‘Are you feeling quite the thing, Louisa dear?’ Miss Daphne asked, laying her hand on Louisa’s arm. ‘Rupert and I had a discussion about it this afternoon. You have an admirer in my nephew.’
Louisa squeezed Miss Daphne’s hand. Life would be much simpler if she had been attracted to Lord Furniss, but she was not. ‘What shall the evening’s entertainment be?’
‘Dancing,’ Miss Daphne declared. ‘I have a dislike of parlour games.’
‘Dancing?’ Louisa stared at Miss Daphne. She had expected something far more sedate. ‘But you gave up dancing after the last Christmas ball at Hotel Trasemeno. You were laid up for a week with aching joints.’
‘Oh, you will know all the sophisticated dances, rather than us countrified folk, having been on the Continent,’ the vicar’s wife said with a clap of her hands. ‘I have been simply longing to learn some new dances.’
‘Miss Sibson does,’ Miss Daphne declared. ‘You must ask her. She rarely dances, but when she does it is with great skill.’
‘I would be willing to teach you one or two if you wished,’ Louisa said, seeing the woman’s eager face. ‘They are very simple to learn.’
‘You know, I was simply terrified when Lord Chesterholm invited us,’ the vicar’s wife confided in an undertone to Louisa. ‘And then when I saw you, Miss Sibson, in all your glory and sophistication, I thought what could we possibly have in common, but you have put my mind quite at ease.’
‘Sophisticated, me?’ Louisa stared at the vicar’s wife. ‘I have never considered myself particularly sophisticated.’
‘But you have travelled the world and I have never been out of Northumberland.’ The vicar’s wife gave a sigh. ‘I do so love dancing. About these new steps…’
‘Yes, please, Miss Sibson. I am so pleased Mrs Merrick worked up the courage to ask,’ Miss Blandish said. ‘I am always longing to learn more steps.’
‘I would be delighted to show you a few before the gentlemen return,’ Louisa said with a smile. ‘Country dancing it is.’
‘I shall play the spinet and Nella Blandish may turn the pages of the music. I dare say these old fingers recall more country dances and quadrilles than you consider possible.’
Nella Blandish stood up a little straighter, beaming while everyone else made approving noises. Louisa fought the urge not to laugh. Here she had been terrified of them and they were thinking that she was terrifyingly sophisticated.
‘The servants had best move the furniture, then.’
By the time the gentlemen entered the room, the sofas and chairs had been moved against the wall and the Turkey carpet rolled up. Louisa had shown the ladies a few of the dances that were all the rage in Sorrento, and they had agreed on a programme.
‘It appears tonight’s entertainment is settled,’ Jonathon said, coming into the room. ‘Did you have a hand in it, Miss Sibson?’
‘Miss Sibson objected most vigorously, but my sister and Mrs Merrick insisted as Miss Sibson has lived abroad. And then Miss Sibson relented and has been teaching everyone to dance.’ Miss Nella made a little curtsy to the gentlemen. The corner of Jonathon’s mouth twitched and his eyes seemed to say—I told you so. ‘And I am to stay up and turn the pages.’
‘As long as you are quiet and lady-like,’ Mrs Blandish said with a resigned shudder. ‘I shall have to discover a new governess when we return to London.’
Nella gave a theatrical sigh and clapped her hands over her mouth. Louisa hid her smile behind her hand, but she caught Jonathon’s eye. Then the laugh bubbled up inside her and escaped. The entire company followed suit. A feeling of belonging swamped Louisa.
‘Miss Sibson, you will do me the honour of being my partner for the first dance,’ Lord Furniss said, as the laughter subsided. ‘The memory of dancing with you in Sorrento has sustained me for many months.’
‘With words like that, how could I refuse?’ Louisa put her hand in his.
As the first figure started and they linked hands, Lord Furniss cleared his throat. ‘Miss Sibson, I hope you do not consider me impertinent but you have no one to guide you.’
‘I am used to making my own way in the world.’
‘You should be able to lean on someone. It is not right for a lady such as yourself—’
Louisa stepped heavily. Lord Furniss gave a muffled yelp. Her shoulder relaxed slightly. Crisis adverted. ‘Do excuse me, Lord Furniss. I missed a step.’
‘Do you understand what I wish to ask?’ he said in a low urgent tone.
‘You do me great honour, but this is hardly the time or place for such a conversation.’
‘When shall we speak elsewhere?’
‘The dance, Lord Furniss. We need to change partners. See, Miss Blandish waits.’
He went scarlet. ‘Yes, yes, of course. I am always getting my figures mixed.’
Louisa heaved a sigh of relief and turned towards her new partner.
‘What were you and Furniss discussing so intently?’ Jonathon’s hand closed about hers. Strong and masculine. A small pulse of energy jolted her.
‘We weren’t discussing anything of import.’
‘You missed a step.’ His eyes blazed green and his hand tightened about hers as if he was determined to keep her by his side.
‘I was concentrating on the conversation. He wished to go out in the garden.’
‘And you refused?’
‘I arranged the dancing. How could I leave?’ She willed him to believe her explanation. The last thing she wanted to confess to Jonathon was how she had been avoiding Lord Furniss’s proposal for the last few weeks.
A muscle jumped in his cheek and he entirely missed a turn in the dance. ‘Arranging assignations on a dance floor must be breaking a number of your rules, Louisa.’
‘Jealous?’
He gave a heart-melting smile. ‘Utterly.’
‘Jealousy is not a becoming trait, Lord Chesterholm, and I do know my rules.’
His hand tightened on hers and pulled her close. Their breath mingled. ‘Will you keep your much-vaunted independence? Will you accept his proposal? He intends to marry you.’
‘Why should I want to become the property of some man even if he has a title? Why should I change my course?’
‘Because he is The Man for you, rather than some abstract notion. And I do speak in the abstract, Miss Sibson.’ He inclined his head and one lock of hair flopped over his forehead. ‘Your servant, Miss Sibson. I believe your next partner awaits.’
He turned away and left her in front of the vicar. Louisa rapidly attempted to compose herself. The Man indeed.
* * *
‘I have finished cataloguing and cross-referencing the cameos,’ Louisa said going into Jonathon’s study with a sheaf of papers the next morning.
‘So quickly? I thought the jumbled mess would take you into next week.’ Jonathon stood up and came over to her, taking the papers from her outstretched hand and rapidly examining her notation. ‘You are tremendously efficient.’
‘It became easy once I understood your uncle’s system. It was remarkably similar to Miss Mattie’s.’ Louisa hid a yawn. There was the little point that she had not slept, but had used the cameos to keep her mind from wandering back to Jonathon and the way his hand had felt against her back.
‘That is curious.’
‘Perhaps they were too alike and stubborn. Never backing down and admitting they were wrong.’
‘Like someone else I could mention?’
Louisa took a deep breath. She had to seize the opportunity, admit her mistake and demonstrate she could. ‘I wish to apologise for saying those things about Arthur and Clarissa before supper last night. It was wrong of me to criticise without knowing the full truth.’
‘I accept your apology. You underestimated me, Louisa.’ Jonathon put his hands behind his back and his face offered no comfort. ‘You expect me to trust you, but offer nothing in return. Not even the scrap of thinking that I might want what is best for my son.’
‘S
hould I trust you?’
‘When I met you, I was determined for once in my miserable life to do everything properly, I even obtained this.’ He went over to his desk and handed her a piece of paper. ‘Read and learn what your distrust cost you.’
Louisa took the paper, being careful not to touch his hand. The words Special Licence and the date leapt out at her. He had done it. He had obtained one, even after their quarrel. And she had been positive that he had lied about his intention.
Louisa closed her eyes. The ticking of the mantelpiece clock sounded throughout the room. Her life could have been so different … if only … she had believed. ‘Why are you showing this to me now?’
‘Because you persist in believing in your self-righteous indignation, rather than accepting some of the blame.’
‘We both made mistakes. I was certain you went to London. They were the last words you shouted at me.’
Jonathon’s face became grim. ‘That year I never made it to London. I was seriously injured, Louisa, in an accident, the same accident I thought you had died in. You do not look for someone who has died. You might want to die, but if you can’t, you have to live.’
Louisa hugged her waist and her head began to pound.
How right Miss Daphne had been when she’d said that the saddest words were what might have been. But she could not deal with the ifs and onlys. Her past was unchanging. There was only her future spreading out bleakly in front of her.
She had once dreamed of a marriage to Jonathon, but he was right: she had never fully trusted him. Right now all she wanted to do was to curl up in a ball and cry.
‘You never answered my letters. Ever.’ The ribs of her fan dug into her tightly clenched fist. Didn’t he know how she had waited, hoping against hope that she was wrong and that he’d come for her? She remembered his grim face when he’d set off that morning, and how she had called out to him to write. His only answer had been a wave of his hand and it had nearly broken her heart.
‘You asked me why I didn’t come after you. I have told you. Now I ask you—why were you so ready to accept the lies? Why didn’t you demand to see me? Put your accusations to my face? They could not have stopped you.’
‘Because,’ she whispered, looking at her hands for a long time before glancing up at his intent face, ‘I was certain they were the truth. I was always worried that what we had would pass. The time we had together seemed too good to be true. And I could not bear to see indifference on your face.’
‘How little you thought of me then.’ His mouth held a bitter twist.
She longed to scream at him—yes, yes, his accusation was true. He had never given her cause to think otherwise—charming, but liable to give in to impulse before thought. In that respect, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe with her little helpful hints and comments about Louisa’s lack of standing and ability had been right—a marriage between them would never have worked. Louisa had thought the sun rose and set with him and could not cope when her hero showed his feet of clay.
Louisa moved swiftly, not giving herself time to think. She took the licence, intending to toss it on the fire. Jonathon’s hand clamped about her wrist, preventing her from moving. She twisted her arm, but he simply pulled her against his chest. Her body collided with his unyielding frame, hard, solid. The collision stunned her into inaction. All she could do was to stand there and breathe in his crisp masculine scent.
He twitched the paper from her nerveless fingers and slid it back into his pocket. The action released Louisa from her stupor.
‘Let me go.’ Louisa struggled against his grip. Each time she moved, each time her body collided with the hard planes of his, she became more aware of Jonathon as a man: how he breathed, the warmth of his body and the nearness of him. She spun slightly and regained a small measure of sanity.
‘Why?’
‘The best place for that licence is the fire. The people we were are dead. We can never go back to those people. We have both changed beyond recognition.’ Louisa tried to focus on the piece of paper rather than on the nearness of him.
‘No, it simply serves as a reminder of what could have been.’ He slid his fingers along her arm, tucked slightly on the sleeve of her gown, probing and sliding over her soft flesh. The nature of his touch changed and created ripples of warmth that cascaded through her body, weakening her resolve. ‘And we have not changed all that much. Trust me on this, Louisa, if nothing else.’
‘Trust you?’
‘Yes …’ his words were an enticing whisper ‘…trust me. Look at me, Louisa. Tell me what you see.’
Louisa glanced up into his sea-green eyes, eyes that reminded her of the sea around Sorrento on an autumn day. They stared at each other, chests heaving, close enough to touch, but not touching.
Louisa became aware of the way his fingers held her wrist, stroking its vulnerable underside, gentle but firm. A simple touch, but one that she wanted to continue, needed to continue. A desperate hunger consumed her being. She needed more. She had been alone for so long. Surely she could take one step closer without giving into the desire.
‘Jonathon,’ she whispered, not knowing if it was a plea or a cry. She raised her face and swayed towards him, putting her hands out, encountering his chest. ‘You must … we must …’
He lowered his head and his mouth captured her lower lip and suckled. Her hand curled about his neck, holding him there, and she knew it was what she needed. It was the safe harbour of her dreams. A soft sigh emerged from her throat.
His arms came about and moulded her to his body; her curves met his hardened muscle. Heat surged through her, blocking out all coherent thought as she sank down into the maelstrom of his kiss.
‘Not here,’ Jonathon murmured, his breath tickling her ear and sending little tongues of fire throughout her body. ‘We need to go somewhere else. Staying here risks exposure, something I believe you wish to avoid.’
The words cut through the sensuous web he had spun and she pushed against the circle of his arms, stumbling backwards. He knew exactly what he was doing and she had fallen into his trap again. He was an expert seducer. That had not changed. She had come within a breath of becoming that wanton clinging creature again.
‘It stops now.’ Louisa concentrated on the swirling patterns of the carpet and tried to marshal her thoughts. Jonathon was in far more control than she was. What was worse, she wanted it to continue. She wanted to be in his arms and feel safe. ‘It may be that I have not changed that much, but I have learnt from my mistakes. I have finished paying for them.’
‘Have you?’
Louisa fought the rising tide of panic. She had made a huge mistake giving into the temptation of Jonathon’s touch. With the merest brush of a finger, he had transported her back four years, but she was not going to stay there or revisit that place.
‘I am more concerned about living in the now than trying to repair past mistakes,’ she said, putting finality in her voice.
‘Are you?’ His gaze assessed her and Louisa feared that he could see the longing in her soul. She rapidly transferred her gaze to the Turkey carpet. ‘Or are you simply afraid of living? Is that why you have your rules, because secretly you want to break them?’
Louisa balled her fist. Afraid of living? Her? How dare he! Simply because she chose not to give into temptation and desire! Because she chose the wise path rather than the risky one! ‘This concludes our business, Lord Chesterholm,’ Louisa said through clenched teeth. ‘We will not be alone again.’
‘You will find a reason, Louisa. It is merely a matter of time and my door is open to you.’
‘You know nothing about me.’
‘Teach me. I want to learn … everything about this new Louisa.’
Louisa drew a deep breath. ‘I stopped teaching when I ceased to be a governess, Lord Chesterholm.’
Chapter Eight
It is good of you to call, Lord Chesterholm.’
‘I came as soon as I heard,’ Jonathon said, ducking his head to avoid h
itting the top of the doorway as he went from where Matthew Sims shoed horses into the main part of the cottage. Thompson’s message that Annie Sims was desperate to speak to him and only him had arrived at precisely the right time. Kissing Louisa this morning had been a false step. No matter that she had fit into his arms exactly, it had been the wrong moment and she had had time to remember her blasted rules.
He had been about to go after her and haul her into bed, but then came this summons. Normally he’d send for Annie, but getting out of Chesterholm would give him a chance to regain control and perspective. The next time, he would not make the same mistake.
‘Thank you for coming so quickly, your lordship.’ Mrs Sims made a low curtsy as behind the kettle simmered on the open fire. ‘It is a great honour to have you here.’
‘I understand Annie wishes to say something.’
‘She didn’t mean no harm, your lordship,’ Mrs Sims began, twisting her apron. ‘She thought the man would marry her. He promised her everything.’
‘Hush, woman.’ Sims put a beefy hand on his wife’s arm. ‘His lordship knows that. Our Annie were led astray, like. I told you his lordship would call if Thompson delivered the message. His lordship is like that.’
‘Aye, you did, Mr Sims, that you did.’ The wife nodded.
‘Annie should have gone to the big house straight away like, once we realised but she was frightened. Doesn’t want anyone to think bad of her.’
‘She is back amongst her family. She is safe now.’ Jonathon frowned. What had Annie neglected to tell Thompson when he had interviewed her in Newcastle? Somehow he was missing a vital clue as to what had happened. ‘I gave you my word and I did what I could to bring her home unharmed.’
‘That’s the point. He was a bad ‘un, her fellow. A right slubberdegullion if ever I saw one. Mrs Sims’s sister might have had her head turned, but not me. I knew he was a wrong ‘un the moment I clapped eyes on him.’ The large man twisted his cap. ‘Annie! Annie! Come show his lordship what you showed your mam. Tell the truth and shame the devil!’
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