“You could never be a burden to me,” she told him, stroking his back. “I only wish I could slay your demons for you.”
He caressed her hair, bestowing a kiss upon her head. “Dear girl. I know you would if you could. What did I do to deserve you?”
She smiled and pressed an answering kiss to his lightly haired chest. “You found a reserved miss in the library and didn’t mind that she wore spectacles and talked far too much about books.”
“Not to mention that the miss in question crushed her spectacles beneath her sweet bottom.” He tipped up her chin and grinned down at her, the heaviness that had settled between them dissipating.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “It is exceedingly unfair of you to keep reminding me about my appalling lack of grace.”
Jesse gave a soft chuckle. “I expect I’ll be reminding you of it for years to come.”
Bella’s heart leapt at his words. Did he mean to say he would be in her life for years to come? She was afraid to ask, afraid to hope for too much. Instead, she asked him the question that had been haunting her. “Where are you off to after the house party’s end? Surely not back to America?”
“I’m afraid you’ll not be rid of me so easily,” he teased. “I haven’t been back to America in years and don’t feel much of a need to return.”
As answers went, it wasn’t a commitment, but it was still promising. A spear of hope went through her. “Does that mean I shall see you again?”
His dimple reappeared. “Of course, darling. I’ll need to give you a proper courtship now.”
She blinked at him, utterly confounded. “You will?”
“You didn’t think I would compromise the innocent sister of my best friend and simply walk away?” He raised a brow. “Bella?”
Bella pursed her lips, searching for an answer that wouldn’t offend him. She wasn’t certain what she’d imagined. But she certainly hadn’t anticipated a proposal. Not that he had proposed, but he’d implied as much.
“You did think I’d compromise you and then leave,” he said, but there was no heat in his voice. “You won’t be rid of me that easily. I’m honored, my darling, that you chose me.” He kissed her soundly. “Now I must go.”
She nodded, rising to her toes to give him another kiss. She truly didn’t want him to leave, not after sharing the most incredible experience of her life. But she knew he was right. “Shall I see you in the morning?”
“You shall.” His dimple was in full force as he shrugged into his shirt and coat before slipping quietly out the door.
After he had gone, his words of the other day returned to her. My little romantic, I’m afraid I don’t even believe in love. For Bella, it was an ominous pronouncement indeed. Perhaps he had changed his mind. A troubling inner voice warned her that it was likely he had not. Could she marry a man who didn’t believe in love? Would their passion be enough?
Mind weighed down with heavy thoughts, Bella gave up trying to go to sleep. She spent the remainder of the night attempting to read her book, her mind wandering from the plot with each turn of the page.
Chapter Seven
By noon the next day, Bella was miserably gazing out the same carriage window as a fortnight earlier, watching the countryside trickle by her. She was certain the young lady who had been en route to the house party would scarce recognize the woman leaving it. She had hoped to see Jesse Whitney from afar. Instead, she had shared his bed. He had taken her innocence. It seemed almost like a dream, except for the soreness between her legs. She could still smell the faint traces of his body on hers, and she savored it, couldn’t help herself.
She looked to her mother, guilt skewering her. She wondered if Maman could tell what she’d done. Likely not, she decided. Drat her conscience. She couldn’t help but feel badly to know that she had been circumventing her mother’s plans for her in such a bold way. If the proud lady had an inkling that Bella had been so much as seeing Jesse Whitney or speaking with him in private, there would be a most severe reckoning. But Bella had done far worse than that, and she was certain that if the dowager ever uncovered the depths of her sins, it would be her mother’s undoing.
Of course, she wasn’t the only de Vere who had been engaging in questionable behavior. Her brother had been openly courting scandal during the house party, and he showed no sign of returning to his former, respectable self. The dowager’s face was knotted up in a ferocious frown. Maman had discovered that he planned to take his paramour to Marleigh Manor and to jilt his proper fiancée. It spelled the end of his political aspirations as Prime Minister Gladstone’s protégé. However, where Bella had initially been unable to comprehend her brother’s defection, she now understood completely. Love changed everything.
“My son shall be the death of me,” her mother declared, breaking up Bella’s thoughts as she fanned herself.
“All will be well, Mother,” Bella reassured, even if she wasn’t entirely certain of the veracity of her own words. “Thornton will not bring us to ruin.”
The dowager took her by complete surprise, leaning across the tiny space of the carriage to slap Bella across the cheek with her kid glove. Despite the lack of muscle behind the gesture, it surely stung.
“How dare you?”
Bella pondered her next words with great care. Never before had she experienced violence at the hands of her mother. “Pray accept my apologies, Maman,” she said at length.
“Your brother had highest hopes,” her mother nearly spat at her. “Some years ago, he fancied himself in love with that slattern Lady Scarbrough, as she now calls herself. She wed the earl, rotten scoundrel though he may be, and now she has no claim upon my dear, innocent son.” The dowager shook her head in her passion, resembling nothing so much as an enraged sparrow. “She has no claim upon him!”
Bella stared at her mother, nearly aghast. She knew that Thornton’s less-than-circumspect flirtation with the married countess was setting the dowager at sixes and sevens. But she supposed she’d been far too concerned with the secret scandal she’d been brewing on her own to have a care.
Guilt threatened anew to swallow her. If Thornton’s actions caused her mother so much distress, there was no telling what havoc Bella’s would wreak upon her. She poked at the pleats of her traveling skirts. “Just so. I feel quite certain that my brother will see the error of his ways.”
Truly, Bella hadn’t the crumb of an idea as to what Thornton had in mind. She knew from her mother that he intended to bring the married countess to their home. Beyond that, her brother had not confided in her. They had shared heated words about Lady Scarbrough on more than one occasion, and it hurt her that they seemed forever at odds. Once, they had been quite close. Now it seemed years and experience had come between them.
“I do pray so every evening,” the dowager announced with a fervent air that was nearly disturbing. “I must say I am endlessly relieved to have invited Miss Cuthbert to be joining us at Marleigh Manor. Yes, I daresay she is possessed of just the winning winds we need to blow through this most difficult life of ours. Do you not think so, Bella dearest? Say you adore Miss Cuthbert as much as I do. You know her father is such a well-respected pillar of our society.” The dowager stomped her foot, her face screwed again into displeasure. “It is not right that the marquis should have been so close to glory, darling Arabella. It is most unfair indeed that we shall never see your brother reach his true aspirations if this awful person is to continue on in his life. Surely you must see the indisparity of it all?”
Bella cleared her throat. “I do believe you mean to say disparity, madam.”
“Precisely what I said.” The dowager sniffed and then rested her head against the bobbing carriage, closing her eyes. “Now it is merely time that we must rest. Do go to sleep, my dear girl. I find I am desperately fatigued.”
“Sleep well, Maman.” Bella looked at her mother, already near to snoring state. It was just as well, she reasoned. Better her mother never find out the truth of what she had done,
which was far more unforgivable than what her brother had done before her.
She gulped, pressing her face against the glass. All she could hope was that Jesse would do as he promised and meet her at Marleigh Manor. If he didn’t, Bella knew not what she would do.
Back in Marleigh Manor, Bella stretched from the familiar comforts of her old bed. It had been some time since she’d been enveloped in its confines. Odd indeed, she supposed, but somehow welcome nonetheless. She was actually pleased to be back in her home, romping about the estate in which she’d grown up. But she was having difficulty truly enjoying it, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Jesse.
An entire day had come to pass since her arrival at the manor and yet she still hadn’t heard if he had arrived. She yawned and reached for the bell pull, hoping that Smith would answer the question she’d been longing to have answered without her having to ask it. Was Jesse here as he’d promised? Nearly two days had passed since they had made love. She had been left with no one to ask if he’d arrived save Smith. But while she adored Smith, she’d been terrified that her dear maid might suspect something untoward had happened. She had to admit that it was most likely that he had followed her to Marleigh Manor as promised, but she was terribly afraid that he hadn’t.
In truth, Bella didn’t know what she would do, how she would react, if he had disappeared. It was her greatest fear. After all, back at Wilton House, she hadn’t been able to have a private word with him as they had planned. Although they’d seen one another at breakfast, the time for the party to disperse had been upon them. Her mother was in fine dudgeon, determined to return to Marleigh Manor as soon as possible. Bella had been left with no choice save to follow the dowager. To have attempted to remain would have been utter foolishness.
Smith burst into her chamber then, all smiles and bustle as was her wont. “Good morning to you, my lady, and what a glorious day it appears to be, back here in Marleigh Manor. I can’t say as for you, but I’ve missed it dearly. I do so love the lake and the trees. Wilton House was dashing indeed, but Marleigh Manor is where I shall always consider home.”
Her brand of enthusiasm was quite infectious.
Bella smiled. “Good morning to you as well.” She paused for a moment, trying her best to avoid being transparent. “I do so miss the excitement of having a house party all about us. Tell me, Smith, do we have any guests?”
“Yes, my lady,” Smith concurred, busying herself with preparing Bella’s morning toilette. “We have Lady Scarbrough and her sisters fresh from the house party, along with the American Mr. Whitney and your cousin, Lord Fordham. We also have Miss Honoria Cuthbert and her maiden aunt as visitors of the dowager.”
She nearly sighed with relief. Jesse was here. Blast the rest of them. She couldn’t care for their scandals and troubles now. The man she loved was here. He had followed her, coming just as he’d promised. Her heart was reassured. All would fall into place. It had to now. Didn’t it?
The dowager was most displeased. Nothing ruined her disposition more than the failure of someone in her coterie to live up to her exacting standards. First, her only son—once the light of the Liberal Party—had lost his head over a trollop. Now it appeared to her that her only daughter was going similarly mad.
She sighed from her very bones, unbearably weary for a woman of her years. “Hollins,” she called out to her maid who was across the chamber readying her toilette. “Do come here at once.”
Her loyal lady’s maid hastily appeared at her side. Truly, the woman was a godsend, servant or no, and she’d been a retainer for twenty years. No maids had ever lasted as long in her employ, and she dared say they never would again. She hoped Hollins outlived her, else she’d be lost.
“How may I be of service to you, my lady?” her maid queried, ever eager to perform her duties.
She frowned, phrasing her question with delicacy. “What do you know of that American fellow, Mr. Whitney? I’m sure you must have overheard some belowstairs tales by now.”
“I know only that he doesn’t keep his own man,” Hollins replied. “Aside from that, I suppose no one has said aught.”
“He hasn’t his own manservant?” The dowager sniffed. “How positively horrid. We shall have to put it down to those beastly American customs, no doubt.”
An idea began forming in her mind then, one that was so wicked she almost thought she couldn’t manage the carrying out of it. But then she thought again of the way her silly chit of a daughter seemed to forever be finding mischief. She was meant to have a coronet. The Duke of Devonshire was the man the dowager had hand-picked for Bella. No tawdry American devoid of manners was going to usurp the duke’s place as her husband. Why, the man had no knowledge of the proper way of things. It was an outrage to be sure.
“Hollins,” she began again, her tone contemplative, “your cousin is a footman here at Marleigh Manor, is he not? What is the fellow’s name? Palmer?”
“Yes, my lady. His name is Patterson, madam.”
“Just so.” She waved her hand at the difference in surname, slight as she saw it. “There is something I must have done, and no one must ever know. Do you understand?”
Comprehension dawned in Hollins’ rabbit-brown eyes. She was an intelligent woman or the dowager would not have stood for a moment of her company. She couldn’t abide by hen-witted servants.
“Of course, Lady Thornton.”
“I should think it would be a delightful opportunity for young Patterson to act as Mr. Whitney’s manservant. Naturally, I shall be requiring some assistance from Patterson. He must be very circumspect. You will make that clear to him, no doubt.”
Hollins nodded. “Yes, of course, my lady. I’ll be certain to make him aware of your requirements. I’ve no doubt he’ll be pleased by the change in circumstance.”
“Good.” The dowager smiled, quite happy with herself. “Bring me the housekeeper. I’ll let her know I’ve hand-chosen a manservant for Mr. Whitney. It’s the least I can do for our guest.”
What the hell had he done?
It was the question that had been banging about his mind like a cow trapped in a burning barn ever since he’d risen the morning after making love to Bella. Jesse paced a length of the intricate Marleigh Manor gardens as he waited for Bella to appear, wondering for the hundredth time how he’d come to deflower his best friend’s sister. Whatever the inexplicable answer, he’d done the deed and now he needed to set the situation to rights, even if it meant saddling Bella with his demons forever.
He wished to God he’d thought more about her future than about how badly he wanted to sink inside her sweet body. She deserved far better than a drifting ex-soldier who couldn’t bear the mentioning of guns without turning into a frenzied lunatic. There was a reason he’d never settled with one woman in the last fifteen years. He was thirty-six years old, for Christ’s sake, and he still couldn’t face what he’d done as a young lad. He looked down at his hands, hands he’d used to club a man to death in Petersburg, hands he’d used to pull triggers and to raise a bayonet against his fellow countrymen at Gettysburg, at Sharpsburg and countless other places. Time traveled on, the guilt following steadily along.
Ah, Christ. His sweet, innocent Bella couldn’t begin to imagine the evil things he’d seen and done. He’d tried to rebuild himself, forge a new identity from the ashes. But the truth was he couldn’t escape the war completely, no matter how hard he tried. She was young and untouched by the vast cruelties life loved to deal. She said she loved him, but she didn’t know the sins he was capable of committing. Never had he been more ashamed of himself.
Yes, he was a selfish bastard of the highest degree. He wanted to bask in her love, lie in her tender embrace, to lose himself in her over and over again and pray she could make him whole once more. Part of him wanted to save her from himself, but he was keenly aware it was too late. Already, his child could have taken hold within her womb. The die was cast, as they said, and there was no help for it now. He had to wed her and someh
ow keep her from his madness as best he could.
He heaved a sigh and forced his mind to the matter at hand. Bella ought to be appearing any moment and it wouldn’t do for her to see him in such a state. He’d sent her a message at his earliest opportunity, needing to speak with her in private without being tempted to further ruin her. Not that the temptation didn’t remain, but he didn’t wish to dishonor her more than he already had by taking her without the bonds of marriage. She wasn’t the sort of woman to be trifled with, that much was certain. He couldn’t afford to make love to her again.
He suppressed a groan as he turned on his heel to crunch back in the direction he’d just come from. The thought of making love to Bella had him stiffer than the statue of Poseidon he’d passed on his way into the gardens. A mere day had intervened since he’d seen her the previous morning, but already it seemed a chasm of time separated them. They had to decide upon a mutually agreeable course of action.
Guilt skewered him yet again.
He was having a devil of a time figuring out precisely how he was going to tell his old friend that he wanted to court his sister. One thing was certain. There would be no more late-night visits to her chamber until they were wed, regardless of how tempting the prospect may be. He could not—nay, would not—run the risk.
She was an innocent. Had been an innocent, at any rate. His gut couldn’t have been swirling with more anxiety if he’d been about to face a wall of Federal sharpshooters. He wouldn’t be surprised if Thornton wanted to beat him to a pulp. Very likely, he deserved to be beaten. He was no gentleman, though he’d endeavored to hide himself in business and properties, money and parties, and women who didn’t ask questions about the times he woke sweating and screaming out into the night.
A flurry of skirts and color caught his attention. Bella rounded the bend in a hurry, her beautiful face flushed with unabashed delight. She was, in a simple word, ravishing. He had scarcely enough time to note she wore a navy-and-cream-striped dress with a fall of hand-dyed ecru lace at her décolletage. Her black curls had been piled into an artful arrangement beneath a dashing chipped-straw hat that knocked him in the nose as she threw herself into his arms. He caught her around her tiny waist, holding her petite body against his for a few moments longer than necessary before returning her to the ground. He recalled every creamy expanse of her lush body beneath the layers of her walking dress, undergarments, and stiff corset.
Heart’s Temptation Books 1–3 Page 40
