Lord Deverill's Heir (12 page)

“That would be an excellent start, but I doubt it is exactly the thing to do this evening. Come, ma’am, enough fencing about. Let’s sit by the fire and discuss your serious matters.”

He led her to a small sofa and sat himself very close to her. Probably too close, but that was just too bad.

She turned to face him, looking at him squarely in his gray eyes. “I have decided that I will marry you.”

“Not an ounce of preamble,” he said, as he picked up her hand and began to study her fingers. “Not even a small warning or the barest signal that you were going to blast me out of the water. Would you believe me if I told you that you have just made me the happiest man alive? No, I can see that you won’t believe me. Actually I wouldn’t either.”

“This has nothing to do with happiness, sir. Why are you looking at my fingers? You’re playing with them. They are just fingers. Why?”

“You have lovely fingers. At least in this, we are not alike. Graceful hands you have, ma’am, quite unlike mine. No happiness for us, ma’am?”

“You know very well why we must wed. I am willing to do my part. Are you willing to do yours?”

“Parts. An interesting word. There will be many parts for us, ma’am, if we marry. Are you willing to accept me as a man and not just a poor fellow who happens to live in the same house with you?”

“What do you mean exactly?”

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed each one of her fingers. “A preamble, ma’am.” He pulled her closer and kissed her mouth. Not a deep kiss, just a light touching. Still, she jerked back. He looked long into those gray eyes of hers. He lightly touched his finger to her chin, then ran it along her jaw. “Never before been kissed, ma’am?” She shook her head, all that lovely hair dry now, all glossy and blacker than a sinner’s deeds. She was staring at him, at his mouth, then down at the hand he held, the fingers he’d kissed.

“There is a bit more. Perhaps you won’t find that repellent either. But one shouldn’t rush these things. Would you like to kiss me again?” She nodded her head. “All right.”

This time she came to him, her palms flat against his chest, but she wasn’t pushing against him, no, she was just resting her hands there, one over his heart and he knew she could feel the quickened beat. He kissed her again, still lightly, not forcing her in any way. He touched his tongue to her lower lip, the one she’d licked. She jumped. He cupped her face between his large hands. Actually, he wanted to press her down on her back, pull up her skirts and look at her. He could only imagine how beautiful she would be. Then he wanted to kiss her, slide his hands up the insides of her thighs. He gently eased his tongue into her mouth.

She didn’t jump this time. If he wasn’t mistaken, and indeed he wasn’t, she was interested and becoming more interested by the moment. He began to stroke his hands through her hair, tangling his fingers, wrapping her hair about his hands, bringing her closer and closer until her breasts were against his chest and her hands, fluttering a moment, came around his back.

“These are parts,” he said into her mouth. “The whole is when we will come together. Marry me soon, ma’am, or I just might expire from my need of you.”

She raised her head. She seemed without words, which was a surprise, for since he’d known her—such a short time really—she’d always been brash, arrogant, ready to take on any comers, particularly him. She touched her fingertip to the deep cleft in his chin. She outlined it. She examined it. “A part,” she said, leaned over and kissed his chin.

“I like all the parts I’ve seen thus far.”

“Good.”

“I like your coat, too, sir. Weston?”

It was her father’s tailor.

“Yes,” he said, and continued to stroke that soft hair of hers.

She leaned her forehead against his chin. She drew several deep breaths, saying finally, her voice scarcely above a whisper, “I’ve been so frightened—not scared frightened—but a new sort of frightened that has quite turned me tip over tail. I know I haven’t treated you well, perhaps I have even been something of a shrew around you, at least before I decided to stay away from you.

“I’ve thought and thought, sir, and I think perhaps we can work a marriage out between us. A good marriage. I will try to do my part. What do you think?”

He laughed, kissed her, and pulled her against him. “I think that life will be very interesting from now on. Let’s marry, ma’am. Let’s do it soon. I will try to do all my parts as well.”

“Perhaps we could celebrate our agreement? Perhaps you could kiss me again? I truly do not mind it at all.”

The earl could practically taste her. He had her so close, so very close, her mouth just an instant away from his and this time he would teach her to open her mouth to him, and then he would—

“Well, hell,” he said, and pushed her away just as the door opened and a laughing Lady Ann and Elsbeth came into the room, their cloaks glistening with raindrops, Crupper trailing behind them.

“It is pouring,” Lady Ann said as she handed Crupper her wet cloak.

“Perhaps we should have remained at Talgarth Hall, but both Elsbeth and I wanted to come home. Ah, you ate your dinner in here. But, goodness, the two of you ate so little. Why, you ate scarcely anything at—” Lady Ann shut up. She stared at her daughter, then at Justin. It wasn’t at all difficult to imagine what had been going on before her and Elsbeth’s untimely entrance. Arabella’s face was red. Her lovely hair had enjoyed a man’s hands tangling through it.

The earl rose. His lust had died a quick death, thank God. “Lady Ann, Elsbeth,” he said. “Welcome home. Perhaps you would care for some tea?” Lady Ann wanted to laugh. It was only her daughter’s embarrassment that kept her quiet. She saw that Elsbeth looked confused. She was staring at her half-sister, her mouth readying itself to open and ask questions.

“Ah, my dear Elsbeth,” Lady Ann said quickly, “I think we had best go to our bedchambers.”

Elsbeth didn’t look all that eager to leave. She looked eager to stay and talk. The earl said, “Yes, both of you are wet. We will see you in the morning.”

“No,” Lady Ann said, the laughter lurking in her voice, “I believe that Elsbeth and I will come down again and join you for tea. In about half an hour, Justin?’

He wanted to curse, but didn’t. He wanted to take Arabella to the attic and show her more parts than she could as yet begin to imagine. Instead, he said on a sigh, “Yes, thirty minutes.” He had never before imagined that Ann would do this to him. Ah, but she was enjoying herself immensely. As for the two of them, he didn’t dare kiss Arabella any more during the next thirty minutes. He wouldn’t be able to stand up if he did.

Upon their return to the Velvet Room, the earl placed crystal glasses of champagne in their hands and said, “Do wish us well, Ann, Elsbeth. Ma’am here has done me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage.”

“Oh,” Elsbeth said. “So that was why you looked so, well, not strange really, but not quite present, if you know what I mean. It’s as if you wanted both me and Lady Ann to travel to the moon, immediately.”

“Well, yes,” the earl said. “But you see, it’s the right thing to do when people agree to marry. They wish all their relatives would stay away.”

“Very true,” Lady Ann said. “And we will stay away, but not just yet.” She laughed, then raised her glass to theirs. “To your health and happiness, my dears.”

“Then we are all in agreement. We will be married Wednesday next. Do you agree, ma’am?” He was holding her hand, lightly squeezing her cool fingers.

“I agree, sir. But that is only six days away.” She stopped then, looking away from him, toward nothing in particular as far as he could tell.

“What is it, ma’am?”

“I cannot very well wear a black wedding gown. What will I wear?” He saw that her eyes were luminous with tears, and said quickly to Lady Ann, “She is right. What will she wear, Lady Ann?”

“You will wear a soft light gray silk, Bella, with pearls, I think. Yes, that will be fine.”

“All right,” Arabella said. She swallowed, then quickly rose.

“I am so very happy for you, Arabella,” Elsbeth said. She lowered her voice and leaned toward Arabella’s ear. She whispered, “Lady Ann assures me that the earl is kind, not that I don’t know that for myself, but people are strange, don’t you think? Who can ever really know another person? What is in their hearts? In their thoughts? But don’t worry Arabella, he is certain to be kind. If he is not, why then, you can simply shoot him.”

Arabella burst into laughter. How could she not? Her father surely would have enjoyed his first daughter. Why had he kept her away? She said to the earl, “I wonder, sir. Will you be kind to me? Or maybe even you’re not yet certain? Do you think I should be prepared? Do you think I should clean my gun before the wedding? Have it handy just in case you suffer a lapse?”

“Give me a chance first, please, ma’am.”

“I will consider it. Now, I would like to go riding. The sun is out and I wish to take full advantage of it.”

The library doors opened, and Crupper, his back stiff with age and dignity, stepped into the room, cleared his throat, and announced, “My lord, Lady Ann, there is a young gentleman just arrived. A very foreign young gentleman. But he is a gentleman and not a merchant or a shop owner.”

“Thank God for that,” the earl said, the irony floating gently over Crupper’s ancient head. “Just how foreign is he, Crupper?”

“It is awfully early in the morning for visitors,” Lady Ann said, frowning toward the door.

“Who is this young gentleman, Crupper?” the earl asked again, standing now and walking behind the settee, lightly placing his hand on Arabella’s shoulder.

“He informed me his name is Gervaise de Trécassis, my lord, cousin to Miss Elsbeth. He is French, my lord. He is very foreign indeed. He calls himself the Comte de Trécassis.”

“Good heavens,” Lady Ann said, jumping up. “I had believed all of Magdalaine’s family dead in the revolution. Elsbeth, this gentleman must be your mama’s nephew.”

“A nephew, huh?” the earl said. “Then by all means, Crupper, show the comte in.”

A few moments later a strikingly handsome young man preceded Crupper into the library. He wasn’t a large man, barely of medium height and with a slender build, elegantly dressed in buff pantaloons and gleaming black hessians. His hair was black as night, his eyes nearly as dark. The earl found himself looking from the young man to Arabella, to judge her reaction to him.

She was smiling at the comte, but actually, she believed he was a fop—surely that jewel-encrusted watch fob was too pretentious and the several heavy rings he wore made his hands appear nearly feminine. As for his shirt points, they nearly touched his smooth-shaven chin. Then she met his eyes—black eyes filled with intelligence and humor and surely a hint of mystery, a pinch of wickedness—set beneath delicately arched black brows and stylishly disarrayed black locks. He looked both dashing and romantic. She wondered if Lord Byron looked something like Elsbeth’s cousin. Lucky man if he did.

“The Comte de Trécassis,” Crupper announced somewhat unnecessarily. The young gentleman, certainly not much older than Elsbeth, looked at everyone, his smile half apologetic, and yet, Arabella thought, he wasn’t at all apologetic, not really, he was as confident of himself and his acceptance as was the earl, the man she hadn’t known a week ago, the man who would be her husband within another week.

Lady Ann rose gracefully, shook out her skirts, and extended her hand.

“This is quite a surprise, my dear comte. I had no idea that any of Magdalaine’s family still lived. Needless to say I am also pleased.” To her surprise, the comte clasped her fingers and brushed his lips over her palm, in the French style, which, she supposed, should be expected, since he was, after all, French. “The pleasure is indeed mine, my lady. I pray you will forgive my intrusion in your period of mourning, but news of the earl’s death just reached me. I wished to express my condolences in person. I hope you do not mind?” He spoke with a soft, lilting accent that made the three females in the room most readily forgive any supposed intrusion.

“Not at all,” Lady Ann said easily.

“You are the Earl of Strafford, my lord?” the comte asked Justin when he had released Lady Ann’s hand. There was a brief moment of silent appraisal on the part of both gentlemen before the earl remarked with negligent politeness, “Yes, I am Strafford. Lady Ann informs us that you are nephew to the late earl’s first wife.” The comte bowed.

“Oh goodness,” Lady Ann said. “Where indeed are my manners? My dear comte, do allow me to present you to your cousin, Elsbeth, Magdalaine’s daughter, and to my own daughter, Arabella.” Lady Ann was not at all surprised that the charming young man was greeted even by her normally standoffish daughter with a smile that would charm the color off Ann’s roses. Elsbeth nodded, wordless. She drew back a moment, allowing Arabella to speak first.

“Although we are not related, comte,” Arabella said, gazing at him with that open frankness of hers, “I do not take it amiss that you have come.

I am pleased to meet you, sir.”

The comte gave her an engaging smile. He did not kiss her palm, merely bowed to her. Lady Ann believed him very well bred indeed. He then turned to Elsbeth. “Ah, my dear little cousin, I count it my good fortune to at last meet the only remaining member of our esteemed family. You are as beautiful as your mother, your smile as sweet, your eyes as gentle. My father has a painting of her, you see, and I have gazed upon it since I was a small boy.”

Instead of taking her hand, the comte gently placed his hands upon her shoulders and lightly kissed her on each cheek. Elsbeth flushed scarlet, but she didn’t draw back. She stared up at him with something akin to fascinated awe.

The comte stood back from Elsbeth, beamed at the assembled company, and said, embracing them all with outflung arms, “You are so very kind to me, a stranger. Though my little cousin is my only blood relation, I think already you are like my family.” He paused with an expectant look of charming inquiry.

The earl, clearly seeing his duty from all three eager female faces, said a trifle too coolly, Arabella thought, “Monsieur, allow me to ask you to remain at Evesham Abbey for a time, if, that is, you have no other pressing engagements. Of course if you do—”