She withdrew her hand. “Then you will need time to find the right person,” she said crisply.
He smiled. “I have found her. But I’m not sure what she thinks of me.”
“We hardly know each other.” She refused to tell him she loved him, madly and deeply. It was ridiculous for a woman of her years to fall in love at the drop of a hat, like a girl just out of the schoolroom. But this wasn’t infatuation. She’d admired and adored everything about him from that first day. And because she loved him, she would not marry him. She could not risk seeing the years go by and witness his disappointment.
“Mark, you want a son. Please don’t deny it.”
“I do hope for children. And who’s to say we won’t have them together?”
She looked away from him. “I was married for some years.”
“I’m aware of it, Eleanor. Your husband was unwell, was he not?”
“Gordon suffered from consumption. There seemed no reason why he wasn’t able to sire a child.”
“I see.”
“We consulted doctors and tried different things.” She tried not to think of those awful, passion quenching methods. “Nothing worked.” She firmed her resolve, straightening her shoulders. “There are many healthy young women this Season who will give you a brood of children.”
“No one can be sure of that, though, can they.” A sad expression darkened his eyes. “Sometimes things go wrong. Childbirth is dangerous.”
Eleanor forced herself not to reach out to him. “Yes,” she murmured. “I am so terribly sorry.”
“Eleanor.” He took her hand again and pressed a kiss to her palm, sending warmth and sensation flooding through her.
“Go, please Mark,” she said gently, removing her hand. “We will talk again soon, when you’ve had time to put things in perspective.”
“I see I shall have to be patient.” He rose. “I will attempt to locate Burton’s address and call again tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
The door closed, and Eleanor sank down into the sofa, suddenly exhausted. When Mark had time to reflect, he would see that the cost of marrying a woman approaching middle age was too high. But he was an honorable man. She must make it easy for him. With a heavy sigh, she rose to go to Nash. He required a bath, and afterward, she would read to him until he fell asleep. That would give her the opportunity to make sure he wasn’t too disturbed about today.
Eleanor climbed the stairs, as Mark’s passionate gaze filled with entreaty, appeared in her mind. A small moan escaped her lips. Life could be so cruel.
She paused on the landing. Georgina would be eager to hear how today went. It was a wonder she hadn’t appeared already. Hopefully, social engagements kept her and Hugh from home. If she told her sister that Mark had asked her to marry him, Georgina would urge her to do so, and Eleanor would have a battle on her hands she didn’t feel strong enough to fight. She felt more like a good cry.
*
It was after midnight when Mark pulled off his cravat, undid his two top buttons, and poured himself a brandy in his library. He’d had to endure a lengthy, sleep-inducing dinner at Carlton House, but now, maddeningly, sleep seemed far away. How might he convince Eleanor that they were right for each other? He could kick himself for the way he’d handled it.
Why hadn’t he kept a cool head and courted her in the proper manner? Would he then have had a better chance? He doubted it, for he had nothing with which to counter her argument. Eleanor was convinced she would not be the right wife for him. Did she just not want him and was too polite to tell him so? If that was the case, he would accept it without question, but the kiss told him far more than any words would do. And dammit, he wanted more of her kisses and a lot more besides. He wanted to wake to find her in his bed every morning for the rest of his life, God willing.
Fortunately, his inquiries tonight had been fruitful. He now knew that Burton’s home was Burton Green, in Coventry. He intended to visit him, and he wanted Eleanor to go with him. Together, they might bring this man up to snuff. Even if he didn’t want Nash, he might help the boy. Perhaps he had loved Annie in his way. Mark was prepared to give the man the benefit of the doubt. And if not, a little persuasion might work, if Burton feared the ton would hear of it. Traveling to Coventry with Eleanor served a dual purpose. It would remove her from societal influences while he convinced her to marry him.
The next afternoon, he joined Eleanor in the salon. It was a blustery day, the wind battering the branches of a tree about beyond the window. A footman had taken Nash to the park to fly a kite with the nanny and the duke’s heir.
Mark told Eleanor he had obtained Burton’s address.
“I will write to him.”
He frowned. “There was no response when Annie wrote to him. Burton needs to be confronted.”
“I don’t see that…”
He shook his head before she launched into what he suspected was her final rebuff. “Allow me to make a suggestion.”
She widened her eyes. “What?”
“We go to Coventry together. The two of us will be more persuasive. Let’s see what Burton has to say for himself.”
“I can’t just waltz off to the country with you. We would have to stay at inns. It would be sure to cause gossip.”
“Ah. And then you would be forced to marry me.”
She shook her head. “Well, that isn’t going to happen.”
He stared at her, exasperated. He wasn’t used to failure, and yet he undoubtedly was failing to convince her. “I can’t see what else is to be done, can you?”
“Let me try a letter first,” Eleanor said.
“The man won’t acknowledge it. He won’t want to put anything in writing and open himself up to blackmail.”
She frowned. “As I cannot go with you, we must take that chance.”
“So that’s it?” He studied her face, taking in each delicate feature, her mouth set in determined lines. “Am I never to know if you care for me?”
She put her hands to her cheeks. “Mark, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Why would you hurt me? Because the kiss was merely an enjoyable impulse which meant nothing? Would another man have done as well?”
She flushed crimson. “That’s a horrid thing to say! And I know you are deliberately goading me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I am no match for you. The consummate diplomat. You will continue until you get what you want from me.”
He gave her a soft look. “I would appreciate you giving it willingly.”
She sat up straighter. “There, you see? You’re still toying with me.”
“Not with your affections, Eleanor. Never that.” Frustrated with himself for yet again making a hash of it, he pushed back his hair with both hands. “It’s just that I am absolutely sure, that we are right for each other.” When she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, his blood deserted his brain and traveled to other more hopeful places.
She gazed down at her hands in her lap. “I do have feelings for you, Mark. I won’t deny it. But that isn’t enough, not when I cannot give you what you most desire.”
“You are what I desire,” he said, wishing to show her how much. “That I might have you for my wife has come to mean everything. What can be more important than that?” He nodded. “Ah. I see. You believe me to be fickle. That if a child does not come from our marriage, I shall blame you and turn against you. Hardly a flattering portrayal of me, is it?”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”
He laughed. “But you still like me a little, despite it?”
She folded her arms. “You won’t tease another word of response from me.”
He watched a smile curve up the corner of her mouth. “Not even if I tell you I have learned more about this fellow, Burton?”
She raised her golden eyebrows. “What?”
“He has inherited the baronetcy.”
“Oh. My goodness! Then
it seems he is Nash’s father.” She paused. “What do we do now?”
“We go to Coventry.”
“There must be something else we can do.”
He sensed she was weakening and pushed his advantage. “It’s simple. Marry me. We can go as man and wife.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh stop, please, Mark.”
“My love.” He stood and pulled her to her feet, his hands at her waist. “Say you will make me the happiest of men,” he murmured against her hair, breathing in the fragrant scent of roses.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. He felt her heart beating fast in rhythm with his own, and when she failed to push him away, allowed himself to hope.
He bent and lifted her chin, sliding a thumb over her lips. “Eleanor.” His voice low and husky, he lowered his head and sought her mouth, kissing her passionately, his fierce yearning for her deepening the kiss. When he drew away, she was gasping, her eyes darkened with need. So, he kissed her again, his arms tightening around her, drawing her slight frame hard against his body, showing her how much he wanted her. They were both breathing heavily while her fingers stroked over his nape and threaded through his hair.
“Say you will!” he demanded.
“Oh, Mark. Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
His mouth settled over hers again, tender now. He was all patience, he had what he wanted. It sang through him, making him feel younger and lighter than he had for years.
The door opened, and Lady Georgina entered. “My goodness,” she said with a pleased smile. “What is this?”
Eleanor turned and ran to her, hugging her. “Georgie, Mark and I are to be married.”
“How perfectly lovely, dearest,” Georgina murmured. “My congratulations, Lord Hayworth.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“You will need to make plans. I shall leave you alone while I go and inform Broadstairs. He will be as delighted as I am.”
When the door closed, they sank back onto the sofa, sitting close together. “I’ll arrange a special license from Doctor’s Commons,” he said. “We can be married soon afterward. Then we’ll travel to Coventry.”
“Nash, too?”
“Nash, too,” he said, wondering how he could bear to wait until they were wed, he wanted her so much. Extraordinary how a man with gray in his hair could act like an ardent youth. But there it was.
Chapter Eight
The three weeks passed quickly. Eleanor dealt with her impatience by improving Nash’s speech and manners. He learned quickly, and she promised to let him attend the wedding breakfast if he behaved well and was quiet. He showed little interest in their trip to Coventry. She understood why; what lay ahead was uncertain and unsettling for him.
As they played checkers together, the night before the wedding, Nash had casually asked if she and Mark would now be living together. She answered in the affirmative, but the boy said no more. It tore at her heart. If it had just been her, she would have assured Nash he would always be with her, but it was quite another thing to expect it of Mark. No gentleman would consider taking a farmer’s daughter’s illegitimate son as his own.
Still, as she stood being fitted for her wedding gown, her eagerness to become Mark’s wife was slightly dampened by the knowledge that Nash could be claimed by Burton. That they might come home without him. She should not have allowed herself to grow so fond of him. But there was never any rhyme or reason to who you loved. Her love for Mark was evidence of that.
They’d wished the wedding to be a small affair held at St. Georges in Hanover Square, but a duke’s sister-in-law and a renowned diplomat could not sneak away and be married quietly. The church was filled with important personages including several dukes, the king, and the prime minister. Her brother, John, Marquess of Strathairn, offered her his arm to escort her down the aisle. As they walked slowly to where Mark waited at the altar, she smiled at John’s wife, Sibella, who sat with their good friends, Guy, Baron Fortescue, and his wife Hetty.
Dressed in pink, and carrying roses, Georgina followed as maid of honor, while Eleanor’s wedding gown was of cream silk satin decorated with pearls, the headdress a circlet encrusted with pearls and diamonds with a short veil. Diamonds sparkled at her neck and ears.
John stepped away as Mark turned to smile at her, so handsome in black and white, his best man beside him. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, and then most of the wedding breakfast, including the amusing speeches held in the gleaming ballroom at Broadstairs Court which had been decorated with urns of hot house lilacs, tulips, and white roses.
And then on a swell of music, Mark took her in his arms for the wedding waltz, and the chatter and laughter around them faded.
“Your beauty eclipses every bride this Season,” he murmured, guiding her over the floor.
She didn’t of course. Eleanor met his loving gaze. He thought her beautiful, and that was all that mattered.
The other guests joined them on the dance floor, bright dresses and sparkling jewels swirling by. “I can’t wait to get you alone, Lady Hayworth,” he whispered in her ear.
Later, in her new bedchamber in Mark’s townhouse, her maid pulled the pins from Eleanor’s chignon before the mirror. She did think she looked her best. Getting married to one’s love was excellent for the complexion it seemed.
When she joined Mark in his bedchamber, he crossed to her in his green silk dressing gown and took her in his arms. “My love.” He buried his face in her hair. “I’ve longed to see your beautiful hair down over your shoulders.”
She slipped her arms around his slim waist and breathed his familiar scent. “It’s been a while, Mark, since I…” She was unsure of her thirty-six-year-old body. Her breasts were not quite as perky as they were at twenty. Would he find her attractive?
He smiled and took her hand and drew her over to the bed.
*
Mark propped his head in his hand and surveyed his wife. Eleanor slept beside him. She was his. He had the absurd urge to pound his chest or roar like some lion with a pride of one. He grinned and reached over to trace the curve of her jaw, wanting to wake her. Wanting her.
Her eyes slowly opened, slumberous, the golden lashes rose, and she smiled. His groin tightened. Just one look was all it took. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, darling.” She looped her arms round his neck and kissed him. “What shall we do today?”
“I rather thought we’d spend it here in bed.”
A grin tugged at her lips. “I should like that.” Then she frowned.
“Oh no,” he said, disappointed. “Have you promised to attend some charity function or other? Send your regrets. This is your honeymoon.”
“No, I should go to Nash. He will be missing me. He was so well behaved at the wedding breakfast.”
“Sweetheart, that boy means too much to you,” he said carefully, “I’m afraid he will break your heart.”
She sighed. “I have grown fond of him.”
“I have an answer to that problem.” It was time to voice something that had been on his mind.
“Oh?”
“I will adopt Nash.”
Her eyes widened. “You would consider it? When you have no idea who fathered him? It still may not be Burton.”
“I don’t care who his father is. I like Nash. He’s intelligent, brave, and has a good character. He’s a beautiful boy. What more can a father want of a son?”
“But Mark, he is not yours.”
“How many fathers among the ton are rearing children not of their loins?”
“That’s not quite the same thing.” She studied him. “Are you doing this for me? Or is it something you really want?” She sighed. “You know what a fuss it will cause.”
“Fusses tend to die down after a while,” he said, aware of how much she wanted to keep Nash with her.
“We should at least try to contact his father, don’t you think?” she asked. “Nash might blame us one day if we don’t.”
“Very well.” Mark threw off the bedcovers. “We shall set out for Coventry after breakfast.”
She raised her eyebrows as she slipped from the bed. “You are confident Burton won’t want him, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “He knew where to find him.”
“Yes. He did. Very well.” She came around the bed to kiss him. “I’ll go and get Nash ready.”
“We have plenty of time,” he said, sinking back on the bed, and taking her with him. “If I’m to spend hours in the carriage without touching you, I need to be fortified.”
Eleanor lay half over him. She laughed and ran her hand over his chest, toying with the dark curls there before sweeping down to the evidence of his desire.
With a chuckle, Mark rolled, tucking her beneath him. He edged her legs apart and with a groan of pleasure, pushed into her welcoming warmth.
“Mark…” she moaned and drew him close.
He increased his pace as her hips met his in perfect rhythm.
A loud knock came at the door. “Eleanor?” a small voice called.
“Come away, Master Nash,” the maid in charge of him cried. “You mustn’t go in there.”
Mark groaned loudly and lay breathing heavily against Eleanor’s lush breasts. “I’ll put a footman in charge of him in the future.”
Eleanor laughed. “I’d best go to him. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
He smiled as she donned her dressing gown. “You’ll spoil the lad.”
She paused, looking stricken. “I won’t have him long, though, will I?”
Mark looked after her as she hurried through the door. He wanted to give her the world. But perhaps this one thing might be beyond him.
Chapter Nine
Nash had become very quiet the last few miles. As they approached a sprawling red-brick manor house in Burton Green, he sat up and looked out the window. “This is where my father lives?” he asked.
“If he is your father, Nash,” Mark said, raising his brows at Eleanor.
She was terribly nervous, fearing this would be upsetting for the boy. They might have tackled it alone, but Mark thought Nash’s presence would be more affective to shake the man from his complacency. She wasn’t so confident, there were gentlemen’s’ bastards everywhere, including the royal family’s. They wanted to force the man to face up to his shameful past, and she suspected Mark, who would never sire a bastard and leave the child to fate, was looking forward to it a little too much.
Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle (Dangerous Lords Book 5) Page 5
