Forever Yours Box Set 3

by Stacy Reid

  “To one of my smaller estates in Derbyshire; there we’ll have privacy and society will keep their noses out of our business.”

  There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, which confused him. “Amalie, I—”

  She gave him a bright smile. Yet the smile she gave him trembled a little before disappearing. “It would be glorious indeed to race with you once more or even go fishing. Very well, I shall prepare myself to visit your country seat this weekend. It promises to be such fun in the tedium of the season.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Until this weekend, Max.”

  He turned his face, so her mouth grazed his. And Max swore he would do everything to prepare for taking her to his bed. She deserved to be well-loved and pleasured after living with disappointment for so long. He kissed her, brief and with violent tenderness, before lifting his mouth from hers. “Until this weekend.”

  Her fingers which were lightly resting on his wet sleeve trembled. Then Max pressed a kiss to her forehead and made his way from the room.

  He had his own damned book to re-read!

  Chapter 6

  “I cannot credit the papers would dare link your name to that woman,” his mother, Mrs. Barbara Langdon spat disdainfully. “I was so terribly mortified when Lady Thurgood asked me if I’d read the latest on dit. I eagerly walked into her trap never dreaming that tattle would be about my own son! And that disgraceful viscountess.”

  Max leaned back in his chair, lowered his serviette, and rubbed the throbbing spot on his head. Hell, and damnation, this was the last thing he wanted to discuss with his mother, his sisters, brothers, and their spouses looking on.

  At his lack of response his mother lowered her knife and fork with a decisive clink. She took a deep breath, trying to control her ire. “Why are you not answering, Maximilian? Am I boring you? Is that why you appear so unaffected by my distress?”

  “Yes, in truth you are,” he said icily. “I have little interest to know how those in the ton deliberate over affairs which are no business of theirs.”

  “Max!” his sister, Baroness Melville, snapped, casting a concerned glance at their mother who had frozen, hurt darkening gray eyes very much like his own.

  Biting back an oath, he pushed from his chair at the head of the table, made his way to her. He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Mother forgive me. I am tired.”

  She sniffed. “Very well. Now about the viscountess—”

  “Mother,” he interrupted firmly. “I will not be one of those fools who cut Lady Weatherston in public.”

  That had the attention of all nine people at the dining table.

  “Max?” Louisa asked, darting a quick glance at her husband then back to Max. Baron Melville was a proper sort who cared too much about society’s opinion. Max was still at a loss how his vivacious sister had fallen in love with the man.

  He arched his brow at her. He was a damn earl, and wealthier than the Baron. Why should he give a damn about the man’s concerns? Max gritted his teeth, for he loved his sister and his family and did not want to hurt or disappoint their expectations in any way. “You know Amalie...Lady Weatherston is a friend of mine. We have known each other for years.”

  His brother, Harry, sent Max a searching stare. “I believed you lost touch with the viscountess some number of years ago. Are you reconnecting with her?”

  Max hesitated briefly. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Knowledge dawned in his brother’s eyes and he narrowed his gaze. Whatever the hell he was thinking about, Max did not want to know.

  “There will be no ‘manner of speaking’!” his mother said with a gasp, pushing back her chair and standing.

  Dinner was turning into a farce.

  “Your sisters and brothers have made suitable matches to proper, respectable families. We will not shame them by having someone with such a dubious reputation attach herself to this family, because no one else has allowed her close! Only you and Mary remain unmarried, and any undesirable connections might ruin your chances. Of course, you will not tarnish the honor of the earldom. Now that it has passed to you, Maximilian, you must do everything to preserve its integrity.”

  Louisa also stood, and of course her husband promptly joined her, resting a supporting hand by her elbow.

  “Mama is right, Max,” his sister said softly. “When I saw it printed in the scandal sheets that you lifted your champagne glass to her in a silent toast, and the manner in which the ton have been speculating on that gesture, I thought...I thought it baseless! But I can see from your reaction that it is true, and you will be reconnecting with Lady Weatherston.”

  Out of his four siblings, three were married, and all were at the table with their spouses. They had been very fortunate in their connections, finding love matches with ladies and gentlemen from respectable families. He met each person’s gaze thoughtfully. “No one at this table has conversed openly with the viscountess?”

  Everyone nodded, and his gut twisted into knots.

  “I can assure you that I know the truth of the scandal surrounding her. She is not to be blamed or condemned. She is a lady of elegance and thoughtful manners who through no fault of her own had her reputation tarnished unjustly.”

  His family stared at him as if snakes writhed atop his head, and he sighed heavily. “I will be very conscious of your concerns,” he murmured, and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I have an engagement I cannot miss.” For the very first time, he used the excuse of visiting his club and then a ball to shorten his stay with his family.

  That rubbed him the wrong way for he loved them dearly and enjoyed their company often. Eager to escape from the townhouse he had bought for his mother, he faltered in the hallway at the sound of his name. Max turned to see Harry coming toward him.

  “Do you know what you are doing?” his brother asked, his brows creased in concerned. “This is the woman who chose to marry another man despite the love you had for her.”

  They were only a couple years apart and were as close as brothers could be. “She was unaware of my feelings of the time. And all of that is in the past.”

  “Do you love her still?”

  Max carefully schooled his expression. “Do not be foolish. My feelings have altered. It would be impossible for my regard to have remained the same with the years between us. I daresay she will forever be my friend.”

  Harry sighed. “The scrutiny that will fall on our family cannot be ignored or—”

  “There is no reason to be so concerned,” Max refuted firmly. “We...we will be very discreet in our interactions.”

  Harry’s eyes glinted with awareness. “Ah, so it is as I suspected. A position that will be enviable by many gentlemen in society who have tried to charm their way into the lady’s graces. Lady Weatherston is to be your mistress.”

  Before he could reply a gasp sounded, and they both glanced up to see their mother at the end of the hallway. Her flushed countenance showed she had overheard that last bit. Without acknowledging her sons, she whirled around and disappeared down the hallway.

  Max glanced at Harry. “I will take my leave.”

  Several minutes later, he sat in his carriage as it rumbled toward a ball he’d not planned to attend. Earlier this morning in Hyde Park he had seen Amalie strolling with her Friend, Bess, Lady Hufford. Amalie’s face had lit with pleasure upon seeing him, and he’d tipped his hat in greeting. Many taking their fashionable strolls had observed the exchange, and no doubt another speculation would be in the scandal sheets.

  The ton could be ridiculous in how they examined and dissected people, just so they could add to the rumor mill. Damned ridiculous it all was. But it was there he had overheard that she would be at Lady Sutton’s ball.

  Though they would travel separately to his seat in Hertfordshire in only a few days, Max desperately wanted to see her, laugh with her, even dance with her. But why? Lifting his cane, he rapped on the roof of the carriage bringing it to a halt. Alighting from the vehicle, he informed
the coachman he would make his way to the ball by foot.

  The night was shrouded in darkness with only a few gas-lamps here and there providing a measure of relief. He strolled along Piccadilly, unconcerned with the thoughts of footpads, for he had adequately trained over the years in how to fence and box, and Max was confident he could defend himself creditably.

  The only thing he should occupy his thoughts with, is in what manner did he want Amalie in his life? Despite telling Harry that his feelings were altered, Max still held considerable affections for her in his heart. She was his friend still...and he wanted her as his lover. The very thought of kissing her lips, taking his mouth on a journey down her neck, to her breasts and to that valley between her thighs had his cock jerking in anticipation.

  He wanted her, and it had always been her. That was something he could not shy away from, because what would happen when their affair ended? Would he then seek a wife who was considered suitable to be his countess, one with an unblemished reputation, while the scent and feel of Amalie would have ruined him for everyone else?

  He scowled into the night. You are being a damn fool, stop overthinking the matter. For it was incredibly simple. She wanted a lover. He wanted a lover, and they desired each other.

  It was only an affair, and he need not overthink the matter and introduce unnecessary complications. Keep it simple, he reminded himself. Except he couldn’t recall a point in his life when anything to do with Amalie had ever been simple.

  Bloody hell.

  * * *

  All the sparkling ladies in the ballroom began to flutter like brilliant butterflies the minute Lord Kentwood was announced. A soft, secret smile curved Amalie’s lips when their fawning only appeared to inspire boredom from Max. He hovered over the gaggle of ladies impeding his movements, bowing here and there while discreetly searching the ballroom. Their gazes collided, and from where she stood by the refreshment table, Amalie spied the softening around his mouth.

  “It is you the earl is looking for,” Bess murmured, her gaze direct and very curious. “Have you come to an agreement of sorts?”

  Amalie flicked open her fan and started a delicate wave. “We have. I am to visit with him in Derbyshire for a week or two. We’ll take the time to catch up away from the prying eyes of those prone to gossiping in the ton.”

  Bess stared, her lips flattening in disappointment. “So, he is hiding the connection. Of course, he would not want society to know you are special friends.”

  Amalie flinched, resenting the discomfort that traveled through her heart. “It would be very selfish of me to want his lordship to flaunt our connection. My standing is very precarious, and it will take the smallest of incidents to dig up my scandal. I am not regularly active socially, and though I am loath to admit it, the few invitations I do get to balls and routs are valued. Five years have passed, and society still mention me in their scandal sheets at least once a week. Could you imagine if they were to turn their spite on me once more because I dared to step out publicly with their beloved author and the most eligible catch of the season? Oh Bess, I would be vilified, and he would be unable to do anything about it.”

  Bess’s mouth set in a mutinous line. “He is the earl of Kentwood. He is loved and respected, surely if—”

  She lightly touched Bess’s shoulder. “Hush let’s not quarrel about it. I... I am happy to go away with him!”

  “You know that you are of a romantic disposition. What will happen when your heart is irrevocably enmeshed with his and he only cares about taking you to his bed?”

  Amalie swallowed, understanding what her dear friend did, forcing her to acknowledge the full truth of her situation. “I will end it when that time comes, and I shall not live with regret.” And she knew that their affair already had an end in sight, and she would not foolishly hope for a fairytale ending. No, she would enjoy every minute of being with London’s wickedest lover until they were both satisfied with ending their arrangement.

  Bess sighed. “Let’s take a turn about the room. Deveraux will be here soon, and then you will be left frightfully alone.”

  Amalie nodded, and they sauntered side by side through the crush, greeting and mingling with a few friends who always welcomed them at these events. Of course, many sniffed and turned their noses in the air, making a deliberate and notable effort to cut them, so others could speculate upon their actions. It was tiresome, and annoying, especially given that she would still feel that pinch in her heart when ladies who had once welcomed her with warm smiles coldly turned away. It was that rebellious spirit which lived in her heart that made Amalie accept the few invitations sent to her address and enjoy the obvious discomfort she evoked from those priggish and judgmental biddies.

  * * *

  “I’m told he’s seeking a wife this season,” Lady Rebecca, said, waving her fan vigorously. She was a very spirited and charming girl of nineteen years, who was this season’s diamond with her pale beauty and dowry of fifty thousand pounds. She stared at the earl with scandalized delight and expectations. “I do declare that I might have found my beaux for the season!”

  “How delightful and so very good to know,” another young lady whispered with a soft giggle. “He is so very handsome and dashing!”

  “Do you think he knows how to do all those things he has mentioned in his book?” Lady Rebecca asked.

  Amalie faltered in the crush, and even Bess seemed interested in their conversations.

  A shocked gasp. “Rebecca! Do mind your tongue. If the marchioness heard surely, you’ll be severely scolded.” There was a hushed, contemplative pause, then her friend asked in a horrified yet titillated voice, “You’ve read it?”

  The pale haired beauty glanced around then lowered her head. “I did, and I nearly fainted twice. It was wicked and indecent...and just scandalous I think to be his countess would be divine. Mamma said before he became the earl, he had procured great wealth abroad, and now with the earldom being his, he is a most eligible catch and I should set my cap for him!”

  A few breathless sighs sounded, and Amalie bit her lips to prevent from smiling or snorting. Either one would reveal that she was avidly listening on their gossiping.

  “Oh, here he comes,” Lady Rebecca said, patting her perfectly coiffed hair.

  Amalie’s heart started to pound as he cut through the crowd towards them.

  “Is he coming to you?” Bess whispered, fascination and shock in her tone.

  “I...” Amalie swallowed, an unexpected and painful hope surging in her heart which fell away when she saw that his friend George directed him toward his mother. The marchioness effected an introduction with her daughter, Lady Rebecca, and soon Max swept her away onto the dancefloor for a waltz.

  “They make such a beautiful couple,” one of the matrons lounging in the chaise said, casting a considering glance at the marchioness.

  The marchioness refrained from commenting, but looked on with great indulgence, keeping a careful eye on her daughter. It seemed it did not matter that he was the author of such salacious literature, for Lady Rushworth had clearly turned her matchmaking eye on Max and her daughter.

  Bess soon excused herself as her protector arrived at the ball. Another darkly dashing and sometimes mysterious Viscount, with whom her friend had fallen in love. A hollowness seemed to form inside Amalie’s stomach as she and half of society watched as two of their most beautiful couples waltzed across the wide expanse of the ballroom.

  * * *

  Max did not look in her direction again for the next hour, but danced many dances with debutantes, and even a few married ladies. Everyone liked him and was charmed by his handsome manners and rumored wealth.

  Max was the season’s most eligible bachelor. No one asked her to dance, a state she was much used to. The last time she had been on a dancefloor was with her husband, and even then, that pleasure had been fleeting.

  A wild, unfettered yearning blossomed through her heart.

  I wish it was I in your arms
, Max. Taking a deep breath, she made her way from the ballroom, requesting her carriage once she reached the entrance. Wanting to escape the heat, the music and gaiety spilling from the ballroom she collected her coat from the butler and hurried outside. The air wafted over her and she shivered, welcoming its cold bite.

  Carriages were still queuing with ladies and their gentlemen arriving fashionably late. Amalie tipped her head to the starless sky and took a deep breath. For so long it hadn’t troubled her that no one asked her to dance or dared to, but tonight… Something restless stirred inside her heart. She found herself inexplicably dissatisfied. It frightened her that their affair hadn’t had a chance to start, and she was already hungering for more with Max.

  I want it all...his friendship and his love. A watery laugh tore from her. Those dreams she recalled of a beautiful love and a large family had died the day her reputation was tarnished. No gentleman of good standing would ever willingly associate their names. She knew that. For so long she had been contented to be happy with her wealthy independent state and living on the edge of society’s expectations.

  “Oh God, what is this desperate ache I am feeling?” she whispered into the night, pressing her gloved hands above her heart. Amalie swore there was a physical pain. Long denied feelings broke through the barrier behind which she had long buried them. Tears stung her eyes as she admitted how alone she had felt over the years, and how frightened she had been to even dare to hope for more, knowing it would be impossible. “Oh Max, I missed you so very much. If only...”

  Silly, reckless heart.

  Chapter 7

  “Will you sit down!” Max groused, as Amalie rocked their fishing boat. “If we should fall into the water, I promise I will not save you.”