The Virtuous Ward (Sweet Deception Regency #5) (19 page)

For a moment Amity was blinded but realized it was the soggy brim of her hat and with her hands she pushed it away from her eyes. She tried not to panic and struggled to keep her head out of the water. Her skirts hampered her movements but as she thrashed about she discovered that the water was only about a foot deep. She let her body sink until she was sitting on the bottom then turned to the sound of cursing coming from behind her.

Max lay on his stomach in about six inches of water, swearing steadily under his breath. He raised his head and he glared at the barrel still imprisoned in the cheerful red parasol which had grounded on the edge of the bank.

"Damnable creature!" he snarled.

"It wasn't the cat's fault!" Amity shouted in defense of the poor animal. "You were the one who let go of the bushes."

"I did not let go," he answered through gritted teeth. "You were too heavy to hold. You must have gained four stone since your arrival in London."

"What a horrid thing to say, you loathsome man." In her fury, Amity slapped the water with her clenched fist, sending a wave splashing into Max's face.

Amid sputtering and coughing he pushed himself to his hands and knees and launched himself at the girl, catching her up in a bear hug. They rolled over and over in the shallow water like children at play. Amid light-hearted shrieks, they splashed each other until they were both breathless from laughing. Finally, in exhaustion Amity lay gasping in the circle of Max's arms.

"Oh, my adorable Amity," he whispered, staring down into her face.

She had never looked more beautiful, he thought, caught in a spell of wonder. Water ran like tears down her flushed cheeks and her eyes sparkled with mischief. Without conscious thought, he lowered his head, his lips softly covering hers in the tenderest of kisses. He felt her body shiver at the contact but then she sighed in contentment.

Amity enjoyed the feel of Max's lips against her own, reminded again of Bancroft's sweet salutation. Then his mouth shifted and there was a new urgency to his embrace. His lips sucked at hers, demanding a response, and they parted beneath the pressure. The touch of his tongue jolted her with a sweep of sensations that threatened to engulf her. Her heart pounded in her ears and she tightened her grasp around his shoulders as her stomach fluttered with the sensation of falling. Her body rippled with waves of excitement and she moaned at the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

The sound echoed across the water and Amity was stunned into a realization of the impropriety of her actions. She pushed against Max's chest and his arms released her as if he too was aware of his improper behavior.

"Forgive me, Amity," he whispered.

Amity refused to think about the emotions Max's kiss had raised in her breast. She knew she had behaved immodestly in accepting his embrace and now only wanted to break the awkwardness that would ensue if she gave in to any missish sentiments.

"Please, Max," she reached out to place her hand on his chest. "It was the joy of the moment. A kiss between friends. We are friends, are we not?" she asked.

"We are indeed, my dear." Max felt doubly guilty under the lightness of her tone. It was apparent she wished to restore their relationship and he could only applaud her actions. There would be time later to analyze what had occurred but for now he must put the episode behind him. He lifted her hand from his chest and kissed it with clownish enthusiasm, earning a shaky giggle for his playacting. "Come, my bedraggled mermaid. It is time to seek dry land."

He struggled to his feet then extended a hand to help her out of the water. They scrambled up the bank, standing dripping on the bank. Max looked her up and down and amusement erased his feeling of embarrassment. He began to chuckle and, at the outraged dignity on Amity's face, threw his head back in great yelps of laughter. Amity looked down at herself and groaned in dismay. The once white dress was now stained with mud and there were places where the red ribbons had bled onto the white material. Ignoring his amusement, she pulled the parasol out of the water and dumped the barrel on dry land. Then she turned to face Max and spun the sunshade, enveloping him in a fine mist of spray.

"Cheeky wench," Max muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"You can scarcely laugh at me, you gudgeon, looking as you do."

He eyed his cream-colored trousers which were soaked and streaked with mud. The lace at his wrists drooped over his hands and his once crisp cravat snaked down his chest like something long dead. Imagining Wilberforce's horrified expression, he began to chuckle anew. He squished across the grass to retrieve his jacket and placed it over Amity's shoulders with a flourish.

"Your cloak, madam," he said, making her an elegant leg.

She raised her dripping skirts and bobbed a curtsy. Then she flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder and repositioned her hat on her head. The brim flopped in front of her eyes and hearing Max's choked laughter she giggled and removed the offending object.

"Just wait until Lady Grassmere sees what I've done to my new bonnet," she mumbled.

"I fear Cousin Hester will go into spasms if she sees either of us," he said, rolling his eyes and wiggling his eyebrows. "And all for the sake of a cat."

"The cat!" Amity shrieked, dropping down beside the cask in order to free the poor animal. Max knelt beside her, prying open the top. The cat sprang out of the barrel in a burst of hissing and clawing.

In the bright afternoon sunlight the cat was a far from prepossessing sight. She was fat with a face that looked too sly to be pleasing. Her ginger-colored fur was wet and stood up in spiky patches along her back. Her grey-brown eyes narrowed as she lunged out at the person nearest to her.

"Steady on, you beast," Max snapped as the infuriated ball of sodden fur swiped at him.

Amity chuckled at his insulted tone. "She does not know you are a true hero," she apologized.

"Ungrateful hussy," he sneered. "I shall have none of her either."

He pushed himself to his feet and helped Amity up, pulling her hand through his arm. He started back down the lane, trying to ignore the squelching sounds his boots made at every step. "We shall pretend that nothing is amiss and then we should be able to pass quite unnoticed."

Amity stared at him open-mouthed, but as he peered at her out of the corner of his eye, she once more started to giggle. "For a moment there, I almost believed you."

"Ah, well, I suspect we are in for a dreadful scold, so I see little to be gained by worrying about it."

They both agreed and continued on their way, chatting amiably until they arrived at the carriage and Lewis, gape-mouthed in astonishment.

"So much for your theory," Amity said. "You can explain while I get the cat. Come here, Ginger."

"Don't tell me that miserable excuse for a feline has followed us," Max burst out in exasperation. He glared down at the matted fur of the ginger cat, hardening his heart at the woebegone look on its feline face. "I much preferred it in the barrel."

Amity dropped to the ground, scooping up the bedraggled cat and cuddling against her damp bosom. "Oh, Max, I suspect that it's just hungry and alone."

"Don't say it," he warned. "I don't care if it needs a good home." Then at the appeal in her eyes, he threw up his hands in resignation. "All right, but only if you promise to keep it in the storeroom."

"It'll chase the chickens!" she argued.

"What chickens?" he shouted. "Devil take it, you baggage! Just keep it out of my sight." For a moment his eyes narrowed as he caught the glint of smugness on the cat's face but he shook his head at his own fancy.

Lewis, his eyes shifting back and forth between the brangling couple, was hard pressed to keep from laughing. Suspecting his master's humor might be strained to the edge, he held his tongue all the way back to town.

Max took a circuitous route through the city, avoiding the better sections where they were least likely to run into someone they knew. Instead of pulling up in front of the townhouse, he brought the curricle into the mews. He ignored the stares of the servants as he removed the cat from Amity's lap and presented it to Lewis with orders to see to its care. Then with unhurried formality, he handed Amity to the ground, leading her through the garden to the kitchen entrance. There, unfortunately, their luck ran out.

"Miss Amity!" Betta gasped, knocking over her tea in her haste to rise.

"Your lordship!" Wilberforce chimed in, followed by a chorus of excited voices.

Drawing on centuries of arrogant ancestors, Max stared around the room until the hubbub subsided. Then in stentorian tones he snapped out a series of orders that left the inhabitants of the room scurrying to comply. Finished, he extended his hand to Amity and ushered her up the backstairs with great dignity. Once in the upstairs hall his composure cracked and he let out a great sigh of relief.

"Run along now, before Cousin Hester sees you or she will fall down in fits."

"I hope Wilberforce does not scold you too badly," she whispered. Then standing on tiptoe she kissed his cheek. "Thank you for the memorable day, Max."

She scampered down the hall, before Max could even lift his hand to touch the spot where her lips had touched his cheek. His face unreadable, he turned in the opposite direction toward his room.

Knowing that soon Betta would be along, Amity began to strip off her wet clothing. She wrapped herself in a dressing gown and curled up in a chair until her abigail called to tell her the bath was ready. She sighed in pure happiness as she sank into the hot water. While she bathed she told Betta about rescuing the cat, avoiding the questioning look in her friend's eye at the end of the recital.

By the time she was finished drying her hair, shadows had lengthened in the room and Betta hurried to light the candles. When Amity requested a tray in her room, explaining that she planned to go to bed early after the excitement of the day, the abigail looked surprised but made no comment. She gathered the wet clothing in a bundle and slipped out the door.

Alone at last, Amity piled the pillows against the headboard and climbed into bed. She pulled the comforter up to her chin as a large tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and slipped down her cheek. She had held herself under such tight control that now she gave in to the pain that engulfed her. As if the floodgates had been opened, more and more tears fell, until the edge of the comforter was soaked. Amity cried for several minutes, then on a shuddering sigh, she began to gain control of the situation.

The source of her anguish was the certain knowledge that she was in love with Max. She had realized it the moment his lips touched hers in the shattering kiss in the river. She had known it then, at the same time that she accepted the fact that he did not love her. He had kissed her out of joy, in the happiness of the moment. If he thought of her at all, it was with slight annoyance that she had intruded on his life.

In their many talks, she had come to understand what Max wanted in a wife. He wanted a woman who could act the lady, conduct herself with dignity and not intrude on his affairs. For a moment she considered the possibility that he might one day see her as a perfect lady but her mouth curled up in an ironic smile as she realized the impossibility of her ever playing that role. She was too honest to counterfeit virtues she did not have and the qualities she possessed did not include the ones Max considered of highest priority. He would never see her as anything but a shatterbrained, hurly-burly girl. For Max, the perfect lady was Honoria Waterston.

In despair Amity wondered what she should do. In two days time she would be betrothed to Bancroft Paige. She had thought that she might learn to love Bancroft, but Max's kiss had shown her the emotional upheaval of real love. Since she did not love him, was it fair to marry Bancroft? In a moment of perception, she realized that he did not require her love. He wanted a wife and she would be a good one. She had already given her heart, but she could strive to be the helpmate that he needed. She would be kind to his sister, bear his children and try to be a docile and loving wife. Her life would be fruitful and gratifying without the painful emotions engendered by love.

Amity curled up beneath the covers, turning her face into the pillow. She remembered the first time she had seen Max and the pain she had felt at his rejection. She had survived then and she would most survive now. Sleep came slowly, easing the ache in her heart.

Chapter Eleven

Aside from the occasional rustle of a paper, the low-voiced instructions to a waiter or the raspy clearing of a throat, the main salon of Sweet’s Racing Club was silent. Max had commandeered a deeply padded leather chair in a small alcove and was sunk in a trancelike concentration. Intruders on his refuge had scurried away, put off by the black-browed scowl he sent their way. George kept his snifter of brandy well filled, taking particular pains to avoid any noise that might disturb him.

Since early evening, Max had been ensconced in the chair, sipping brandy and staring out the window. The view was unpromising, the side of the building next door but he appeared to find the blank wall a fascinating subject for perusal. From time to time his lips moved as if he were holding a serious colloquy with an invisible friend, then he would shake his head in negation and return to his examination of the building outside the window.

Lord Devereaux Cathcart stood at the side of the room, watching the antics of his friend and a slow smile broke the ascetic quality of his face. When he had asked the faithful George if he had seen Lord Kampford, the steward had cautioned him that his friend seemed in an somewhat somber frame of mind. It was interesting to find the unflappable, methodical Max looking unsettled. Dev arranged his features in a more serious mien and approached the alcove.

"Would you mind if I joined you, sir?"

Max was so involved in his own thoughts that he did not immediately recognize Dev's voice. He emitted a low growling sound and glared up at the interloper only to be met by a familiar pair of twinkling blue eyes.