his invitations rather open, so it was not unusual when he had unexpected guests. But he didn't care for Vilheurs, and the fellow didn't seem to take the hint.

"Not invited?"

Mythe nodded. "He's sniffing about Miss
Englefield again. Become rather insistent about it."

"You need not be crude, Mythe," said Lady Mythe. "Yet, I can hardly think of another way of saying it. And I fear the lady is suffering from some desperation that causes her to accept his attentions."

"Devil it. Where's Castlebury?"

"You cannot expect him to be her constant watchdog, Reggie. She will not allow it, in any event."

Reggie excused himself and hurried up the stairs to his chamber in the gentlemen's wing to change to proper attire and catch up to Chloe before Vilheurs got the upper hand. If he could only find some way of turning Vilheurs in Portia's direction. But no, even disliking his cousin, he couldn't do that to her. Vilheurs had an unpleasant reputation with women and Reggie was certain a wife would fare no better.

"Do your best, Puckett," he said to his valet. "Your very best."

Puckett nodded and did his very best.

Reggie hurried back down the two flights of stairs, casting about in all directions for some sign of Chloe, hoping she was still within the house.

"Oh, Lord Reginald, here you are at last!"

Reggie groaned to himself as he turned and came face to face with Lady Creston. He squeezed an unfelt smile onto his face.

"And look who I have brought with me! Your lovely cousin, Miss Portia Nightengale."

A sour look crossed Portia's face as she attempted a smile, and she made a stiff curtsy. He had to admit, she was considerably prettier than he remembered, but she looked like she had a lemon in her mouth.

"And it has been such a long time since you have seen her. Do be a good fellow and show her Lady Mythe's lovely garden."

Reggie grimaced as Lady Creston manhandled his arm to link it with his cousin's. There was no escaping now, but he'd be damned if he was going to let Portia drag him off into some private corner and set her snare.

"The
parterres
by the terrace are particularly lovely," he said, remembering they were completely within sight of anyone near the house or terrace. Perhaps he could manage a quick tour where everyone could see them, then bring her back. Perhaps he might see Chloe or her aunt while walking.

Lady Creston pranced off, the gleam of triumph glowing in her eyes.

"Hurry up," Portia said, tugging his arm roughly.

Reggie was in no hurry to go where Portia wanted him to be. "I might inform you, cousin, it is unladylike for you to lead."

"I don't care. Hurry up. We have to get out of her sight right now."

"Why?" He knew why, and his heart felt like it had sunk to the bottom of his stomach.

"Because we have to talk, where they can't hear us. Come on."

Reggie stopped cold, and planted his feet as if they grew to ground. "Portia, I'd best say this now. I apologize if my father has misled you, but I have not harbored any intention to marry you."

"That is very clear. Come on."

"Then why should I wish to be alone with you?"

"Because if you don't, we are very likely to find the leg shackle connecting us, and that would be a travesty, considering that I do not like you, and you do not like me. Now, are you coming or not?"

She didn't? Reggie studied her face for falsehood and found none. "Then perhaps it would be prudent to see what you have in mind. But if you could at least give the appearance that I am in charge here
—"

She sneered.
"Oh, fuss and bother. Have you always been so stuffy?"

Clearly, there were some things about Portia that had not changed. Reggie gave up and let her drag him down the path toward the brook that ran through the glen at the bottom of the hill.

She shoved him back behind a big oak. "Now, I should like to know," she said, "how this notion got planted in your feathered noggin that I wanted to marry you."

Feathered noggin. Hers was filled with rocks. "It was not my notion at all. The duke has insisted. He says you have complained about my lack of attention to you, and gave me until quarter day to come up to scratch."

"Quarter day? Thank goodness. Then at least we have until October."

"Last quarter day," he corrected. "Midsummer. He has already stopped my allowance."

She moaned. "Reggie, this will not do at all! I am four and twenty, and I shall not have very many more opportunities. I thought surely you were going to marry Miss Englefield, and now you have gone and ruined that. You've got to do something."

"Then we simply won't marry."

"Reggie, don't you understand? Nobody wants to oppose the Duke of Marmount! I shall have no suitors at all if you don't hurry up and marry. Oh, do come along."

Even his long legs had to stretch out to keep up with her rapidly skipping step as she scurried across the little stone bridge and entered the shady wood. She gave barely perfunctory nods to those they passed, eliciting curious stares. Reggie returned lame smiles, hoping to somehow cover up for Portia's lack
of dignity.

"Where are we going? Why are we in such a hurry?"

"To the folly on the island."

Reggie stopped and jerked back.

"Oh, don't be such a slowtop. Everyone is there."

H
e gave up and followed. One punt remained at the edge of the lake Mythe had made by damming up the stream through his land. Reggie closed his eyes and pretended he didn't see as Portia climbed in with no regard to her skirts or exposed ankles.

He poled the craft across the lake, where the other punts were beached. On the grassy knoll beside the Grecian folly, several ladies, each escorted by a gentleman, sat with a picnic spread.

Chloe. Beside Castlebury.

"And I swear to you, Reggie, if you are too harewitted to figure this out, then you don't deserve her."

So Portia had joined the conspirators. He grinned. "Well, cousin, if you don't have me in mind to marry, might there be someone you do?"

Portia's lips drew into a tight line.

"Perhaps you might inform me if I can be of assistance."

"That is about as likely as snow geese in Africa."

Had Portia turned into a blue-stocking while he had not been looking? How else might she know about Africa or snow geese? "Geese are migratory, you know."

"Oh, do stop it. Just do your part."

It was becoming obvious that Reggie had to figure out what it was that everyone else had already discussed. So the thing to do was just play it out. He beached the punt, leaped out, and took Portia's hand as she stepped out with a daintiness she hadn't previously displayed. Her voice fairly sang with its lilting quality. Two-faced, as always. That hadn't changed.

He took her arm and led her up the knoll to where the others sat, gaily laughing, nibbling on cucumber sandwiches
or other things of that sort.

Chloe sat very still, looking wounded, as if she had just discerned the latest scheme. And he was the only one who understood the nature of her pain. He didn't want to hurt her. But it seemed that they would both face lifetimes of pain if he did not take the risk now.

As soon as the greetings were completed, Portia nestled between him and Castlebury on the blankets spread out on the grass, pointedly flirting. And Castlebury, rake that he was, took it all in as if he enjoyed it, with little more than a sly glance at Reggie.

Bibury took up Miss Amy Soren's hand, and they ambled off for a tour of the island. Reggie thought of the little bridge on the far side that connected it to the far shore of the lake, and realized
if the group circled around back to the manor, it would be a long time before they returned.

Within minutes, St. James decided to walk with Lady Millton, while Lord Millton took the hand of Lady Constance, St. James's sister.

"Well," said Castlebury, clearing his throat, "I believe I shall walk with your cousin, if you don't mind, Beauhampton."