Yet, I am most definitely not. If he shared a physical relationship with Isabella, he wouldn’t need the attentions of anyone else. “What am I required to do at this fête?”
“Be charming, smile, do the pretty with all and sundry.” Jensen brushed at nonexistent lint on Peregrine’s sleeve. “Hopefully, the evening will be fine, and you must admit your terrace invites wonderful views of the sunset or use of shadowy corners.”
“But why must I approve the menu? I know nothing of such things.”
“You are the master of the house.” Jensen shrugged, as if that settled the issue.
Botheration. “Fine.” He nodded. Best not to have his friend chase down that avenue of thought. “I shall see Cook before I go out today.”
“You are leaving the house again?” Sharp interest infused the valet’s voice as he gazed at Peregrine. “This is becoming rather a habit, and quite different for you.”
He ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “I am aware.”
But Jensen wouldn’t let the matter drop. “What are your plans for the day? Do they have anything to do with a certain earl’s daughter who has apparently captured your fancy?”
Why did the man have to know him so well? On the other hand, there was nothing else to do in the country except poke into everyone’s business. “I am, in fact, meeting Isabella.” And most definitely going to kiss her senseless.
Both of Jensen’s eyebrows soared into his hairline. “I’m impressed at the time and effort you’re expending on her.”
“Why?”
“It means you are attracted to her, yes?” Was that hope in his friend’s voice?
Damn, am I such a desperate case then? And this was no time to lie. “Oh, yes, I’m attracted to her.” That episode in the bookshop had taxed his patience and control. What would have happened had they been alone?
“Ah, then retirement to the country has been good for you.” Jensen grinned. He didn’t even try to hide his pleasure. “I did notice your color was healthier and you’ve been considerably less… crotchety of late.”
“Do shut up, Jensen.” Peregrine couldn’t hold onto his annoyance, but he’d noticed the changes in himself too.
The valet went on. “Are you contemplating a future between you?”
Contemplating, yes. Put it into action? That remained to be seen. “I’m not certain.”
“If I may offer a piece of advice?”
Peregrine rolled his eyes. “Again?”
“Why not? Am I not always right?” His smirk was definitely one of satisfaction.
“Go ahead.” This should prove entertaining, at least.
“Over the past handful of days, you’ve been a different man. Even you must admit this.” When Peregrine remained silent, Jensen continued, but his eyes twinkled. “You’ve not complained about the country or anything else. Your injury hasn’t plagued you since I rubbed you down.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, this is true.” Though he still depended on the cane, each time he went out riding, his thigh didn’t really scream at him. Of course, he hadn’t attempted to tax it by walking from his house to the village, but this was a start.
“It is true, nonetheless.” Jensen’s grin was positively giddy. “And if it’s due to this woman, you owe it to yourself to pursue a relationship beyond the flirting and the chase you already enjoy.”
“What sort of relationship?” His chest tightened, as dread once more reared its head and his thoughts circled back.
“Courtship, with a mind to marriage.”
He made certain his expression showed no reaction as he moved to the bureau and collected a pair of gray kid gloves. “I never mentioned marriage, and quite frankly, I don’t know if I can do that again.”
Jensen shrugged. “However, the man that you are, one of dedication, honor, and truth, wouldn’t want her in any other way. I think you know that.”
“It is really abominable how well you know me.” He pulled on his gloves with quick, effective movements.
“That is why you offered me this position.”
“Correction. You are my friend and former first mate. I never offered you a position in my household. You took that upon yourself.”
“Semantics.” Jensen gave him a salute and clicked his heels together. “Now, about a match between you and the mysterious Isabella?”
Peregrine rolled his eyes. The cheek of the man. He grabbed up a gray beaver felt top hat. “What if the lady doesn’t want forever?”
The valet’s grin widened. “Give her what she thinks she wants, and then go from there.”
Stuff and bother. He jammed the hat upon his head. “It’s a rather sticky wicket, I’m afraid.”
“Love always is.”
The urge to land his friend a facer that would remove that damned grin burned strong. But he scoffed instead. “I’m not in love with her.”
“Are you quite certain, Captain?” All the gaiety had fled from Jensen’s expression. In its place was the soberness he’d come to expect from his friend. When Peregrine did nothing except glower, he continued on his way to the door. “Sometimes that state sneaks up on a man when he’s looking for other things to occupy his time.”
“Don’t be an arse, Jensen. You know I’ve sworn off such folly.” He stalked to the door and then marched down the corridor toward the stairs.
“A man can always change his mind, especially if circumstances shift,” Jensen called after him.
Not for worlds would he give his valet the satisfaction of thinking he might be correct once more.
But the signs were there. He’d certainly started the fall.
By the time he arrived at the stream, Isabella was already there, looking like sin and scandal in rose muslin with green leaves and vines embroidered at the hem and bodice. Her skirts trailed over the ground around her, a book lay open on her lap. She wore her hair down today, the sides held back with jewel-encrusted combs that glittered in the sun. Peregrine’s heart gave a hard leap as soon as he spotted her, pretty like a wildflower amidst the sea of meadow grasses. The pale blue green water of the stream snaked through the meadow and lent charm and romance to the picture she made.
Damn it. Perhaps Jensen wasn’t off target. Bastard.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” he hailed with a genuine smile as he rode up to her location.
She tilted her chin, and when she gazed at him, a becoming blush stained her cheeks. Appreciation shone in her expression, and a certain smug satisfaction rose in his chest. Her interest wasn’t manufactured. “I’m glad you’re finally here. Seems I’ve been waiting an age.”
“I apologize for my delay. Jensen engaged me in conversation.” He guided Ares to one side and then dismounted. There was no reason to secure the animal, for he wouldn’t wander far. “Enjoy the snack,” he murmured to the equine with a pat to the side of the horse’s neck.
Ares immediately lowered his head to a tuft of tall grass.
“I thought my company would be more pleasing than that of your friend’s,” Isabella teased with amusement dancing in her eyes. She gently closed her book—one of the poetry volumes from yesterday—and set it on the grass beside her where her bonnet and gloves rested.
“Oh, trust me, it is, but one doesn’t simply ignore Jensen.” Since the sun was hot, Peregrine removed his hat. He tossed it in the direction of her book. His gloves soon followed. Convention no longer mattered, for the kisses they’d shared had seen to that, as did the clandestine nature to their meetings. “Have you found a favorite poem?”
“Not yet, but I can see why you like Keats.” The glance she sent him definitely said “come hither.” She patted the grass on her other side. “Will you sit beside me?”
He glanced about the immediate area. “Since the sun is hot, I’d prefer to recline beneath the oak tree there.” With his chin, he indicated the tree with the wide trunk. “Why don’t you come sit beside me?” When he’d settled himself on the sweet-smelling grass with his back against th
e tree, he grinned at her. “The shade is most welcome.”
Isabella gave him an answering grin, but she relocated, folding her legs beneath her and spreading her skirts over them. “Tell me your story.”
“You don’t waste time with pleasantries, do you?” Peregrine chuckled, for the longer he was around her, the more he came to like her.
“There is no point in small talk.” She laid her hands in her lap. The silver bracelet around her slim wrist sparkled. “I’d rather have that time for other things while I’m in your company.”
“Ah.” He leaned slightly over and drew his knuckles along the side of her face. “In this you and I are of one accord.” Retreating, he stretched his legs out before him, crossing them at the ankle. If he continued to touch her, he wouldn’t stop. “How to begin?”
“When confessing or relaying something unpleasant, it’s best to just plunge in, don’t you think?” Her indigo eyes encouraged while her lips, almost the same hue as her skirts, distracted.
“Quite.” With a glance at Ares, he began. “Four years ago, I married the woman who I thought was the love of my life.”
“She wasn’t?” Concern clouded the amazing depths of her eyes.
“No.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “We had enjoyed a quick courtship then married due to the advancement of my naval career.” The gentle breeze played with her long tresses, teasing him. He glanced away, fixating on the horizon, putting himself into the past. “I was scheduled to ship out a few months after we’d wed, and the marriage, I thought, had a fighting chance. On the morning that I left, we each pledged to write.”
“Oh, Peregrine.” Isabella laid a hand on his arm, and the warmth of her competed with the sun. “She lied, didn’t she?”
“In retrospect, yes she did. In fact, I’m not certain, but she lied all along, though why will always remain a mystery.” It was something that had haunted him early on, but eventually he’d grown past it. He caught up her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. Once he’d placed a fleeting kiss to the back of her hand, he released her. “So, I went on my mission for the Crown. I’d just advanced to the rank of captain, and this mission was a test of my skill, of the trust the upper brass had in me. I’d looked forward to that mission for a long time.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s quite an honor.”
“Indeed.” Ah, to return to that life. Would he have eventually attained the rank of admiral? Well, it didn’t matter now.
“How long were you away?”
“Six months.” His mind hurtled back to that time, when he couldn’t wait to return to England, to his wife, and take up where they’d left off, perhaps give thought to starting a family.
“And she didn’t write during that time.” Again, Isabella laid her hand on his arm and he didn’t disengage her, for her touch provided a measure of comfort.
“No.” Again, the muscle worked in his jaw. How could he have been so stupid? How could he not have read the signs that had no doubt been there all the time?
Isabella scooted slightly closer. “Did you write to her?”
“Yes, and I mailed those damn letters off whenever I was able. Not that it made a blessed bit of difference.”
“Why?”
“When I came home, I found the letters unopened, stacked up in chronological order and tied neatly with a red satin ribbon.” The bitterness in his voice reached even his ears, and he hated himself that that time in his life could still affect him.
She squeezed his forearm. “What happened?”
“My wife didn’t believe I’d return? Wasn’t really in love with me?” He shrugged. “I never was afforded the opportunity to ask those questions.”
Isabella gasped. “No wonder you’re so bitter. You were left hanging.”
“Essentially, yes.” It was quaint, this having someone to talk to and understand. Jensen was nice, but there wasn’t the limpid knowing in his eyes like with her. He took a deep breath and shook his head in the attempt at clearing his mind. “In any event, she ran off with one of my best friends. I’d always wondered why she was so keen to include him in outings or gatherings we’d had. But before I could initiate the very expensive divorce proceedings, she and her lover perished in a carriage accident. Big pile up near Covent Gardens one night when the fog was thick.”
“That’s a terrible story.” Her hand on his arm trembled. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, it goes one step further, I’m afraid.”
“How so?”
Peregrine snorted. “I had the distinct dishonor of identifying her remains as well as those of my former best friend.”
She slid her hand down and then clasped his hand, threading their fingers together. “I’m so sorry. They both betrayed you, your trust, and there’s no excuse for that.”
“While I agree, it is life, Isabella. It cannot always be happy.” He shrugged, but the pressure of her fingers on his imparted warmth through him. “And that is why I’m leery of females and their intentions. Why I don’t trust them. Why I—”
“—need something—someone—different.” She released his hand, and before he could voice a protest, she moved, straddled his waist, her skirts bunched between them, her hands on his shoulders.
“Perhaps.” Having her this close made his senses spin. Her weight was pleasant and the scent of orange blossoms blended seamlessly with the clover in the meadow. Almost of their own accord, he slid his hands up her legs, the satin rippling beneath his palms, until he gripped her hips.
“People are… disappointing at times, but they’re not the same.” She held his gaze with hers. “Don’t make the mistake of painting us all with the same brush. I certainly have learned not to in the last week or so.”
“Aye, I am coming to believe that I have too.” How was it possible that his life had evolved so much in such a short time span?
“Good.” Isabella kissed him, her overture tentative at first then with more heat.
“Ah, what are you doing to me?” he murmured against her lips as he pulled her flush to him.
“Trying to seduce you, of course, but you aren’t making it easy, Captain,” came her saucy reply and a nip to his bottom lip.
“My apologies. Let me attend you now.” And he kissed her back with enough passion that they were both quickly breathless. “Perhaps you’ve graduated to the next step.” When she looked at him with desire in her eyes and her lips glossy from their kisses, some of his control slipped. He hooked a finger beneath the bodice of her gown, and with a slight tug, he freed her breasts from the fabric.
“Peregrine?” The trace of anxiety in her voice betrayed her inexperience, and that only served to fan the flames of his own need.
He would be her first, and she would always remember their time together. “Hush.” Dipping his head, he took one of the pebbled pink tips into his mouth.
A sigh mixed with a moan sailed from her throat. She tightened her fingers on his shoulders. When he continued to tease the tip with tongue and teeth, he rolled the other nipple. Oh, she was exquisite while lost in pleasure. The little sounds she made went straight to his length, which hardened and his stones drew tight to his body. Every time she writhed on his lap, the situation grew more intense. If he wasn’t careful, he’d spend, and that would be quite embarrassing. But the wonder, the blatant need in her eyes captivated him.
The remainder of the wall around his heart came tumbling down. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but this woman had begun the healing of that organ. In fact, it was almost as if she’d injected new hope into it.
Again he claimed her lips, made love to her mouth as if he’d never see her again. She returned in kind, and then it was him who was lost. In that one moment, he made his decision.
“Isabella.” He pulled away only as far as to rest his forehead on hers. “Yes.”
An adorable frown took hold of her lips. “Yes what?” The flush of desire stained her chest, her cheeks, and he wanted to kiss her all over again, perhaps bring her to r
elease with his fingers if she’d let him.
A shudder of anticipation ripped up his spine. What would she look like while gripped in bliss? “Yes, I’ll be your scandal. I’ll have an affair with you.”
“How marvelous!” She threw her arms about his shoulders and kissed him with every part of her body pressed to his.
Peregrine crushed her in his arms, returning her kisses as if they were the only two people in the world.
Different was exactly what he needed, and perhaps it was what she’d want too, if fortune was favorable.
Chapter Thirteen
June 8, 1818
Isabella jumped at every sound. Each beat of her heart counted down the time. The creaks of the house settling in the night had her nerves on edge.
How could she survive waiting the few hours until midnight?
Needing something to do, she sat on the edge of her bed then she crowded close to a single, lit candle. She withdrew the note from beneath her pillow.
Yesterday, she’d set Molly over to Peregrine’s house with a time and place written on a piece of stationery and sealed in an envelope. The maid didn’t know what the missive said, and Isabella hadn’t told her, for she’d wished this to remain her secret for a while more—something of her own.
The assignation between her and the captain would need to wait, for she’d had an obligation to attend an event at Squire Brown’s with her parents and she couldn’t beg off without calling undue attention to herself. But she was anxious to begin her life’s greatest adventure.
Once she’d returned home, Molly had given her the captain’s reply with questions in her eyes. Isabella had taken the note and dismissed the maid, the sealed envelope clutched tightly in her hand. Of course, she’d already read it a handful of times since the delivery, but she read in once more merely to convince herself the folly she’d hoped for was finally happening.
That it was real and what she wanted.
Dear Isabella,
I will indeed meet you in the heart of the maze at midnight on the morrow. Until then, think naughty thoughts and dream of scandal.
Lady Isabella's Splendid Folly: a Fortune's of Fate story (Fortunes of Fate Book 7) Page 13
