The Earl Claims a Bride (24 page)

So now she had all those feelings, all that wanting, that eagerness to look forward to with the man of her dreams. The man she loved. Yes, it was going to be a good day even if there wasn’t a warm ray of sunshine in the sky.

Captain Maxwell turned to her, smiled, and said, “You’ve made me a very happy man today, Miss Rule.”

“Then that makes me glad, too, but tell me. What did I do to get such a glowing report?”

“Allowing me to take you for a ride in the park so everyone will see us together.”

He reached under the seat, pulled out a plaid blanket, and laid it over her lap. He shyly placed his gloved hand over hers and squeezed for the briefest of moments before letting her go and releasing the brake. She’d expected a thrill, a tightening of her stomach or something, but she supposed the touch was too brief to give her the sensations.

Captain Maxwell picked up the ribbons and made three quick clicks against the horse’s rump. The carriage took off with a jolt, a jangle of harness, and the clopping of hooves on hardpacked ground.

They rode in silence all the way to Hyde Park. At the entrance, he maneuvered the horses onto the narrow lane behind a shiny black barouche. The park was busy with carriage, horse, and pedestrian traffic as was expected for afternoons during the Season. Several small groups of people stood around talking, children and dogs played, and many couples strolled side by side. A few people had spread blankets and were enjoying refreshments as they chatted.

Numerous vendors had displayed their wares throughout the park. Some sold roasted nuts, sweet cakes, and meat pies. Others had various forms of entertainment for the parkgoers to enjoy, which were received with varying degrees of interest. A puppet show had a large crowd of more than twenty-five while a man playing a lyre had only one couple who’d stopped to listen.

“Would you like to park and walk or would you prefer a leisurely ride?” the captain asked.

“Why don’t we ride for a little while longer and see if we can find an area that isn’t so crowded.”

“That sounds good to me,” he agreed.

They talked about the parties in the evenings, the people they met and talked to, but there was more silence between them than conversation as they rode by the Serpentine and later down Rotten Row. When they passed other carriages, sometimes they would wave or nod. Angelina asked him more about India, Belgium, and other places he’d traveled, listening to every word. She had never traveled outside England and loved hearing what lay beyond the sea.

She had no idea what was going through Captain Maxwell’s mind as they talked, but as for herself, she kept waiting to feel an exhilarating sense of awareness of him that hadn’t yet happened. She couldn’t understand why. He was a handsome man, so dashing in his red coat with its gold braid, buttons, and epaulets. She felt quite proud to be sitting beside a distinguished soldier with such an impressive career. It was easy to be comfortable, content, and even happy to be with him as they’d talked, but …

Where were the butterflies? The breathless, desirous, and expectant sensations she always experienced whenever Lord Thornwick was near? Perhaps it was that the captain wasn’t focusing on her. He was busy with the horses, watching the traffic, making sure they didn’t get too close to another carriage or the people walking in the park. Yes, that had to be the problem. He was distracted by his duty as the driver of the carriage.

“Why don’t we stop over by those trees?” she said suddenly. “There don’t seem to be many people in that area.”

“That might be because it looks boggy,” he said with a smile. “It’s low and there’s been a lot of rain the past few days. We can try it.”

“All right, let’s go over and see if that’s why everyone is avoiding the area.”

Captain Maxwell guided the horses over to a stand of trees and set the brake. He helped her down and reached back for the blanket and basket he’d brought.

“You stay here. I don’t want you getting your shoes muddy. I’ll see if I can find a dry place to sit.”

Angelina watched Captain Maxwell walk away. He was tall, his back straight and shoulders high. He wanted to find a good dry place for them to sit and not allow her to go traipsing around on soggy ground with him. He did the things she would expect a fine gentleman to do, but something was missing between them.

Within a minute or two, he returned. “I found a place. Stay right behind me and step in my footprints.”

She obeyed and followed the captain’s tracks as he instructed. She found herself wondering what Lord Thornwick would do in the same circumstance. A warm feeling settled over her and she smiled. She knew exactly what he would do. That man would defy the rules of convention, lifting her up in his strong arms and carrying her over to the blanket to set her down so the soles of her shoes would never touch the muddy ground.

Soon they were settled on the blanket. Captain Maxwell pulled from the basket two flasks and a linen cloth that held bread and cheese. From the first flask, he poured her a cup of punch; then he poured from the other into his.

“What are you drinking?” she asked after tasting the punch.

He looked down into his cup. “Brandy. It helps dull the pain.” He took another drink.

Angelina’s heart constricted. He was still in pain. How could she help him? “When you first returned, I asked if the pain was gone and you said it was.”

“The real pain is gone, but believe me there is still a lot of imaginary pain.”

She squeezed the cup in one hand and the handle of her parasol in the other. She’d heard that when a person lost a leg or an arm there was still pain even though that limb was gone from the body. Was that what he was referring to, or was there a deeper, darker, emotional pain that wouldn’t ever heal?

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she answered softly, hoping he would open up and share more with her.

He laughed with no merriment. “Nothing, forget I said that.”

He’d meant something by his comment. She leaned toward him. “Perhaps it would help if you talked about what happened. I’m a good listener.”

He gave her a look that chilled her. “No. It wouldn’t help.”

There was a whisper of bitterness in his voice. She supposed she could understand that. She’d never press him to talk about something so personal. She let it drop.

“Besides,” he said, “I just want to sit here, enjoy my drink, and look at you.”

“That would be boring for me, sir,” she said trying to lighten the tone of the conversation. “Why don’t you tell me about your family?”

“Three brothers. All married with children and all still in the army. No sisters.”

“That certainly covered a lot of ground with a very few words. Do you get to see any of them when you’re not on assignment?”

“Not often.”

“Parents?”

“They’ve been gone a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He shrugged. “My aunt seems to enjoy my visits. That’s why I stay with her when I’m in London. Now that I’ve answered twenty questions for you, I have one for you.”

“That was three questions, not twenty,” she argued. “And very short answers from you, I might add.”

“It felt like twenty.” He added more brandy to his cup and stretched out his legs. “Other than Lord Thornwick, how many other serious competitors do I have vying for your hand, Miss Rule?”

That surprised her and for a moment she wondered if he knew about the arrangement between her father and the Prince, or the one between herself and Lord Thornwick. But no, there was no way he could possibly know any of that. Her father’s debtors had agreed to keep his dire financial problems a secret, too. She was sure they wouldn’t do anything to prevent the prospects of the Prince paying in full.

She hesitated, thinking to find a way to avoid answering, but in the end she simply said, “None that I know of.”

“Good.” He drank from his cup again and watched her over the rim. “I’m sure the reason there aren’t more is because most gentlemen would not want to compete with an earl for a lady’s hand.”

“An earl and a captain,” she reminded him.

His expression turned serious. “I want you to know that I will be able to take care of you, Miss Rule.”

“I—no one would ever doubt your capabilities, Captain.”

“I’m not an earl, but you will never go lacking for anything you might want.”

“I’m sure,” she hurried to say.

“I’ve been in the King’s service for almost twenty years,” he continued. “During that time I’ve lived with my aunt when I wasn’t away with my regiment. I’ve saved quite a bit of money. Enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of my life if I’m frugal.”

Angelina felt his desperation but she didn’t know what to say. Even though she was sure she loved him, she suddenly realized she was not ready to commit to marrying Captain Maxwell. She hoped he wasn’t about to ask her.

“That’s admirable.”

“I know it’s not the right time yet. We still need to get to know each other better, but I want you to know that I have designs on no other lady but you.”

Then kiss me
, she thought.
Sweep me up in your arms, hold me tight, and show me how much you want me
. She wanted to feel his desire for her in his touch, his kiss, and his embrace. She wanted to feel his body tremble with need to hold her.

They were in a fairly secluded area of the park. She saw no one nearby. It was the perfect time for him to reach over and place his lips on hers. Less than three feet separated them. Didn’t he know she wanted to experience his passion for her? Didn’t he know she wanted to be kissed and kissed and kissed until she was dizzy with flaming-hot desire for him?

But instead of doing all the things she was dreaming of, wanting from him, he threw his empty cup into the basket and said, “We’d better go. I see rain in the distance.”

Angelina felt bereft, and stunned that he wasn’t going to take the opportunity to show her just what kind of designs he had on her. She emptied her cup into the dry grass and sighed. She was sure he desired her. Maybe he was too much of a gentleman. Maybe he just didn’t know how to show it—unlike Lord Thornwick.

He had left her with no doubts about how desperately he wanted her.

Chapter 21

All is not well … Foul deeds will rise.

Hamlet
1.2.255–56 and 257.8

The sun had come up and the lamps had been extinguished. The early-morning sky was a hazy gray. Harrison had sat at the card table and watched the sun rise above the horizon from the window on the far side of the room. He’d seen a few people pass by the tavern since dawn and knew there was a blustery wind outside that was promising rain. Perhaps it was just as well that he and Bray hadn’t planned to start their journey home until tomorrow.

The evening had been like old times with Bray and Adam, staying up all night drinking, playing cards, and reliving in great and exaggerated details the escapades of their younger years. But none of them had drunk to the excesses they used to. Harrison was feeling quite mellow and ready for a few hours in bed. He suspected his friends were feeling the same way, too. Not that either of them would ever admit it to him.

When he and Bray had visited Adam a year ago, he wouldn’t go with them to the local pub for a tankard of ale. But at the time, it had only been three months since he’d lost his wife and child.

Harrison had been touring the world when it happened, but Bray had told him that Adam’s wife had suffered for three days trying to bear his child. Harrison and Bray hadn’t mentioned her or the baby last year, and not this trip, either. How could a man ever talk about what Adam had gone through? Harrison couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for Adam to stand by hour after agonizing hour and watch his wife die without giving birth. He must have been wild with desperation to help her. Harrison had never had a reason to feel that helpless, and he hoped to God he never did.

They assumed Adam knew they weren’t there to intrude on his grief or his life. He would understand they just wanted to check on him once again to see how he was doing. Harrison was glad they’d made the three-day journey, glad to have found Adam in better spirits. Last year neither he nor Bray would have been surprised to hear that Adam had decided to end his life. He’d probably been closer to it more times than Harrison wanted to know, but now he was thinking that possibility had finally passed for his friend.

Harrison’s thoughts turned to Angelina as was so often the case. He remembered how she looked the afternoon he kissed her in the garden: fresh and innocent. She was the very essence of goodness. Her long flowing hair had been tangled about her shoulders by the wind, and that big-brimmed hat made her all the more fetching. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed from the sun—and he hoped from his sudden appearance, too.

When he’d kissed her, touched her, and tasted her at Lord Thistlebury’s house, she’d looked more like the beautiful, captivating Greek goddess he’d seen the first night they met. She wore a flutteringly thin gown and a crown of pearls in her upswept hair. Angelina had a sensual way about her that had him thinking about her all hours of the day and night. And it didn’t matter if she looked like a pure young lady ready for her first kiss or the invitingly sensuous young lady wanting a gentleman to show her pleasure, Harrison wanted her.

But winning her wasn’t easy. She had a fierce sense of loyalty to Captain Maxwell, but he didn’t think it was love.

He remembered the taste of her warm mouth, the feel of her satiny-smooth skin beneath his fingers, and the way her soft body responded to his when he pressed her against his hardness. At that moment she was as eager for him as he was for her. But he also knew she was holding on to the thought that she’d given her heart to Captain Maxwell. Harrison had no doubt he could make her want him, but could he make her love him?

Already he’d been gone five days and it would be at least three more before he made it back to London. He wondered if Maxwell had kissed her yet. Harrison didn’t want him to kiss her, but he needed to. And the captain was a fool if he hadn’t.