Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society) (31 page)

“At three o’clock.”

She wriggled in the circle of his bare arms and looked up at him. “As soon as I can.”

“It seems contrariness is a matter of principle for you, woman. Do you ever do as you’re told?”

“Do
you
?”

Darius realized glumly that he may never win an argument with her. Then she kissed his chin and her hands reached down between them to that part of him that had briefly rested. He groaned. “I suppose I must learn to manage with your quarrelsome nature.”

Her lips found his nipple, while her hands cupped his sac, stroking and lightly squeezing. “What a funny thing it is,” she muttered, running her hand up his shaft as it came awake again. “I remember the first time I saw it. I was not sure if it was a deformity, or whether all men had one. I could not imagine where they managed to keep such a large appendage hidden away in their breeches. I did not know then, of course, that a man’s penis changes so remarkably when in repose.”

He laughed huskily, not certain how to answer, or whether she even expected a reply. Although she was very bold with her words and in the way she studied his body, it was nothing less than he should have expected. She was a uniquely impertinent young woman, and he’d been aware of that from their first encounter. “You did not appear very traumatized by the sight of it at the time,” he muttered gruffly.

“But I was! I thought of nothing else for months afterward. I was quite resolved no man would ever come near me again with that thing.”

She licked his chest and slowly made a course downward with her tongue.

“I see you changed your mind about that,” he said, bemused.

“Only when you kissed me. We awakened each other.”

Darius gave himself up to her again, powerless to resist. If he died of exhaustion, at least he’d die a happy man.

The Book Club Belles had reached the end of
Pride
and
Prejudice
. Down to their last chapters, they sat in Diana’s parlor and listened in avid silence as Cathy finished the reading.

Elizabeth’s spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. “How could you begin?” said she. “I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?”

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

It is true, thought Justina, that is how it happens. Love comes unexpectedly and it spreads and flourishes like a climbing rose around a heart, before one knows it has even been planted there.

He had not said he loved her, but in those letters he had written it in many different ways. If he never said it aloud to her, she reasoned, what did it matter? Perhaps that would have to be enough.

***

“I shall say only this,” Mary squealed in his ear, “when Mama hears what you are up to here with that common doctor’s daughter she will fall into a fit of hysterics and faint away. I doubt even smelling salts will revive her. Miles Forester has told me all. I scarcely could believe it, until I saw that girl sneaking out of this house yesterday at dusk.”

Darius shrugged his shoulders into a greatcoat and pulled on his riding gloves.

“Only the day before that she had the audacity to look me straight in the eye when I confronted her. She would not deny being your mistress. She cares not for what is right, proper, and decent. That girl has no shame. None!”

He paused. “I see.”

“But I promised Augusta that you will indeed dispose of any lingering affairs and pay proper court to her. She has come all this way and now she is to be humiliated in this fashion by your continuing refusal to give that wretched girl up.”

“She is not a girl, Mary. She is a woman. And her name is Justina.”

“As for the others—those wayward young misses with whom she cavorts about the place—not one of them shows me the deference I am due. The redhead is positively feral.”

“Miss Sherringham? Yes, I would be wary of getting on her bad side, Mary. I understand she’s a mean shot with a flintlock pistol.” He picked up his hat and tucked his riding crop under one arm. “I have business in Manderson.” With that he walked out of the house.

***

The lane was littered now with the first fall of dead leaves. In a twisty breeze, they spun about her skirt as she and Cathy walked to Dockley’s Barn for a rehearsal. Cathy was always content with a small part in the annual play, far too shy for more than a few lines, but a keen, inventive, and resourceful seamstress when it came to the costumes, so usually the sisters would have much to chatter about. Today, however, they were both quiet, lost in their own thoughts.

As they neared the barn and heard the noise of hammering, they looked at each other and then quickened their steps. Rounding the last curve of copper-trimmed chestnut trees, there they saw Dockley’s old barn with two men hard at work on a new slate roof.

Rebecca and Diana were already there.

“We know who we have to thank for this,” said Rebecca. “The men will not say who sent them, but it is not hard to make out.”

Justina kept silent on what she knew—what she’d heard from Lady Waltham’s angry lips. Later, when the Midwitch guests arrived in the barouche, Justina instantly asked how Mr. Wainwright was improving.

“Oh, he has gone to Manderson,” Miles Forester replied with a cheery smile.

“Gone out?” she cried. “But he is recovering from a bad cold. He should not be out in this weather!”

Lady Waltham haughtily replied, “I daresay he is in haste to get the business of that house sorted, so he can come to Dorset with us for Christmas. He said he was going to see his solicitor and there were papers to sign. Oh,” she stopped and blinked, “I see you did not know.”

She turned away at once to hide her expression, but from then on her mind was on Darius leaving.

The moment she could slip away from the rehearsal, she ran all the way to Midwitch to see for herself. He had told her to be there by three o’clock. Was that because he planned to be gone until then and did not want her to know he’d been out? Perhaps he meant to play the sick man again later and make the most of her nursing.

The gate was unlocked, as it always was now. She ran down the carriage drive, around the side of the house, and in through the kitchen door again. Mrs. Birch was scrubbing the table and looked up with a scowl. “What do you want, Trouble?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Wainwright. I’m surprised at you, letting him go out in his state! A cold like that can quickly become much worse, and I told—”

“Miss Penny, is that you?” he bellowed. “Do come in.”

He was standing in the flagged passage just outside the kitchen, removing his greatcoat and hat. Evidently he had not long been home. Justina marched up to him. “You were supposed to be resting in bed. You won’t get better if you don’t heed the doctor’s orders.”

“But I
am
better.” He turned to her and smiled. “Your nursing cured me, Miss Penny.”

Darius certainly looked healthy. Practically bursting with vitality. She began to suspect he
had
tricked her this entire time.

“Mrs. Birch, perhaps you would bring us some tea,” he called out. “We’ll take it in the study, if you please.”

Behind her she could hear the housekeeper muttering about “Bossy little madams who come and go as they please, unguarded.”

Darius shouted again, “Quite right, Mrs. Birch. It’s time someone took her in hand.” He winked at Justina and then turned away. She followed him into the study, where a warm fire was lit already. He carried, she noticed, three large boxes, which he set down on his tidy desk.

“You went to Manderson to see your solicitor about the house,” she blurted. “Lady Waltham told me.”

“I did.”

She was appalled. He was leaving then; it was true. After everything that had happened, he would go away and never come back. Consumed by sadness and heartache that now seized her in a violent grip, she felt like a daisy with all her petals being ripped off, one by one—
he
loves
me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not
…

As little girls, she and Cathy used to chant those words amid the daisies and buttercups of the meadow, scattering white petals to the summer breeze, teasing one another about their imagined fancies. But then it was meaningless, a game. Now the agony of doubt was unbearable. If he was leaving, as he always planned, then she was no more than a passing fancy.

Oh, if this was what it meant to be a real woman and in love, they could all jolly well keep it, she thought churlishly.

What a state she must look! She had run all the way there down two muddy lanes and climbed a stile. Her bonnet was half off, clinging around her neck by damp ribbons, and her hair very probably sticking out in all directions. When he looked at her in that searching, bewildered way she wanted the floor to open up beneath her, like a stage trapdoor.

“I bought you something for being such a good nurse,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.” He handed her the first box. “I know my stepsister had words with you and that you did not back down as she expected. She was quite outraged this morning. Mary wants us to leave Buckinghamshire at once, before you take me for every farthing, but I fear it’s too late for that.”

In the box, there was a warm fleece scarf, and when he handed her the second box it contained a coat. The third box held new boots.

Justina had not known such finery could be found in Manderson. She would certainly be the talk of Hawcombe Prior in those garments. Gifts from a gentleman. The gossip would have reached every cottage before she had walked all the way home in those new boots.

“Is this…is this your way of saying good-bye to your mistress, Mr. Wainwright?”

His eyebrows jerked upward. “
Good-bye
? Have I done it all wrong again?” He cursed. “This proposal business will be the death of me.”

The carpet seemed to be moving under her feet, but somehow she remained upright and found words to encourage him. “Just start at the beginning.”

For a moment he studied her in silence, then he nodded. “Very well.” He moved closer, his head bowed, hands behind his back. “Justina, I know I am not the most genial of fellows. I trust very few. I avoid exposing myself to new places and people, because I am uncomfortable where I am not familiar.”

“No!” she scoffed, nerves making themselves heard in sarcasm. “Really?”

He sighed. “Will you let me finish this time, madam?”

“It depends. Will it take long?”

“Shall I demand that you return my gifts?”

“These things are intended to buy my silence, I suppose?”

“Yes, please. Now, may I continue?” Darius took the new boots out of her hands—which required some tugging as she clung to them ferociously—and set them on the carpet. Then he held her fingers very gently. “The point I attempt to make, Justina, is that I have faults and these led me to make mistakes, sometimes to say the wrong thing.”

“Yes. We all make mistakes and some of us have more experience of that than others, so we handle it with greater aplomb.”

He looked at her, waiting.

“Go on then,” she managed, her voice little more than a tight squeak.

“Of all the people I ever met, you puzzle me, irritate me, frustrate me the most.”

“And coming to Hawcombe Prior was the worst mistake you ever made?”

“No. The worst mistake I ever made has become the best thing I ever did. To fall in love with you.” He smoothly went down on one knee. “It’s the worst because it changes everything I thought I knew. It has altered my dreams, my routine, my appetite, my desires. It has made me a vulnerable, impatient, jealous fool.”

She was dizzy suddenly. It was hard to believe this man knelt before her and spoke as he did, with his heart in his hands, outstretched.

“And yet it has also made me brave, Justina.
You
have made me brave.”

She took a breath at last. “Say the part about falling in love again.”

He gripped her fingers now so tightly she could hardly feel them. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Miss Justina Penny. Deeply and irrevocably. From the first moment you leapt naked upon me, I was a lost man.”

“Nonsense. You thought I was a hussy.”

His face solemn, but his eyes shining with amusement, he replied, “And I was right. But I fell in love with you in spite of it.”

“Oh very well, do get up now, before Mrs. Birch comes in and thinks I knocked you down with the coal scuttle.” She was sure his knee must be hurting.

But he stayed in his gallant pose and said, “I’ve decided to keep Midwitch and live here for two thirds of the year. I might get used to the country, after all.”

“Sir Mortimer will be very glad.”

“Marry me, Justina.”

She closed her eyes and listened to the everyday, ordinary sounds. The crackling of the fire in the hearth, the steady click of one of his precious clocks, rain falling softly on the window, almost like a lullaby today, her heart beating hard and fast.

Lastly, Mrs. Birch hobbling along the passage, the tea tray rattling in her large hands.

Yes, her life was quite mundane and unexceptional, and few astonishing things ever happened in it. Not a poisoned chalice, headless ghost, or secret heiress in sight. But he made the day magical so that even the commonplace felt special.

“Jussy?” he urged.

She laughed. It burst out of her in a gust of breath. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you! Such a fuss about naught! What on earth did you think I’d say?”

“I know not, woman. You were taking so damned long about it.”

“I was savoring the drama, because I want always to remember this moment.”

He swept her into his arms and promised her that he would never let her forget it.

***

They shared tea by the fire, like any other respectable, newly engaged couple. Later he wrapped her up in her warm new coat and scarf and sent her home.

“I’ll come in the morning to see your father.”

She pouted at being sent away, but he was adamant.

“From now on, until the wedding night, we’ll do this properly, Justina.” But he did call her back for a lengthy kiss, before he said good-bye and walked her to the gate.

His mind felt like a bird soaring amid the clouds, and Darius realized then that for the first time in his life he knew true gladness.

In the space of little more than a month he’d acquired a pig he never wanted, a house he didn’t think he needed, and a wife he could never have imagined. He’d never been happier.

***

Such a strange few weeks we have had. The weathercock on Dockley’s barn was right, after all. The Book Club Belles have indeed changed direction lately, and where we shall all end up, I have no idea. This is one plot that has me completely nonplussed.

Cathy told me last night that she has accepted a proposal from Mr. Forester! Our mama is beside herself with joy. All is merry in our house for once, and even Clara was hugged this morning, much to her horror and indignation. Yesterday was indeed a very odd day for a Friday and a 13th.

I have not yet shared my news.

I wanted Cathy to have her moment of celebration without my interruption and nothing should dilute her happiness, or the gladness of our parents. But even more than that—somehow I do not feel I can entrust it to be true until he comes, as he said he would, to see my father.

Last night I woke and thought I had imagined everything. I was convinced that I’d fallen asleep reading a horrid, stupid novel and that none of this truly happened.

But then I came down this morning and there were his hat and gloves again, proof that he does exist and is not a figment of my imagination. Oh, I blame this entirely on reading romances, and I shall not pick up another. I must have suffered a knock upon the head. Or he did. He might yet regain his wits.