Loving Lady Marcia (31 page)

“I think I will,” Duncan said. “I’d love to waltz with you.”

“You can’t,” she said hastily. “Not unless you have permission.”

“Oh, I’ll get it,” he said warmly.

She looked terribly nervous.

“Are you all right, Lady Marcia?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she eked out, and waved herself with her fan.

“I must admit,” Duncan said as if he and she had all day to converse, “it feels good not to be so closed off from the world of the
haute ton,
if only for my mother’s sake. And someone else’s. A very short someone else.”

“Who’s that, Papa?” Joe asked, all innocence.

Marcia’s expression softened. “Why, a leprechaun, of course.” She put an arm around his shoulders.

Duncan pulled on his ear. “Yes, that leprechaun will never know total acceptance, but I suspect his life will somehow be made easier. At least I hope so.”

“I do, too,” said Joe. “I’ve always wanted to meet a leprechaun.”

Marcia laughed. “Are you ready to see my mother again?” she asked Joe. “And my sisters? How about my brothers and Lord Brady?”

“Yes.” Joe beckoned Duncan with a hand. “Come on, Papa. Lady Marcia’s cook will make an apple pie just for you, too.”

The tension in Marcia’s eyes was unmistakable.

“I’m afraid not, son,” Duncan said, although he looked steadily at Marcia. “I’m very busy.”

He wanted to be very busy with
her
.

“Your father’s got things to do, Joe,” said Marcia, looking steadily back at Duncan.

Her voice was soft, vulnerable. He had the strong feeling she missed him. Yes, she missed him, but she had her mission to save Oak Hall. And it was very clear that she’d allow nothing or no one to stand in her way.

“But next time Papa will come. Right, Lady Marcia?” Joe looked like a cherub, his face aglow with hope.

She hesitated, then nodded and smiled. “Yes.
Next
time.”

Joe slapped his palms on the seat. “I like that,” he said with a grin.

“I do, too,” Duncan told him. He felt angry, and he knew immediately why. It was because he was hurt, something he hated to admit to himself. Ever. He felt weak when he was hurt. Useless. But the truth was, he wanted to be with them. All three of them, together. Laughing. And he wanted to be with
her
. Desperately. He had a nagging feeling no “next time” would ever happen—not unless he did something about it.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” he told Joe.

Marcia was about to pull the door shut, but Duncan stopped her.

“I’ve changed my mind about going out tonight,” he said. “My mother kept a small house at 12 Curzon Street for guests of the family. Whenever my overseers or solicitors come to Town, they stay there. I haven’t been in a while to say hello to the staff. I’ll be dining there tonight. Alone.”

The air between them was taut.

“Enjoy your day,” he said to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He slammed the door shut and watched them go. It was all he could do. It was up to her to do the rest.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Marcia did it. With Kerry’s help, she was able to fool Mama and Daddy into thinking she was too fatigued to go to the Morriseys’ ball. Janice, Peter, and Gregory were going with them. Robert and Cynthia were down the street at a birthday party of a young friend of theirs, whose family was taking them for an elegant meal at the Clarendon Hotel, where they would dine on authentic French cuisine.

“Thank you, Kerry,” Marcia said, and kissed her maid on the cheek.

“I don’t know if I should help.” Kerry bit her lip.

Marcia took the maid by both hands. “Don’t you feel a bit of guilt. I’m a grown woman, not a child.”

“That’s true,” Kerry whispered, and fastened Marcia’s gown.

At first, she’d chosen a simple frock, one of her favorites from her collection of headmistress clothes, which she still kept in a press in the corner. But then at the last minute, she’d changed to a new one that had come only today. It was pink, the same color pink as the sunset she and Duncan had witnessed together over the Irish Sea, long ago.

“Think of it this way,” she said to Kerry. “You’re a little like the nurse in
Romeo and Juliet,
Juliet’s supreme confidante. She recognized true love between Juliet and Romeo, didn’t she? We won’t think of how she grew more practical later.”

Kerry brightened. “Is that what you’re feeling? True love?”

Marcia pursed her lips. “All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about him, day and night. I should be thinking about Oak Hall instead, and I
am,
but—”

“You’re only human, my lady.” Kerry interrupted her and clasped a simple pearl necklace about Marcia’s neck.

“I know, but I have a mission. A calling, as it were. It has everything to do with Oak Hall and nothing to do with romance. Something in me isn’t being sensible at all.”

Kerry peeked over her shoulder into the looking glass, her eyes twinkling. “Perhaps we should stop reading those soliloquies.”

Marcia laughed. “Perhaps we should. But I’ll never give up Shakespeare, my dear. Neither should you.”

Kerry sighed. “But I hate the ending of
Romeo and Juliet
. I keep wanting to change it somehow.”

They both looked soberly at each other, and Marcia picked up her reticule. “Life isn’t all roses and sunshine,” she said.

Kerry smiled. “No, my lady. It’s not.”

“But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t seek out happiness.” Marcia smiled at her. “We should rejoice that it’s not too late for us to find our own.”

“I want you to find it very much.”

“And I, you. I’ve noticed you and William seem to like each other.”

Kerry giggled. “My
lady
. You shouldn’t be noticing the servants at all.”

“Of course I do.” She strode to the window and flicked back the curtain. “I see the hackney.” She spun to look back at Kerry. “You know what to do?”

“Yes, my lady. Pretend to see a mouse in the billiards room. All the servants will come running.”

“And I’ll sneak out the kitchen door into the back garden while you’re squealing. Perhaps William will comfort you.”

They both laughed.

Kerry’s acting skills bordered on overly dramatic, but they suited Marcia’s purposes well. She was able to make it to the hackney sight unseen. Her heart raced as the vehicle took off from the curb at a fast clip. What she was doing was the most exciting—and possibly the most foolish—thing she’d ever done.

The lover and the headmistress in her warred almost all the way to the address on Curzon Street Duncan provided her, but about two blocks before she arrived, she saw the most stunning view of the moon rising over the rooftops.

And the lover in her won.

As darkness fell over London, she couldn’t help remember Juliet’s impassioned plea:

“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow’d night,

Give me my Romeo…”

*   *   *

“You’re here,” Duncan said at the door, as if she were an answer to a prayer, and pulled her inside.

She let the hood of her cloak fall back. Before she could say a word, he was already kissing her.

To Marcia, it felt like a homecoming. Wrapped in his arms, she let all the tension she’d been in the grips of the past ten days fall away. She was hungry for him, hungry like she’d never been before.

Duncan pulled back and looked at her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

They smiled at each other, and she could tell he was almost giddy with happiness, the same way she was.

They matched.

They
truly
matched.

“We keep only a reliable married couple here,” he told her. “He does all the odd jobs and serves as butler and footman. She cleans and cooks. I asked them to make us an extremely simple meal which they’ve already laid out in front of the fire in the drawing room.” He caressed her upper arms gently through her cloak. “They live in the dependency out back and have assured me they’ll respect our privacy. So you needn’t worry about
anything.
”

Anything? How about her desire to touch him? To lose herself in him? To cast aside all the rules she’d been following without breaking ever since her horrible mistake with Finn?

“That sounds wonderful,” she said.

And it was.

Tonight she wouldn’t be the headmistress. Tonight she would simply
be
.

She let Duncan slip off her cloak and hang it on a stand.

“You look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” he murmured, and kissed her again—a fervent, demanding kiss.

She returned it with equal passion, her skin on fire wherever he touched her.

When they came up for air, he escorted her into the drawing room as if she were fine china. She was both amused and touched by his careful attention and could read clearly in his eyes that he hoped she’d be pleased.

A simple repast of roasted chicken, freshly baked bread, cheese and grapes, as well as a bottle of red wine, was laid out on a small table in front of the fire. Two comfortably overstuffed chairs were drawn up to it. It was a thoughtful display, meant to be shared by two lovers.

They ate and spoke of easy things, and all the while she feasted on the sight and sound of him. She craved another whiff of the hint of lime and spice on his throat, but she’d have to wait until they next kissed.

When would that be?

She hoped soon. She took a sip from her second glass of wine, the rich flavor leaving a warm trail down her throat.

He chuckled. “You look preoccupied all of a sudden. Something on your mind?”

“You,” she said simply. The wine was making her tongue looser than usual.

His eyes smoldered, and she felt her middle tighten.

“I’m honored.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Tell me why you’ve been so standoffish these last ten days. Is it because Finn is at every party? Is it because Lady Ennis seems to be pursuing me relentlessly? Why?”

She put down her wine, afraid to tell him. But she must. “Lysandra told me I could become headmistress again at Oak Hall—if I stayed away from you. She wanted you for herself.”

His eyes flared with surprise, and then anger. She could see it, much as he tried to mask it.

“It was at the Reader Street fair,” Marcia continued, “when she asked me into the carriage to help untie the knot in her reticule. Of course, there was no knot. Only her offer, which I think I can characterize as a bribe.”

“She’s devious.”

“She is,” Marcia agreed. “I had to stay away from you because I was considering what to do. It was why I picked Joe up with no one seeing him. If she’d found out that you and I were communicating…”

“
That’s
why we had to meet secretly?”

“Of course. What other reason would I have?” He winced, and she could swear she saw a glint of guilt in his eyes. “If you thought for one minute that I was ashamed to be seen with Joe—”

“Not ashamed,” he said softly. “Simply not willing to make waves, which I understood completely. I’m sorry I underestimated you.”

“You should be,” she said. “The fact of the matter is”—she could feel the pulse in her neck, she was so frightened to tell him—“I can’t hide from you anymore.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Why?” he asked.

She stared at the fire crackling in the hearth.

“
Why,
Marcia?” he asked again.

She shook her head. And suddenly, the flames blurred before her eyes. “Because I want to be with you.” She put her hands over her face. “It scares me how much.”

He got up from his chair and pulled her to her feet. “Look at me,” he said.

She inhaled a shaky breath and looked up at him.

“I’m honored.” His voice was husky. “And there’s nothing to fear. How can there be? It’s you. And I. Nobody else. This is our world. Right here and now.”

He kissed her, their bodies pressed tightly together. And then he lifted her in his arms and spun her slowly before the fire, kissing her while she clung to him.

“Duncan,” she whispered, and put her hand on his jaw. “It can never be.”

“Yes it can.” He laid her on the sofa and left a long, hot trail of kisses down her jaw and her neck, kisses that made her arch and moan. “I’ll make you mine tonight.”

She curled her fingers in his hair, luxuriating in its thickness. “No,” she said. “Not that I don’t want to, but—”

“I want you,” he reminded her. “All of you. And I want to marry you.”

“I want you, too,” she said back. “But I can’t marry you. I can’t.”

He shook his head. “Marcia—”

She put her fingers on his lips. “Ssshh.”

He sat back on his haunches, and she pulled herself upright on the sofa. “Can’t we just enjoy each other? The way we have already?”

He stood abruptly, grim lines around his mouth. “I want more from you.” He turned to the fire, his arms crossed. A few beats of silence went by before he turned back to her.

“Please don’t ask for that.” She stood, her breath short. “Just love me, Duncan. Love me here in this sweet little house.”

His eyes became little pinpoints of darkness and light. Without another word, he undressed her, sliding her gown and chemise off her shoulders and running his tongue around the buds of her breasts before suckling them, his mouth sweet and warm upon her skin.

She threw her head back and reveled in the exquisite sensation.

And then he ran his hands down her sides, adoring her, and sent her gown and chemise to the floor in a puddle of pink and ivory. She was left standing in her lacy French drawers, aching for his touch.

He played with the delicate rim of the linen still obscuring her body from view and then knelt before her, pulling the garment down slowly, kissing every inch of her belly as it became exposed, until he nuzzled the silken blond curls sheathing the entrance to her femininity.

“Oh,” she cried, her hands on his muscular shoulders. “Oh, Duncan.”

He nudged her legs apart and licked the little pearl which he’d loved so well before, and at her moans, made a gentle invasion of her sex with his finger.