The Viscount's Kiss (21 page)

She gave him a wicked, wanton smile as she rose, naked as Venus, from the tub. “Come closer, my lord, and I'll show you.”

“That cut on your lip might start bleeding again,” he warned.

“I wasn't intending to use my mouth.”

 

“My lord,” Fallingbrook called from the other side of Nell's bedroom door sometime later, “supper will be served in half an hour.”

“We'll be downstairs shortly,” Bromwell answered as he
finished buttoning his trousers. He gave the blissfully sated Nell a rueful smile. “I wonder how he knew I was here?”

“A fortunate guess?” she suggested from where she lay naked beneath the rumpled sheets of the bed. What had started as one thing, intended only to satisfy him, had soon enough become another, although they were more careful than they'd been by the stables. “Or perhaps a logical conclusion.”

Justinian pulled his shirt over his head. “I believe my feelings for you had not escaped the servants' notice prior to this, and I suppose Dena told him where I was.”

Nell sat up and brushed her dishevelled hair from her face. “Dena once thought I was trying to seduce you into marriage. I hope she won't think she was right—although of course she's quite wrong.”

He frowned as he walked over to her dressing table and ran her brush through his hair, and she instantly regretted mentioning marriage.

She got out of the bed and hurried to put on her chemise. “How soon before the magistrate's men can come from Bath, do you think?”

“They should be here before dark, but only just, even if they come at a gallop, and I'm sure Drury would make sure they did. They'll have to stay the night and keep Sturmpole under guard in the stable, then take him to Bath in the morning.”

She went to the wardrobe and selected a gown, a simple one of light blue wool trimmed with brown piping. She stepped into it and pulled it up, then hurried to put her hair up in some semblance of a style. “Will you lace me, please?”

“Gladly, now and every chance I get,” he replied,
coming behind her and doing as she asked, his deft fingers swiftly tying the knot.

She rose and turned toward him when he finished.

He reached out to take her hands gently in his. “Nell, you must know I love you,” he said softly, the truth of that even more apparent in his eyes than in his voice and words. “So much so, I can scarcely believe it. For so long, and especially after my friends fell in love, I've feared something was missing in me, some capacity to feel deeply. That I was incapable of experiencing love and desire as they so obviously did.

“I told myself it was no great matter, because I had my work and that was more than enough to content me. Even so, I planned to marry someday. I believed I would simply select a woman whose temperament was the most compatible with mine, and one who wouldn't be jealous of my devotion to my work.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “And then I met you, and discovered that it wasn't that something had been lacking within me. I simply hadn't met the right woman. Now I have, and I believe you love me, too, because I don't think you would ever have come to my bed otherwise.”

“No, I would not,” she whispered in confirmation.

He went down on one knee. “Then, Nell, would you do me the very great honor of marrying me?”

A
host of emotions ran through Nell at his softly, intently spoken request—joy, hope, fear, dismay, concern—while she gazed into his questioning face.

There was no doubt, no hesitation, in the eyes that regarded her so steadily. No worry, no concern, only love. Sincere, deep-seated love.

“I know this must come as a shock to you after all I've said about not marrying before I sail,” he continued just as ardently and sincerely, “but seeing Sturmpole attacking you, I realized how very much I love you, need you and want you to be my wife. Nobody understands me, or loves me, the way you do. If we hadn't shared the same coach, if it hadn't overturned, I would still be thinking myself in
capable of deep, devoted, passionate love. I would still be alone, and lonely.”

Oh, how his words stabbed at her and made her long to ignore the world and all its restraints and conventions! If she could think only of herself, if she didn't truly love him, she might have been able to.

Since she did love him, she must think of him, and his future without her, because with her, he would suffer. Not at first, perhaps. But later. And she would not have him resent her for anything.

Not even his hand in marriage.

So she pulled her hands free and did what had to be done, even if it broke both their hearts. “No, Justinian, I won't marry you.”

The dismay and disappointment in his eyes nearly weakened her resolve, but as he could be strong for what he believed necessary, so could she.

“I don't doubt that you love me as much as I love you,” she said, “but I'm still the penniless daughter of a convicted felon. Such a marriage will make you a pariah to your friends and family, as well as other important, influential people who can aid you in your work.”

“If it does, so be it,” he returned, desperation furrowing his brow. “I would rather have you. Look at Drury, who married a seamstress—and a French one, at that. His legal career hasn't suffered. Surely to God I can marry—”

“Whoever you like, because you are famous, too? I'd like to think so. I'd like to believe that we may do as we wish with no thought to how it will change our lives, save for the better.

“But we both know that's not so. We aren't marooned on a deserted island, just the two of us.

“There is your work to consider—and we must—as well as your family. We can't ignore them, or pretend they don't exist.

“And there is something else to take into account. You're going to be gone for a long time, Justinian, and as strong as our love is now, I fear it will weaken with time and distance. Or worst of all, that you won't come back at all.”

She put her fingertips on his lips to silence his protests. “I don't think it would be wise to bind ourselves in a marriage when you are leaving soon, and for so long.”

“What if you're with child?” he protested just as fervently as he'd proposed. “We weren't careful before I went to Bath.”

“I would not have you bound in a marriage you no longer wanted even under those circumstances. If that happens, your friends will help me, will they not?”

He nodded mutely, but his eyes were so full of anguish she couldn't look him in the face.

“My lord!” Fallingbrook called out from behind the door again. “Will you please come down? The countess is getting upset.”

Still without speaking, his expression cold as stone, immutable as a rock, Justinian held out his arm to escort her from the room. “Since there is no more to be said, we had better go.”

As she took his arm, she swallowed hard and choked back her tears, although she really wanted to throw herself on the bed and cry until she could cry no more.

Then run away and never look back.

 

“Sturmpole! By God, I went to school with him!” the earl was all but shouting as Bromwell and Nell reached the
threshold of the drawing room. “He was a fine fellow, so whoever would have guessed…?”

Standing beside the hearth, arms crossed over his chest puffed out like an enraged rooster, Lord Granshire fell silent when he saw Nell and his son. Juliette sat on the Grecian couch beside the countess, and Drury was by the windows, his ruined hands clasped behind his back.

The countess immediately got to her feet. “What is it? What's wrong?” she demanded, glancing uneasily from her son to Nell.

In that instant, in that precise moment, as his mother looked at him with worry, as Nell's grip tightened on his forearm, Bromwell knew what he must do. And in that instant, that precise moment, he was equally certain it was the right, best, only thing to do.

“Be happy, Mother,” he said, smiling at her and everyone else gathered there. “I'm not going on another expedition.”

“What?” Nell cried, her hand dropping as she turned to stare at him.

“What?” his father roared as if Bromwell had lost his mind.

“What?” his mother gasped, sitting heavily.

“Why?” and
“Pourquoi?”
demanded Drury and Juliette in unison.

Bromwell ignored them, speaking only to Nell as if they were alone, because right then, they might as well have been on that deserted island.

Regarding her with all the love he felt, sure of his decision as he'd never been so sure of anything in his life, not even his desire to study spiders, he said, “I've been a
stubborn, selfish fool. If I must choose between my expedition and you, I gladly, happily choose you. And you mustn't fear that I'll come to resent you or regret my choice. How can I regret anything that will make me so happy and so blessed?”

Still doubtful, still unsure, Nell didn't reply as her anxious gaze searched his face.

“I mean it, Nell,” he assured her. “I think marriage—provided it's to you—will be even more interesting than any expedition could ever be.”

“Not to mention vastly more entertaining and comfortable,” Drury said from the sofa, where he now stood behind Juliette.

“But your studies, your plans, the spiders!” Nell protested in astonished, uncertain gasps, as if she still couldn't believe he meant what he said.

“As my mother has noted on more than one occasion, there are plenty of spiders in Britain. I shall devote myself to studying the local arachnids. After all, some things are common to all the species, such as the navigation and construction of their webs and—”

“By God,
now
you see the light?” his father demanded abruptly and loudly, coming out of his shocked stupor. “After refusing to listen to sense all these years?”

“Oh, be quiet, Frederic!” the countess ordered, leaping to her feet and more animated than Bromwell had seen in years. “Miss Springley has not yet accepted his proposal.”

“Miss Springley?” the earl cried. “Who the devil is Miss Springley?”

“I am,” Nell said quietly. “I'm not Lady Eleanor Springford, but Eleanor Springley, the impoverished daughter of
Edward Springley, who's been convicted of theft and transported to Botany Bay.”

“Oh…my…God!” the earl choked, reaching for the mantel to steady himself. “Is that
true?”

“Yes, but I don't care,” Bromwell firmly replied.

“Whereas I do,” Nell said, louder and with more confidence, her eyes shining not with unshed tears, but fierce determination. “I'm well aware of what marriage to a woman like me will cost your son, so no, Justinian, I still won't marry you and be the ruin of your career.”

“What do you mean,
ruin?”
Juliette exclaimed with disbelief. “Buggy is famous for his work, and justly so—work he can continue to do. And he will always be received by the people who matter. As for those small-minded people who will not because of the woman he loves, he does not need their friendship or support.”

“She's right,” Drury said calmly. “In fact, those of a romantic bent will likely be even more inclined to buy your books, wondering if they'll be able to see hints of the sentimental lover in the naturalist.”

“You're being ridiculous,” Bromwell said, too upset by Nell's continuing refusal to be amused.

He turned to Nell and grasped her cold hands. “Except for the part about not being received by fools and idiots. I don't care about that.”

“Do you mean to say,” his father said as if the point was finally penetrating his gray matter, “that this young woman is not the daughter of the Duke of Wymerton?”

“No, she isn't,” his wife affirmed, “but if she makes Justinian happy—”

“And she's got no dowry or property at all, nor likely to?”

“Father, I don't care if she's poor,” Bromwell said. He
looked down at Nell, his eyes pleading. “Please, Nell, won't you accept me?”

She shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “To give up your expedition for me…it's too much, Justinian. I won't have that on my conscience.”

Juliette sighed with exasperation. “Why must he give it up? Can he not take his wife on the expedition with him?”

Bromwell shook his head. “I wouldn't subject my wife to the deprivations and dangers.”

Drury tilted his head to one side and gave Bromwell his Death Stare. “Do you know, Buggy, there are times you sound remarkably like your father? How many times have you told me that he wouldn't see you as an adult with the capacity to decide your own fate? What are you doing but taking the decision to choose her own fate out of Nell's hands? Are you not treating
her
like a child rather than an adult?”

If someone had shot a cannon at Bromwell's head, it would hardly have been more disturbing. Because Drury was right. He had never seen his urge to protect Nell in that arrogant light.

A sudden vision, previously unimaginable, came to him—of having his work as well as Nell for his wife, of facing the future, whatever it held, with her by his side, to love, to cherish and to comfort all the days of his life.

If she would only say yes.

 

Nell felt poised on a precipice between hope and dismay, longing and fulfillment. Even if Justinian loved her enough to marry her regardless of what society might think, if she couldn't sail with him, she must hold firm and refuse to marry him in spite of the urgings of her heart. Too much
could happen between the time he sailed and when he returned, and she would not have him bound to her under those conditions, no matter how much she loved him.

“The voyage will be dangerous and uncomfortable,” he said slowly, regarding her steadily, “and the ship cramped and the food terrible and there is always the threat of illness, but if you would like to marry me and come with me under those circumstances…?”

If she would like it? “Are you sure, Justinian?”

The look in his eyes alone would have been enough, and then he said, with all the conviction of complete truth, “Yes.”

“Yes!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time, overwhelmed with joy and relief and hope and happiness. “Yes, I'll marry you!”

He drew back and regarded her with his most studious expression. “You truly mean that? You will accept me?”

As if she was the one making concessions! “If you'll really marry me in spite of my father's crime and my lack of fortune and rank.”

His answer was a passionate kiss, until his father drew everyone's attention away from the young and happy couple.

“Do you expect me to contribute the necessary funds to your expedition if you marry this…this
woman?
”

Bromwell regarded his father with calm acceptance. He should have realized his father's support would be conditional, capricious and liable to be withdrawn if he was displeased.

However, he no longer cared, because Nell had agreed to marry him.

“If that's how you choose to respond to my happiness, so be it,” he said evenly, his arms still around her. “I shall
find other sponsors, as I did before. However, since Nell's agreed to be my wife, nothing you or anyone else can say will deter me from marrying her.”

The countess rose, hands clasped, her expression desperate, and Bromwell feared he was about to hear more pleas to stay in England, especially if he had a wife.

“Frederic, you
must
provide the funds for his expedition, and especially whatever money they require to make their accommodation aboard ship more comfortable.”

Bromwell and everyone else in the room regarded her with incredulity, not just for what she said, but because of the firm tone with which she said it.

Lady Granshire went to her son and, taking his hand in hers, looked at him with tears running down her cheeks. “Naturally I would prefer that you stay in England, but it is finally clear to me how much this voyage means to you, and what it would mean if you didn't sail.”

Taking one of Nell's hands, too, she addressed her with a smile, although her lips trembled and her tears still flowed. “I'll be a little less worried, though, knowing he has someone who loves him to look after him.”