by Mary Balogh
He continued to smile, and reached out with his hand to cover hers as it rested on the stile. “I admire you, Miss Purnell,” he said. “You can advise me to pray while looking me straight in the eye. And I would wager that you are not even blushing. Most of us go faithfully to church every Sunday and yet are far too shy to mention any part of our religion outside that hour. Are we not strange?”
“Yes,” she said. “Religion has always been so much a part of my everyday life that I did not realize that I would embarrass you by what I said. I believe I am the strange one, though. I have realized during the past few weeks that I am strange.”
“No,” he said, “just different. I like you, Miss Purnell. You are not at all silly or frivolous or flirtatious as other females are.”
“Oh, dear.” She smiled fleetingly. “I am not sure that that is a compliment.”
His hand closed over hers and lifted it to his lips. “It was meant as a compliment,” he said. “Will you marry me, Miss Purnell? I shall buy a commission in the army and fight for England and for you. You will be my inspiration, for you are a strong person. I would be proud to fight and have you to come home to. Will you? Please say yes.”
He looked down eagerly into her dark eyes, shaded by the night around them.
“I am betrothed to your brother,” she said calmly.
“But you will not be happy with him,” he said. “With him you will never be quite sure that your marriage is not one of convenience only. You do feel that doubt already, do you not? With me you need not feel that way. I would be proud to have you as my wife.”
She turned away from the stile to face him. Her hand was still in his. “I cannot believe you would continue to feel so,” she said, her voice more agitated than it had been, “although you may believe so at this moment. But if you only knew how you tempt me. If only you knew how very weary I feel and how unsure of myself today.” She leaned tensely closer to him. “Will you—?”
But she was not to complete the request, whatever it was to have been. Both of them became aware of voices approaching from the other side of the stile. Both had been unaware of James Purnell and Howard Courtney coming toward them across the farmyard.
Lord Eden, releasing Alexandra’s hand and turning toward the approaching pair, was surprised to hear Purnell laughing and talking amiably to his companion before he became aware of them standing at the stile.
“Let me guess,” Lord Eden said, raising his voice. “You have been showing Mr. Purnell your prize boar, Courtney. And you are supposed to be inside dancing with the ladies.”
Howard Courtney was grinning as he came up to the stile. “Your guess is right, your lordship,” he said. “And as I saw it, there were not enough ladies for everyone to dance with inside anyway. That will be Mama’s and Susan’s idea of a successful dance.”
“Mr. Courtney put fresh straw on the ground for me to stand on and would not let me touch a single animal, Alex,” James Purnell said, unaccustomed amusement in his voice. “With luck, no one will know I have been in the barn and the pig pen.” He exchanged a grin with his sister under the interested gaze of Lord Eden. “Is there a waltz soon? Will you dance with me?”
“I am engaged to dance the next waltz with Lord Amberley,” she said. She turned back to Lord Eden. “Thank you for bringing me outside for some fresh air, my lord. Shall we go in again?”
He offered his arm and leaned close to her ear as the other two men moved on ahead of them. “I shall take you up onto the cliffs tomorrow,” he said. “We will talk further.”
LORD AMBERLEY WAS RELIEVED TO FIND THAT his betrothed was being so well received in the neighborhood. He had expected as much, of course, but it was gratifying to see it happen, and on this of all days. The ladies had all talked to Alexandra. Most of the gentlemen had danced with her, and those who had not already done so had reserved sets with her later in the evening, or at least made themselves pleasant to her.
He thought she was pleased. At least he thought she had recovered some of her composure. He would not have expected her still to look distraught, of course, but he would have known if she was still upset. Her back would have been very straight, her chin high, her manner quite aloof. As it was, she smiled and talked. She looked rather lovely, dressed in blue.
And the time had come for his waltz. He had hesitated about reserving it with her. She would undoubtedly be happier away from him for the rest of the day at least. But it was their first appearance in public among his neighbors. They must be seen together.
He bowed to Lady Lampman and smiled at Alexandra, with whom she spoke. “This is my waltz, I believe, my dear,” he said. “Are you enjoying the evening, Lady Lampman?”
“Oh, exceedingly,” she replied, her eyes searching the room for her husband, who was talking to a group of men in the doorway. “It is pleasant to have more company once again, my lord, now that you have returned to Amberley.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the compliment and reached out a hand for Alexandra’s. “Miss Stanhope and Colin are about to begin again,” he said. “They are to be greatly commended for providing such spirited music. Shall we give them our compliments at the end of the dance, Alex?”
“Yes,” she said. He noticed that she did not look up into his face.
They danced in silence for a while, the thumping of the pianoforte and the scraping of the violin, the high-spirited voices and giggles of the young, and the rumbling conversations of the not-so-young closing in about them.
Lord Amberley felt the smallness of his partner’s waist beneath his hand and looked down at the shining smoothness of her hair. He watched her dark lashes fan her cheeks. And he marveled anew at the passion he had unleashed in her that afternoon. It had been so totally unexpected.
Had he been better prepared, perhaps he could have guarded against what had happened. As it was, he had kissed her even more tentatively than he had the day before, and noted that she neither flinched nor withdrew. He had wanted more. He had wanted to put his arms around her and kiss her somewhat more lingeringly. He had asked her with his eyes if he might. And she had signaled yes.
And then he had simply lost his head. He was ashamed to remember now how the unexpected touch of her very shapely body against his full length had inflamed him, and how he had used his expertise to open and invade her mouth, and to get his hands beneath her clothing. He had not touched her breasts only because she had had them pressed against him.
He had behaved like a boy with his first woman. Within a very few minutes he had allowed himself to become fully aroused, so that his only thought before she panicked had been to lay her down, lift her skirt, and find his ease in her.
He had been totally, shamefully selfish. It was true that she had been hot and aroused in his arms, as ready as he for full intimacy until she had taken fright. But he had known that she was a total innocent, that his kiss the day before had doubtless been her first. He had had no business rushing her into such a very hot and raw embrace even though she had led the way. She had not known where they were going. He had.
He was deeply ashamed of himself. And he could not blame her for the things she had said afterward. He only hoped, for her sake, that he could salvage their betrothal.
“I would have to say you are the belle of the ball, Alex,” he said. “I am glad I had the forethought to reserve this dance at the start of the evening.”
“I like your neighbors,” she said. “They are kind people.”
“Yes,” he said, “I am fortunate. I would like to take you to meet some of the other people of the neighborhood, Alex. Some of my laborers. Most of them live in the village. I know they will be agog to meet you and talk to you. I have always maintained a close relationship with them. I refuse to see them as nonentities who do my work for me.”
“That will be pleasant,” she said.
“Tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“I have promised to ride out to the cliffs with Lord Eden,” she said.
&
nbsp; “Ah,” he said, “you will enjoy that, Alex. All the power of God is there. You will know what I mean when you get there. I must visit my people alone tomorrow then. I have not had a chance to visit most of the families since I returned from London. Perhaps you can accompany me some other day.”
“Yes, perhaps,” she said.
He felt disappointed. He had never looked for company in any of his self-imposed estate tasks, though both his mother and Madeline frequently visited his laborers, especially if there were any sickness or a birth among them. He wanted to take Alex. He wanted her to be interested in his life.
He looked down at her, hesitating, not knowing if he should refer to the afternoon or not.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked at last very quietly. “Have you recovered, Alex?”
“It was all my fault,” she said, looking hurriedly up at him and away again. “You did no more than I asked. I was foolish. You must think me very silly.”
“No,” he said, “definitely not that, Alex. Am I forgiven, then?”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she said. There was a short pause, during which she darted another look up at him. “I would rather pretend none of it happened. Please let us forget.”
“It is forgotten,” he said, bending his head closer to hers. “Your happiness and comfort are my only concern, Alex. Now and always.”
The music had stopped almost without their realizing the fact. Mr. Courtney suddenly clapped Lord Amberley on the shoulder at the same moment as his hearty voice boomed out at them.
“I was just saying to Mrs. Courtney,” he said, “how wonderful it is to see young love, my lord, if you will pardon me the familiarity. All the exertions of an evening of dancing, and still too intent on exchanging sweet nothings to hear the call to supper.” His hearty laughter was joined by that of those people still left in the room.
Lord Amberley smiled ruefully at Alexandra. “Shall we talk to Miss Stanhope and Colin while we may?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her smile somewhat strained.
LORD AMBERLEY WAS SITTING in the breakfast room the following morning, conversing with Sir Cedric and waiting for Alexandra to come down. He hoped to have time to show her the gallery and perhaps even the chapel before she went riding with Dominic and Madeline. Madeline had decided the night before to join the expedition to the cliffs, as had James Purnell.
Sir Cedric Harvey spent a month of each summer at Amberley Court and had done so for many years. He had been a close friend of the former earl and had kept up the friendship with his widow. He spent the months of the Season in London, as did she.
Lord Amberley often wondered why the two of them had not married. His mother was not yet fifty years old, and she was still a strikingly good-looking woman. Sir Cedric was no more than a year or two older. He was a widower of long standing, his wife having died of consumption after only three years of marriage. He was a distinguished-looking man, though his silver hair made him appear somewhat older than his years.
But they had never married or shown any signs of a romantic attachment, though they undoubtedly shared a firm friendship and an affection for each other. His mother, of course, had been deeply in love with his father and almost inconsolable in her grief for the first year or more after his death. Sir Cedric took with him wherever he went a miniature of the wife he had lost when she was barely twenty years old. Perhaps one loved like that only once in a lifetime, Lord Amberley reflected.
“Don’t let me keep you if you have business to attend to,” Sir Cedric said at last, noticing that his companion had finished his breakfast. “I shall wait for your mama and Lady Beckworth, as I have promised to accompany them into Abbotsford this morning. Ah, the idle life, Edmund. There is a great deal to be said in its favor.”
“No, you are not keeping me,” Lord Amberley said. “I am going to stay until Alex comes down in the hope that there will be time to take her to the gallery before she goes riding.”
“Oh, but Miss Purnell is in the music room,” Sir Cedric said. “I heard someone playing when I returned from an early-morning walk, and looked in to see who it was. She looked most self-conscious, so I withdrew immediately. I always know when someone prefers to be alone. And she did not even invite me to remain and sing!”
Lord Amberley laughed and rose to his feet. “I shall leave you then,” he said, “if you do not mind. Perhaps she will still be there.”
She was. He could hear the muted tones of the pianoforte from the hall. He hesitated outside the door for a moment before turning and going into the library instead. He did not wish to disturb her if she really did need some time to herself. But for all his wish not to eavesdrop, he found that the sounds of the instrument in the next room drew him to the door that adjoined the two rooms. He stood and listened, trying to identify the tune she played.
It was intricate, haunting. Indescribably sweet and romantic. Whatever it was, it was something he had never heard before. He could not even guess at the composer.
He knocked at the door when the music came to an end and opened it. She had risen to her feet already and was standing beside the pianoforte, the color high in her cheeks.
“I do beg your pardon,” she said. “Am I disturbing you?”
“What was it?” he asked. “I heard the end of what you were playing, Alex. It was beautiful. But I cannot identify it.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” she said, shrugging and looking embarrassed. “I was just letting out my feelings.”
He stared at her. “You mean that it was your own composition?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “It was nothing.”
“I was carried away by the beauty of it,” he said. “Have you composed other music too?”
“I play for myself when I am alone,” she said. “I really do not know what I play.”
“You mean you have never written any of it down?” he asked.
“No, I could not,” she said. “Words are difficult enough. I struggle to express in written words what my feelings are. I could not possibly do it with music.”
She was very uncomfortable. Her cheeks were still flushed. Her eyes were on his neckcloth. She was twisting her hands together.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I have told you that you may escape here and be alone. I did not purposely eavesdrop. I merely waited until you had finished before coming in to ask if you would like to see the gallery before you ride.”
“Is there time?” she asked.
He smiled. “Madeline is not the earliest of risers after a late night,” he said. “I would guess that we have plenty of time.”
“Then I would like to,” she said. “You have said that the room is your favorite?”
“Yes, in a way,” he said. “It contains all the family portraits. We were extremely fortunate that the old house did not have an impressive gallery. As a result, all the family portraits were kept in the town house and so escaped the fire.”
She took his arm and Lord Amberley looked down at her curiously. What more was there to discover about his betrothed? There was the outward disciplined, serious, dispassionate woman, beyond whom the world was not meant to see. At the start, despite that first encounter with her, he had assumed that there was nothing else. But he had discovered since, her beauty, her exuberance, her deep love of beauty, her creative talent, her passion. And yet he felt that he still did not know her.
He was still not comfortable with her, or she with him. And yet he was becoming more and more convinced that she was worth the challenge, that he had quite by accident won himself a priceless prize for a bride.
MADELINE WAS SITTING IN LONE state in the breakfast room when her twin found her there a little while later.
“Well, Sleeping Beauty!” he said. “You were too busy dreaming of officers and scarlet uniforms, I suppose, to think about waking up in good time for a mere ride.”
“Don’t tease at this hour of the morning, Dom,” she said. “You know I am not at my best until my brain
has been awake for at least an hour. Do I have to go on that dreadful ride?”
“Dreadful ride?” he said. “You have always liked the cliffs, Mad.”
“But I don’t like the company,” she said. “It really is not fair, Dom, that every time you decide to accompany Alexandra anywhere, I am expected to join you with Mr. Purnell.”
“Well, you must admit,” he said, “that I would never get anywhere with Miss Purnell if I were obliged to entertain the two of them together. And you have nothing better to do.”
“How do you know that?” she asked. “Captain Forbes and Lieutenant Jennings said they might call sometime today.”
Lord Eden grinned. “Ah, I might have guessed as much,” he said. “Which one are you in love with, Mad? Or are you in love with both?”
“Don’t be horrid!” she said. “And what about you, Dom? You seemed much taken with Susan last night. Is she replacing Miss Carstairs in your heart?”
His grin faded. “Be serious,” he said. “I am going to marry Miss Purnell, Mad. I asked her last night, and I don’t think she was going to say no. We were interrupted by Howard and her brother.”
“Oh, Dom!” she said. Her coffee cup clattered back into its saucer. “Are you still planning that? It is all wrong, you know. It seemed all very well a few days ago before she arrived. But can you not see the impossibility of it now? She is formally betrothed to Edmund. Everyone knows. She was presented to everyone here last night as his future bride. What would happen now if you were to take her away from him? Edmund would be the laughingstock, and you would be in disgrace. The scandal surrounding Alexandra would be redoubled. I doubt that Edmund would receive you ever again. And besides, Dom, you would be very unhappy married to Alexandra. She is not right for you.”
“There I think you are wrong,” Lord Eden said. “She is a very sensible and understanding female, Mad. And she is not near as sober as she seems to be on first acquaintance. I think it altogether possible that I will grow to love her.”
